Did you know small aircraft pilots pull their planes manually using a bar hooked to the front of the plane just below the propeller? I hadn’t realized this was part of the process until Da Viking, Chuck, had started taking flying lessons in 2019.

After Chuck experienced two helicopter crashes and the traumatic carnage of a C 130 plane catastrophe, it surprised me that he was interested in learning to fly at all. Although I know that he has always faced issues head on and has wanted to conquer any discrepancies in his life. I was still amazed that he took on this challenge.

Long ago, Chuck had started the process of learning to fly, but was unable to complete the high-cost classes. More recently, Chuck had “flown” using a computer simulator, so when he started lessons in 2019 with Jack, as his personal instructor, it was a smooth transition. On their first flight Jack said he thought Chuck had flown many hours already. My husband has always been so clever and quick to absorb information.

When Da Viking had completed his examinations and check ride for his pilot’s license, he ceremoniously gifted me his provisional permit for flying since I have supported him through this process. (Even though he did all the work and many hours of flying, I felt I had little to do with his success.) Chuck promised me that I would be his first passenger.

Well, I quickly countered that we needed to update our will before we fly together. I hadn’t realized that updating a will is a LONG process, but after a few weeks we were ready to take to the skies.

“Clear!” Chuck hollered out the tiny window to anyone on the taxi-way.

Then he pushed the start switch. The propeller pulsed and the engine fluctuated as Da Viking evaluated and reassigned pressures, checked the rpms, tilts of the tail and wings and set the altitude preparing for take off. There are official words for each of these flying functions, but I am not versed in such knowledge . . . yet. I was looking forward to seeing the fall foliage from above!

We taxied to the end of the runway. “Is your heart beating fast?” Chuck wondered aloud. “Nope. I’m calm.” I stated into the headset with a shrug. “Well, mine is”, he said. He pressed his lips together and sighed. He called over the radio to let other pilots know he was taking off. It sounded very confident and official. It went something like this . . . “Greenville Traffic. This is Niner, Three, Whiskey. Departing on runway 2-8 to the west. Greenville.” We rumbled forward and soon we were off the ground.

Suddenly, everything was white! We hadn’t realized there was fog. From the ground we didn’t see it, but it enveloped us as we climbed. I took a cloth and tried to wipe the windshield. The moisture was on the outside, of course. “Should I pull the defrost?” I asked. The knob was on my side. “Sure.” Chuck agreed. “It’s like we’re wearing ‘foggles.'” I commented. In flight training, pilots have to wear goggles that are fogged up across the top front, so all they can see are the controls. They are called ‘foggles.’ I get a kick out of the name!

Chuck shared that he had never had that much fog happen on a take off before. I wouldn’t have guessed that as he had been calm and worked the problem using only the controls. It was impressive!

Chuck’s hands danced across the knobs and controls as we lifted higher into the air. The white fell away. A patchwork quilt lay below us. The farm fields looked ‘combed’ to me. Neat. Orderly. The Viking pilot glanced side to side “rubber necking” as he looked for other planes and possible birds.

I hadn’t realized how many lakes there are in our region. It was like we were part of a secret being able to spy all these treasures!

A few trees were tipped giving a hint of their true colors. The ride was magical! “As a pilot, I have to ask you to not say anything when we’re coming in for a landing.” Chuck directed. “It’s not that I’m being mean, but there’s a lot I have to concentrate on as we land.” He paused and added, “I have to say this to all my passengers.” He explained further as I have been known to freely share my thoughts at many previous occasions.

The ground rose toward us. I stayed quiet. Between our seats was a bar that Chuck had to pull up to my knee height. I wondered what it was for, but I stayed quiet. Then he brought the yoke toward his chest. I stayed quiet. He flipped a switch. I think it was the landing gear. I stayed quiet. We skimmed just above the trees. Then he pulled the bar up higher. I later learned that this bar adjusted the flaps on the wings. We came at the white lines at the end of the runway. I held my breath. The back wheels touched down. Chuck pulled the bar yet again. It was up to my shoulders. The plane resisted itself, slowing quickly. The front wheel touched down. I stayed quiet. We slowed even more.

“How was that?” He asked. Then I knew I could talk. “It was a smooth landing and a fun ride! I can’t wait to go up again!”