Epiphany #132

As we were flying along yesterday, en route to a good lunch in a nearby
town, it happened again.

There I was, sitting comfortably at 3500 feet, as rock solid as I am right
now, gazing down upon freshly harvested fields and newly barren trees. The
sun was warm on my face, but the air was cool. The winds were light, radio
traffic (on this weekday flight) was minimal, and Atlas was running like a
beautiful (albeit gigantic) Swiss watch...

Conversation had fallen silent, as we were both lost in the quiet
contemplation of another routine flight. It was a beautiful day to fly.

And then, it hit me:

NONE of this was possible.

I looked out at the wings, and saw nothing that could intuitively explain
our lofty perch. There was no sensation of movement, other than the
vibration of the engine, and the landscape unrolling beneath us. I was
completely relaxed, sitting in this unlikely place, yet I was FLYING THROUGH
SPACE in a ship of my own.

At that moment, a pang of momentary fear shot through me, as it sometimes
still does when I realize that I am piloting an airplane unassisted. This,
as always, was immediately followed by a thrill of sheer, utter joy, of
purest lightness and freedom, and of the realization that nothing --
NOTHING -- like this had ever happened to anyone else in my family.

Until now.

10,000 generations before me gazed up at the sky, and wondered what it would
be like to soar with eagles. 10,000 generations wondered how it would feel
to hover between earth and sky, longing to achieve it -- but fearing it as
well.

And there I was.

All of us, in this season of man, must surely realize how fortunate we are.
All of us, in this tiny brotherhood of aviators, must surely be the luckiest
people to have ever walked this planet.

Wouldn't you think after nearly ten years, and over 1300 hours aloft (900 as
PIC; 400 with Mary as PIC), that I would get over this?

God help me if I ever do!

;-)
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"

"Jay Honeck" wrote:
I looked out at the wings, and saw nothing that could intuitively explain
our lofty perch. There was no sensation of movement, other than the
vibration of the engine, and the landscape unrolling beneath us. I was
completely relaxed, sitting in this unlikely place, yet I was FLYING THROUGH
SPACE in a ship of my own.

At that moment, a pang of momentary fear shot through me, as it sometimes
still does when I realize that I am piloting an airplane unassisted. This,
as always, was immediately followed by a thrill of sheer, utter joy, of
purest lightness and freedom, and of the realization that nothing --
NOTHING -- like this had ever happened to anyone else in my family.

GREAT bit of writing, Jay. I'm relatively new (under 200 hrs TT), but
those two paragraphs describe that "OH MY GOD, I'M FLYING!" shocker that
takes your breath away for a moment on almost every flight. It's amazing
how moving it can be, sending chills at times, not of panic, but of
wonder and wow. As you said, hope it never goes away.

Write that inside a thank you card to all those that have made it possible.
Your instructors, your wife, your kids, bankers, mechanics, ramp rats, line
boys, friends, and neighbors. I think it would be a great way to show them
how much their help has meant to you. And thank you, Jay, for the idea,
because that's what I may do!

Jim


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Hey Jay,

Whenever I get that feeling a nice aileron roll or a hammer head always
brings me right back to reality.

PJ

============================================
Here's to the duck who swam a lake and never lost a feather,
May sometime another year, we all be back together.
JJW
============================================


"Jay Honeck" wrote in message
news:n_Mkd.86573$R05.83876@attbi_s53...
As we were flying along yesterday, en route to a good lunch in a nearby
town, it happened again.

There I was, sitting comfortably at 3500 feet, as rock solid as I am right
now, gazing down upon freshly harvested fields and newly barren trees.
The
sun was warm on my face, but the air was cool. The winds were light,
radio
traffic (on this weekday flight) was minimal, and Atlas was running like a
beautiful (albeit gigantic) Swiss watch...

Conversation had fallen silent, as we were both lost in the quiet
contemplation of another routine flight. It was a beautiful day to fly.

And then, it hit me:

NONE of this was possible.

I looked out at the wings, and saw nothing that could intuitively explain
our lofty perch. There was no sensation of movement, other than the
vibration of the engine, and the landscape unrolling beneath us. I was
completely relaxed, sitting in this unlikely place, yet I was FLYING
THROUGH
SPACE in a ship of my own.

At that moment, a pang of momentary fear shot through me, as it sometimes
still does when I realize that I am piloting an airplane unassisted.
This,
as always, was immediately followed by a thrill of sheer, utter joy, of
purest lightness and freedom, and of the realization that nothing --
NOTHING -- like this had ever happened to anyone else in my family.

Until now.

10,000 generations before me gazed up at the sky, and wondered what it
would
be like to soar with eagles. 10,000 generations wondered how it would
feel
to hover between earth and sky, longing to achieve it -- but fearing it as
well.

And there I was.

All of us, in this season of man, must surely realize how fortunate we
are.
All of us, in this tiny brotherhood of aviators, must surely be the
luckiest
people to have ever walked this planet.

Wouldn't you think after nearly ten years, and over 1300 hours aloft (900
as
PIC; 400 with Mary as PIC), that I would get over this?

God help me if I ever do!

;-)
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"

Wouldn't you think after nearly ten years, and over 1300 hours aloft (900
as PIC; 400 with Mary as PIC), that I would get over this?

God help me if I ever do!

;-)
--
Jay Honeck

Jay.. if you ever get over it... it will probably be when you are face to
face with him

BT

"Jay Honeck" wrote in message news:n_Mkd.86573$R05.83876@attbi_s53...
As we were flying along yesterday, en route to a good lunch in a nearby
town, it happened again.

There I was, sitting comfortably at 3500 feet, as rock solid as I am right
now, gazing down upon freshly harvested fields and newly barren trees. The
sun was warm on my face, but the air was cool. The winds were light, radio
traffic (on this weekday flight) was minimal, and Atlas was running like a
beautiful (albeit gigantic) Swiss watch...

