A Solid Foundation
The day of my first solo started out like any other lesson, with my instructor explaining what we would work on for the day. My first task was to make a normal no-flaps approach, and through the downwind, turn to base, and final approach my instructor was very quiet, but I was too busy with the approach to give it much thought.
My first landing was slightly off the centerline and not quite straight with the runway; not a bad landing by anyone else's standards but certainly not good enough for my instructor. He takes the controls from me and explains that I should not let the plane do that to me, to which I reply, "You're right, I can do much better than that." I reach for the throttle, but my instructor will not give the plane back to me. It seemed as if I really upset him with the landing. We taxi off the runway so I figured it was going to be a very short training flight.
He stops the plane on the taxiway, gets out, and tells me to fill out the section of my logbook for solo flight so that he can sign it. With trembling hands I begin filling out the log and in the process the book pushes against the throttle, which makes the situation even more tense. Before I take off on my own my instructor hands me three rocks, each about a half-inch in diameter, and tells me to hold onto them throughout the flight. Figuring that it's part of his solo process, I don't question him.
At liftoff I suddenly realize it's just me and the airplane, and I let out a war whoop that could have been heard by everyone on the ground. My biggest problem flying the pattern was wiping the tears of joy from my eyes! No one ever told me how intense your first solo landing would be. The strange thing about the solo flight is that I didn't even consider the fact that I was going to have to bring the plane back down to the ground. However, all of the hours that my instructor coached me on landing the plane paid off, and I brought her down without fanfare.
After parking the plane I stepped out and felt as though my feet were still a foot off of the ground. I still clutched the three rocks in my hands and my first question was, "Why did I have to have these rocks with me on my solo flight?" I didn't remember reading in the FAR/AIM book about needing three rocks in your possession before you took you solo flight. I was told that one rock represents God, one Harlan (my instructor), and the last represents me (the pilot). The rocks represent what Harlan calls, "A solid foundation to my flying career."
There are many stories about solo flights, each a little different but yet the same. As for myself, it would be hard to say which was more prominent, my first time in the left seat or my solo; they both rate very high on my list of flying experiences. All I can say is that I still carry the three rocks in my flight bag as a symbol of my quest to fly and as a reminder of my instructor, who had the patience of a saint and the knowledge of flying to teach this thick-headed adult how to fly an airplane the way it was designed to be flown.
Ed Ringering
Taming The Bear
My first solo was one of the most memorable experiences in my life. I had been expecting it for more than two weeks with no real idea when it would be. I had been struggling with the bear called "landings." No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get the hang of it. I was always off the center of the runway, or about ready to land in the grass. I just couldn't get the plane to do what I wanted it to do. After another flubbed landing, and thoughts of never getting my certificate, my instructor said something that changed everything. "When you turn on final don't wait until you're over the runway to line yourself up; start working the rudder and ailerons the second you level off."
One sentence changed everything. Three near-flawless landings and a few hurried phone calls later, I found myself walking out to "my" Cessna 172 with my family and my instructor watching. I climbed into 33CR and cranked the engine. To my embarrassment I couldn't get it started. After a few cranks my instructor walked out and told me what to do (we forgot to cover the "When the engine wouldn't start on the ground" lesson).
Taxiing out to the runway I was euphoric and nervous at the same time. After doing the runup and calling for a radio check, adding the extra "yeeeeehaaaaa" for good measure, I taxied onto the runway, gave it full throttle, and was soon airborne, to my great amazement and excitement.
Two touch and goes and a full-stop landing later, my mother was glad I was on the ground, my instructor was grinning at me knowing my joy, and I was getting my pictures taken in front of my plane with every conceivable combination of family members and instructor. They then cut out the tail of my favorite shirt, which I still have, and then to my enjoyment dumped a bucket of cold water on me. After sitting in a 100-degree cockpit, sweating and nervous and amazed, it felt really good to be on the ground with family, knowing that I had now entered the ranks of solo flight.
Jess Hartlage
Changing Course
It was with great anticipation that I waited for my solo flight. When my instructor got out of the aircraft one overcast spring afternoon, I was prepared. As I rolled down the runway and stepped on the right rudder to keep the ball centered, my knee started to shake a little. Taking a deep breath on the downwind leg, I heard my instructor's commanding voice in my head: "Retard power to 2,000 rpm, carb heat, abeam the numbers reduce to 1,500 rpm, trim nose up, slow to 80, 10 degrees of flaps..." as if he was there with me.
The three landings were uneventful, and my instructor gave me his thumbs up. I will never forget the sense of accomplishment that I felt that day; it changed the course of my life forever. Today, I still hear my instructor's sage advice every time I fly, but now it is more like a whisper.
Rosina Yriart
Flying In The Rain
I started flying in January 2001. The weather was for the most part minimum VFR conditions, so what did we do? We practiced landings and takeoffs in the rain, in the cold, at times in snow flurries. I look at this way: I was learning to fly in the best or worst conditions. I have the confidence to fly and land in the rain, which many pilots don't get until after they have been flying for some time.
