No bird soars too high...

I’ve learned that it is impossible to stay away from a heart-fuelled passion. Better to embrace it, and use that passion to fuel creativity, work, and if you're lucky, a career. 

I’ve tried and failed to stay away from aviation. 

"Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return." ― Leonardo da Vinci

Late last year I was awarded a Private Pilot Licence (Aeroplane) by Australia’s Civil Aviation Safety Authority (CASA). 

It felt like a reasonably quick process, two months from applying to receiving my licence. But it is really a journey that has taken place, and continues to take place, over thirty-something years.

Take Off

Since I can remember, I have loved and been fascinated by flight. Some of earliest memories are frequenting the terminals at Zurich Airport, where my godfather worked. The smell of jet fuel permeating the terminal air; the aeronautically-themed eighties decor; the noisy clickety-clacks of changing departure boards; the busy hustle of travellers, calm camaraderie of aircrew, and hotelier-like reception of check-in clerks; and, of course, the amazing sight through the floor-to-ceiling glass of a seemingly endless stream of jets landing and taking off. 

I decided in high school that I wanted to be a fighter pilot, and spent close to ten years pursuing that profession; living, breathing, and studying the requisite maths and sciences. I would spend my school holidays working at a flying school, cleaning aircraft, helping with repairs, and occasionally going for a flight in the right-hand seat. I spent my vacation money on flying lessons, taking to the air as a student pilot in Bacchus Marsh during the 2000 Sydney Olympics. In between my last landing and next takeoff, I would devour articles, magazines, movies, and books about flying. Whenever Ross, the owner of the flying school that I worked at, had to fly somewhere, or if there was an air show coming up, I'd generally be aboard. I tried to come up with a business plan to wash and clean aircraft at Moorabbin Airport. Partly from an entrepreneurial drive, but more because it involved planes.

After school, I joined the Air Force in 2003, where I studied my degree, undertook military training, and finally, got on with piloting.

Grounded

In 2008, I failed the RAAF's Advanced Flight Training School (2FTS) after 200 flying hours. I was shattered. It was very hard having something I had worked so hard for taken from my path. Even today, I still have a pang of nostalgia when I see and hear a Hornet at the Grand Prix or Avalon Air Show. 

But, looking back, I realise that I only really enjoyed one flight of those hundred-plus sorties. The rest were an exercise in stress, feeling under-prepared, and of operating a complex system under the constant watch of a far more experienced instructor. I had some good flights, and a lot of bad flights, however, all were hard and more unenjoyable than enjoyable, except for the small satisfaction felt with passing the criteria, but knowing there was so much more to improve on. 

That one enjoyable flight was spent flying from Bullsbrook to Albany in Western Australia. Cruising low along the coast, with no mission objective, no training criteria; just a ‘free flight’ to reposition the aircraft. It was fun! It's what I imagined flying should be. Mastery of a flying machine, taking in the coastal view and the wind turbines, enjoying the sensation of wingovers and banking, and taking pleasure in the precision approach and landing. When people ask what flying feels like, I think back to that flight, and answer along the lines of ‘it’s like your own personal roller coaster, as high or as low, as fast or as slow as you like, and you lay the tracks ahead.’

Many of my peers went on to fly fighter, transport, and maritime military aircraft. They were and still are the right people for the job of operating multi-million dollar military equipment, and the responsibilities associated with that. I decided that I enjoyed flying, but not of being a military pilot. So I chose to leave the Air Force and the military.

I also felt that I didn’t want to be a commercial pilot. I sensed that I wanted a broader career scope and set of skills, whereas I felt an airline captain develops deep expertise on a specific aircraft type. I probably wouldn't have been a great commercial pilot; my military piloting experience was marked by curiosity rather than a strict adherence to rules and operating procedures. I also felt a bit dejected by aviation, that I needed a break after my experience flying Air Force planes, where I had worked incredibly hard for something I didn't particularly enjoy, and that didn't work out.

So I left flying and aviation and joined Caterpillar. I kept aviation at arms-length, never embracing it, but keeping it far enough to not feel it or let it into my heart, where it might hurt me again. I even speculated whether it would be possible for Big Yella to build an aircraft (thankfully, they haven’t tried). When colleagues asked whether I still flew, I didn’t have a strong answer, “No, but one day I will.” 

