Alaska is my home. But it wasn’t always my home. At one time I called Utah home. Nestled in the heart of the Salt Lake Valley, I grew up in a fading farm community.

While I could tell you about the troubles of my childhood, those are all-too-normal in today’s world. Like anytime or anywhere else, growing up at this time and in this place had it’s challenges.

However, I had something really huge going for me: my Grandparents lived next door. They helped prepare meals, snuggled while we watched Disney movies, and had a large effect on me as a child. In part they raised me. The cumulitaive efforts of their small influences no doubt helped shape me into the man I am today.

Fast forward 20+ years. Now I live in Alaska, where I was born and briefly lived as an infant. Choosing to live in Alaska means that I miss out on many family functions, events, and overall can’t maintain normal face-to-face relationships like I would be able to if living in closer proximity.

However, we don’t live in the dark ages.

Flying to the Lower 48 may be a long flight, in the dead of night, with unfavorable schedules and other potential things to complain about, but it is still possible to get to Utah on a regular basis to see my family. Overall, it’s affordable, fast considering the alternatives, and usually goes without incident on a predictable schedule.

And so this last November my wife and I flew to Utah to be with our family for Thanksgiving. When we go on trips like this, we pack a lot of things in. Between my friends, Chelsea’s friends, and our families, our schedule fills up quickly. We visit many wonderful people, eat some amazing meals, and reconnect with those we love.

During our visit to Utah we visited my Grandma, Pearl, at her assisted living home. This would be a special and rare visit for Chelsea and I. But perhaps routine for Grandma. She gets frequent visits from mcuh of the family.

Besides, her and my Grandpa intentionally — and with great effort — facilitated strong family bonds between all of the posterity. As a result, I know well and consider my cousins to be some of my dearest friends. Each of my Aunts and Uncles I knew intimately. With each member of my family I share special unique memories, just between us.

That is all thanks to my Grandma and Grandpa.

Grandma couldn’t hear very well, but we managed to communicate briefly here and there. While pleasant and special, one could get frustrated with visits as well. For this reason, I think many families end up forgetting their loved ones when they enter these sort of establishments. It’s frustrating, hard, disheartening, whatever- it adds up to be difficult at times.

Things went mostly well, though! We were able to communicate well and have a great conversation.

Grandma Pearl is very pleasant. With low expectations, Chelsea and I took our time, enjoying what conversation we could, admiring pictures and paintings speckled around the room, and snapping a few pictures to preserve the memories.

Our time was short, although not rushed. What we talked about I don’t quite remember. Most of what I remember was seeing my dear wife of a few years engage in a loving way with my grandmother of many years.

Roughly 6 months later, now with great distance between us, I talked to my Grandma one last time on FaceTime yesterday. Late last night, after having been surrounding by the strong family she had raised, she passed peacefully and gracefully.

While typical readers of my posts can never fully know the deep love I have for family and particularly my grandmother, perhaps you can relate.

Also being aware that you come to this writing space for aviation material, let me get to the point: Aviation connects us with those we love. Would I have been able to be with my grandmother one last time, in person, if it wasn’t for the aircraft that I flew down to Utah, in a number of hours?

Aviation quickly connects us to that which matters most. And when we aren’t cruising along at Mach.84, it’s time to slow down and focus on the things that matter. We jet to distant lands, and then engage in unique, special, and otherwise impractical experiences- like getting to see your Grandma for the last time.

So the next time your airplane is delayed by maintenance, or your flight gets canceled and you have to call some hard airport bench a bed for a night, remember the age you live in- the Age of the Airplane.

This is truly an amazing time to be alive. As is each moment.

In reflection at this sensitive time, I say this: Travel Often. Slow Down. Love Truly. Foster Relationships. Capture Memories. Reflect.

Enjoy the journey, quite often on the blessed wings of an airplane.

Stealing a line from the Knight protecting the Holy Grail in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade:

“You must choose. But choose wisely, for as the true Grail (Instructor) will bring you life (as a pilot), a false one will take it from you.”

While you may go through an entire flying career and never truly find the ‘Holy Grail’ of flight instructors, the truth is you don’t really need to. Flight Instructors (CFIs) range from those you certainly want to avoid, to those that border on diety. The trick is aligning yourself — in a sense demanding — that you get the best ‘bang for the buck’.

