A tale of two flights

I knew this flight was going to be different. I knew that my attitude was different. I knew that somehow I’d manage it.

Don’t get me wrong I was still overwhelmed with the workload, with the what-ifs?, with the general enormity of what I was trying to do. But somehow I knew I was going to go ahead and do it anyway.

It helps that the flight planning is finally getting easier. It’s been a long, messy drawn out process, fraught with danger (at least from RTH’s point of view I suspect!) but I’m actually at the point where the weather dependent stuff can be done in less than an hour. My E6b dances in my hands rather than flies through the air!

Bob’s feeling the difference too. I’d gotten down the flight school early so that I could pull the weather at my leisure and find a quiet spot in which to work my whizz wheel magic. Unlike last time where Bob found me slowly weeping over a pile of papers, this time, by the time he’d arrived I’d:

• Gotten the weather and done all my course and fuel burn calculations
• Phoned for a weather and NOTAM briefing
• Filed my flight plan
• Arranged for dispatch to call for fuel to top off the tanks
• Reviewed the Journey Log to check that the plane was legal to fly (fresh out of maintenance!)
• Dumped what I could of my stuff in the plane to save time later
• Got my charts in front of me, marked off key points (Calling points etc.) and was mentally walking through the flight in my head.
• Scribbled down a notebook page full of question/points I wanted clarifying

I still had a mountain of paperwork in front of me. The exact same amount of paperwork that I had the first time I attempted the cross country malarkey. I contemplated it with a small degree of amusement. Bob ran his magic eye over it (why do I still feel like a school kid having their homework marked when he does this?) and seemed generally satisfied.

It was here that the general tone of the conversation seemed to change. I no longer felt like I was being quizzed incessantly about my planning, my choices. It felt more like a …. discussion than anything.

It wasn’t a “tell me where you are going to make your call to xxxx” kind of inquisition. It was more of a “So are you planning to do A or B?” with a dialogue about the pros and cons of each option. I’d made choices and Bob was interested in the reasoning behind them. There was no right or wrong answer here.

Satisfied that I suitably prepared, we tag-teamed the walkround (Bob does fuel to save me time and climbing effort), there was never a doubt in my mind that I was going to get in that plane and takeoff.

My first solo cross country, I was stupidly scared the entire time. It was a little bumpy in places. On the yet-to-be-made-public video, you can clearly hear me whimpering “I want to go home”.

For this flight it was also bumpy but you can clearly hear me singing!

For my first flight, despite my fears the navigation actually went really well. I managed to map read my way out of any uncertainty and make it there without any assistance. And yet still I stressed out over the whole thing.

This flight I got gloriously, messily, spectacularly lost.

And I loved every moment of it.

I was smiling, giggling, laughing and yes even singing at one point (my apologies to any song writers I’ve offended out there!)

It was by far the most enjoyable flight I have ever done. Despite having the wrestle my way through some not insignificant bumpage either.

I wasn’t fazed, hassled or otherwise bothered. I had full tanks of gas, I plane I like flying, a vague idea of which way I should be heading and ATC on hand if needed. What more can you ask for?

Oh and it’s not just me who has lightened up a bit, Bob admitted that he’d spent my first cross country flight on tenterhooks the entire time, fingers poised over his phone waiting for me to text. This time, apparently, he went shopping instead!