Flying lesson

This is the first blog I've written in a very long time. I've travelled quite a lot in the last 2-3 years, and though I've done a whole variety of stuff, I never seem to be in the mood to write. I've been looking for a reason to break through a severe case of writer's block, and what better reason than the fulfillment of a childhood dream?

Recently I went for my very first flying lesson. I've always wanted to learn how to fly. As a kid I used to collect die-cast aeroplanes, and loved movies like the Dambusters and Angels One Five. My classmates would mock me for creating my own 'plane' from a pen and ruler, and sitting there twirling it absent-mindedly during lessons, executing imaginary aerobatics and dogfight manoeuvres.

For my birthday, my parents bought me a gift voucher for a 45 minute trial flight with aerobatics here in Perth. After I made the booking, an email came through advising me to report to the Royal Aero Club at Jandakot (a small airport south of Perth) on the day. I was told to arrive fifteen minutes before my flight time and wear enclosed shoes. No further vetting needed. You gots the money, you flies the plane. How exciting!

When the day came, the winter sky was filled with grey clouds. I phoned the Royal Aero Club to check if we were flying, and they advised I could either wait a couple of hours to see if the weather improved, otherwise they were happy to postpone the booking. I opted to postpone it. I felt a clear desire not to leave my bed that day, probably owing to drink the previous night.

The lesson was postponed twice again due to low-lying cloud. Winters in Perth are really mild but you do see a fair amount of rain and stormy weather. The day of the flying lesson finally arrived a month after my birthday. No longer would I have to imaginatively deploy stationery to visualise flying a plane.

The afternoon sun shone on Jandakot airport as I slung my car along the sleepy access road, looking for the Royal Aero Club. 99% of air traffic goes through Perth's main airport. Jandakot only ever seems to get used by fly-in fly-out workers and the police when they're extraditing fugitive murderers from the outback. Half a dozen flying schools jostled for attention along the road I found myself on, but the passing traffic was meagre. The Royal Aero Club was a two story building right at the end of the road.

I walked in to discover an unfeasibly huge reception desk dominating the ground floor lounge. The room was deserted, save for a middle-aged couple waiting for a Tiger Moth flight and a girl on reception who greeted me with the usual laid-back West Australian hello (where you're never really sure if the person is pleased to see you, resents your intrusion on their relaxing day or gives a shit either way).

I filled in a form and met my flying instructor, Trent, a dark-haired bloke in his 20s wearing a pilot's uniform (obviously, as he was a pilot). He took me out to a Cessna 152 that was parked nearby on the tarmac. This is a small plane with fixed undercarriage, which is the most a beginner like me would be trusted with. I watched as he untied the wings and tail from their mooring ropes, then demonstrated how to check the oil and fuel levels. He waved to a man in a fuel tanker, who drove by and filled up the plane's tank. It probably held less than my car.

After a few more preparations, and an explanation of the controls, we were ready to go. I strapped myself into my flying harness, which seemed nice and solid, and struggled to shut the flimsy cockpit door.

"Just give it a slam... it springs open sometimes when you're in the air!" Trent laughed. I smiled back uneasily, assuming this sort of thing would be hilarious once we were up in the air.

Next I was showed how to prime the engine (pumping a handle in the cockpit to draw fuel into the cylinders), flick the master power switch, then turn the key in the ignition (yes, planes have keys). The propeller spun for an eternity before the plane's engine finally coughed into life.

We were both wearing our headsets by this point and Trent exchanged instructions with the control tower. The noise of the engine was very loud in the cockpit, even though it was only idling. Soon the control tower gave the magic word and we set off for the runway.

I got an opportunity to steer the plane as it taxied along. You direct the plane on the ground using foot pedals to apply a brake on the left or right wheel. It was quite a challenge not to zigzag from side to side and keep it on the yellow line, but we were moving quite slowly and there wasn't much around that we could crash into. The instructor steered us round a corner, and then came the exciting part.

Take-off was quite simple. I pushed the throttle all the way in and waited for the plane to accelerate to a certain speed (55 knots, which is the same as 100km/h or 60mph), then pulled the control column back. The plane floated from the runway into the sky, and we were airborne! I sat there in disbelief, clutching the controls - I was flying a plane!

We levelled out at 1,000 feet and flew across to Fremantle, then turned the nose south, heading along the coast to Rockingham. The sea shimmered in the distance and the cars on the roads below were small moving specks. The sun shone down, the skyscrapers of Perth glinted in the distance, and a dusting of cloud covered the sky high above. I spotted the Tiger Moth aircraft from the airport, flying below us and to the left, bimbling around Fremantle harbour. We were moving at about 100mph and it took a few minutes to reach Rockingham. Time for the next phase of the flying experience - aerobatics.

Trent took over on the dual controls and we climbed to 3,500 feet. Vomit bags were at the ready, though hopefully I wouldn't need one. I had been on a selection of the Pleasure Beach's finest rollercoasters and never blown chunks. This would be a piece of cake.

We did a barrel roll and the sky spun around us. The G-force pinning us in our seats was immense - twice as much as a rollercoaster ride. I avoided feeling sick by staring at the horizon, but the instructor must have seen the warning signs on my face and didn't try any further manoeuvres (such as a loop-de-loop or stall turn).

It was time to head back to the airport, past a few familiar landmarks such as Lake Richmond and Adventure World. After a meandering approach around the industrial landscape south of the river, the runway was suddenly rushing up to meet us. With Zen-like calm, Trent let me steady the wings and point the plane towards the middle of the runway.

We descended lower and lower... then suddenly it was all over. The wheels bounced gently on the tarmac and we were safely down on the ground. I had landed the plane (sort of - Trent would have taken over if things went wrong). The descent and landing happened too quickly for me to think about it. I guess it can be considered safe for a beginner like me to land a relatively slow plane like this - compared to a massive airliner that can travel at hundreds of miles an hour.

We taxied to the parking spot, stopped the engine and reattached the mooring ropes, and the flying lesson was over. I was awarded a shiny certificate for completing my flying lesson. If I want to have more lessons (which I do), it costs over $400 an hour.

I found the day really inspiring, but I have some serious saving to do if I want to get a private pilots' licence. The average pilot needs 60 hours' flying time to pass the test, which equals a minimum of $24,000. And you need a private licence as a prerequisite before you even think about training to be a commercial pilot.

I'm not sure if I want to become a commercial pilot, but it would nice to join the ranks of Bruce Dickinson from Iron Maiden and the singer from the Offspring, as rock stars who can fly airliners. Oh, I also need to become a famous rock star too - but that's a whole other story.

I found the flying part easy but was annoyed I couldn't handle the aerobatics. Apparently the more you fly, the more you get used to the G forces. With a farewell handshake, I left Trent and his buddies at the Aero Club to their enviable life of flying planes.

It remains to be seen what will happen with my aviation career. Until I find the money, I'm putting my pen and ruler together and going to my happy place.