It’s funny, the things that stick. Every day, people make comments to me. Whole conversations ensue. Years and years of words, sentences, stories and dissertations pile up in the mental “in” box. Yet out of all those words, only a few lines, jokes, pieces of advice or phrases actually imprint clearly enough on the internal film to be recalled, long after the fact.
Almost a decade ago, after I flew my Cheetah solo across the continent for the first time, I remember a friend of mine — a very accomplished Navy pilot — telling me I should have more pride in my accomplishment than I did. “There are a lot of pilots out there who go from private to instrument to professional pilot, who’ve never done anything but work the system,” he said. “They may have all kinds of ratings, but they have no idea what it’s like to sniff-check their way through weather, figuring it all out for themselves, like you just did.”
The image of “sniff-checking” one’s way through unknown and changing weather was such an astoundingly perfect description of what it’s like to navigate a long cross-country as a VFR-only pilot, sans weather in the cockpit, that I’ve never forgotten it. As the years have gone on, I’ve also come to believe that the ability to “sniff-check” our way through unknown and uncertain circumstances is one of the most valuable skills that pilots have.
A few months ago, I was asked to speak at the Great Lakes International Aviation Conference in Novi, Michigan, just outside of Detroit. The organizers asked if I could say something encouraging to the attendees about the current state of the economy and aviation industry. It would have been a tough assignment anywhere. But in Detroit, which has been particularly hard hit by the recession, it was especially daunting. It’s hard to come up with an optimistic spin when the facts of the matter include manufacturers laying off large numbers of workers, values of airplanes dropping 30 to 50 percent, and a tsunami of uncertainty swamping the country.
But then I remembered my friend’s words about sniff-checking our way through weather. And I realized I did have something positive to say.
In a nutshell, my message boiled down to this: yes, the times are uncertain. But few people in the country have as much skill and experience in coping with uncertainty as pilots do. We’re masters of the art. We just have to remember to apply what we do in the air to our lives on the ground, as well.
Each of us has our own personal lessons the sky has taught us, of course. But we’ve all picked up some universal nuggets of wisdom that give us an edge in dealing with challenging times.
First and foremost is the fact that we’ve already come to some peace with uncomfortable situations. As I’ve said before, Mac (J. Mac McClellan) often says that if we wanted to be comfortable, we wouldn’t fly airplanes at all. We’d sidle up to the nearest bar and order a beer. Flying isn’t about comfort. It’s about reward. That doesn’t mean we’re thrilled when the weather deteriorates, the turbulence and winds kick up, or the airplane has mechanical problems in flight. But when those circumstances present themselves, we learn a lot — fairly early in our flying careers — about how to respond effectively. We have to. Because in an airplane, there’s a lot more at stake than a bank account.
I’m not sure anyone’s actually written it down in a checklist anywhere, but an informal list of responses to flying challenges, or recalculating a course in suddenly uncertain circumstances, might look something like this:
1. Don’t Panic. Douglas Adams had his priorities exactly right when he made that phrase the most important (and most prominently displayed) advice in his famous Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. No pilot can sort their way through a tough inflight situation without a level head. So we learn to put the fear and panic in the baggage compartment (literal “compartmentalization”) and focus on useful tasks, instead.
Not letting our fears get the better of us is one of the toughest but most important lessons pilots learn — and one of the strongest skills we possess. Personally, I find it useful to ask myself, whenever I feel the adrenaline surging and my heart starting to pound, “Are you okay right now?” If I am (e.g. the wings are still attached and somewhat level, nothing’s on fire, the engine is still [hopefully] running, and the airplane is under control), that helps give me the reassurance I need to focus more calmly on a useful plan of action.
2. Identify, Prioritze, Loadshed. When all is sunny and working well, we can focus on a lot of unimportant things (our favorite XM Radio stations included). But when faced with a changing, uncertain and potentially hazardous situation, we learn to quickly recalculate the most important items and dump all the niceties. Aviate, navigate and only then communicate, and all that. Amazing, how quickly you can separate the truly important and essential from the simply “nice” to do. And that ability to let go of things — goals, tasks and even possessions, if necessary, if that’s what it takes to survive — is a valuable strength.
3. Take It One Step at a Time. Worrying too far into the future is rarely helpful in flight. That doesn’t mean don’t look at what the weather is doing 250 miles down the road in any given direction you might choose to go. It just means the weather 10 miles ahead is far more critical — especially because the weather way down the line could change three times before you get there. Every day, as pilots, we have to decide right now which way to go, based only on the best read of whatever information is available to us at that moment. We “sniff-check” our way one mile and decision at a time — which also tends to keep the big picture from becoming too overwhelming. We learn to focus more on where we are, and what’s next, instead of letting ourselves get paralyzed by the fear of where we might be at some point down the road.
