Day 2 - Emotional in Sedona - Terror Over Phoenix

 Feeling like I've been rode hard and put away wet.

Leaving Kingman Arizona this morning I climbed into a blue sky and calm wind. Another perfect day for flying!

I was especially excited about todays flight as I would be finally making it to Sedona. 

There are certain airports that every pilot dreams about visiting. Sedona is on the top of many such lists. For me there were two airports I had to see someday. One was Kitty Hawk, the site of the Wright Brothers first fight. The other was Sedona.

Sedona  airport is located on the top of a stand-alone 1000 foot mesa. Landing here is like landing on an aircraft carrier - albeit with a much longer runway. The stunning beauty is part of the attraction. The other part of Sedona airports mystique is the frequent terrible winds that have been the undoing of many pilots.

Today the winds were forecast to be light, and this turned out to be the case. The pictures of Sedona speak for themselves.

I fueled up and had lunch at the airport restaurant. Sitting in the restaurant looking out over the runway my mind drifted back to my first thoughts of flying here, 30 years ago.

"Some day I will build my own plane and fly to Sedona". 

I felt a flood of emotions as I sat there eating my oatmeal. I tried to wipe the tears from my eyes. Not sure why I started crying. Maybe it was because six years ago, after my stage 4 cancer diagnosis, I thought this dream would never come true. Maybe I was happy for finally making it here. I don't know, but I had to keep wiping them away.

The FBO on the field has a special certificate for a pilot's first landing here. This is definitely going up on my wall at home. I have spent to much time tying to rotate this. You'll just have to read it sideways.

And right here the fun ended and the terror began.

Climbing out from Sedona an hour later, things had changed. Right off the end of the runway the plane began bouncing around. Not too bad, but certainly not the calm air that had greeted me here. And then it got worse.

Ten minutes out and the "bouncing" became turbulence. 

The turbulence became unreal. 1000 fpm up and down with constant rocking side to side. It kept up all the way thru Phoenix. 

There are times when you wished you'd never learned to fly. This was one of them. It just kept hammering my little plane. Uncontrolled climbs followed by steep descents, all while the wings were rocking crazily. There was no way I could try and turn back to Sedona. I could barely keep the plane moving straight. And there were no airports between me and Phoenix International. 

Surrounding Phoenix International is a very large area of controlled airspace. It's referred to as "Bravo" airspace and is intended to protect commercial aircraft from little guys like me. 

My original plan had been to skirt the east side of the bravo, which is up against a series of cliffs. I quickly discarded this idea because I knew the winds would be even worse there today.

Flying around the west side of the bravo would have added another 40 minutes in this washing machine. I needed some help.

I called Phoenix Approach. Typically they will tell small planes like mine to "stay clear of the bravo!" The controller was busy handling multiple inbound and outbound airliners and other commercial traffic. His voice was like an auctioneer, issuing rapid-fire directions with barely a breath in between. 

I'm not sure if it  was the stress in my voice, but when he called back to me his voice slowed down from his previous rapid and clipped speech. "How can I help you 972GL?"

"Can you clear me thru the bravo?", I asked already knowing the answer.

"November 972GL your cleared to enter the bravo. Do you need vectors to your destination?"

Dear god, I would have kissed this man if I could! 

"Affirmative, but I'm having trouble holding altitude."

Terror is the wrong word, but "fear" is almost not enough. I felt some level of helplessness bouncing down this turbulent valley. I was in the sky, all alone, and my plane was nearly out of control. Landing was not an option. 

The real fear comes when you realize that this could get worse. Your in the mountains, on the lee side, and stuck in a valley with towering peaks on either side. It can absolutely get turbulent enough for me to lose control and die.   

One important part of learning to fly that people don't talk about much is learning to manage fear. For most people, even those who dream of flying, their first time actually at the controls is frightening. As you progress through your training, you are introduced to the many ways you can die in your little plane. Stall it at low altitude, get into a spin, fly into IMC, run out of gas, engine failure, carbon monoxide or hypoxia, or simply freezing up when the plane is demanding an input. Or getting into an area of severe turbulence. 

By the time you get your pilot's license you have acquired some level of managing fear in the cockpit. On this particular day, and after 30 years of flying experience, I was having trouble managing my fear. I felt I was on the verge of panicking. I did not want to die today. While this may sound melodramatic, it was very real at the time.      

The sound of the controller's voice was like a life line to me. I wasn't all alone anymore. Ok, I know I was still all alone, and maybe it's hard to understand, but having someone who could provide any level of help felt like a godsend. It helped me get my fear back under control.

"972GL turn right heading 160, just keep your altitude below 6000," he spoke slowly.

"Below 6000 for 2GL," I replied. 

At that point I knew I was going to be ok. Yes, a guy on a radio who couldn't help with the control of my aircraft, couldn't really help me. Yet he did, by giving me the emotional boost I needed to quell the almost over-whelming fear. 

He ended up vectoring me right over the center of the Phoenix International runways! By the time I reached the southern edge of the bravo the turbulence had subsided, a lot. Mentally I was done, however. There was no way I wanted to continue the flight, so I  started looking for an airport to spend the night.

I picked Eloy for no real reason other than it was close. It turned out great as there was a funky motel right across the street from the airport.

I went for a walk as the sun went down.

Now I'm sitting here drinking a vodka on the rocks and trying to absorb the amazing day I had today. This really is an adventure, and it's only day 2.