Breeze of Life

     "Another beautiful day for flying" I thought as I looked up the San Juan sky.  There were few clouds and the air was coming from the East at a comfortable twelve knots. Wind gusts were indicated on the weather briefings but were not noticeable from the tarmac.  All the indications for good flying were there.  Even as a student pilot I felt confident that all the conditions necessary for a safe sightseeing flight had been met.  I had written a ‘flight plan’ that would take me and my flight instructor over the flight practice area over the town of Dorado.  Our plane had been fully inspected in a ritual we call ‘walk-around’ which is the pre-flight all systems check.  All checked fine; the fuel level, the moving surfaces, the tires and every bolt and nut on the Cessna 172.

     Angel, my trusty flight instructor, had logged plenty of hours in this type of airplane in his first year as an instructor.  He had performed plenty of take-offs and landings at this particular airport and had never had an accident.  So I had nothing to worry, it was just going to be another great day of flying.

     Just after noon all systems on board our Cessna airplane were ready and set.  The sun was straight up and the twelve knots of airspeed indicated on the gauge in front of me signaled a good take-off.  The control tower briefing was very usual with nothing to note except for some wind gusts of up to eight knots (about ten miles an hour).

     Before take-off another systems check was performed.  This one is called the ‘run-up’.  All systems, compass, radios and engine are double checked just before entering the runway.  All checked fine.

     At an airport nearby, in the town of Arecibo, another pilot was doing the same; checking all the systems and weather like I did.  He was an experienced pilot and head of that airport’s safety team.  His only passenger on his two-seater cessna airplane was a church minister who had never flown in an airplane.  They checked the plane on ‘run-up’ and all checked fine.

     One plane in San Juan, another one in Arecibo, both were ready for take-off.  The wind was a steady twelve knots as I veered the airplane into position for take-off.  The tower called ‘cleared for take-off five three quebec’ (our call sign) as I noticed a wind gust which shook the plane slightly.  I pushed the throttle open and away we went.  As the airspeed rose to sixty five knots I pulled the stick back and pitched the plane’s nose up.  It floated above the runway for some long seconds as it broke ‘ground effect’.  Then it finally soared up.  We were doing eighty knots as we climbed out.  That was a good twenty five knots above the minimum stalling speed. I felt comfortably knowing that with this speed I could have overcame any wind change on climb-out, specially with a wind gust warning on the weather briefings.

     As we made it to a thousand feet I trimmed the airplane controls for straight and leveled flight.  Some gusts were starting to be felt.  The airspeed indicator jumped up and down every fifteen seconds or so.  I knew then that my preparations for possible gusts on take-off had not been uncalled for.  We could have been jolted and possibly stalled on take-off had we gotten a ‘good’ gust on the critical stage of the climb-out.  But things had gone fine for us that day.  We were up and enjoying the flight.

     I quickly forgot all worries and circled the plane around the practice area as all immortal pilots do.  Nothing to hit or fear high above in the sky.  It is the freedom and beauty above which makes one forget the vulnerability of being suspended in the air by two thousand pounds of tin, for reality sometimes lags behind enthusiasm.

     Suddenly the wake up call arrived.  It was from the tower:  "cessna five three quebec, we have a plane down in Arecibo, please search the area and report, smoke was seen."  Five minutes later we made the fateful call:  "tower, this is five three quebec, airplane is on fire, a quarter mile north of the Arecibo runway."  The airplane had stalled and crashed on take-off.

     As all this sank in, the obvious came to mind:  this could have been me burning down there in that plane wreckage.  This plane stalled on take-off and killed both occupants in a fierce fire. What happened? Didn’t he check the weather briefings? Maybe he did and still that wasn’t enough.  Maybe he got into ‘the perfect gust.’  Maybe, maybe and more maybes, just like life down here on the ground;  you prepare for a gust and maybe you get a breeze.

 

by: Emilio Vega

 

 

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3/18/03: