Flying has always been to me this wonderful metaphor. In order to fly you have to trust what you can’t see. Up on the mountain ridges where very few people have been I have thought back to what every flyer knows. That there is this special world in which we dwell that is not marked with boundaries; that’s not a map. We’re not hedged about with walls and desks. So often in an office the very worst thing that can happen is you could drop your pencil. Out there’s a reminder that there are a lot worse things that can happen, and a lot greater rewards.

–Richard Bach, television interview

I don’t have any aerial photos to show this time, not because we were grounded by the hazy weather but because I was sitting in the pilot’s seat.

It wasn’t even planned that way, because I had to ditch my original idea of taking an extended “discovery” flight (an intro flight lesson that’s discounted) and book it as a regular plane rental with a pilot because it exceeded the time limit for an intro flight. As a result, I wasn’t there as a student and didn’t bring my PTR (pilot training record), maps, or even proper shoes. (Thick-soled sandals and rudder pedals are a terrible combination.)

My instructor called me before I left work and warned me there would be traffic on the 401 because of an accident, but it still took me twice as long to get there as it did to get home afterwards. In fact, it took me half an hour just to get from work to the highway on-ramp, the same amount of time as it takes to walk that distance. I had a lot of time in traffic to think about how much more pleasant it is to fly somewhere than to drive. At least there are air traffic controllers to manage congestion! (And no rubbernecking.)

I have to give my instructor considerable credit for understanding why it was so important for me to take to the air today. He made the trip to Brampton only for this flight and drove 45 minutes each way from his house to take me up. He said if it was regular instruction he would’ve cancelled the flight: it was so hazy the horizon disappeared. But he let me take the controls, anyway, and we had to visually “pretend” there was a horizon and use the gauges to verify.

I have to say, I was more nervous on the ground with the news that this was an instructional flight (because I wasn’t mentally prepared for it) than I felt to actually take over the controls. I remember clearly all those years ago how nerve-wracked I was when I first learned how to drive — the sheer panic, the gripping of the wheel, the cold sweat, the mounting fear that I was putting lives in grave and mortal danger.

Thankfully, it wasn’t anything like that this time around. It felt more like I was trying to navigate a boat in the air, if you know what I mean. If you’ve ever helmed a speedboat in the ocean, you’ll know how different it is from steering a car — there are currents to contend with, waves, and no brakes! Staying in control of everything is harder than it looks, not to mention an airplane has a multitude of controlling mechanisms to learn.

But learn them, I will. Today was a good day to start: what better way to celebrate David’s life than to make his 40th birthday the first entry in my pilot’s log!