Aerospace 4 - Solo Flight

Slingsby Skylark 4

This photo of a beautiful Skylark sailplane reminds me of the wonderful day that I flew solo in a single-seater for the first time.

It would have been in the late ‘70s, at the Dorset Gliding Club, located at the Tarrant Rushton airfield in the U.K. (Now closed).

Traditionally, new pilots are not given pre-warning of their first solo flight, to reduce tension.  On this occasion, I was given a short flight with the instructor and, when we landed, he jumped out and simply told me to stay at the controls because it was ‘time’.  His sole instruction was, “Don’t stay up for more than an hour”.

The sailplane was hooked onto a long cable attached to a single engined Auster (tug), I gave the ‘thumbs up’ signal to the wingman and almost immediately, we (the sailplane and I) were bumping uncomfortably across the grass field until, with one final bump, we were airborne.

It was difficult keeping in formation behind the tug because it normally flew at 110 knots and my sailplane preferred to fly at 75 knots, making the controls very sensitive.

Once we had reached the required altitude of 3,000 feet, I pulled the cable release, and the whistle of high-speed air suddenly dropped to a quiet swishing sound as I reduced speed ... and I was able to relax ... slightly.

I began to look for a cloud that indicated the presence of a thermal of warm air that should be able to take me into the clouds.  That day, there were a number of solid cumulus clouds and, choosing the nearest, I soon felt the pull of rising air and I banked into a circle to stay within the thermal.  The increasing adrenalin generated much excitement as I challenged the thermal trying to force me sideways.  Soon, we were at the base of the cloud at 4,500 feet.

At this height, I was able to dive away from the safety of the cloud towards another cloud that was in the direction of my intended travel.  This caused a loss of height, but I was soon able to feel the pull of another thermal and we began another climb.

I was even more relaxed now, and able to study the beauty of the surrounding clouds.  Nothing seemed to matter ... I was in the Land of the Gods.

As I casually looked around, I suddenly noticed a large bird near my wing tip.  I believe that it was a kestrel (a bird of prey).  We circled together for quite a while.  Such an exhilarating feeling ... being one with nature.  Occasionally, it would turn its head in my direction, as if to say, “You’re pretty good, for a human.”  Then, in an instant, it was gone, looking for its supper, I suppose.

One hour and thirty-five minutes later (It was easy to lose a sense of time when enjoying oneself), I was back in the circuit, brakes out, and rolling to a stop.  The instructor was, playfully, wagged his finger at me ... but he was really delighted that another student had successfully achieved solo flight.

I shall never forget that day.

The Perception of Beauty

In Washington , DC , at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, a man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. 

After about 3 minutes:  a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.

About 4 minutes later:  the violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money into the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

At 6 minutes:  a young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

At 10 minutes:  a 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him away hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pulled hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent — without exception — forced their children to move on quickly.

At 45 minutes:  the musician continued to play. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.

After 1 hour:  he finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. 

There was no recognition at all.

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.

This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.  It raised several questions: 

1. In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? 
2. If so, do we stop to appreciate it? 
3. Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:  If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made . . . how many other things are we missing as we rush through life?

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