I had 30-some hours and 70-plus landings in before I soloed. Did it bother me that I had flown that many hours and hadn't soloed yet? Not one bit - I feel I'm a better pilot than someone who solos in 12 hours because I was flying in the best weather.
The day I soloed the weather again cooperated; it was 4,500 feet overcast when I got to the airport. My instructor said, "Well, let's go up and do some touch and goes." We did two touch and goes when my instructor told me to make a full stop on the next landing. Figuring we were calling it a day, I landed and went to the end of the runway when she told me to stop the plane. Being the good student that I am, I did just that. She looked at me and said, "OK, give me three full-stop landings, then come into the office." She hopped out and cleared the plane, and off I was in the cold misty October weather. I watched her walk over by a hangar to try get out the raw wind and the mist. I felt very comfortable doing this being that most of my instruction on landings and takeoffs was done in these exact conditions.
When I came in for my second landing I noticed my instructor trying to stay warm and dry next to the hangar. As I came for my third landing our mist was more of light rain. It was great. I taxied over to the office, shut down the plane, and walked inside, where my instructor congratulated me on my solo flight. Off came the shirt and up on the wall it went.
Larry Stolldorf
Go Around, For Real
I had always wanted to fly but knew little about aviation when I went for my first flying lesson on October 16, 1967. I loved it and flew every chance I had. A month later I had 11.5 hours and thought things were going well. Then on November 19, after a few touch and goes in N2679J, a Cessna 150, we returned to the ramp and my instructor got out and told me to go do three on my own.
I did not think I was ready to solo, but he said I would do fine. Things went well as I taxied out and began the takeoff roll. However, as I lifted off the passenger door popped open. I was somewhat frightened as I didn't know whether the plane would fly with the door open, but I quickly realized it was flying. I decided I'd better get some altitude before I did anything else. After I got to pattern altitude and was on downwind, I managed to reach over and close the door. What a relief!
But I soon discovered - to my dismay - that I had lost radio contact with the tower. Now what was wrong? I went through the takeoff checklist again and discovered that the master switch was off. I'd hit it with my knee as I reached for the door. That problem corrected, the first touch and go went fine. On final approach for the second, a plane taxied on to the runway I was planning to land on.
"Seven-Niner-Juliet, go around!" was music to my ears. We'd practiced go-arounds before-it almost seemed like a no-brainer. The rest of the flight went well, and Bob, my instructor, was relieved when I returned safely to the ramp. I guess he decided that he liked worrying about me because two years later we got married. Over the past 34 years other matters of a more serious nature have at times reduced the resources we've had available for flying, but when we get a chance we still enjoy it very much.
Sue Wuilleumier
Frustrating Summer
It had been a very frustrating summer. As a schoolteacher, I had all summer to finish up my flight training. My instructor, however, lived 60 miles away. Then Mother Nature stepped in and "blessed" us with the wettest June on record - flying just once every two weeks just wasn't cutting it. Finally, I was ready to solo in the Cessna 172 I had been training in.
At that important crossroad my path changed directions. With two other pilots, I bought a Piper Cherokee 160. My first plane - and I hadn't even soloed yet! Then a good friend, a newly certificated CFI, moved back to the area and became my new instructor. I put in a few extra hours with the Cherokee and got a good feel for it. On the third time out with my new instructor - and in my own plane - we flew to a paved strip about 30 miles away to practice touch and goes. After about four of them my CFI instructed me to taxi around to the hangar. "Oh, time to rest and get something cold to drink," I thought to myself as I relaxed into my seat.
As we pulled up, he unbuckled his seat belt and said, "You're ready, just let me out here."
"Ready...what exactly does that mean?" I thought. Then it hit me! "This can't be happening! The moment I have waited for since I was about eight years old." I asked him, "Are you sure?"
I shouldn't have doubted my ability or his judgment. "Sure. Just let me out here, take off and land three times, staying in the pattern. I'll be on the radio if you need me."
He got out, and I said a quick prayer. I was much calmer than I had expected to be. I suddenly focused all my energy on flying the plane. I found myself, on occasion, glancing at the right seat just to verify reality! I took off and flew my three circuits with no problems. I actually remembered all of the things that I thought I would never learn. I made my final landing, actually the worst of the three, and taxied back over to the hangar.
I shut down the plane and took a deep breath before getting out. I stepped out onto the wing where I was greeted by the flash of a camera. I felt like a real celebrity. John, my CFI, was my only paparazzi, however.
We sat and discussed my solo and then headed back to our little grass strip in the hills. When we landed at home, I think my head was still in the clouds. I put my plane away, said my farewells, and started home.
On my drive home it finally hit me. The ear-to-ear smile, the sudden urge to scream - it had sunken in that "Yes, I was up there all by myself!" I gained a new love for my plane that day. She wasn't just a Cherokee, she was one of my new best friends. She had helped me through one of the most challenging and memorable days of my life.
Mike Hightower
Hazy-day Surprise
The day I soloed was completely unexpected. On a hazy afternoon in June, my CFI, Bill Rosenberry, cut the umbilical cord. After a few runs in the pattern, he tells me to drop him off at the transient parking, signs me off, and there I go.
