"Did you make any of those flights we talked about?" I asked. Newly rated as a private pilot, Tony had recently planned cross-country trips from northern Utah to Denver, Los Angeles, and Edmonton, Alberta. Those are daring adventures for a new pilot flying a Piper Cherokee 140 - long distances over inhospitable terrain through the central Rockies.
"As a matter of fact, yes," replied Tony. "I flew with my boss to Denver last week. Going there was great, but unfortunately the weather was bad when the time came to leave. My boss had business obligations, so he returned by airline. I flew the plane home myself the next day."
"Was your boss upset?"
"No. In fact, he enjoyed it so much that he plans to take flying lessons himself. I told him ahead of time we wouldn't take any weather risks, so he was already prepared for possible delays."
Knowing how badly Tony wanted to make this flight, I congratulated him on his wisdom and courage in delaying the trip home, especially with the pressure of having his boss as a passenger. "The toughest pilot decisions are often made on the ground," I observed. "Well done."
"Thanks, Greg, but frankly, that wasn't the toughest part. To tell the truth, I was so nervous preceding this trip that I didn't sleep for two nights beforehand. Should I be concerned about that? Once we got into the air, the flying itself was fantastic."
"Oh, you never get entirely over that," I replied, "especially when not having flown for a while, or when faced with challenging weather or unfamiliar terrain."
"Seriously? So even you still get nervous?"
"Sure, Tony. Actually, I'll admit to being pretty stressed before flying here from Phoenix."
"You're kidding. Why?"
"Flying from Phoenix to Salt Lake City takes three and a half hours by Flying Carpet, all over remote terrain. The Grand Canyon is a kick, but anyone sane has to be at least a little nervous about crossing it in a single-engine plane. Then there are those two tall mountain ranges that run from the Utah border to Salt Lake City. I'd never flown here before, and had to choose which route to take - west of both ranges, east of them, or up the middle. It's irrational, I suppose, but that decision stressed me even after takeoff."
"How did you decide?"
"Before coming, I sought out a pilot who'd often made the trip before. He told me that the middle route over Richfield is most beautiful, but west over Cedar City is safest and smoothest when winds aloft are strong. Terrain is lowest on the east side, providing you can clear one high pass at the north end. As it turned out the weather was good, so we flew the central route over Bryce Canyon and then north between rows of snow-covered mountains. It was breathtaking. Once aloft with good weather and the engine running smoothly, it's funny how those ahead-of-time concerns are forgotten."
"I know what you mean," said Tony. "I was nervous before making night landings last week for the first time since earning my private. Once in the air, however, everything went great. How do you deal with nervousness before flying?"
"Did I tell you that my wife is a clinical pharmacist? She explained to me long ago that nervousness heightens alertness and improves reaction time. Being a little nervous is not only natural, but it actually has some benefits. The difficulty is separating nervousness from real safety risks. Therefore I try to set aside emotions, and as much as possible make flight decisions based on rational thinking. If logic says the trip can be completed safely, I try not to let nervousness stop me. Of course, if the nervousness comes from real threats to flight safety, then I stay put."
To my surprise, those words would be guidelines for the flight home just a few days later. I'd planned to treat Tony and his young son to a Flying Carpet excursion before departing, but that morning I learned of thunderstorms that were clobbering Phoenix. That made me nervous. "Sorry," I told Tony. "We need to get going."
"Believe me," he said, "I understand."
As is usual in such situations, I chose to proceed as far toward our destination as safely possible - tomorrow's weather might obscure what was clear today. Flight through Utah appeared without risk, plus there were plenty of airports along the way in case of surprises.
Central Arizona was still inundated by thunderstorms when we reached the state border, so Jean and I landed at Grand Canyon National Park Airport to regroup. From there the flight service briefer recommended we fly west and south along the Colorado River, then approach Phoenix from the southwest. Again I was nervous before takeoff; I suspect what did it was the word thunderstorms. Rationally, however, I saw that this was a well-defined weather area - we'd fly in blue skies around it, and there was no reason not to proceed.
This flight leg proved to be both safe and spectacular - for miles we watched distant swords of sunlight sever dark shafts of rain falling to the desert floor. The thunderstorms gradually diminished as we flew, and with weather improving we were able to fly a more direct route than expected. Upon rejoining clear skies, I remembered my discussion with Tony. Despite prior nervousness, no risks had been taken and this flight had been a special one.
The stressful decisions weren't over, however. Nearing Phoenix, we learned that our home airport featured a 90-degree crosswind at 15 knots gusting to 24. That exceeded my limits, so I selected an alternate airport. The final landing decision would be postponed until reaching our destination, however - sometimes these things change.
Sure enough, when we arrived the wind was still perpendicular to the runway, but it was now steady at 12 kt. Although challenging, that's within limits for the Flying Carpet and me. In fact, another Cessna was doing touch and goes in the pattern. Steeling myself for a possible go-around, I landed successfully.
Exhilarated at the day's adventures while taxiing in, I thought again of Tony - he must have felt similar elation upon returning to Salt Lake City from Denver. We pilots often face difficult decisions. Sometimes that means flying and other times waiting - either way, nerves must often be fought as firmly as the weather. But once safely in the air, who among us would say it's not worth it? After all, nervousness is the body's mechanism for facing upcoming challenges, and overcoming those challenges is what makes flying so rewarding.
Greg Brown, the 2000 National Flight Instructor of the Year, has written The Savvy Flight Instructor, The Turbine Pilot's Flight Manual, and Job Hunting for Pilots. Visit his Web site ( www.gregbrownflyingcarpet.com ).
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