Most flight schools by default assume that you don’t want a choice, but rather ‘just an instructor’. Besides, would-be students are ignorant. Students are lined up with this all-too-important figure mostly by chance. Typically there is not an interview process or a selection committee. Rather, a flight school to an extent looks at a chart and arbitrarily says, “there, match them with that instructor”. And fate proceeds.

Let me repeat- not all instructors are created equal. Armed with the knowledge from this short article, you can attain both your first flight instructor, and every flight instructor from here on out in your aviation career, by choice.

Lame Ducks

It’s true that most instructors are passing through on their way to a career further down the line in aviation. While there is nothing particulurly wrong with needing to build hours and get paid for it, students should draw caution to these types of instructors.

While most instructors — and I do mean most — geninuinly care about your flight training success, there are a select few ‘Lame Ducks’ that really are just cashing a check and waiting to get a call from the airline recruitement office.

When their personal agenda and lack of passion for instruction is a problem, it’ll waste your time, money and will cause you great distress in your training.

Here are some warning signs that you’re flying with a “Lame Duck”:

• Don’t get to know you personally
• Appear disorganized and often forget your personal training details
• Flights are cancelled often for no particular reason
• Lack personality and character
• Often has an ego and needs to place themselves above others
• Has a rigid way of thinking when it comes to all of aviation
• Make you feel in any way lesser than they are

What do to if?

What do you do if you get a Lame Duck instructor and see the warning signs? Very simple. With other choices, go to your flight school and ask that you be placed with someone else. Most people won’t flat out tell their instructor it’s not working. While that face-to-face interaction may be worth while, it may not be necesary. Simply ask that you be placed with another instructor, or find another instructor yourself.

Sidebar: Let me add something else in here. If you don’t jive or get along with your instructor, move on. Don’t waste time trying to make the relationship work. This is speed dating, at mach!

Gulls

Then there are what I call ‘Gulls’. Gulls, both of the sea variety and the dumpster diving variety are, well, average. They are good enough at flying, persistent, dedicated, and ever-present. Gulls also seem to do best in flocks.

Most instructors will fall into the Gull category. They show great dedication and persistance in helping the student find success. Usually they know they aren’t the best and are humble and teachable just like you. Although they may be building hours for an airline, they’re happy with where they’re at right now, and will be there every step of the way.

Let’s be clear- if you NEVER get anything more than a ‘Gull’ instructor, you’ll have an enjoyable time in flight training. Gulls help you reach your Goals. ← see what I did there?

How do you know you’ve found a Gull?

• Fosters a personal relationship and friendship
• Builds you up when you get down on your confidence
• Tear you down when you get up on your confidence
• Aren’t perfect, admit they’re wrong, and learn with you
• Celebrate the little victories
• Won’t be the loudest one at the flight school
• Fun!
• Adapt to your learning style
• Try different ways to teach the same thing

What to do if?

What do you do if you get a ‘Gull’? There’s really nothing to do other than enjoying the journey! They will be dedicated and help you to the best of their abilities. Sometimes their abilities may fall short because of a lack of experience. If you’re a forgiving and understanding person, you’ll enjoy learning alongside your instructor. If you’re looking for more, then you may need to upgrade to a Soaring Eagle.

Soaring Eagles

A Bald Eagle in flight- the picture of feathered flight perfection. Nothing says, “I own these skies” than a Bald Eagle soaring effortlessly. This is where we upgrade big time from a Gull, and into the rare land of the Soaring Eagle.

It is true there are some Flight Instructors out there that are particularly exceptional. They have the right combination of skill, experience, personality, knowledge, empathy, passion and drive to take your flying to a whole new level. This rare breed has been there, and done that. They can soar high above all of aviation and it’s vast curriculum, know exactly what your needs are and how to tailor a program just for you, and show you how to attack that plan.

Most pilots actually won’t ever soar with the eagles. They’ll spend their days learning from and flying with the perfectly acceptable and dedicated Gulls. But those that are aware that these rare Soaring Eagles exist, and can be hired, will find something very special.

Soaring Eagle instructors generally come with gray hair and more than a few wrinkles. They may have a potbelly or other less savory and saggy anatomy. All physical flaws are forgiven of course when these instructors instill their knowledge, wisdom and patiance upon a young padawan such as yourself.

How do you know if you’ve found a Soaring Eagle?

