Fly the Airplane
A lesson in crisis management
Letting Go
When you know better, you do better, or so the saying goes.
Today is a “heat dome” day in Northern California—a harbinger of things to come. As I reflect on my personal contribution to this climate situation, both positive and negative, I cannot help but wish that I had done more sooner.
On the plus side, I’ve let go of three high-fossil-fuel hobbies in the past two decades. I suppose there is a difference between “giving up” and “letting go,” but more on than in a future post. For my part, I regret all the greenhouse gases that I personally generated before I knew better.
The three hobbies were:
Golf, a water-hogging, truly corporate pastime that I was pretty good at and rarely had time for. I gave it up when I left corporate life twenty years ago;
Pottery—a more recent letting go and something I still miss. This one I may return to if I can sort out how to do it with solar; and
Flying—Also known as the $200 hamburger as most private pilots fly somewhere, buy lunch and then fly back. This hobby was expensive, dangerous and thrilling. And it nearly got me killed. Again, I “let go” of it twenty years ago, but not before I learned a vital lesson about surviving in an emergency—a lesson that seems appropriate to these “heat dome” times.
Perhaps the lesson is worth the investment of fossil fuel that it took to learn it. So, I’ll share it with you now.
In-Flight Emergency
The day started innocently enough. My takeoff from Benton airfield in Redding, California seemed normal. Then, a few minutes later, at about 1500 feet above ground, the engine went eerily quiet. I glanced at the throttle - it was fully forward - yet the airplane was no longer climbing. It was, in fact, descending.
Two quick thoughts took hold in that moment.
The first: Engine Failure! This is the real deal. By that I meant it wasn’t just a training exercise—it was a real in-flight emergency, one for which I had trained.
My second thought: I will land this plane. I don’t recall thinking or die trying, though that was clear.
I got off a quick radio call “Benton, I’m in trouble here. Will go for an emergency landing.” Now, I had one focus only: Fly the Airplane.
An engine failure after takeoff at low altitude means no margin for error. My flight instructor had drilled it into me over and over: Fly the airplane - even if you have to fly it into the trees or the ground. Don’t pull up. Lock your arms if you have to. I remembered asking: “Even if you have to fly it into the trees?” He explained that the trees would sheer off the plane’s wings, and slow it enough that you just might survive a crash. Yikes.
Fly the Airplane
I glanced at my airspeed - just above 40 knots. Too slow! Any slower and the plane would stall—an unfortunate condition that would cause the plane to drop from the sky like a rock. Airspeed is everything.
My flight instructor proved correct when it came to that urge to “pull up”—or more precisely pull back on the yoke. As the trees loomed closer, when literally everything was at stake, my instinct was to raise the nose of the plane. No! It took everything in me not to pull up.
I locked my arms and held my breath…
Closer…
I heard a brief scraping noise as the plane’s landing gear touched the treetops.
There may be only a handful of moments in my life where I could look back and claim that I was fully present. This was one of them. The whole incident took maybe ten minutes—yet is permanently etched in my mind. Even though it took place more than twenty years ago, I remember everything from how the cool morning air felt on my skin to how I initially thought about would happen if I didn't get it right—and how I quickly dropped that thought for one singular focus: fly the airplane.
The open taxiway at Benton was a welcome sight. Once the wheels touched down, I shut off the engine and the plane rolled to a stop. My whole body trembled.
I made it!
Every bit of training and skill helped me land the plane that day. It was part skill ingrained by training over and over again, and part luck that I am here to tell the tale.
Today’s Crises
To land an airplane without a working engine requires training. Pilots train for this type of emergency, and other emergencies too. In all such circumstances, the common thread for a pilot is this: in any emergency, fly the airplane. Even if you have to fly it into the ground.
In other words, focus—and don’t give up.
I suspect this training mantra has applications in all types of emergencies, from wildfire survival to navigating climate disruption and ecosystem collapse. During a crisis, the non-essential melts away. We stay present to what is happening. Crisis brings focus and clarity unlike any other that we experience day to day.
As I see it, our current ecological, social, and political crises are now all about “flying the airplane.”
What does it mean to “fly the airplane” in such times? Debate on whether or not we will succeed is not nearly as useful as intentional action. I’ve created a list for myself that you may find helpful in your own journey:
Do what is yours to do. Do what you can to make the difference you can make.
Serve life with intention and joy. If that is caring for a child, or an elder, do it. If it is making art, do that.
Do not succumb to distraction, addiction and cynicism.
Love fully.
Live fully.
Create beneficial connections.
Create beauty and appreciate beauty.
Above all: choose life.
Thank you for this Denise.