Lesson 1 - Intro Flight With Regal Air

Flight Time: 0.5 hours
Total Time: 0.5 hours

I arrived at Regal Air at noon on Saturday, June 27. Regal Air is a flight school located at Paine Field in Everett, WA, about 20 miles from my apartment.

Paine Field

When I arrived at Paine Field, I sort of expected to be met by an older, ex-air force pilot – my stereotypical image of a flight instructor based on my experience of growing up as an Air Force brat. Pete was not what I expected. He was younger than me – in his mid-20’s – and has just recently joined the Navy to be a Naval Flight Officer.

He showed me around the flight school – the pilot store, where he helped me pick out a log book and a Seattle area chart; the flight sims; and loaned me his spare headphones.

We started off with a pre-flight inspection of the plane – a Cessna 172, Tail #N738BU. He showed me the basics of checking out the plane, walking in a clockwise circle around the plane as he explained what we were looking for and pointing out the basics of the plane’s structure. We looked at the ailerons, flaps, elevator and rudder – terms I knew but had never REALLY imagined would relate to a vehicle I was about to control.

The Cessna I flew - N738BU

I asked him which side of the cockpit I should be in, moving towards the right hand seat – the side without the instruments and controls. He quickly directed me into the left seat and explained that I would be at the controls, while he helped direct me.

While I’ve spent a little bit of time in Microsoft Flight Simulator, looking at the actual controls was more than a little bit intimidating – how do you keep track of all of this information, while looking out the window and controlling your direction. He gave me a brief overview of the instruments and told me not to worry too much about them - focus on your speed (indicating the speed display) and your direction out of the window.

N738BU's Cockpit

Pete made all of the radio calls, which is good because it was all gibberish to me. He also did most of the steering while we taxied to the runway. He did let me steer using the rudder pedals for a brief stretch, but he quickly took control again to get us onto the runway. Learning to steer with your feet is a difficult thing when you’ve spent 15 years driving a car.

When we got lined up on the runway facing to the north, Pete said to me, “Okay, so I’ll take care of the rudder for now, but I want you to push the throttle in all the way, when we hit 60 start pulling up a little and when we hit 70 pull up more until we take off.”

I had questions about whether I should be doing it myself my first time up, but didn’t want to lose face by saying no, so I pushed in throttle, pulled up when he told me to, and a few seconds later we were in the air. There’s just no way to sufficiently describe the feeling of causing a plane to take off. It’s similar to driving a car, but the moment you’re pushed back into your chair and the wheels leave the pavement there’s an adrenaline rush and then another, more intense rush when you really understand that YOUR WHEELS ARE NO LONGER ON THE GROUND.

Pete had me level the top edge of the cowling with the horizon and our speed stayed at an even 75 knots (about 86 mph). I looked out the window nervously at the houses and buildings passing so close below us. I relaxed a bit once we hit about 1000 feet. In retrospect, it seems strange that when I was closer to the ground I was more scared than when I got higher. I think it’s because when I was lower, I could really tell that I was off the ground because of the detail in the houses, cars, trees and people – and I could more realistically imagine what would happen if I hit one. Once we got higher it was easy to emotionally distance myself from those thoughts and just enjoy the view and feeling of flight.

I was still scared to turn the plane, though, fearing (irrationally) that by turning the ailerons, I’d screw something up and send us plummeting out of the sky. He must have been reading my thoughts because almost as soon as I consciously thought that, he told me it was time to try turning. He didn’t worry about coordinated turns – we’ll get into that in a later blog – he just had me turn the ailerons to turn the plane, and showed me the turn coordinator and how to read when I was in a “standard” two-minute turn (see image below).

Turn Coordinator

I tried “standard turns” in both directions then had me continue north of the airport where he showed me how to “trim” the elevator. Using the trim wheel helps you maintain a constant speed and attitude without having to pull or push on the wheel – something that saves a lot of effort and lets you focus on other things.

While cruising straight and level at 1500 feet, Pete pulled the throttle to idle and had me trim for 75 knots (a slow descent) – and the Cessna 172s optimum glide speed. He then told me that he wanted to show me that when an engine dies, you don’t plunge out the sky to your death. The more altitude you have, the more time you have to find a place to land. He pointed out a few spots – a grass field on an island, a farmer’s field on the mainland, and a long beach – three spots that we could easily land in safely if the engine had actually died. It was a good thing to learn my first time up, and eased my mind considerably.

After that we looped around to the south, and Pete had me line up heading east towards Green Lake, where I then made a 90 degree turn to the north and lined up for landing. He made the radio call as I slowed down, losing altitude and slowly dropped 30 degrees of flaps. “Alright, you’re landing it. I’ll help with the rudders,” he told me.

Once again, I wanted to question him on this, but realized that was only my fear of the unknown speaking, so I went for it. Just before touching down, he directed me to pull up slightly – causing the plane to flare and ensuring a gentler landing on the rear wheels. I the taxied off of the runway and he brought us back to the school.

I rode the buzz for a long time after landing. When I got back to my car, it was at least a half an hour before I actually drove away – I called my grandfather to tell him about how it had gone (he had to be first since it’s his Air Force stories that largely inspired me to do this), as well as a few other people. It was difficult knowing that it would be a few months before I’d start flying again, but I was now committed, and ready for the next step – ground school.

Rough Map of My Route Using Google Earth

Deciding to Fly

I grew up as an Air Force Brat, with B-52s and KC-135s flying low and slow over my head on a daily basis, as well as the yearly air shows that included F-15s, F-16s, B-1s, B-2s, F-117s, and every other aircraft you can imagine. My father worked on planes (F-111s and B-52s) since before I was born. My grandfather was a B-17 pilot in World War II, before the Air Force was even called the Air Force. He was upset when he had to change his flight number to the new system – previously he had a 4-digit pilot certification number. Nowadays, the pilot certification numbers are as long as your social security numbers. He was one of the first. To make a long story short, flying is in my blood. I’ve grown up with hearing my family talk about it for years, I’ve grown living within a mile or two of a major flight line. It is what I’d always known.

I took ground school for gliding when I was 15 years old, but since I wasn’t yet able to drive I never finished. I always wanted to fly, but somehow that desire was pushed aside as other distractions got in the way.

Fifteen years later, just before going to Alaska, I told my father that I really wished I could take flying lessons, but the price was so high, and it seemed irresponsible to spend my money on something like that.

A month later, I visited Ketchikan, Alaska. While there, I took a flight on a floatplane with a pilot named Dave Doyon (his website can be found here). I was enthralled. While in the air, I could hardly speak because I couldn’t wipe the grin off of my face. I felt like I was a kid again.

When we landed, I couldn’t come down from the high. Flying wasn’t just a whim; it really was in my blood and has been a lifelong dream, but that flight sparked the realization that flying was something that I was going to do now, not just something I would do someday. The money I’d have to spend to make it happen wasn’t an irresponsible waste - sometimes what you love is worth the money you have to spend to make it happen.

So that decided it, I did a bit of searching while still in Ketchikan and found a few Seattle area flight schools. I made some calls and set up my introductory flight lesson for the Saturday after I returned from Alaska. I knew it was time for me to learn to fly.