"Cloud cover at 7,000 feet," the forecast had said. That was way higher than we would fly today, I thought as I listened to the predicted light morning rain landing on the metal roof and completed my "written" exam while thinking about this day being a mixture of 2024 and 1943.
As a concession to my schedule and that of my CFI, I'd been flying mostly in the early morning hours. But today was different. The written was much longer than any of my ground school sessions. But after lunch the rain abated, and we took off finding the tiniest 75 degree crosswind as we left the shadows of the big pines. I dipped one wing and turned into it climbing from the well drained sod at a nice steady rate that would not give anyone whiplash.
I didn't need a compass. The skies to the west were a mix of bright yellows and oranges peeking from strings of white with brilliant pastel blues and pinks. To the east were softer whites and pastel blues with just a hint of pink. One could navigate by memories of a grade school (color) tone chart.
It looked as if there were mountains and forests in the sky. So beautiful that it was almost distracting. But, I had a job to do.
By the time I had shown off just a little, crossed the 28 hour mark, and landed, the air was perfectly still. There wasn't even a hint of a bounce on the grass, just a squishy sound. Taxiing to the hangar was so smooth that I almost pinched myself.
An' as da sun sets 'n da Yooper, da-whirld has 'nudder certif-cated pilot.
As a concession to my schedule and that of my CFI, I'd been flying mostly in the early morning hours. But today was different. The written was much longer than any of my ground school sessions. But after lunch the rain abated, and we took off finding the tiniest 75 degree crosswind as we left the shadows of the big pines. I dipped one wing and turned into it climbing from the well drained sod at a nice steady rate that would not give anyone whiplash.
I didn't need a compass. The skies to the west were a mix of bright yellows and oranges peeking from strings of white with brilliant pastel blues and pinks. To the east were softer whites and pastel blues with just a hint of pink. One could navigate by memories of a grade school (color) tone chart.
It looked as if there were mountains and forests in the sky. So beautiful that it was almost distracting. But, I had a job to do.
By the time I had shown off just a little, crossed the 28 hour mark, and landed, the air was perfectly still. There wasn't even a hint of a bounce on the grass, just a squishy sound. Taxiing to the hangar was so smooth that I almost pinched myself.
An' as da sun sets 'n da Yooper, da-whirld has 'nudder certif-cated pilot.
