After five years, 69.2 flying hours, four airfields, five flying schools, 14 instructors, 11 individual aircraft, five different aircraft types, two aviation categories, several airsick bags (and one headset case) and countless setbacks, I finally have my Recreational Pilot’s Certificate!
I decided to switch to RAAus after an almighty plateau in my GA training that saw me barely progress beyond area solo stage in three years. This included 12 months without flying at all before I returned to Lethbridge in July this year and strapped myself in to a Tecnam Eaglet.
It just felt surreal to be tracking straight and level at 4500ft for so long without having to practice a forced landing or demonstrate steep turns.
By that stage I had just over 60 GA training hours in my logbook, but thankfully all that experience was transferable and, after just seven hours including some solo time, I finally went from long-suffering student to pilot.
To say I was chuffed is an understatement, but it didn’t really sink in until a week later when I took to the air again, this time totally independent of anyone else.
To open a hanger, move one aircraft to drag mine out, do the daily inspection, sign the maintenance release, top up the fuel tanks and take off without an instructor in sight finally made me feel like I truly belong in this wonderful fraternity.
I couldn’t have picked a better morning. The morning cloud had burned away and the wind was a gentle 8 knots. I was finally cruising through the skies beyond the training area and experiencing the freedom I had long craved.
Yet, I felt apprehensive. Not because I was worried about flying on my own – I was absolutely loving that – it just felt surreal to be tracking straight and level at 4500ft for so long without having to practice a forced landing or demonstrate steep turns.
Feeling like I had to do more than fly around aimlessly, I busied myself identifying towns and landmarks until positioning myself near Meredith for my inbound call, which I stuffed up and corrected.
My landing wasn’t great either, but I had a huge smile on face as I called clear of all runways, adding a little ‘woohoo’ at the end, which I’m not sure anyone heard.
As I pushed the ever-faithful Tecnam back into the hanger, I thought about how long it had taken me to achieve this dream.
Logging almost 60 hours at four different airfields has, and will, put me in good stead – no experience goes to waste. But it would have been nice, and a hell of a lot cheaper, to get to this point much sooner.
So, what would I do if I had my time again?
There has been plenty written about starting flying lessons, which often begins with choosing the right flying school and instructor. But that will mean nothing if you don’t stay current.
If you can’t fly more than once a month you’re doomed to have to repeat things. Of my almost 70 hours I reckon 30 were spent going over something I had previously demonstrated.
Sure, I had a lot go against me, like flying schools closing, chronic airsickness and Victorian winters. But I did control the purse strings, or, rather, they controlled me.
If I had my time again I would have saved enough money to ensure I could afford a block of weekly lessons to get through some of the harder-to-master stages. I reckon even a small loan could have saved me thousands in the long run.
Still, I’m so glad I persisted. Moving forward I’ll heed my own advice and keep flying regularly, especially now that my learning to fly has only really just begun.