• Everything from a Gull Plus —
• Gray and/or bald and certainly wrinkly
• Explains things in fewer words with greater effectiveness (brevity)
• Constantly bring you to a level of discomfort (how muscle is built)
• Seem at ease, and in control
• They’ve done much more than just instructing in their career (psychologist, business owner, other skills outside aviation)
• Often have a higher rate than other instructors ($$$$)
• Comfortable with old and new airplanes
• Less focus on gadgets, more focus on Stick and Rudder

Of course you know what to do with a Soaring Eagle… keep them if you can! Or, at least pick them for critical times in your career where you feel you need to improve as an aviator, or gain a critical rating.

Conclusion

Back to our loyal Knight, who by the way happens to have gray hair and wrinkles:

“You have chosen…wisely.”

You’ll find many great instructors in your career, both Gulls and Soaring Eagles. Avoid the Lame Ducks, and certainly speak up if you need an instructor change. Those that you cherish, let them know how much you appreciate them. Your appreciation is best shown through dedication to your studies, and your professional approach to aviation at large.

Like Indiana Jones himself (quick fact, Harrison Ford is a real pilot!) you must choose for yourself.

Choose Wisely.

4 hours. At 65 miles per hour. On a road that wound through decent scenery, I couldn’t help but think I could be flying this route, in a fourth the time.

Soldiering through, I arrived home to unpack the car and have enough remaining time to hit the airport for some pattern work. The perfect end to an imperfect day!

Late in the evening, Alaska during the summertime means extended flying hours — The Land of the Midnight Sun.

Grabbing my flight bag, I walk one foot in front of the other, confidently approaching N79169. My preflight has already started. I’m looking at her there on the ramp, already looking for the right ‘aura’. Are the wheels sitting right? Any leaks?

And that wind, oooooh, was it taunting me. Biting my cheeks with a chill, and challenging my mind with the complexities of some gusty cross wind ops. I didn’t notice it at home, but now at the expanse of the airport, I knew my A-Game was in order. A crosswind? It’s on like Donkey Kong!

The light settling on top of the ridge, peaking through the clouds, cast an orange glow across the apron. Aircraft shadows stretched far and long, and the silence was only broken by the occasional wisp of air.

This beautiful setting — tonight — at this airport — was well mine. Not only a challenge, but some great scenery, and the end to a long day. Just what I needed.

Pre-flight went without a hitch as I paid attention to the rusty spots, cracks, bolts and more, trying extra hard to notice spots I hadn’t paid attention to before.

Mixture full rich, both tanks, prime three times, “CLEAR”, and I turn the key. “PUH PUH PUH POWWW GRRRRRR”.

Engine is running now, with plenty of time needed to let it warm up. I take my time listening to the ATIS, getting everything adjusted, and checking little things I can check now for runup.

“Radio, Cessna 79169 with Papa, taxiing to runup near Alpha”. “Cessna 79169, roger, no reported traffic.”

The only two things moving on the airport are me taxiing and the windsock across the way. No rush tonight. I’m just going to take my time and enjoy this, be thorough, and unwind a bit.

Pulling up to a parking spot, I depress the brakes and urge the engine to 1600 RPM. Right Mag, Drop, Both, Rise. Left Mag, Drop, Both, Rise. Suction good. Oil temp still isn’t in the green, pressure is too high as a result for this power setting. Carb Heat, YAAAAAANK.

That didn’t feel normal.

Pulling the carb heat to test, the whole wire behind the unit became exposed, pulling out much further than normal. Try to push it back in, and it’s too rigid. Is it stuck in hot or cold right now? Great, now what…

Thinking this through I know that at this airport, with colder temps and higher humidity next to the coast, I’m particularly susceptible to carb ice.

All of this happening within about 3o seconds, I realize this is a no-go for me. My magical, challenging evening with dreams of conquering these crosswinds, alone at the airport, amidst the glow of the midnight sun, won’t be happenig.

I’m resolute and unwavered. Bummed, yes, but this is aviation. Tonight is a no-go.

A feeling of gratitude remained within me still. Besides, it was earlier in the day that I had renewed my medical certificate, which is quite difficult for me to get (a story for another time).

While there will never be another tonight, there will always be another flight.

With the promise of many safe flying days ahead, I taxied the 172 back to parking, snapped a few pictures where she shall rest for the night, and counted my lucky stars that I even get to do this.

The typical flight consists of many nuts and bolts, both literally and figuratively, to ensure eventual success and safety. As my time as an aviator has unfolded over the years, the technical details are easier to manage. Many have become second nature. This opens up the door for a richer experience of simply enjoying the journey that is “aviation”.

