Musings: It’s never too late

Every lapsed pilot has a story about why he or she stopped flying. For most of us, a temporary hiatus turned into weeks, then months, then years. Life intervened. Still, we often found ourselves looking up at the sky and wondering if we could begin again. What if? But where, and how?

My first flight instructor, Keith, remained a good friend all our lives. He stopped flying for medical reasons, but he never lost his love of aviation. We went to airports and airshows together. We spent a day talking to fellow pilots in the Ready Room of the USS Midway Museum in San Diego, a place he knew well from his two cruises on that ship to Vietnam in the 1960s. Keith died a year ago after a long illness.

Not long afterward my wife, Sharon, and I vacationed in Alaska. During our drive across the Kenai Peninsula we watched a light airplane fly overhead. “The view must be spectacular from up there,” Sharon said. “Maybe now’s the right time for you to return to the cockpit. It’d be a great way to remember Keith.”

I Googled the possibilities. SkyTrek Alaska Flight Training at Merrill Field in Anchorage caught my eye: “Whether you’ve been out of the cockpit for family, career, financial, or other reasons, it’s never too late to get back behind the controls!” I’d been out of the cockpit for all those reasons. Maybe this was the right place to begin the return. I called when we arrived in Anchorage and made an appointment.

Jamie Patterson-Simes, owner and chief pilot at SkyTrek Alaska, escorted us upstairs into the training room overlooking Runway 34. Jamie learned to fly at age 17. She attended Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University in Prescott, Arizona, to get her commercial and flight instructor certificates. Two years later she bought a one-way ticket to Alaska. She instructed in Anchorage, then took a job as a bush pilot flying hunters and guides from remote village strips to off-airport landings. Eventually she returned to Anchorage to raise a family, start SkyTrek Alaska, and complete her MBA. Now an adjunct faculty member at the University of Alaska and outspoken advocate for aviation, Patterson-Simes continues to teach and mentor others who share her love of flying.

“Let’s get you back in the air,” she smiled after we talked a bit. “I’ll handle the radios and the navigation. You do as much of the flying as you feel comfortable with and we’ll see how it goes.” We walked to the airplane and got in for a planned one-hour flight.

I was just as nervous and excited after almost four decades away as I was the first time I strapped into the left seat. Jamie walked me through the taxi and engine runup, then reported us ready for departure. The tower responded: “Cessna Seven-Three-Four-Quebec-Mike, Runway 34, clear for takeoff.”

I looked at Jamie. “It’s your airplane, John. Let’s go,” she said.

I taxied onto the runway and gave the engine full throttle. We drifted left. “Right rudder, John. Keep us centered.” The airspeed indicator came to life. Thirty knots, 40…. “More rudder…that’s it.” Fifty, 55. “Rotate.” I pulled the yoke back, and the Earth began to fall away. That first moment of flight—when the wheels leave the ground—lives with us forever.

We turned northeast and climbed along the base of the Chugach Mountains. From the back seat, Sharon snapped photos of the ice fields below Knik Glacier as Jamie monitored my flying, pointed out landmarks, and looked for traffic. I concentrated on keeping headings and altitude, but remembered occasionally to take in the view. Blue sky and snow-capped mountains, roads, and rivers leading down the valley and out to the sea.

“Do you want to land it?” Jamie asked high over Eagle River on the way back.

“Absolutely.”

We set up for a straight-in approach to Runway 25. I flew us to the touchdown with only a slight bounce on landing and taxied us to the ramp.

“What did you learn today?” Jamie asked when we returned to the training room.

I looked out at the airport and remembered Keith the morning he taught me how to do a preflight inspection. I remembered again the magic of that very first moment. How had I given up something I once loved so completely? I turned back to her and grinned. “It’s never too late,” I said, “to fall in love all over again.”

John Crites-Borak has completed his commercial training and is enrolled in an intensive CFI curriculum.