Conversation had fallen silent, as we were both lost in the quiet
contemplation of another routine flight. It was a beautiful day to fly.

And then, it hit me:

NONE of this was possible.

I looked out at the wings, and saw nothing that could intuitively explain
our lofty perch. There was no sensation of movement, other than the
vibration of the engine, and the landscape unrolling beneath us. I was
completely relaxed, sitting in this unlikely place, yet I was FLYING THROUGH
SPACE in a ship of my own.

At that moment, a pang of momentary fear shot through me, as it sometimes
still does when I realize that I am piloting an airplane unassisted. This,
as always, was immediately followed by a thrill of sheer, utter joy, of
purest lightness and freedom, and of the realization that nothing --
NOTHING -- like this had ever happened to anyone else in my family.

Until now.

10,000 generations before me gazed up at the sky, and wondered what it would
be like to soar with eagles. 10,000 generations wondered how it would feel
to hover between earth and sky, longing to achieve it -- but fearing it as
well.

And there I was.

All of us, in this season of man, must surely realize how fortunate we are.
All of us, in this tiny brotherhood of aviators, must surely be the luckiest
people to have ever walked this planet.

Wouldn't you think after nearly ten years, and over 1300 hours aloft (900 as
PIC; 400 with Mary as PIC), that I would get over this?

God help me if I ever do!

;-)


Been there many times Jay. Nothing like it. Last week I had a
different variation. Was doing a quick descent over the leaf colored
hills into Sumner County airport at Gallatin, TN, when I looked out
and suddenly realized I was riding a 2000 pound collection of metal
towards the ground.
--
Gene Seibel
Hangar 131 - http://pad39a.com/gene/plane.html
Because I fly, I envy no one.

Jay Honeck wrote:
10,000 generations before me gazed up at the sky, and wondered what
it would
be like to soar with eagles. 10,000 generations wondered how it
would feel
to hover between earth and sky, longing to achieve it -- but fearing
it as
well.

And there I was.

:-)

This also occurred to me once, while I was skydiving. There I was,
10,000 feet in the air. "How many millions before me have dreamed of
doing this?"

Every time I'm just flying along and suddenly realize the same kind of
thing, I have to fight off an almost uncontrollable urge to want to
roll the aircraft... but alas, the humble spamcans I get to fly are
not aerobatics-capable so I must settle for just feeling lucky that
I'm flying at all.

It's definitely amazing to realize how magical it is to be flinging a
ton of stuff eight thousand feet in the air over a hundred miles per
hour, with the controls at your own fingertips.

"Jay Honeck" wrote in message news:n_Mkd.86573$R05.83876@attbi_s53...
As we were flying along yesterday, en route to a good lunch in a nearby
town, it happened again.

There I was, sitting comfortably at 3500 feet, as rock solid as I am right
now, gazing down upon freshly harvested fields and newly barren trees. The
sun was warm on my face, but the air was cool. The winds were light, radio
traffic (on this weekday flight) was minimal, and Atlas was running like a
beautiful (albeit gigantic) Swiss watch...

Conversation had fallen silent, as we were both lost in the quiet
contemplation of another routine flight. It was a beautiful day to fly.

And then, it hit me:

NONE of this was possible.

I looked out at the wings, and saw nothing that could intuitively explain
our lofty perch. There was no sensation of movement, other than the
vibration of the engine, and the landscape unrolling beneath us. I was
completely relaxed, sitting in this unlikely place, yet I was FLYING THROUGH
SPACE in a ship of my own.

At that moment, a pang of momentary fear shot through me, as it sometimes
still does when I realize that I am piloting an airplane unassisted. This,
as always, was immediately followed by a thrill of sheer, utter joy, of
purest lightness and freedom, and of the realization that nothing --
NOTHING -- like this had ever happened to anyone else in my family.

Until now.

10,000 generations before me gazed up at the sky, and wondered what it would
be like to soar with eagles. 10,000 generations wondered how it would feel
to hover between earth and sky, longing to achieve it -- but fearing it as
well.

And there I was.

All of us, in this season of man, must surely realize how fortunate we are.
All of us, in this tiny brotherhood of aviators, must surely be the luckiest
people to have ever walked this planet.

Wouldn't you think after nearly ten years, and over 1300 hours aloft (900 as
PIC; 400 with Mary as PIC), that I would get over this?

God help me if I ever do!

;-)

Enjoyed your write up above, Jay. I had the same feeling many years
ago in the early eighties when I soloed in a C152, and had it again in
the mid eighties when I hovered in a helo and flew backwards and
sideways. I found a tree in the middle of a field and circled it at
about 40' AGL doing about 15knots BACKWARDS. I must have circled it
about five times before I got paranoid thinking that a farmer might
shoot at me. :-)

Every now and then I still fly to that tree and circle it a couple of
times.

I highly recommend rotary wing flying, hanggliding is alot of fun too
"Look Ma, no engine!".

Bryan

Every time I'm just flying along and suddenly realize the same kind of
thing, I have to fight off an almost uncontrollable urge to want to
roll the aircraft... but alas, the humble spamcans I get to fly are
not aerobatics-capable so I must settle for just feeling lucky that
I'm flying at all.

It's definitely amazing to realize how magical it is to be flinging a
ton of stuff eight thousand feet in the air over a hundred miles per
hour, with the controls at your own fingertips.

I had the same epiphany flying IFR over Long Island Sound on a business trip.
Looked down, saw the sound though breaks in the clouds, and realised again how
lucky I was.

John Gillespie Magee Jr said it best, though, in High Flight. We're the
blessed, we've 'touched the face of God'.