Lessons in flight

By Tyson Lynn
The Beacon

We–the flight instructor, my photographer, and I–are nearly halfway down the runway before I realize we're about to take off. The four seat Cessna in which I'm sitting hums in response to the controls; I pull back on the yoke and we become airborne, easy, like a rigid Mylar balloon let loose into the sky.
Below us now are islands, at our right is Mount Baker, and off in the distance, only slightly obscured by haze, is Seattle. We hold steady at 3,000 feet, the world serene. And you could be next.
Since 1997, the number of licensed pilots in the U.S. has increased by about 6 percent, and from 2003 to 2004 the number of student pilots rose 1%. In addition, the Federal Aviation Administration predicts a dramatic increase in both student pilots and licensed pilots in the next 10 years.
But if you're anything like me, you'll probably have never considered a pilot's license, thinking it difficult to obtain due to money, opportunity, availability, or even ability. As someone who needs corrective glasses, I assumed that I wouldn't even be able to pass the physical. In truth, a pilot's license, while harder to get than your driver's license, can be earned faster than a college degree and cheaper.
Project Pilot–the company that set up my lesson–is an umbrella organization that contracts with flight schools across the nation, connecting students to schools while providing information and resources for anyone interested in learning to fly. Among them are tips for finding a flight school and instructor, as well as their database of more than 3,500 flight-training facilities in the U.S.
When I check, there are nearly 30 schools within 30 miles of my location. The choices are daunting; not knowing one from another, I decide on Regal Air, based out of Paine Field in Everett.
Thankfully, it turns out that Regal Air is a well-established school with a fleet of airplanes available for rental and lessons, from a Piper Seneca I to Cessna 152s. The plane I will fly is a Cessna 172, under the watchful eye of instructor Matt Jolley.
In the email detailing my lesson, I'm told that I may receive a call to reschedule if the weather is at all questionable. As a student pilot, I am not allowed to fly if I can't see where I'm going; only pilots with an instrument rating–i.e. the ability to read and understand all the dials in the airplane's dash–can take to the skies during inclement weather. Luckily, I awoke to an azure sky, cloudless in all directions. A perfect day to learn to fly.
Since 1985, Regal Air has taught students all the necessary skills to pilot an aircraft. They employ 14 full-time flight instructors, each with an extensive knowledge of planes, craft, and safety.
Matthew Jolley has taught here since 2001, after returning to his childhood love some ten years prior. The son of a Navy man, Jolley often saw the comings and goings of military air traffic, and it stuck with him. He pursued other opportunities before deciding to follow the air.
We meet Jolley inside Regal Air's offices; he is of medium build with an easy smile that he flashes quickly as we shake hands. The lesson begins not inside the plane, but under fluorescent lights.
The first stop is the weather center, a big-sounding name for a computer pulling data from the Internet. Drawing on feeds from both commercial and government sources, the weather center can show you a thunderstorm in Illinois or the FAA weather report for your airfield, a nearly incomprehensible assortment of letters and abbreviations.
"We don't usually need to use this here," says Jolley, looking at the report. "Paine Field is wonderful for that. I can walk outside and see fifteen miles in any direction. If it's cloudy in the East, we'll head West. If it's going to storm, I'll know."
The weather report is always the first stop for the student pilot.
"Students rely on VFR–Visual Flight Rules–when flying," says Jolley. "While they are in the air, they are constantly looking for other aircraft while making sure their flight path is clear."
Much like on the road, a good airplane pilot is a defensive, aware pilot.
We pass by the Frasca 131 Flight Simulator, where students can hone their instrument skills after their instructors pull up a single approach from the thousands they have available. The simulator can approximate any approach for any airport in the nation under any type of weather condition.
Jolley shows us the garage; it is brightly lit, clean, and currently home to a Cessna 152.
"Every 100 hours, our planes are brought inside, opened up and checked from top to bottom," says Jolley.
FAA Certificated Airframe and Powerplant Mechanics and Inspectors maintain all of Regal Air’s aircraft. All maintenance is completed to approved FAA standards and regulations, which means it is performed in a timely manner by mechanics that are already intimately familiar with each airplane.
The plane currently undergoing maintenance has its cowl–the metal sheeting covering the engine–removed. Two mechanics are moving about efficiently, testing and double-checking for cracks, imperfections, and needed adjustments. It will take them about a day to completely check the craft and give it a clean bill of health.
Every inspection, flight, and change in instrument readings for every airplane is carefully logged inside its own little zippered black binder. The binder also contains the owner's manual for the plane–a well-thumbed, dog-eared book filled with charts, schematics, graphs, and more math than I've seen since high school–and a set of silver keys.
Jolley pulls the binder for the plane we'll be using and double checks the logs.
"Before we take-off, I want to make sure we won't overfly a required inspection by either date or flight hours," says Jolley. "That way we're safe and FAA compliant."
Our Cessna is fine, so we adjourn to the outdoors.
"We'll be taking [plane number] N5512E," says Jolley as we walk. He points to the plane, the lettering huge on the airplane's tail. "The numbers didn't always used to be that big. The FAA actually mandated the size increase. Now if you buzz the tower or land and immediately take-off again, the FAA will find you."
In case you were curious, the FAA does issue plastic licenses similar to the ones you receive at the D.O.V. Currently, they are multi-colored, understated, with the pilot's information and rating printed over a picture of the Wright Brothers.
When flying, the pilot is required to carry his license along with the plane's title and certification of airworthiness. Should a pilot get ramp-checked, the FAA's version of a police pullover, penalties could be enforced if they weren't carrying their papers, much like you would if you were caught driving without your license, insurance, or title.
"We've only had that happen once here at Paine Field and the pilot asked for it," says Jolley. "Our resident FAA inspector was explaining ramp checks, and this gentleman wanted to know how likely it was to occur. The inspector asked if he'd like to be ramp-checked, and he did, so they went out and did it. It really only comes up if you're behaving strangely, recklessly, or illegally."
Out at the plane, there is a comprehensive check list; we make sure all the flaps work, and are properly bolted and hinged; that the tires and brakes are operational; confirm the fuel tanks are full and the gas–100 octane, low lead–is free of sediment; and a dozen other things are as they should be before we even get inside the cockpit.
The checklist continues inside. There is surprisingly little lingo to learn. There is the yoke in your hands and toe brakes at your feet, instruments in front of you and a voice-activated boom mike placed close to your lips. After priming the engine with fuel, I turn the ignition key four clicks to the right. The engine turns over and the propeller kicks on loudly.
While on the ground, the yoke does nothing. The propeller still pulls the plane forward but you steer with your feet, braking on the side towards which you would like to turn. It's an unusual skill to master. Jolley directs me to taxi out to the runway and I feel immediately inept.
"Follow the yellow line," Jolley says in my headset. "It's not like on the road. Here you want the yellow line to go straight down the middle of the cockpit."
Instead of going straight down the middle, we zig-zag back and forth like a seismometer needle. Eventually, we even out and turn onto the runway.
"Ready?" asks Jolley. "Keep the white line in the middle."
He increases the power to the propeller and relaxes the toe brakes. The plane sprints forwards.
"Now, pull back on the yoke," says Jolley. I do. The plane's nose edges upward.
"And you're flying."

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This is the first part of a two-part story. Read the second installment next week here in the Beacon.
For more information, visit Project Pilot's website at www.projectpilot.org or Regal Air's at www.regalair.com