Do or do not. There is no “why?”

Squeezing in a lesson before Bob disappears on a much needed vacation. Myself, I’m feeling relaxed and renewed courtesy of our trip away. I enjoyed the break from all things work and flying related, it gave my brain time to process and sort out what’s important.

With regard to the flying I came to the inevitable conclusion. The only thing standing between me and my license is those damn power on stalls.

Cutting through all the touchy-feely BS about WHY I don’t like them: the extreme nose up attitude , the anticipation of the wing drop, the stall horn screaming in my ear and putting aside my pathetic attempts to justify WHY I’ll never have to do them in real life. My protests that I would never willingly point my nose straight up, that I’d never accidentally plant the plane on its tail.

I knew that really it has come down to this. Either do the stalls and recover correctly or don’t get your license.

There really is no sugar coating it any more. I’ve known this for a while; I’m just admitting it to myself now.Bob, of course, knows this and, of course, had come up with a plan. The difference is this time I had one too!

Let the battle of the plans commence!

We had a brief conversation about what the issue was. We both agreed that it was the anticipation of the stall, and more importantly the wing drop that freaked me out. Again we are back to my control issues. What Bob perhaps didn’t realise is that it was also the physical sensation of the plane falling away from me that also sets my teeth on edge.

It was this last aspect that I’d had time to contemplate. It makes very little sense, I love boats and I love rough weather. I adore riding the waves. OK WMAP you’ve just got to persuade yourself that you are on a boat! I shared this thought with Bob, just so that we didn’t think I had completely lost my mind when I started making ocean noises!

My other plan was simply to shut up and put up. I’d also come to realise that I love the thought of being a pilot more than I hate the thought of stalls.

Bob, as I mentioned, also had a plan. He wanted me to experience a wing drop where I was in control. His idea was to do some power OFF stalls (which I’m OK with) and deliberately make the wing drop by putting in some left rudder. The idea being that I’d practice the recovery technique but I’d still be “in control”.

I understood exactly what Bob was trying to achieve but I was less than enthusiastic about trying it. I shared my plan with Bob and asked if we could try mine first.

Once out there we started off with a simple power off stall, no flaps. As simple as they come and usually something I manage, no issues. I stall, I go to recover. My damn, freakin’,stupid, hand comes up and steadies itself on the stupid bloody glare shield.

ARGGGGHHHHHH!

I throw a little bit of a hissy fit. So outrageously annoyed at myself. I quickly realise that I’m not impressing anyone with this display and start pointing the plane back in a direction that’ll let me set up for another go.

Full flaps this time. Successfully completed. Pheww!

And another, better than the last.

“What now?” Bob inquires?

“Power on” I commit before I think better of it.

I set us up, easing into the stall. Taking the time to let the speed bleed off, carefully centring the ball and keeping the plane coordinated.

We stall and I recover.

I look at my hand in stunned silence as I realise that it has stayed firmly on the throttle.

Bob congratulates me, I don’t even look at him “another one” I say blanking everything out of my mind completely.

A carbon copy of the first, slowly entered, perfectly coordinated, hand on the throttle throughout.

Bob shares his approval. “one more” is my only reply.

No fluke, three in a row. I finally exhale my relief. This demon well and truly conquered.

“Are you OK?” he asks, a little puzzled by my silence.

I blink, reacquaint myself with my surroundings and say “Oh yeah, sorry. I needed to pretend you were someone I couldn’t scream in front of! I’m alright now.”

I can’t begin to state my relief in having this stumbling block lifted. I’m OK to practice these solo now and the mental barrier seems to have been dissolved. Walking home I had a grin on my face the likes of which we haven’t seen since my last cross country flight!

I joked with Bob that his plan worked. I was so desperate not to have to drop the wing deliberately that I sorted them out all on my own! But joking aside, as well as being happy that we have got this manoeuvre done and dusted. I realise that I’m lucky to have an instructor who is so willing to work with me and my demons. It would be some easy for him to take the “well you just need to do them” attitude and us just bash away at them flight after flight, never getting any better or easier. Bob at least tries to understand WHY I’m having the issue and come up with a solution, even if his solution scares me enough to never want to have to do it!