Presumably because of the slightly marginal forecast, there wasn’t much in the way of traffic out at Claremont, which was probably a good thing because my radio calls were a little on the unpolished side. There wasn’t even much traffic in the control zone. I was cleared enroute ridiculously early.
I was fairly quiet as well, mainly because to start with I was fairly nervous about heading out there, worried about the clouds and ice and other related stuff. I did my usual mental trick of “just take it out to Bluffers and then come back” line of persuasion but on the way out I broke my silence to say out loud “will you just breathe for god’s sake?”
So I did , slowly and carefully.
It’s a good technique; it allows me to take stock of my situation. I’m at 2000ft, the engine is purring sweetly, the gauges staying stable with normal indications. Fuel situation is good and I’ve scoped out potential sites in case the engine decides to quit.
Even on top of my panic, somehow I’ve still been flying the plane and making the decisions I need to. I realise this and suddenly it feels like a huge weighted has been lifted from me.
I don’t need to turn back
I’m flying a plane
I’m flying a freaking plane!
I love it up here.
It’s just me and the plane and the whole world stretching below me.
Words fail me, so I don’t bother. It’s so peaceful and quiet and beautiful. Who needs words?