This piece originally ran in Vic’s Checkpoints column in the December 2024 issue of EAA Sport Aviation magazine.
By Vic Syracuse, EAA Lifetime 180848
I know what you are thinking — here’s another column on traffic avoidance. While I could certainly opine on that topic since living underneath the Class B in Atlanta provides many views of pilots flying by while heads-down playing with the toys, I want to spend some time on the “magic” of flying. Our most recent trip to Alaska reinforced it to me again, as have a couple of Young Eagles flights lately.
I would guess that all of us remember our first flight, and certainly our first solo is indelibly etched in our memories. For mine, I remember each of the three landings, especially the co-pilot’s side window in the C-152 popping open just as I rotated. We didn’t have headsets back then, and the already-loud cockpit got even louder. I heard later that the instructor probably staged it, as it had happened to others. Nonetheless, it taught me a lesson. I glanced at the window and continued the takeoff. Before I turned crosswind, I reached over and closed it. I was there to have fun, and a little open window was not going to stop me. Truth be told, I was probably scared to death as things were happening a whole lot faster than normal.
It was August in Tucson, Arizona, and the density altitude was around 5,000 feet. With the 200-plus pound instructor out of the airplane, the acceleration was much faster than I had ever experienced, and the airplane seemed to leap off the ground. Looking back on it, we were probably over gross weight for all the previous flights. But here’s the point and the gist of the column: While I clearly remember the flight, I don’t recall any of the engine gauges. I probably never even looked at them except for a landing checklist perhaps.
I do remember the magic. By the third time around in the traffic pattern, I did not want to land. Tucson was so beautiful. Visibility back then was more than 100 miles. Yes, they reported the actual visibility over the ATIS back then, and it was more than 100 miles every day for the most part.
Occasionally it would drop down to 75 miles. On the third time around the pattern, I remember looking out at the view. There I was, all by myself in an airplane. A childhood dream come true!
That magic seemed to continue for a long time. I remember flying the Aero Club’s T-34 on my commercial cross-country one day. It was the first flight after an engine change. When I got back the club mechanic asked me how the cylinder head temps were running. To this day I can visualize the blank stare on my face as I mumbled, “They stayed in the green.”
Honestly, the T-34 had no navigational radios, so I flew the whole trip with a compass and a clock. I was too busy trying not to get lost. But I still remember the beautiful scenery on the trip. Today, with all the digital doodads in the cockpit, I could tell you to the degree how each cylinder ran in flight. I probably remember more about the engine gauges than I do the scenery on too many flights. Frankly, I would guess that many of us are doing the same.
The magic of flight and the reminder to not lose its appeal has been brought home to me a couple of times lately. I took some friends and their daughter for a ride in the Hummingbird helicopter. They are also RV-10 builders and flyers and travel quite extensively in their RV-10. Their daughter, Lucy, wanted to go for a helicopter ride, so a date was set and we pulled it off.
I must admit, I am always closely monitoring the engine gauges while flying the helicopter. She wanted to ride in the front, so her parents were gracious and rode in the back. From the time we lifted off until we touched back down 30 minutes later, she never shut up. It was a constant stream of pointing out sights, exclaiming how exciting it was, and saying how she now wanted to move where Vic lives. They have since moved to a fly-in community.
It was rather entertaining, but it was so genuine. I found myself enthralled by the things she was pointing out and reminded myself to start paying more attention to the magic myself. To quit focusing so much on the mechanical side and remember why we fly. Of course, flying to places such as Alaska makes it easy to look out the window more.
Like many of you, I fly a fair number of Young Eagles flights during the year, and I do all of them in the Stearman. I get to see so many smiles in that mirror, especially from kids for whom it is their first flight. A typical Young Eagles flight usually has a briefing about the aircraft, its history, and the various flight controls and how they work. The flight is almost an introductory lesson, allowing them to experience controlling the aircraft.
Almost everyone is enthralled with the open-cockpit experience. Some are so focused on flying that it’s hard to get them to look outside and enjoy the view. I’ve seen a few that were quite concerned before the flight and then have a complete transformation during the flight and can’t wait to go flying again. Those are super enjoyable for me.
But occasionally, I fly a Young Eagle who has a different reaction and again it reminds me of why we fly. As pilots we want everyone to take the controls and feel the joy. Most of the time we are successful at it. But not all the time. I’m not even successful at that with my own wife! The same too with some Young Eagles. We get up in the air, and they are so enthralled with the view that I can’t get them to take the controls, and it’s not because they are afraid. They make it clear that they are enjoying the view. So, I don’t push them, and quietly remind myself that perhaps I should make certain I am enjoying the view as well.
Now, lest you think I am proposing we forget about the cockpit instrumentation, I am not in any way insinuating that. But perhaps we don’t need to check the gauges as often as we do. If our glass panels are configured properly, we should get the right notifications if something is amiss. I am also referring to an aircraft that has been flying for a while, not one that is in a Phase I test period. A new aircraft or one with a new engine will require more monitoring of the instruments until one is comfortable with it, or the engine is broken in.
If you think about it, for VFR flights (and IFR not in IMC for that matter) we should have our head out of the cockpit at least 70 percent of the time looking for traffic. We might as well enjoy the view while we are at it. It will keep the fun factor alive. It may even give us something to share about our flight with others after we land.
Vic Syracuse, EAA Lifetime 180848, is a commercial pilot, A&P/IA mechanic, designated airworthiness representative, and EAA flight advisor and technical counselor. He has built 11 aircraft and has logged more than 11,000 hours in 75 different types. Vic founded Base Leg Aviation, has authored books on maintenance and prebuy inspections, and posts videos weekly on his YouTube channel. He also volunteers as a Young Eagles pilot.