I told myself I would fly again when I had the time and money, so I could 'do it properly.'  Reasons for not flying included starting my MBA, working, saving, buying a house, training for a marathon, etc. Excuses, not reasons. When I finished my MBA, over five years ago, there were a few life factors that provided more reasons (excuses) to not fly. Work was also busy; I was earning a lot of frequent flyer points, but I wasn't flying. In truth, I was scared. Scared that I’d failed, scared to admit it, and scared to try again. I did everything but fly.

"Everything you want is on the other side of fear." - Jack Canfield

Heart

But I always loved aviation. From a life spent reading aviation journals and magazines, a childhood holiday to the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum, a cheeky side trip to the Tucson military aircraft boneyard on a work trip, and forever looking skyward at the tone of an aircraft overhead. The passion gnawed at me.

Three years ago, I met another aviation enthusiast in Luke. We both had a vision for a start-up and future experience of air travel, and we were in a position to use our respective experience to leverage our passion for flight. Starting a venture, Airly, on the basis of a spark and feeling is thrilling, because the business is an extension of your interests and passions, a solution to a problem you're interested in, rather than 'just a business.’ 

And still, I didn’t fly.

Until August last year. One of Airly’s advisors, Shaun, is a pilot and aviation professional. We had a strategy meeting, and offhand, he mentioned he was flying to King Island and asked me if I wanted to come. I quickly said yes, hiding equal parts enthusiasm and nerves.

The TBM-700 is a six-seat, high-performance light business aircraft. My interest was especially piqued knowing that it had the same reliable and powerful turboprop engine that was on my RAAF PC-9/A aircraft, the venerable Pratt & Whitney PT6A. Shaun offered me the right-hand seat, and from walk-around, pre-start, takeoff, and landing, I was hooked on that which I had deliberately avoided for so long. 

Throughout the flight I asked questions while admiring Melbourne from the air. I enjoyed revisiting recesses in my mind where checklists, protocols, and rules of thumb were archived. I relished in looking for the King Air announced to us by Air Traffic Control, trying to tally it before Shaun did, so I could declare “traffic sighted, two o’clock low, left to right, no conflict.” I enjoyed practising instrument scans again. And I was excited when a Master Caution sounded due to a checklist item that was missed, while slightly disappointed I hadn’t noticed the discrepancy before the warning.

I was buzzing for days after. That flight not only showed me that flying fun is but reminded me that I could do it. I was inspired to fly again, and I committed to converting my military experience over to the civilian equivalent. 

Within two months, the paperwork machine that is RAAF and CASA had approved and issued my Private Pilot Licence. The licence isn’t the end of a journey, but the start of an exciting new one. I look forward to piloting again, to respecting the inherent danger of the air, and to introducing others to my love of flying, and fostering their own.

Serendipitously, in the same week that I went for my first logged flight in over a decade (thanks to Luana's incredibly thoughtful and encouraging birthday present), I was offered an aviation role within Seeing Machines. I am excited and thrilled at the prospect of working in an industry I love, alongside a smart and capable team, as we progress and serve the aviation industry in promoting safety, efficiency, and innovation.

“Working hard for something we don't care about is called stress. Working hard for something we love is called passion” - Simon Sinek, Start With Why

There is something inside each of us that we are so interested in and curious about that, if we allowed it to, it would consume us. For me, it's aviation. For others, it's law, or cars, or watches, or media, or sales. I believe recognising and accepting this passion, and then working on turning it into a profession, makes for happy people, since they're intrinsically motivated, and work never feels like work. 

No bird soars too high...

The title of this article references the William Blake poem, Proverbs of Hell from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (1790).

No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings.

Once upon a time I interpreted this as meaning that no one's goals, achievements, or activities can be limited, as long as one is self sufficient in striving for them. Over the last several years, the meaning has changed for me, in that now I interpret it as one can't succeed on his or her own. To achieve, soar, and succeed, we need friends, loved ones, mentors, leaders, parents, a co-founder, teachers, managers, colleagues, family, and a twin flame. To guide us, carry us, inspire us, help us, and accompany us. As poet Wendell Berry interpreted, "only when our acts are empowered with more than bodily strength do we need to think of limits" - if we're on our own, we'll never go too far, just far enough.

I wouldn't have started flying again had it not been for others. I didn't listen to my heart for years, because of fear, and I lost my passion. With the help of others, I am so happy to have found it again.

#aviation #piloting #passion