Skyward bound

After earning my private pilot certificate in 1993, life took me on a different flight path, one that led me away from the cockpit for 15 long years. But the allure of the skies, the hum of the engines, and the freedom of soaring above the clouds never left me. It was a siren’s call I could no longer ignore.

In 1993, the aviation world was a different landscape. GPS technology wasn’t even on my radar, and the internet had yet to revolutionize how we access flight data and connect with fellow aviators. My first instruction flight was with an incredible woman instructor who stood at just 5 feet, 2 inches but had skills that were off the charts. She let me take the controls and even scared the heck out of me with a “don’t ever do this” move. I was hooked. However, life had other plans. With a young family to support, flying became a luxury. It was a cycle of scraping up money, flying a few hours, and then doing it all over again.

Ah, life—the ultimate plot-twister. There’s a saying: “Life is what happens while you’re busy making plans,” and boy, did it have some curveballs for me. As the years rolled into a decade and then some, my pilot logbook wasn’t just gathering dust; it was practically becoming an artifact in a museum of forgotten dreams.

Yet, amid the whirlwind of life’s responsibilities and new adventures, my dreams of flying never fully dissipated. They were always there, lurking in the background, reignited by the occasional wistful glance skyward. Each contrail etched across the sky became a poignant brushstroke on the canvas of my aspirations, a subtle reminder of the aviator’s life that once was and could be again.

In 2014, the call of the skies became too loud to ignore. It was time to dust off the old logbook, update my charts, and return to where I felt most alive—the cockpit. I knew the road back wouldn’t be easy; aviation technology had advanced, regulations had changed, and I was out of practice. But I was committed. I decided the best way to reacquaint myself with flying was to go back to the basics. It was like riding a bike, they said; you never really forget. The moment I took the controls, it felt like coming home. I was both excited and nervous, a mix of emotions that made the experience even more memorable.

As with any journey, there were bumps along the way. I had enlisted the help of a flight instructor, eager to sharpen my skills and regain my confidence. But from the get-go, something felt off. My instructor, though knowledgeable, came across as snooty and stuck-up. Each lesson felt like a chore, a box to tick off rather than an experience to relish. I felt like I was just another client, not worth her time or effort. The joy and excitement I had felt were quickly replaced by frustration and self-doubt. This unfortunate experience made me question not just my choice of instructor but my decision to return to flying at all. It was a setback, but it also served as a lesson: The right instructor can make or break your flying experience.

It was a lesson: The right instructor can make or break your flying experience.In a twist of fate, the global pandemic that grounded so many lives became the catalyst for my full-fledged return to aviation. With the world on pause, I found the time and focus. My wife Donna and I took the plunge and purchased a light twin aircraft, a tangible commitment to our shared love for aviation. This time, I was fortunate to connect with not one, but two instructors—AJ and Logan—who were a perfect fit for me. Their enthusiasm was infectious, their teaching styles complementary, and, most important, they made me feel like they genuinely wanted to fly with me. It was a partnership, a shared journey back to the skies, and it made all the difference.

Returning to the cockpit wasn’t just about reclaiming the thrill of flight; it was also about finding my tribe in a community that resonates with the same passion and values. In this close-knit circle of aviators, I discovered more than just skilled pilots; I found incredible human beings who became an integral part of my life. This tribe, bound by a love for the sky and a commitment to ethical flying, welcomed me with open arms.

The camaraderie was palpable, whether we were discussing the latest avionics technology, sharing tips on weather patterns, or recounting tales from recent flights. Each interaction was a heartbeat in the living organism that is the aviation community, enriching my life in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

As I sit in the cockpit today, the dials and gauges in front of me have turned to glass and are so much more than mere instruments. They’re milestones, each one marking a significant moment in a journey that has come full circle. They’re a testament to the dedication, the hours, and the passion that have brought me back to these skies.

I’ve not just returned to flying; I’ve surpassed my own expectations. The number of hours I’ve logged has nearly doubled since my early days in the 1990s. The sky, once perceived as a limit, has transformed into a vast canvas of opportunities—each flight a brushstroke on this ever-expanding masterpiece.

My goals are crystal clear. With each flight, I’m inching closer to my multiengine, IFR, and commercial ratings. This isn’t about turning my love for flying into a profession; it’s about striving for excellence, about pushing my own boundaries to be the best pilot I can be. And let’s not forget the cornerstone of it all: Safety. It’s not just a word; it’s a mantra, a guiding principle that informs every decision I make in the air.

My journey back to aviation has been a rich tapestry woven with highs and lows, setbacks, and triumphs. Yet, the thread that binds it all together is the indomitable spirit that first drew me to the skies. It’s a spirit that lives in every pilot who takes to the air, in every instructor who shares their invaluable wisdom, and in every member of this extraordinary community we proudly call aviation.

Leland R. Johnson is a private pilot with a multiengine rating and owns a Piper Seneca and Cessna 182.