4. Stay Flexible. An ancillary rule to taking things one step at a time is staying loose enough to modify or change our course as often as necessary to adapt to changing conditions. In some cases, that means not only modifying our route, but our destination, as well. And changing all that again and again, if that’s what circumstances require. We master the art of changing, and sometimes lowering, our expectations. And sometimes, we even discover that the unexpected places we end up have hidden gifts we never would have anticipated.
This also means keeping our eyes and minds open to unexpected options and possibilities. That duster strip that’s not on the chart. That sudden gap that opens in the clouds. A perfectly good airport two miles behind us. We look for solutions in 360 degrees of vision, not just on the one path ahead we originally planned to follow.
5. Think Outside the Box. When there’s nobody to solve the situation for us, and the consequences for failure are unacceptable, it’s amazing how creative we can be. I remember pulling out a Leatherman tool and working with a photographer to rewire his 12-volt camera battery into the airplane’s failed radio system late one night over the mountains of Mexico. A pilot in a Piper Cub used his fuel-collection tester as a relief tube when conditions wouldn’t allow him to land safely. Another pilot used a series of skewed, one-wheel touch-and-go bounces down a runway to put side load on the gear and lock it into place when the automatic system failed. And then there’s Captain Al Haynes’ famous throttles-only solution to controlling his crippled DC-10 airliner. We’re used to thinking outside the box when we need to. That’s a huge advantage, when the road ahead is unpredictable or blocked.
In Detroit, I told a story (which I’ve written about here before) about famed Lockheed test pilot Tony LeVier, whom I had the good fortune to interview before he died. Tony was a flight instructor during the Great Depression, when nobody had any money to fly. Faced with an almost total collapse of his student base, he went out and aggressively marketed flying lessons “by the minute.” He took students on a single circuit of the airport traffic pattern, and crammed in as much information as he could during that short period of time. Not a single second was wasted. The money came in more slowly, of course, but the lessons were more affordable to people with little to spare, so the students started coming back. And Tony made enough in his by-the-minute lessons to get by.
Ideal? Of course not. But — as I’ve also said before — it’s worth remembering that the great, iconic barnstormers of aviation’s “golden era” were also a product of innovative scrappiness. Those daring young men in their flying machines weren’t flying Curtiss Jennies because the JN-4 was the best airplane out there. Those patched, ragged trainers, sold surplus from the Army, were all the barnstormers could afford. And even then, the only way they could afford the gas was by hopping rides in hayfields across America.
An argument could be made that aviation, or at least some of the public’s enthusiasm for its possibilities, spread across America because of those ubiquitous barnstormers. And when some of them found a particularly good spot in their travels, they settled down and set up the first “Fixed Base Operator” (fixed as opposed to itinerant barnstormer) businesses, or FBOs, that have become the mainstay of general aviation. All because they didn’t have enough money to stay home and just fly their airplanes for fun and pleasure.
Was it easy? I’d put good money on the answer being a resounding “NO.” Comfortable? Not by a long shot. But quite possibly rewarding, in ways they didn’t expect. Including the not-insignificant reward of being able to keep doing what they loved, even in hard times. And now we look back at them as romantic heroes.
There’s some really good food for thought, there. The great epic heroes, from Homer’s Ulysses to the Depression-era barnstormers, were men and women who didn’t shirk from uncertainty, challenge or hard times. When faced with a wall they couldn’t take down, they figured out a way over, around or under it. They scrounged equal parts of courage and innovation to find their way through the night and the storms, and became far stronger as a result of it. As Amelia Earhart once said, “Courage is the price life exacts for granting peace.”
But the good news is: we already know how to do this. We know how to scrounge up courage, prioritize, and focus on what really matters. We’ve learned how to find peace with uncertainty and “sniff-check” our way through challenging and unpredictable circumstances. We’re no strangers to discomfort, and we also know that no storm lasts forever … even if we have to adjust our expectations, innovate, change course or even land someplace other than our original destination. As a friend of mine used to say, “we adapt, we adjust, we roll with the punches, and we bring victory home in our teeth!”
So, okay. Times are uncertain. Maybe we’ll have to start giving flying lessons by the minute, sharing airplanes or hopping rides to earn enough money for gas. We may have to change our expectations and get creative to find a way forward or through. But as history has shown, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. And no matter how challenging times get, pilots have a perspective few others do. We all know that, at the end of the day, if everyone lives … it’s a pretty good day. And as long as that’s true … well, heck. We can figure the rest out as we go.
(Note: If anyone wants to read more on this subject, I’ve just completed an e-book that expands on these ideas … and how the lessons of physical adventure can translate to life challenges. The book is called Surviving Uncertainty: Taking a Hero’s Journey, and it’s available as a free download from the No Map. No Guide. No Limits. website, nomap-noguide-nolimits.com.)