You see, aviation is a fraternity- a brotherhood of sorts. To a deeper extent, sharing this passion for the freedom of flying aircraft is one that borders the spiritual realm. Man was obviously meant to walk the earth, yet I also contest it was our destinty as humanity to break the bonds of soil and shoe.

Memories of this warm December flying day in SoCal will remain fresh and special in my memory and heart for years to come.

My new friend and collegue from SAFE, Michael Phillips, invited me to go flying during a family visit in California.

California has a rich aviation heritage that is immediately apparent upon visiting each airport. Santa Paula, our home base for the day, is no different.

Walking into CP Aviation, one is greeted and feels right at home in a relaxed, professional, yet fast paced training environment.

Over the hangar packed with aircraft in various stages of maintenence disarray hangs the CP Aviation sign. A stoic, art-deco aviator of retro California aviation lore stands solid in front of a Beech Staggerwing.

Oodles of training material and merchandise are spread throughout the shop. The best part? A golden lab trots happily from the back, greeting each who arrives, and often stays for a soak in the sun.

After a succinct pre-flight briefing, we headed to the ramp to meet our tail-wheeled, winged friend. There we met N117CP, a Decathalon, which at one time called Japan home. On the panel remained some Japanse placards, speaking to the history of the aircraft.

The panel, paint, and mechanical state were all a 10 of 10. Manufactured in 1999, the aircraft could get away with showing some age. Yet, CP Aviation takes pride in their metal birds. Not a one aircraft, from the oldest 152 to the newest 206, is a scary sight. Some may looked aged, but all look approachable and safe. That’s a big confidence booster when you’re the one that has to fly those things!

Because the aircraft are in such good shape, the preflight went without a hitch. Not many questions arise when all looks and feels normal. Nevertheless, a pilot must always remain cautious and do a thorough preflight on the first flight of the day.

Oh, and did I mention this was my first time flying a tail-wheel aircraft? Yup, this would be real flight instruction.

Having now climbed in the cockpit, with seatbelt and harnesses locked, it was time to prime and start. With an ol’ dog instructor in the back, and a quality aircraft, nerves are more about excitement than fear.

Once the engine roared alive, the worries of life and work slip away with the slipstream. Now the world is at my fingertips. As the movie “Living in the Age of Airplanes” so poignantly puts it, “A mile of runway can take you anywhere”.

A short taxi and run-up had us setup and ready on runway 04. Starting with the stick full back, full power is applied and pressure is slowly released to just after of neutral. Before I knew it, the wheels popped off, and the machine was soaring powerfully and confidently upward.

The every whim of where we went is mostly irrelevant as the journey is what matters most. A 360 turn here, checking out a friends house there, chatting about the beauty of the coast, and how the surfers should “get-a-job”- it was all part of the experience of seeing the world from a different perspective.

Now with some fun out of the way, it was time for a different kind of fun- my first ever tailwheel landings- touch-n-go style. The target, Oxnard Airport. Of course, I wasn’t that great at this new style of landing, although not terrible. The learning curve wasn’t too steep, allowing an educative climb.

With each circuit I was learning some new nugget, settling in, screwing something up that I hadn’t the time before, but still learning in an upward direction.

Michael was fantastic- assertive when needed, quiet when necessary, encouraging always, and genuinly enjoying the experience along with me. Although challenging, the positive energy aboard the ship had me improving quickly. Every now and again, I’d get a pat on the shoulder from the man in back (the seat arrangement is tandem) and something along the lines of, “Atta boy, there we go! That was great, boss!”

We powered out of Oxnard and headed to Camarillo, which seemed only a stone throw away. From one airport’s runway to the other, it’s a near straight shot.

Stopping in Camarillo, Michael’s true resident airport, was our main business of the day.

Pulling up a large WWII-era hangar, brakes full, mixture cut-off. Immediately, it was apparent that Michael knew anyone with a pulse.

First we met Rick. He started Camarillo Aircraft, a maintenence outfit, in 1980. Aircraft filled the hangar and ramp immediately in front. Later I asked Rick how business has been over the years, since things seemed awefully vibrant. “Since 1980 I haven’t been without work for one day”. With a hitch in his stride, strong build, tanned face, and an A&P mandatory baseball cap, Rick carried with him a presence and aura of maintenance excellence.

