I’d started flying in August—the middle of summer. I’d go down to the airport after work a few times a week and put my mind, energy, and money into something I had wanted to do since I was 6 years old. The first weeks were hot and sticky, the thermals rising from the ground creating a bumpy ride. I’d almost vomited into my instructor’s lap, twice. Now, in November, the air was smoother, but the days were getting shorter and the window of opportunity to fly was getting smaller.
My instructor had been preparing me for a first solo “soon” but for the longest time my landings were inconsistent. Or, as he put it, “sometimes here and sometimes there.” When I finally got his endorsement, it felt like a major battle won.
This fall morning, we took a trusty Cessna 152 to the nontowered airfield popular with student pilots from around the region. We did some pattern work, and then he sprung it on me.
“Alrighty, I’m getting out now.”
“Wait, what?”
“I need you to do three landings. If anything is unstable, just go around, OK? I’ll be on the radio.”
Um.
“You got this. Have fun.”
Gasp!
And with one slam of the Cessna’s door, he was gone.
For the first time, I was sitting there all alone. My life depended on me and no one else. Rationally, it seems like a simple task—three takeoffs, three landings, and be done with it. A first solo is just one hurdle of many on the way to becoming a certificated pilot. And let’s be honest, you’ve been wondering for quite some time—like I did—when your instructor would finally let you loose to go play in the sky.
You’ve practiced the stick-and-rudder skills dozens of times. Your instructor told you to “chair-fly the pattern” every day at home or do it on a simulator, to become the master of your airplane. They may have asked you to talk them through every radio call, and every move you plan to make during every phase of flight. They may have showed you how to practice visualizing your approach path, flare, and touchdown, and simulate any emergency that might happen. They not only took you through every maneuver, but they taught you the “why” behind them, too.
Beyond the practical skills required for that first solo flight, there are a few things that I wish I had known ahead of time. So, when that day finally arrives for you, whether it’s a surprise or not, remember this:
By the time you reach the window where you’re looking to solo, you should also be well-aware of the IM SAFE checklist (Illness, Medication, Stress, Alcohol, Fatigue, and Emotion that could affect your readiness for flying). And if on designated game day you don’t feel physically and mentally at the top of your game, there’s no shame in telling your instructor that, and trying another time.
Even if you don’t feel like you are ready, you’ve proven to your instructor on more than one occasion that you have the common sense and the aviation skills to be safe. They believe in you maybe even more than you believe in yourself. Trust their judgment and give yourself grace.
You may want to have photographic or video evidence of your first solo but inviting family and friends to the airport to witness it will add pressure that you just don’t need. There will be plenty of time to wow your loved ones later. This is all about you and you alone.
Ever since your discovery flight, you’ve been sitting next to another human being. You’ve gotten accustomed to their soothing voice in your headset, and their gentle nudge on the controls. They have become your security blanket. And, of course, you’ve gotten to know how the aircraft handles with the two of you in it. Now, suddenly, the right side of your aircraft is some 200 pounds lighter, and your security blanket is gone. Your climb performance is through the roof, and you’ve got to adjust your inputs accordingly. (This part surprised me the most.)
We have literally all been there. It’s like having “in training” on your name tag at a new job. People will be nicer, they will give you space, and they will be secretly whispering into their headset microphones, cheering you on. Pilots watch out for each other, and knowing there’s someone out there attempting to join their ranks will earn you more respect from them than you may realize. Your instructor will also be listening in on frequency, and depending on the airfield, they may be able to coach you in real time if you need it.
Perfection is the enemy of the good. So, your patterns aren’t exactly rectangular, you don’t pin the airspeed, and your landings are a touch right of centerline. (And a go-around is perfectly acceptable if something feels a little off! Every landing is a go-around until it isn’t.) As you’ve learned during your early flight hours, there are tolerances for all these things, and your aircraft is forgiving, too. Remember, you’re not even halfway through your flight training. There will be time to iron out those kinks later.
This is not the time for a rush job. Follow the checklist to the letter. It’s not only good practice during flight training, but it’s also going to make you a safer and more confident pilot down the line. It’s always good to develop smart habits early. And don’t forget to breathe.
This is the most important thing you are doing right now, at this very moment. Everything else can wait. You must rely on you, and there can’t be any distractions. Don’t forget that your landing doesn’t end when the wheels touch the ground; continue to fly the airplane until it stops moving.
Hopefully, your instructor has tailored your training experience (so far) to your needs and preferences, and the way you learn best. Your friends and their instructors may have approached this milestone in a different way. And once you are in the airplane alone, your experience will also be unique. No one else will see or feel it like you do.
It’s still a long way to your checkride, and you are on a road that will be paved with all sorts of achievements and highlights, and sometimes flanked by doubt. But I guarantee you will never, ever forget how you felt the day you landed an airplane all by yourself for the very first time.
On that November morning so many years ago, I closed the chapter on one version of myself and opened a new chapter on another. My checkride was still five months away, but I finally gave myself permission to believe my certificate was in reach. I knew that someday soon I could finally call myself a pilot. FT