I radio the tower for clearance to taxi to Runway 24, cleared. As I taxi, I feel numb but very focused on my duties. Once I was cleared for takeoff, lights, camera, action - and close my window; oops, the window latch is broken. Oh well, this plane has no V speed limit for open windows so I roll, roll, roll, and rotate. Yee haw!
As soon as I think to myself, "Well, there's the glitch for my flight," and scan the instruments, I notice the heading indicator spinning wildly. No big deal. I know where I am, after all; I'm only in the pattern. Next, three aircraft come out of nowhere and decide to join the party. As
I pull back on the throttle - I thought it was the throttle - the engine sputters; it was the mixture control. Immediately back in to full rich, where the engine sounds normal again; so do my heart and breathing. Once lined up on final I noticed something missing - my instructor! It was a moment I will never forget.
Alex Lazzarinetti
Third Instructor's The Charm
I'm a late bloomer, having started flying lessons at 60 years of age. Although I had always wanted to fly and looked up at every plane I saw from as early as I can remember, I had not taken the step of actually learning to fly. Nearing retirement, I finally determined that at this stage in my life it was now or never.
The CFI for my orientation ride and first two lessons was Jennifer, after which she left town to begin her multiengine training down South somewhere. My next CFI was Scott, and he put up with me for several lessons before he, too, had to depart the area for a vacation in Europe, apparently needing some R after several hours with this rookie. About that time, I was taking ground school instruction from Jon, a CFI who made class very interesting and a lot of fun, sharing his flying stories among the nuggets of flying wisdom he was pounding into us. His sense of humor had preceded him, as had his reputation for being one of the best CFIs in the area. Jon agreed to take me on as a student and, with 19.8 total hours in my logbook, he indicated I was ready for my first solo. While he said he normally did not let students know ahead of time when they were going to solo, he felt I could handle it and said, weather permitting - and if I showed him some good landings - the next lesson would be the one.
On that memorable day, October 19, 1998, I showed up at the airport in high anticipation and with some trepidation. Jon and I made a few circuits of the pattern in N9693H, a workhorse Cessna 172, and then he said to put it down, let him out, and take it around solo. He also said he would have his transceiver with him tuned to the CTAF should we need to talk for any reason.
I proceeded to taxi to Runway 36, did my runup, got into position, took off, got to altitude, and turned crosswind then downwind. As I turned on base leg, Jon came on the radio and said, "Umm, Ankeny traffic, Cessna Nine-Six-Nine-Three-Hotel, Larry, we have a little problem down here."
Knowing Jon's reputation for practical jokes, I immediately assumed he was joking about something. "Ankeny traffic, Cessna Nine-Six-Nine-Three-Hotel here, what's the problem, Jon?" I asked.
"Ankeny traffic, Nine-Three-Hotel, we have some deer on the runway."
"Are you kidding?" I queried.
"That's a negative, Nine-Three-Hotel. I'm serious; there are deer on the runway. If they haven't cleared the runway, do a go-around just like you practiced."
About this time, I'm turning final and, sure enough, there they were! I could see a half-dozen deer crossing Runway 36. As I got closer, on short final, they had all moved off the runway and I made the decision to execute the landing as long as they were proceeding away from the runway. Well, that first solo landing went well, as did the next two landings, and my first solo was history.
Twelve days later, however, having taken several more hours of dual instruction from Jon, my second solo was going according to plan until I prepared for landing. On final I again saw something on the runway. This time it was a coyote, and it, too, decided that it was better off in the woods than on the runway in front of the rookie. The landing was "uneventful." Jon's instruction had really paid off because I was able to make the right decisions at the right time and not become flustered.
Larry Sheldon
Online Resources For Student Pilots
There are numerous resources available online to help student pilots achieve the dream of becoming a pilot.
If you have not yet started your training, visit the Be A Pilot Web site ( www.beapilot.com ). There, you can download a coupon that allows you to receive an introductory flying lesson from any one of more than 1,600 participating flight schools at the discounted price of $49. The site offers a variety of information about flight training and learning to fly. There's also a searchable database of flight schools that accept the $49 introductory-flight coupon.
Visit the AOPA Flight Training Web site ( www.aopaflighttraining.org ) for additional information about learning to fly. This site also offers a comprehensive database of more than 3,100 flight schools, as well as searchable databases of certificated flight instructors and aviation colleges and universities. E-mail links on the site allow prospective student pilots to e-mail flight instructors at AOPA with questions about learning to fly and the flight training process.
The AOPA Flight Training site includes a section dedicated to AOPA Project Pilot, a program in which volunteer AOPA-member mentors provide encouragement to aspiring pilots. If you'd like to find a mentor to help you through the process of learning to fly, visit the Project Pilot page ( www.aopa.org/info/pp/) and click on the "Find a mentor" link.
Finally, if you're already an AOPA member, check out the comprehensive Online Resources for Student Pilots page (www.aopa.org/flight_training/student.shtml). This page has links to information about learning to fly, as well as the federal aviation regulations, Aeronautical Information Manual, FAA practical test standards, and AOPA's Handbook for Pilots, among other valuable references. Many of these resources are located in the members-only section of AOPA Online.
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