Today I became a pilot.

Ah, today, the culmination of three months of arduous training, rigorous studying, and many long hours of sweat and blood, I have finally reached that all-important point in every pilot's career- solo.

Today, the magic day of solo. How do I capture the thrill, the emotion, the pure exhilariation of flying? It's like love.......very difficult to put into words. The closest I think anyone has ever come was a young American fighter pilot by the name of John Gillespie Magee, Jr. John was killed at the age of nineteen flying a Spitfire in the Battle of Britan, but not before he wrote what has been affectionately dubbed "the aviator's poem."


High Flight
by John Gillespie

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds-and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of-wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through the footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifiting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.


I still get misty-eyed every time I read this poem.


I got up this morning, had a quiet McDonald's breakfast as I checked the weather and conditions for flight at the airport. The weather was as close to perfect as I could ask for. My instructor and I went up at 11 for some landing practice. After 10 or so landings, after emergency landings, high altitude recoveries, slips, power-off landings, and even a few regular landings, we landed back at the airport. My instructor signed my logbook and medical, and told me to come back after I had done three to five landings on my own.

I calmly walked to my airplane, got in, quietly recited the Alan Shepard's Prayer to myself, and proceeded to run through the checklist. The cockpit was eerily silent. I was nervous, but I was suprised to find myself calm and confident, also. I thought I'd be shaking so bad I'd fly myself into the ground. I was nervous, but I simply flew. Like I had trained. Like I had practiced. Like so many times before, I flew. By myself. Five times I took off, flew around the airport, and landed. My only companion was a pair of Air Force wings given to me many years ago by a pilot friend of mine, Retired Air Force Colonel Rodney Cron.

Back at the airport, I received congratulations from my instructor (Brian Hadyl), the owner of the airport and Sporty's Pilot Shop (Hal Shevers), and several linesmen and pilots at the airport. As I shook hands with each of these people, I felt like I had finally been joined the elite club of aviators and pilots. My logbook now has a small ".9" in the "hours of solo pilot in command" box. I recieved my solo certificate and a gift from my family. A small box bore the words "Great job Ryan! We are so proud of you !! Mom, Dad, and Brad." Inside was a gift certificate to Sporty's (the pilot shop).

10.19.03
Cessna 152 N68211
First solo flight

I left the airport today day a pilot.