June was my last month of training. I spent some time with my instructor, reviewing emergency landings and some of the other maneuvers I will have to demonstrate on my flight test, and I did my last hour of required solo time. I feel good about most skills but I have struggled with landings all along and, for most of this month, was still not quite getting the feel for it. I did a practice flight test with the chief flight instructor just to see if I was ready for the real thing. Other than messing up the steep turn like I never have before, the ride was a good one, except for the landings! I have to do two landings for the flight test, including a specialty landing (special techniques for short runways or grass runways), and I can't blow the whole thing because I mess up the landing!
I have done well over 100 circuits to practice landings and watched many YouTube videos about how to land a plane. My ground school instructor jokingly explained to us that a good landing is when you can walk away from it and a great landing is when you can use the plane again. By that definition, they've all been great but they sure haven't all been pretty and a couple were quite marginal!
I am not patient and I tend to try to overcontrol the flow of life. I can strategize and put a good plan in place to reach my goals but I just do not have patience for the process or the journey. These personal characteristics are exactly why landing the plane was hard for me.
A good landing depends on a good approach. That part of it has never been hard for me. I got the hang of the circuit right away and have almost always been able to set up a nice, stable approach and put myself in position for the landing. But it would all fall apart in those last, critical 15 seconds when the plane is right over the runway, just about to touch down.
In those last few seconds, the landing depends on two things: patience and perspective. As you pass over the numbers at the end of the runway, you have to shift your gaze from close to far, and look way down to the end of the runway, gradually raising the nose of the plane as it nears the ground. This is called the flare. These adjustments require patience. Ironically, the point of the action the pilot takes in these moments is to try to hold the plane off the runway, instead of trying to put it down, so that it can slow down and slide itself in. My ground school instructor told us that if we spoke the words, "Patience, patience, patience" to ourselves while in the flare, then that would allow the time it took for the plane to be ready to stop flying. One instructor I flew with said, "Don't let that plane land!" He taught me that NOT trying to land the plane is what actually makes it land.
I did it wrong so many times during my training. I tried to flare too forcefully and too soon and then push the plane down onto the runway in my eagerness to be there. I kept my eyes on the nose of the plane instead of taking the long view down the runway so I could see the subtle changes in the process and make the adjustments needed to ease it in. My rush to be there led to some hard landings, bouncing back up and down again, because I was not waiting for it to come together and for the timing to be right. You cannot make a plane land. It has to be ready. The pilot's job is to get it ready.
The time it takes to land is not long but it's a period of time where time seems to stand still. A lot of happening in those seconds but it is happening by itself in a way, enabled by a patient, focused, and skilled pilot. The pilot is very much in control of what happens yet must also be willing to wait for the plane's own timing. Some days, the plane seems to float forever, eating up the runway, not touching down. Those situations test a pilot's patience more than ever but it is even more important.
Clearly, this is instructive for life in general. When I finally realized that I have to wait and take a long view, I got it. I stopped trying so hard. It worked. I landed the plane. Five, then ten "greasy" landings. And quite suddenly, my fear of landings dissipated, in much the same as as the airspeed bleeds off during the flare. I have to say that this revelation is still quite new for me. I still worry about landing. I still have to embed this lesson into myself. But I see it differently now. I know now how I need to view this to make it work.
Patience. Trust the time it takes to come together. Take a different perspective. This doesn't mean being passive; you have to stay focused on the goal, be an active part of the process, and make adjustments to ease the transition, but in the end, not pushing so hard will make it work out much better than forcing it.
As I reflect on my landing woes over the last six months, I can see that learning to land a plane has been perhaps one of my greatest life lessons and one of the most dramatic examples of how flying is a metaphor for life.
Seaplane
This weekend, I went to Victoria, BC to visit a friend. I had only booked my flight as far as Vancouver so my timing could be flexible but the day before I left, I decided to take the seaplane from Vancouver to Victoria. There's a seaplane base next to Vancouver International (YVR) and you arrive right into Victoria harbour. It's very convenient and I thought it would be a fun experience.
On the shuttle from YVR to the seaplane, I asked the driver how many seats the plane had. She said it depends on whether you count the one next to the pilot. I asked how you get to be the one who sits next to the pilot, thinking that for sure it involved paying more money. "You just ask the pilot!" she said.
I waited to see the pilot of my flight and then made sure I was first in line to ask him if I could sit up front with him (as it was, nobody else was vying for the right seat). He said yes!
He was really great. He pointed out landmarks, explained the complicated airspace in that area, and told me who he was talking to on the radio throughout the flight.
As we approached Victoria, he remarked how beautiful the view was and said, "It never gets old. Flying is divine." So true.
I took the seaplane back to Vancouver on my trip home, too, and sat in the cockpit with the pilot once again. This was an incredible experience that made quite an impression on me! I can see myself flying a float plane someday....
On the shuttle from YVR to the seaplane, I asked the driver how many seats the plane had. She said it depends on whether you count the one next to the pilot. I asked how you get to be the one who sits next to the pilot, thinking that for sure it involved paying more money. "You just ask the pilot!" she said.
I waited to see the pilot of my flight and then made sure I was first in line to ask him if I could sit up front with him (as it was, nobody else was vying for the right seat). He said yes!
He was really great. He pointed out landmarks, explained the complicated airspace in that area, and told me who he was talking to on the radio throughout the flight.
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| Over the gulf islands |
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| Over Victoria |
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| On approach into Victoria harbour |
The other side
One of the perks of being a pilot is that you can usually find a way to arrange a visit to a control tower. This morning, I was able to have a tour of the new and beautiful tower at the international airport. As I climbed the stairs, I could not believe the amazing panoramic views of the prairies from up there. Absolutely stunning!
One of the controllers spent 40 minutes with me, explaining their systems and the ways they coordinate traffic flows and communications among aircraft, the terminal zone, tower, approach/departure, and ground. It was fascinating to see how this works from the other side and to have this perspective on air traffic.
One of the controllers spent 40 minutes with me, explaining their systems and the ways they coordinate traffic flows and communications among aircraft, the terminal zone, tower, approach/departure, and ground. It was fascinating to see how this works from the other side and to have this perspective on air traffic.
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