By Madelyn Pritchett, EAA 1196406
What seemed like endless hours of sweat, occasional tears, and hard work had finally brought me to a checkpoint in my life that would have me walking away feeling like the sky was no longer the limit. In the shade of my grandfather’s hangar on the humid morning of June 14, 2019, my rowdy siblings and cousins waited impatiently as my grandma and mom stood anxious. They gave every breath they had to finish a prayer while my dad and grandfather held full confidence in me. Others had come that day, too. Word had gotten around that “Madelyn Joy” would be making her first solo flight that day, and several came out to Ozark-Blackwell Field Airport (71J) in Ozark, Alabama, to watch the show.
It was time for me to learn the controls of the airplane I grew up in. With 19 -1/2 hours of learning the controls, memorizing procedures and movements of the plane, my instructor, Mr. Brusse, had prepared me for one of the biggest steps I would ever dream of taking as a 16-year-old girl.
As we arrived at the airport, I felt like a protected item that could not be touched, but only looked at. My family and others that cared to observe were already waiting, some hoping I would take the “safer route” and chicken out. But I could not. I had prepared for many weeks, and nothing could stop me from taking advantage of a perfect morning and a clear conscience.
I had been left to complete the preflight checklist, a thorough inspection of the airplane to make sure I would have no difficulties during my flight. As I ran my hands over the aircraft in my inspection, it was as though I was welcomed by an old friend. The cool white metal greeted my hands and the sky called to us. Everything sat in place: full gas tanks, plenty of oil, and a healthy airplane. Mr. Brusse took me into the quaint office of the hangar and discussed with me the order in which the events were to occur. We agreed that he would go with me to practice several takeoffs and landings, so that I would become reacquainted with the procedures before he was to leave the airplane and I would do it alone.
The time had come. The still air patiently waited, and the windsock suggested that we use Runway 13. The preflight had been completed, and I was ready. As I hugged my mom, she whispered in my ear through tears that she knew I would be safe. How could I put her through something like this? It was tearing her apart and she later admitted she had not slept well in days because she feared for the worst. But I knew that everything would be fine and I was prepared.
I went through the motions of a few practice takeoffs and landings with Mr. Brusse by my side, coaching me through my mistakes, nothing out of the ordinary. I felt like the moment would never come when Mr. Brusse would climb out of the airplane and tell me to fly solo.
Finally, I taxied the airplane to a parking area and my instructor endorsed my logbook. As he climbed out, my nerves decided to make themselves known, but I would not let them hinder my confidence. All doors had been closed, seat belts buckled, and an empty runway waited for me. I left my instructor behind, advanced the throttle, and taxied to Runway 13.
I took one deep breath and asked myself, “Are you ready? Once you are up, you have to come back down, ready or not.” I checked all my instruments and they smiled back at me as I pressed the little red radio button on the stick and said, “Blackwell traffic, 2568 Delta taxiing to active Runway 13 for takeoff, Blackwell.” Those words had found themselves escaping my lips many times before, and this time would be no different. As the airplane moved across the concrete to center itself along the white stripes I stopped one last time to check myself, but I was ready.
With one hand on the stick and the other on the throttle, the plane began racing down the runway. “Rotate at 60; climb at 90.” The ground became a blur as I soared above it, climbing at an astonishing rate. I felt freedom and tasted air differently for the first time. 1,100 feet came fast with only one person in the airplane. I rolled the wings to left, setting myself up to enter the traffic pattern. When I reached 1,400 feet, I called to traffic again signaling I was downwind. As I looked down, I saw miniature family members shading their eyes from the sun as they protectively watched from below. I completed my pre-landing check: seatbelts, fuel valve, mixture full rich, carburetor heat when ready. As I passed my touchdown point, I pulled carb heat and eased the throttle back, the engine got quiet, and everything slowed down. Pull flaps, slow down to 80 mph, turn to left base, slow down to 75 mph. The ground was getting closer as I turned final. Everything had gone just perfect so far and I saw an easy landing in the future. The runway reached out to me as I flared the plane and its wheels met the concrete. One landing done with two to go!
The pride I felt was like nothing I had ever felt before! I completed my solo flight with three beautiful takeoffs, three landings I could be proud of, and one go-around. When I taxied back to the hangar and left the airplane to rest, the smile on my face and the feeling in my heart had me feeling like I was still in the clouds.
I find myself daydreaming about flying and I will never forget the comfort I find in the cockpit. The reassuring fact that I will return to the sky soon makes the less enjoyable things more bearable. After flying solo, I have found a new kind of confidence and things do not hold me back from reaching my goals. When I fly, I find peace and I am thankful for my grandfather and my grandmother, who have helped me all along the way. I could not have done a single bit of it without them by my side.