Nine months later

It's been 9 months since my last post, 9 months since the dream went sour and I became despaerate for a way out.

In that time I moved back to Europe, got a job with a respectable airline, knuckled down and got on with it. Even if I didn't like my job I could make something out of the rest of my life, living in a culture I knew, going home 2-3 times a month and getting a decent selection of days off.

Seven weeks ago I got transferred to London. Home. Finally. And I got even more days off. It took a while, but slowly the tingle of take off, the thrill of landing, the wonderment at the amazing beauty of the planet below came back.

I won't go as far as saying I'm in love again, yet, but we can live together in peace.

Clear skies,

S.

Falling out of love

I still remember my first flight, my first landing. It was the 18th of October 2003. A clear, crisp day with only a few clouds in the sky. I was flying the little nose-cone-less Cessna 150 with no transponder, nav radio or heating but I had one of the best instructors I have ever had the privilege of flying with sitting beside me.

We took off, fooled around a bit turning, climbing and descending, then came back to land on CYYG's runway 21. I flew the PAPI on the 3 mile final and controlled the plane all the way to the landing which I remember was flapless and quite good considering... I had fallen in love with one of the most beautiful things a human can do: fly.

Fast forward 7-and-a-bit years. I'm sitting by the Indian Ocean, in the sweltering heat with clouds of mosquitos all around me suffering from my now monthly sinus infection. I have been flying what I believe is one of the most beautiful, agile, amazing commercial aeroplanes in operation for 2 years now and I have been in exile for 2 years as well. I have met many amazing people, made good friends and I don't regret most of it ... but I'm still in exile, living for work.

People tell me I'm so lucky to be living my dream of being a pilot.. Dream yes, but is it a good dream? The exhilarating tingle I used to feel whenever we took off is gone, the enjoyment of flying a perfect path approach is gone, the wonder of looking outside and seeing earth as only few can see it is gone. All I can think of now is getting the wretched paperwork over with as soon as possible so I can get back to my book and try not to fall asleep. Even the sunrises and sunsets - my once ultimate drug - all seem somewhat drab.

I may be living a dream but it's certainly not my dream anymore... I seem to have fallen out of love with flying.

S.

End of part one

I flew my last flight at the world's best low cost airline last wednesday. An eery experience if ever there was one, knowing what was second nature would become a memory very soon. The rotation was a short and generally unpopular rotation to Bintulu via Kuching. It's unpopular because the flight usually runs late and ploughs through some of the worst weather of the region, but Wednesday was special.

Hotel Romeo arrived on time from China, a rare event. We departed on time, didn't hit any weather and were number-one-high-speed for the rest of the evening, making up time everywhere and ending up a nice 30 minutes early back home. Lots of pictures were taken, and to celebrate the event the brilliant Captain H did all the paperwork for the day while I assumed the command position as demonstrated below:

After the flight what felt like the entire crew base of Kinabalu came out to the after party and there was merriment late into the night. The next day was spent finishing the packing, saying bye to the beach and the people. I'm now on 2 weeks leave at home before starting in my new company.

S.