In that split second, my instructor spilled himself out of the aircraft, slammed the door shut in a resounding "it's all you now buddy" fashion, shoved a thumbs up against the faint plastic window, and turned to the safety of the hangar doors. I found myself staring out the window, staring at the very faint reflection of my own self in that cloth seat, sweating a little with my glasses on. Where I was used to seeing another human sitting, who knew every nut and bolt of this plane, was just empty space. At the helm of this airplane all by myself, with nothing between the skies but me and whatever knowledge I had crammed in by that point, I knew that this was happening. This was real. This was the first day, of being in command.
March 18, 2014. It was a bitter cold morning, the frost from my car was barely coming off. Despite having gloves on, my hands were getting cold from having to use the ice scraper on the windshield. The car itself did not sound like she (yes I gave my car a gender) wanted to be up. I could never understand why my instructor always insisted on starting the day so early. After all, its not like staff would arrive till at least 8:00 am to even begin pulling the aircraft out, let alone students at 9:00 am to begin training. Nothing like spending late nights completing assignments, only to be called in early morning for training. I remember trying to find one good reason for this. After spending considerable time cleaning, I blasted off to the airport.
At 7:00 sharp I showed up at the parking lot, quickly gathered my items and headed inside. At this point no one had shown up, but as was the norm then my instructor was inside the briefing room, with the aircraft already pulled out of the hangar. I genuinely thought this whole flight was just another training day. Before I could even get all my items settled my instructor told me with full confidence, that if I performed this circuit really well that he would release me for my very first solo, a moment in a pilot's career that is arguably most dearest. It is indeed, as the name suggests, the very first time that a pilot will go and fly a circuit completely by themselves. They will log their very first few minutes of solo time, also known as "Pilot-In-Command" time. Thanks to the huge burst of excitement, before I even knew it I found myself with the pre-flight briefing, the walk-around, and the safety checks complete and in the cockpit. We fired up the engine, and went through all the same checks and practices that had been taught over and over again.
The first circuit went pretty darn well, the speeds on takeoff, the altitudes during the crosswind (perpendicular) and downwind (parallel) legs were held to the same perfection my instructor always so vocally demanded. It had a lot to do with the weather that day too, not just my own skill. A nice brisk cold morning makes for some of the most stable conditions to fly in, by virtue of dense calm collected air. I was thankful this was the day that my instructor chose. On landing, my instructor asked for a "touch n go" (which is where we just touch the wheels on the runway, and add power back for another takeoff without fully coming to a stop). The second one, went just the same; I did the flying, made the radio calls, ran the checks, and landed. That's when he said, call this a full-stop and taxi back towards the main apron. In just a few minutes, I found myself in the scenario I started this post off with. No instructor sitting beside me, catching myself staring at my own reflection, and as Eminem loosely put it, "knees weak, arms are heavy. Nervous, but on the surface he looks calm n' ready."
The startup of another airplane quickly snapped me out of my little funk. With him gone, I quickly re-organized my items. I knew I could do this, I actually murmured to myself. After all, nothing like having a little bit of confidence juice before the big show. I made my radio calls, told the ATC specifically this is my first solo. Having done the checklists I taxied out to the taxiway, making sure to not enter the runway until I was cleared to. Everything was going just as the script, just as I have been doing it all this time. Once I lined up for the runway, I had a short delay due to ATC crew change. For the few seconds that it took, suddenly I found myself getting nervous again. Perhaps before this my brain was totally committed to going through procedures and all. Now that I was at rest, my senses were heightened. I could feel the idling of the engine vibrating the control column every so gently. The calmness that existed in the early morning had given its way to a slight crosswind, which rocked the wings ever so gently. With a strong commanding takeoff clearance, and one deep breath later, I found myself with full power, picking up speed towards the other end of the runway. At my rotation speed, I pulled back and left the safety of the surface of the Earth for the very first time. To be honest, I probably should have been smiling this whole time but I can only recall a hard, focused, almost angry look on my face. Made that crosswind turn and realized with that wind now picking up a bit, it was a little more difficult to maintain the altitude. Managing to get onto the downwind leg, I quickly ran through my checklists and found myself back on the the approach side of the airport. Now to do the hardest part of the flight, the landing. I must be honest here, it didn't go as smoothly as I had planned. Some of that wind I spoke about earlier had settled in more than I thought, so I literally planted the aircraft down, crooked. I could immidiately feel it. I was so embarrassed as I slowed down and came to a stop, knowing that my instructor must have been watching it all happen from the window. With the landing complete, I was over joyous to meet the earth again.
As I taxied in, ATC congratulated me on my first solo. They said it was well done, surely
because they didn't have their eyes on the landing I thought. Jokes aside, that first congrats of my life meant the world to me. I found myself in so much joy I could barely keep it contained when I exited the aircraft. My instructor came right outside, in the same hasty fashion in which he had left me in the beginning. He had a big wide smile on his face, and to this day I account him asking me "How did it go?" To which I replied, just beautifully. That's it. That was all the convo we had. He shook my hand, patted me on the shoulder, and snapped one of the most memorable pictures of my life. It was one of those resounding pats that dads gave their sons when we did something really good. It had not quite hit me then, but soon after clicking the obligatory first solo picture, I gathered my belongings and raced to the heated indoors.
It was when my instructor filled out my PTR (Pilot Training Record), that the joy which I had felt previously rushed back. I vividly recall walking back to the car after that session, with a picture in my phone recalling that moment that I landed an airplane for the very first time. It was in itself, a small portion of the rest of my training phase, yet such a major milestone. A few years, and hundreds of flights later, when I reflect back on that moment I know that while it becomes just another one to throw into the logbook, it is the most significant milestone in any pilot's career. I know every pilot-mate of mine, and others all over will wholeheartedly agree; there was no doubt, a little nervousness, but there was also a whole lot of joy and pride in the aftermath of a pilot's first solo.
To reflect on a couple of the things I think about... on gratitude, it is certainly important to trust the process. That is to say, that while it may feel like it takes too long to go solo, I now understand just how much faith instructors have to have in order to release their student. I appreciate the steps they take, and hardwork they put in to get a student ready. On emotions, despite feeling ready I know that during that moment I wasn't ready. I don't think any student is ever truly, completely ready. With an instructor, it always feels like their vast knowledge and experience cradles students with the "arms of safety," so to speak. With
them out of the cockpit, I was left to myself and quickly came to the realization wow I am not as confident as I might seem. There is always a little risk we all take, albeit never anything unsafe. On significance, I will say that while hundreds of flights came post solo, going back to re-visit my solo story I was reminded of the importance of his (my instructor's) signature. On the PTR it looked like another entry, on my own logbook, just a small row taken up with some basic details. But that small signature is an assurance that I was ready to take command. It signifies that from here onward, every flight done in which I was Pilot-In-Command, I would have to take all my knowledge and experience and put it to work, both in situations I expect and those rare unexpected ones, too. I must understand that it is a privilege to take the safety of myself and the aircraft in my own hands. I must respect the authority of that signature, the validation of my skills, and the limits of the aircraft. I cannot let myself get too carried away with pride, nor can I let confidence be shaken in times of need. The signature, while taking no more than an inch of room, is the final word that states from not just mine, but someone else's perspective, that flying by myself is real. That it is happening. That on that day, I went solo, that I was in command.
P.S. To watch students in action on their first solo, simply search Youtube for "student pilot first solo" videos. Sit back, and enjoy!
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