As I mentioned the moment I took off from that runway was epic, I knew I had a massive task lying ahead of me. I didn’t feel up to it.
Which is quite frankly , stupid. Not two weeks before I’d flown my very first passenger up to Muskoka, the first leg of this trip. I made it just fine. Muskoka airport is ridiculously easy to spot from the air. You can see it a good 10 miles out, beckoning you in. I know the route, I know that it is surprisingly simple to navigate to. I have no idea why I’m concerned.
As usual my uncertainty translates directly into an inability to parse the English language effectively. Throughout the entire three legs of the flight my radio calls were from amateur hour. Not proud of them at all.
My initial approach into Muskoka started off uneventful, despite the fact that I was using the opposite runway to last time, I had a vague idea of what I was doing and wasn’t too bothered by the fact that the air around Muskoka always seems to be a bit lumpy.
Then it got a bit more exciting. Listening to the radio chatter between Timmins and the other traffic, it rapidly became apparent that there were two of us , both claiming to be mid downwind, both claiming to be descending to circuit height.
Very aware that two planes trying to occupy the same space at the same time has a tendency to get messy very quickly, I admitted to Bob that I wasn’t sure what to do.
Looking back the course of action was obvious. I couldn’t see him in front of me, so if I maintained height and relative position I should be ok.
Sure enough we eventually spot him, well ahead of his reported position. Crisis averted, for the moment.
My landing was a little on the “sporty” side of perfection but the plane was still intact, that counts as a win as far as I’m concerned.
Legs shaking, barely able to support my weight I stagger into the terminal building, desperately seeking out fluids to replace those I’ve stress sweated out during the flight.
I’m also painfully, painfully aware that I’m only a third the way through this flight.