The Avian Fluke

“Go ahead and taxi over to Cutter.”

My face gets very still…I know what is about to happen and strangely, I’m not nervous about it, which does make me anxious because then I’m wondering if I’m overconfident. Larry tells me two takeoffs and landings with a taxi back, and a third which will return me to the north ramp.

He smiles, hops out of the plane, tells me “good luck.” Before he went, he advised the tower that I was a student on first solo.

I spin the plane around, head back out and taxi to 17, managing to forget to acknowledge my taxi instructions. “Great. This is shaping up well. Maybe I can put the wreckage on the numbers, too.” I think to myself.

First time around the pattern, no problem. Landing bounced a little - not awful, though. I do my taxiback, do a quick check, and I’m cleared out again.

Second time around, there’s more traffic. Tower has me extend before turning crosswind, which is fine, then slots me in. I make my turns, put it down, and again, not a bad landing. Not a greaser, but not bad.

Third time around, I’m on downwind, getting ready to turn base. Tower calls up and says I’m number 3 to land behind a Maule. I look, see the traffic and call it in sight. As I get abeam him, I begin my turn.

And instantly realize that I’ve screwed up. Only I’m not sure how to fix it. Because the traffic I called in sight was not the Maule. And that means he’s still out there and I can’t see him and I’ve likely cut him off.

The tower advises me to turn north. I get a little flustered and delay answering by a couple seconds, because I’m basically ready to turn final, and the instinct to turn final is powerful. I’m also noticing that my airspeed is getting low and I’m not flying the airplane. I’m not doing anything and that’s a real freakin’ problem. Aviate, navigate, communicate. I know this, but for a couple seconds there, because I got confused, I forgot….everything.

“Turn north….go ahead and turn north” the tower says….then there’s a pause. I start the turn north.

“Okay, Cessna XXX, go ahead and climb to pattern altitude and turn to runway heading, (south) we’ll bring you around.”

This I manage to do, although I am embarrassed and flustered, I’m getting my head wrapped around what’s happening, and able to think clearly again. As I make the turn, I see the Maule pass below me to land. Mentally I extend an apology for screwing up his approach.

They call off my crosswind and base legs, and put me on a long final. In the back of my head, while flying, I’m running through how the hell I got in that situation to begin with. “It was the traffic you called in sight. It wasn’t the Maule…you just called the first plane you saw. Remember, he said you were number three, not two. Three.”

Yeah. That was it.

I manage to make a dynamite landing…touch down one main, then the other, kept it straight. They give me taxi instructions, and I thank them for their help to which I get a cheery “you’re welcome.” And as I taxi to the ramp, I hope there’s not a Maule pilot looking for me.

My CFI comes walking up with his wife as I’m buttoning up the plane for the night. He’d been in the tower cab with them, watching the whole thing. Apparently, the controllers were debating about whether or not to send me north and spin me around, or just bring me in over the runway and back to the pattern. The senior controller won.

We do paperwork, Larry cuts my shirt, but not too much because I’ve got somewhere to go. He heads out for another flight and I walk out to my car, but remember that I forgot to fill out the logbook on the plane and had to go back to the ramp.

I finally get back to my car and just sit there for a minute. My back and shoulders are tight, and I realize that there had been just a little bit of fear, but not much. And also, really…the solo was sort of anticlimactic. There wasn’t really any surprise - Larry had drilled good procedures into my head, and it was relatively straightforward.

I was tired, too. It’d been a long day.

So there we go. Solo with 13-ish hours in the logbook.