Prescott Flying

The sun is just setting behind the hills of Prescott. The warm, intensity of the golden reds and pinks blend in beauty upon the waning sky filling me with the soft brillance. And a brilliant day it has been.

I sit behind Pilot Joe in Ricardo’s four seater plane, I wear official aviator headphones with mic and swell with my new pretender role as imposter pilot. I sit amazed as I listen to my two pilots talk to the tower and each other. Such pilot-eze so easily and rapidly spoken, takes me a minute as I try to recognize the meanings.

“I’m just going to let you do this,” Joe says to his mentor as we wait for another aircraft on final approach. Like a bright evening star, it appears, unmoving straight toward us.

Ricardo answers without a pause, ” Yes, except you have the only working brake.” “Oh… yeah,” Joe laughs as he continues the pre flight checklist.

Take off is smooth and the constancy of the partnership flight instruction makes me smile.

Ricardo has a careful comforting way of teaching, always calm, informative and conversational. Joe accepts it all with his signature confident, fearless self.

The pinpoint lights of the earthbound towns and downhill, snakelike Phoenix traffic flicker below. It is all beauty in motion.

“I’m just going to pull up a bit to keep steady” Joe says and receives an approving nod from Ricardo.

“This is 2189er November southbound to Phoenix”, I hear Ricardo respond to an inquiring Control tower disembodied voice. After some back and forth, “We are not cleared for Bravo,” Ricardo says. “They’ll tell us when we can begin descent.”

And just like that, as night descends so do we as we return back into hometown airspace.

I love to fly, always have, but today it takes on a whole new depth, or height, I suppose, as I take my first son powered, mother of the pilot flight.

It has been brilliant indeed.