His hangar and attached offices ooze with character. Models of all types of warbirds are proudly aligned on display tables. Commemoritave aviation art and plaques cover the walls. In the middle of all the flying things, a pictoral memorial to a former furry friend hung on the wall. “That was one of the greatest creatures to walk this earth”, Michael exclaimed.

A short golfcart ride had us in a hangar pulling out a battery from a 206. This G-1000 equipped 206 was repositioned from Venezuela where the leasor was unable to keep up on payments. In between, it sat stuck and deteriorating in Aruba for a year. Michael and Rick flew it back to California eventually. Since then it had gotten a lot of TLC.

Also in the hangar was a Mini Cooper, some WWII original art and artifacts, and a Piper Saratoga II TC that was to be getting it’s annual.

Rick and I hightailed it back to the hangar. Meanwhile, Michael started up the Saratoga and taxied it over to the hangar for the aforementioned annual.

With most errands out of the way, it was now time to do what pilots love second most after flying- eating. (although, I have to say- pilots have a way of starving themselves while rushing from one thing to another on any given day. Many a pilot has been saved by the meager meals provided by vending machines.)

Right there at Camarillo airport is Waypoint Cafe. This well established and popular eating joint was packed with hungry locals. Nestled right next to the ramp, lunch was often interrupted by the ‘whoop-whoop’ of a helicopter over head or the relentless drone of a reciprocating engine.

And of course, it didn’t hurt that it was also tri-tip Thursday.

If the mere sight of airplanes wasn’t enough to bring out the kid in everyone, a kid friendly mini-park is located between the restaurant and the ramp. It comes complete with small mockups of both runways and a Control Tower that has the actual ATC audio being played for all to hear.

With bellies full, it was time to check out Michael’s office, just across the street from Waypoint Cafe and Camarillo Aviation.

Of no surprise, I noticed the Redbird Simulator as soon as I walked in the door. Michael and I met at the annual Redbird Migration in Texas a few weeks earlier. He’s an early adopter by doing a lot of beta test work with Redbird. This simulator always stays updated with the latest and greatest.

Michael sure is sharp for his age. He handles this technology with ease and expertise, putting to shame even the young millennial who is a part time aviator and full time video gamer.

The Redbird, however, is a sight that is all too common these days in flight schools. Many flight schools have seen the need for these simulators and they have become commonplace as a result.

What makes Michael’s office special and unique are the memories and momentos on the walls. Former students, people he’s mentored, photographs from bygone eras. Interspersed are aircraft toys, fine aviation art, and other widgets. Michael scans the shelves with pride, sharing an anecdote here, and a memory there.

His story is one to be respected and honored. A low percentage of aviators choose to make aviation education their career. Having chosen this path himself, Michael is the perfect example of what treasures can be found in the day-to-day education of today’s and tomorrow’s aviators.

Errands completed, it was time to jump back in N117CP and make the trip back to Santa Paula. Once airborne, the flight was a short 15 minutes or less.

Back at home base, we finished final billing, I purchased a hoodie sweatshirt, and we joked around with the ladies at CP Aviation.

Why is this story significant? Why does it stand out to me? How is it diffrent from the many other experiences I’ve had?

Truth is, it isn’t any one of those.

Yet it is.

You see, would-be aviators dream of flying an airplane. Flying to them is about the glory of being a pilot. What they don’t know is that flying an airplane is just one slice of a very delicous aviation pie.

Being an aviator is just as much about relationships as it is about seeing a memorable sunset. Just as much about slowing down and having a chat as it is about getting things done. Just as much about making friends as it is making a perfect landing.

Although an aircraft, for the most part, is much faster than a car, flying is ultimately slower than driving.

If Michael and I had wanted to drive a car to Camarillo it would have taken all of 20 minutes. By airplane we had many additional tasks to ensure flight safety, which take time. Then we had errands to do, which also take time. Add onto that the many conversations we had with Michael’s friends, again, it adds a lot of time.

Therefore, Flying is Slower Than Driving.

The journey and experiences are what makes being a pilot so rewarding. It’s all in the detailed interactions, the pictures along the way, and the surrounding nostalgia.

Although aviation has, to an effect, conquered the four corners of the world, and that is no small thing, it has most certainly connected nations, cultures, and hearts.

So when those times do come where flying is slower than driving, I know it is for a good reason. I know I’m refreshing my love for the story and experience that is ‘aviation’.