Page 51 - Demo

49As a result, we embryonic aviators tended to fly the same Mark during the initial phase leading up to our first solo, and the crew-room buzzed with excitement as the days passed, and we all crept closer and closer to that important milestone. A first solo, for us, consisted of nothing more complicated than taking off, flying a circuit and landing; but, with less than 10 hours total flying experience, along with nearly all my mates, I viewed this as a pretty big deal. However, I was one of the students flying the Mk4, and I was finding it a bit of a handful on finals. As you approach to land, your rate of descent is controlled by power and your speed by changing pitch via the control column. I initially found this challenging because, while every other aspect of my circuit work was fine, the responsiveness of the engine was catching me out on finals. I was devoting so much of my (limited) brain capacity to maintaining the rate of descent that my speed control was suffering as a result. Inevitably, as my frustration increased, I became more erratic and I could sense that my instructor was running out of ideas.The answer to my problem came in an innovative and unexpected way. It was late morning, and I was one of many sitting in the crewroom enjoying a coffee before the next session of circuit bashing. A couple of friends had just gone solo and others expected to later that day, so the pressure was mounting. Enter my instructor, who marched up to me and sternly demanded that I remove my flying boots and socks. As the crew-room fell silent I meekly obeyed, wondering if this was a part of some strange ritual. Producing a marker pen with a flourish, he proceeded to write 105 knots (the JP%u2019s approach speed) in large letters across both of my feet. Then without a further word he left and soon everyone, including me, was laughing loudly at my self-inflicted predicament.I went solo the next day.Ian Cowie