Most of my life I have wanted to fly. As a child I dreamed about flying, everything was about either aircraft or the Apollo space program. My first flying lesson was bought by a girlfriend for my 21st birthday and from that moment the dream became a definite goal. I got my pilot's license in 1994. I bought my first plane in 1999. When I sold my previous business I bought a 'family' plane and an aerobatic plane. Since then I have flown more than 1200 hours as pilot in command. I have flown all over Europe, in the Alps, down to Malta, to Ireland, to Scotland, to Poland.
Some of the happiest times of my life have been either flying or flying training. Soloing in a monoplane and, some years later, in a biplane rate among the top 10 best things that I've ever done. Training for my twin engine rating and for my instrument rating were periods of extended happiness. The kick that one gets flying an aircraft blind down an instrument approach and popping out at the end 200ft above a runway, precisely positioned and ready to land, cannot be described. I've done this in training and I've done it for real, at night, in poor visibility, in the pouring rain, with my family in onboard. I've done it at high speed into Hamburg airport with an Airbus A320 behind me and in a snow storm at night into Tempelhof airport in Berlin.
I love flying at night. I love flying in bad weather. I love the precision and discipline that professional level flying requires. I loved learning to fly in the Alps and getting my certification for landing at Courchevel. I have experienced personal sunsets as I descended from high level to low level flight at twilight. I have seen lightening flash from the top to the bottom of a cloud, have flown next to the contrail of a jet. I have flown with brilliant and fun people. The list of incredible moments goes on and on.
But perhaps most of all I love flying aerobatics. The raw enjoyment of throwing a performance aircraft around the sky is beyond the power of words to capture. Flying is the only thing in my life for which I feel that I have a natural skill, if not talent. A cockpit is the only place in the world where I feel naturally comfortable and completely confident.
And yet my desire to fly has vanished. This hasn't happened overnight. It started when Kay became sick and has grown since. I have flown once since October 2009 and the thing that utterly surprises me is that I don't miss it at all. Worse, I have absolutely no desire to pick it up again. When I think about the future I don't see myself flying again. My pilots license is sitting on top of a cupboard in the lounge, where I keep my car keys, gathering dust. And every time I see it, instead of the burst of pride that I used to feel, it leaves me cold. In the coming months I need to renew my medical. If I don't revalidate my instrument rating soon, I'll lose it permanently. But you know, I can't be bothered, it just seems like a lot of hassle. I'd rather ride my bike.
I can't work out what to make of this, er, change in attitude. It's been bothering me for a while now. What's not bothering me is a need to fly. What is bothering me is that I don't have a need to fly.
What happened to my life's dream? Is this why I can't sleep? Because I've lost my dreams? What does not having a dream mean for the quality of one's life?
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Rob
ReplyDeleteYou will be furious with yourself if you let your licence lapse, even if you don't feel like flying at the moment. You might even get some of the old feelings back when you are up in the air again.
I was in the middle of completing something when I was pregnant with Caroline (16 years ago)and never finished. I now regret that because it's holding me back and I'm going to have to find some way of starting it again so that I can move forward; and it's not going to come easy.
Lesley x
I’ve seen too many grieving friends and relations realise that quite apart from the person they have lost, they mourn the future - because dreams, whether fully formed or not - have been shattered.
ReplyDeleteI've been there myself too - not grieving for someone who died, but when a long relationship came to a sudden and unexpected end, smashing plans without allowing time for me to re-think the future. Suddenly there was no dream, no future – and I was as shattered as the dreams.
Lack of future is disorientating and dreadfully upsetting.
But the future will gradually come back – different shape and different feel, but it will be a future.
Please don’t remove the likelihood of flying from the future when it has been such fun for so long Rob. You’re a really good pilot and it was something you loved to do. Whatever happens, renew your medical and sort out the instrument rating – even if you decide not to do any more flying at a later date. Don’t let it slide, renew it for now. Your wings aren’t broken – they’ve been horribly clipped and they’ll probably come back – but not without the paperwork. I hardly dare say, you might find you enjoy flying again – you’re allowed to!
(You made me think of something entirely separate: sitting beside me is the new single from Ben and Jamie – cover of ‘Broken Wings’ by Mister Mister from the 80s. Produced by Stuart Epps again and due for release on 11th April.)
Take care on your US trip – thinking of you as ever
Love and hugs to all
Linda xx
Rob, hope you've arrived safely in San Jose. I remember SJ well, as I did some flying out there getting my tail draggers endorsement. Flew a Citabria out of Amelia Reid (the airfield may have changed its name now) and had an amazing time doing basic aeros. Ran out of money to get that endorsement! :( I don't think you've lost the urge/need to fly. Simply put, your emotions, sensitivities and indeed senses are overloaded. I predict your capacity to find enjoyment in activities like flying will return gradually. Perhaps you will find something else that gives you some delight. Whether it's sailing or motorcycling (not recommended... too dangerous) you will find it. Kay may not be there physically to enjoy those things with you, but I know she would take great comfort in seeing her Dad smile honestly. Keep going Rob. You may not feel it, but everyday you grow stronger.
ReplyDeleteRob, ik kan nog helder voor de geest halen hoe je (eerste?) take off was in Courchevel. Jij aan het stuur,de instructeur naast je en wij achterin.
ReplyDeleteHup die schuine startbaan af en de diepte in. Rondje om het skigebied en naar huis.
Jaren later nog een keer geland in Courchevel samen met Marion & Jolanda. Toen landde je zelf met als gevolg dat je wat "natte oksels" ervan overhield. Bij de terugvlucht de tijd iets te laat ingeschat zodat we in het donker in Budel aankwamen.
Gr,
Arno