Flying Life: Aviation’s unexpected gifts

People who have been around aviation for a while know this particular lesson well. Everyone who starts out with the plan of earning a private pilot certificate in one month knows that weather and equipment issues can extend that timeline drastically—or ask someone who planned to fly to a family reunion only to be grounded by thunderstorms. While this feeling of powerlessness can be frustrating and downright painful at times, aviation also reminds us that sometimes the things that are beyond our control can be the greatest gifts.

On the kids’ fall break last year, we flew Lola, our Cessna 172, to Asheville, North Carolina, to spend a week with my uncle and his family taking in the breathtaking fall colors of the Smoky Mountains. With a 30-knot tailwind and severely clear VFR weather, the flight over to Asheville made us feel like lottery winners: good weather, an airworthy airplane, and healthy kids all working in our favor to make for one perfect trip. At one point, my husband texted to brag to my uncle, who was traveling to Asheville by car: “175 knots groundspeed! Beautiful scenery. See you guys there.” My uncle replied: “Stuck in traffic. Will be delayed. Get the cold beer ready.” We felt very lucky indeed.

Sometimes the things that are beyond our control can be the greatest gifts.The week was full of great hiking and memorable family meals. My only regret was that we didn’t have time to visit one of my favorite Asheville stops, the historic Biltmore Estate, George Vanderbilt’s 1895 mansion that sits on 8,000 sprawling acres of pristine beauty. On Sunday morning, I woke up and checked the weather for our trip home. Not good. Strong winds at altitude meant a turbulent ride over the mountains. Throw in some IFR ceilings en route, and I was not looking forward to the flight. If the tailwinds getting here had felt like a gift, the weather going home seemed to be a curse.

Because of the low ceilings en route, I filed IFR at an altitude of 10,000 feet, direct from Asheville to our first fuel stop, Shelbyville, Tennessee, where my mother lives and had planned to meet us for lunch. The Asheville airport sits at an elevation of 2,162 feet with rapidly rising terrain just to the west of the field. As we took off and the controller realized that Lola’s climb rate was less than stellar, he assigned us a northeasterly heading until we could climb high enough to make our westbound turn. “There you go, Nat,” my husband said, looking below us with a smile. Aviation was giving us her first gift for the day, an aerial tour of the Biltmore. I got to see that magnificent estate and gardens from the air, leaving me with a mental picture I will not soon forget.

When we finally arrived in Shelbyville after a long, bumpy ride, the weather ahead of us was not looking promising. A glance at the radar in the FBO confirmed that instead of a picnic with mom, we would be spending the night. Mom was thrilled for the chance to spend some extra time with us, and by us, I mean her grandchildren. But I was worried about what the delay would mean for work the next day. Even if we left at the crack of dawn, my husband and I would still be at least an hour late for our Monday morning appointments, and the kids would be late getting to school. Again, change is hard for someone who likes to feel that she is in control.

My husband and I both made some phone calls and delayed our schedules for the next day. In the end, it was no big deal. I realized, looking back, that if I could trade a morning at school for one more night with my grandma, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Later that night, sitting in mom’s living room in front of a warm fire, enjoying a bowl of soup and conversation with my mom, I sent up a prayer of thanks that some things are out of my control.

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