Nearly 48 hours has passed since my two flights in my Pik-20. It still seems a bit surreal. Did it really happen? Fortunately, pictures don’t lie and they jog my memory back to that precise moment.

Bill Bailie, a friend and fellow pilot, volunteered to come along and help Peggy and myself to set up the plane, run the wing, etc. His generosity is amazing. Bill, I owe you. After rigging the plane I sat in it for a few minutes and familiarized myself with the feel of the cozy cockpit, operated the flaps and made simulated radio calls, while Peggy snapped pictures. I found that I was a bit tongue twisted trying to say “…runway one-seven…” I’m sure it was the nerves.

I finally decided that I was ready and we towed my plane from the ramp to the active runway. During those few minutes of waiting for the tow plane a voice in my head kept saying louder and louder, “I’m really going to fly!” The tow plane arrived and Bill hooked up the rope. My heart started to beat faster. I sat for a moment hoping that I would remember all my training because I really needed it. I gave the thumbs up to Bill, a signal that I was ready to go, and then I called the tow pilot, “Tow plane this is glider, ready for take off.”

I was focused on the tow plane and wanted to stay behind it. Okay, I was a bit too focused because I let the left wing drop and I think it scraped the ground but I was able to recover. Half a moment later my plane, to my surprise, leapt off the ground. I had to force the stick forward to keep it from “ballooning” too high. I think my butt puckered. I was learning how sensitive it was to control inputs. It was like nothing I had ever flown.

At about 500 feet we started the first turn. Things had started to settle down and I was getting in the groove, but that pucker was still there. The air was a little bumpy and I had wanted a smooth first flight. It was too late. Staying behind the tow plane and keeping the tow line taut was not difficult. I released at 3000 AGL (above ground level). It was then I realized I was breathing AND flying.

I made some gentle turns and a couple straight ahead stalls. Then it was time to test the flaps. I rolled in about 30 degrees, watched the nose rise and the airspeed drop. I pushed the nose over until the airspeed indicator showed 50 knots then looked at my relative angle. It seemed rather benign so I repeated the process. I thought, “I can do this”.

I practiced some more left and right turns and when I got to 1000 feet I entered the pattern. Anyone listening to the radio could probably hear the stress in my voce. “Logan traffic this is glider 995 Romeo Juliet entering left downwind for landing on runway 17. I’ll be doing a long roll out and I will advise when I’m clear of the active. Logan.” I may have been yelling, or was I screaming?

As I was headed downwind it didn’t occur to me that I wasn’t losing much altitude. When I was abeam my touchdown point I rolled in the 30 degrees of flap and moments later turned onto the base leg. It still didn’t hit me how high I was, that is, until I turned onto final. Here I was at the end of a 9,000 foot runway and I was way, WAY high. I started putting in more and more flap. It was about 60 degrees or so and I could really feel the drag created by the flaps. The nose was pointed further down than I had ever dreamed just to keep the airspeed at 50 knots. All this had eaten a lot of runway and I could see the numbers at the other end, quite clearly I might add.
I finally reached an altitude where I could roll out of the descent and a moment later the wheel touched down. Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce…and finally down for good; Ahhh! Terra Firma. My joy clouded my thoughts as I rolled down the runway. Now I had another problem. I was headed for a runway light. The right wing started to drag so I knew I was going too slowly to ground loop. I stood on the right pedal and squeezed the brake. I went off the runway neatly between the lights and stopped, just a couple hundred feet of the end of the runway.

Funny, Peggy took a picture just after I got out of the plane and was standing at the tail, bent over. I didn’t know if I should pass out or throw up, but I was safe on the ground. I remembered the old axiom, “Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing.” At the time I didn’t take much comfort in that thought. I was thinking, “Do I really want to do this again?” Knowing I had to shake it off, I discarded the thought and prepared for the next flight.

The second takeoff was similar to the first but without the wing drop. There were more bumps in the air but my confidence was growing and I gave myself the luxury of looking at the variometer to see how fast we were going up. At one time it was over 1,000 fpm. The next time that happened I was at 3,000 AGL so I released. I circled a couple times then fell out of the thermal and lost about 500 feet. I was able to find it again and it gave me a nice ride to the top, about another 2000 feet. About that time Bill called on the radio and asked my location. “This is Romeo Juliet, 2 miles southeast of the airport and climbing through 9,000 feet.”

The plane was surprisingly nimble and seemed to react to every little burble. It was easy to over control but I found my inputs were getting smaller and smaller. It was a fun 45 minute flight. At one point I put it in a shallow bank and took my hand off the stick and let her fly.

In the pattern I was still high so I made a couple circles. It didn’t help much so I kept adding more and more flap. I think I had about 70 degrees in when I touched down. I stopped almost where I wanted and much shorter than the previous flight.

Finally, I have to say a few words about Peggy. She has endured a lot from me and how she has been able to put up with the flying, well, I’ll never know. She was a real trooper on Friday, helping with the setup of the plane, towing the plane here and there and many other things. She was the voice of reason and could see changes that needed to be made in rigging and derigging the plane and she also started making a list of items to bring along, which I had forgotten. What can I say? I’m the luckiest guy in the world.