Born to fly at 32,000 feet

For the 21-year-old Russell, the sky was never a limit; it was home. Born in South Africa, Russell took her first flight in her mother’s womb. She grew up beside a grass runway, where her father, Sean Russell, chief test pilot for Sling Aircraft, introduced her to the world of aviation. Her first word was a garbled version of “airplane,” and by the age of 8, she was already perched in the cockpit, absorbing the mechanics of flight.

Her father set two rules before she could officially begin flying: She had to recite the phonetic alphabet flawlessly without aid, and she had to reach the rudder pedals without the help of a pillow.

“Every weekend I went to my dad, I would sit in the plane and stretch my toes out to see if I could reach the rudders. And every weekend I thought I grew. So, from age eight to ten, my dad told me everything. He got me really comfortable in the plane. But then the unfortunate thing was I was too young to get my license.”

In South Africa, you have to be at least 17 obtain a private pilot license, and had to pass seven theoretical exams. Guided by her father, she learned turns, climbs, and stalls long before she was legally allowed to fly solo.

“At 16, I soloed, but you need to be 17 for a full license. That’s when Sling came into my life and my passion for flying deepened.”

Even with all her early progress, Russell would soon face the biggest challenge of her aviation career, and her life. On January 2, 2023, she lost her father, her hero, in a fatal aircraft accident.

“Everyone looked at me like, ‘There goes Shannon, she’s done with aviation.’ Even my mom said, ‘Don’t feel like you have to just because your dad’s gone.’ And I had a lot of people doubting me, but I just kept thinking, I want to fly. On January 2nd he died, and by January 4th I was at the flight school. I needed to shake the fear out of me and get back in the air.” And after proper diligence, was permitted to go up. “It was emotional. The skies were quieter; it wasn’t the same without hearing my dad on the frequency. I just couldn’t do it there.”

Although the skies lacked her father’s presence, Shannon didn’t stop. She told her mom she was moving to the United States. Naturally, her mother hesitated; losing a loved one was hard enough, let alone sending her child across the world. Shannon’s destination was California, where she would reunite with a longtime family friend and godparent, Jean d’Assonville. He not only a trusted mentor but also a major figure in the Sling world, having previously served as a production manager and test pilot at The Airplane Factory (the manufacturer of Sling aircraft), where he worked on aircraft development, structural testing, flight testing, and manufacturing improvements. After moving to the United States, d'Assonville took on a senior leadership role at the Sling as Co-CEO of the Sling Pilot Academy. His deep involvement in building, testing, and flying Sling aircraft made him an ideal guide for Russell in both aviation and life in a new country. In July 2023, Russell was awarded a scholarship to Sling Pilot Academy, named to the Inc. 5000 List of Fastest-Growing Private Companies in the United States, and known for supporting women in aviation through scholarships and mentorship.

“Leaving everything behind, my family, my life in South Africa; it terrified me. For a while, I thought I couldn’t do it. I even looked at plane tickets, ready to go back. Then I called Jean and my mom, and they calmed me down. I realized I can do this. I have to do this.”

Once settled in California, Russell threw herself into her training, with d'Assonville guiding her through every step of adapting to a new flight environment and culture. Together, they meticulously prepared for her most ambitious goal yet: attempting to surpass the women’s altitude a record set in 1939 and doing it in a Sling TSi. They reviewed oxygen systems, flight physiology, and emergency protocols, drawing on Jean’s experience with high-altitude flights. On October 30, they set out to make history from Zamperini Field in Torrance, California.

Her father’s legacy stayed with her at every new altitude. Russell carries his lessons on every flight. When she set out for her record attempt she brought his ashes with her: “He had no choice; he had to be part of the journey.” It was her way of keeping the man who first taught her to love the sky beside her.

Before takeoff, Russell looked at the wing and took in the moment—the mechanics, the instructors, her copilot, everyone who helped her get there. “I remember thinking, you're supposed to be here,” she said, referring to her father. “And it hit me, it felt like everyone who mattered was right there with me.”

Each stage of the climb was demanding. Between 10,000 feet and 18,000 feet the airplane performed smoothly. At 20,000 feet, it held 80 knots with a 500-feet-per-minute climb. By 25,000 feet, the pace slowed, but the pilots pressed on.

To guard against hypoxia, they relied on a unique safety net: two Sling aircraft flying at 6,000 feet below. They stayed on the frequency with throughout the climb, asking the high-flying pilots questions to test their cognitive clarity.

“At that altitude, you can lie to yourself,” Russell explained. “Jean and I can look at each other and say, ‘I’m fine,’ even if we weren’t. So, Max and Mario below kept us honest.”

Instead of math problems or complex checklists, the pilots below used basic tasks to spot early signs of impairment.

“One of them asked, ‘Hey, can you count down from 100 to 80 in threes?” she says laughing. “And I was like, I can’t even do that on the ground, let alone up here! So, they said, ‘Okay, simple questions. What’s your heart rate?’”

Shannon read hers off: 85.

Jean’s: about 80.

“We called everything back to them: heart rate, oxygen flow, altitude. They were our reality check. Every time we hit a new altitude, they’d say, ‘All right, you’re at 25,000, how are you feeling? Read it back.’ That system kept us safe. It was our lifeline.”

They had originally planned for 30,000 feet, the target she’d coordinated with the Los Angeles Air Route Traffic Control Center a week in advance through special clearances, but once they reached that mark, something shifted.

“I kept hearing my dad’s voice in my head: You can do better,” she says. “And just like in the new Top Gun, I kept pushing the limits.”

They pushed beyond their goal. At 29,000 feet, Shannon admits she did begin to feel a surge of panic. With F/A–18s and on her mind, she remembered the mantra drilled into every aviator:

Aviate. Navigate. Communicate.

Their checklists, calm communication, trust, and even her father’s voice carried them through the fatigue and the strain of a climb of this magnitude and complexity.

Her achievement surpassed the 1939 women’s altitude record set by Jacqueline Cochran, who reached 30,052 feet in a Beechcraft D17W "Staggerwing," a record for piston aircraft flown by a woman that stood for nearly 86 years (though Cochran would go on to fly much higher in jets). Russell climbed to 32,000 feet in a Sling TSi,“When I checked the records, there hadn’t been recent news of women breaking records, and I wanted to change that. The airplane doesn’t know gender. But little girls watching me do now.”

The descent was just as unforgettable. They could stay at that altitude for no longer than 30 minutes, so they began to descend. “The total duration was 3.6 hours. It took us quite a while, between 1.8 and 2 hour climb and a quicker descent of exactly 1 hour and 43 minutes.”

At sunset, on her final flight in the United States before departing, Russell bade farewell to her father and to America with a true aviator’s gesture—a wing wave.

For Russell, the flight wasn’t just a record. It was closure, a tribute, and a declaration that she will remain an unforgettable name, not just for women in aviation, but the broader history of flight itself, as she continues in her journey to inspire future generation of pilots and pioneers.