My first solo

 Stanley - Thursday

If my flying logbook were with me in Minneapolis, and not in my flat in South Africa, I would know the exact date that I first flew solo. That I don’t remember it is not surprising because it is irrelevant. It was probably in December 1968 or January 1969.

On the other hand, there are many things about that flight that are forever etched in my memory. 

The airport was Rand Airport in Johannesburg. The plane was a brown and white Cessna 150 with call sign ZS-EDH. The flight was scheduled in the morning in order to avoid the normal summer-afternoon turbulence. 

ZS-EDH with its original paint job

 

After completing all the necessary preflight checks, my instructor and I took off and I completed several take-offs and landings. When he was satisfied that I wasn't going to kill myself, we taxied to the apron, he climbed out, and I was on my own. I don't remember exactly how many hours I had under my belt at the time, but my hazy recollection is that it was around ten. Only ten!!

 

Even though I had previously done everything required to complete a take-off, a circuit, and a landing, including all the necessary radio communications with the tower, my adrenaline was flowing because I couldn't just throw up my hands and yell 'you've got it!'. For the first time there wouldn't be anyone to rescue me.

'Rand Ground. Cessna ZS-EDH request taxi, remaining in the pattern.' I suspect my voice was at least one octave higher than normal.

It was a good thing that we'd already completed a few circuits that day, because I didn't have to decipher the ground controller's instructions to get to the end of the active runway.

When I reached the end of the taxiway and had checked the various instrument readings, the magnetos, and so on, I switched to tower frequency and requested clearance for a take-off and landing.

In my head, I was running through rotation speed, climb speed, circuit altitude, radio procedures on each leg of the pattern, and, scarily, what to do if the engine quit.

'ZS-EDH cleared for take-off.' There was a pause, then 'Good luck.' It was my instructor who had gone to the tower so he could calm me down if I panicked or remind me of procedures if I suffered a brainfart.

I taxied onto the runway, advanced the throttle, applying some rudder pressure to counter the torque, and headed down the runway, trying to keep right on the centreline, Ahead of me were several of the ubiquitous mine dumps containing the tailings of the crushed ore from the gold mines. 

I lifted the nose and adjusted the pitch angle to settle on climb speed. At one thousand feet above the ground, I made a left ninety-degree turn onto crosswind leg. When an appropriate distance away from the runway, another left ninety-degree turn onto downwind leg. I remember extending the downwind leg further than recommended so that I wouldn't be rushed. Another left ninety-degree turn onto base leg, the another one onto final.

Reduce power, I thought. Now for the tricky part - maintain landing speed while keeping the runway in front, which is sometime easier said than done when there is a crosswind. Then establish a glide path that ends on the runway and not a hundred metres short. It is truly a three-dimensional problem with the added issue of not getting too slow or too fast. If too slow, the plane may fall out of the sky; if too fast, a hoped-for smooth landing may result in multiple bounces on the runway.

Speed, heading, glide-path.

Speed, heading, glide-path.

'Looking good, Stan. Cleared to land.' It was my instructor in the tower.

Just above the runway, I pulled the power off and let the plane settle. No bounces! I had made it. Every sense in my body was in acute mode. I was elated. MY FIRST SOLO!

This week I experienced my second solo, with many of the same emotions, exhilaration, and nervousness.

Why?

Because White Sun Books published my first solo book, titled Wolfman. It is essentially a prequel to the rhino-poaching thriller Michael and I wrote - Shoot the Bastards in North America, Dead of Night elsewhere. 

Crystal Nguyễn, an investigative reporter in Duluth, Minnesota, creates her own news by sabotaging the snowmobiles and other possessions of people poaching gray wolves, then reporting on the incidents. After several of these, she speculates on the news that someone whom she nicknames Wolfman may be responsible. Needless to say, someone latches onto the idea, and starts attacking the poachers themselves. Crystal now has to reverse course and try to persuade whoever the live Wolfman is to back down. Of course, he doesn't.

Most of the other writers on this blog know all too well what it's like to publish a book written only by themselves. It is new for me. I'm excited to see it out there and am experiencing all the uncertainties of that first solo. Will I make a smooth landing, or will I land short or go bouncing down the runway? Only time will tell.

Since Mette can't be with me due to COVID restrictions, I'll just have to finish that bottle of bubbly by myself.

Clink!