Turns Around a Point

The solitary tree is an unremarkable one, a mature oak tree near the Cascade Pacific Pulp Mill in Halsey, Oregon.

At least I think it is an oak tree. I have never seen it up close from the ground. The massive tree seems old enough to have survived the controlled burns of the Kalapuya people and settlers converting the oak savannas to agricultural land, and it stands today shading a local road some distance from an intersection and a north-south railway line. The steamy effluents from the mill’s smokestacks are a great way to judge winds, there are fields and farms for miles around, and it is a convenient 10 or so miles as the Cessna flies southeast of Corvallis Municipal Airport (KCVO).

Indeed, for nearly a quarter century I have been making radio calls over the Corvallis CTAF along the lines of: “Corvallis traffic, Cessna four-six-four-three-niner, in the practice area near Halsey Mills, 10 southeast of the airport at 1,000 feet, maneuvering, Corvallis.”

Given the features of the area, this is indeed a great place to practice shallow and steep turns, S-turns using the railway tracks, stalls, engine outs — though it might not be readily apparent to your instructor which of the myriad fields you had picked out for your forced landing (a fact I used to take advantage of in my earliest days of instruction) — and thanks to that solitary tree, turns around a point. You have just enough time departing Corvallis to the southeast off your crosswind for your instructor to brief the maneuvers before arriving in the practice area, and you can alternate pattern work with maneuvers quite readily.

I still go to that practice area — nearly always solo these days since the student pilot daily early morning grind with an instructor is now in the rearview mirror for me by a measure of decades. I head to the practice area both to polish up my flying skills and to polish the dust off the memories of those instructional days.

My most cherished flying memories live in this practice area, not because of that solitary tree, or the battered 152 I flew then, nor the beautiful sunrises, but because of the man who was most often occupying the right seat, my beloved late flight instructor “Cap’n John.” John Larson was the chief pilot for Corvallis Aero Service, available for instruction only early in the morning, and we hit it off famously. My two toddlers had dubbed him “Cap’n John” upon introduction, and he let me address him by that moniker as well.

While I was striving to get through the book work and acquiring the practical skills necessary to earn the coveted private pilot certificate, I didn’t realize how many life skills I was also acquiring.

I think flight instructors, at least ones that are at it for more than just airline time-building purposes, are quite wise. Unfortunately, many instructors disguise this wisdom quite adroitly, hiding it behind either an intimidating fire-breathing persona or a distant swaggering ace-of-the-base veneer. Occasionally you are fortunate enough to get the disciplined types who live by the checklist.

But very occasionally, once in a great long while, you might be blessed by an instructor willing to impart their hard-earned wisdom freely, cheerfully, generously, in ways that the lessons stick with you for life — in the air and on the ground.

For I believe going around and around, done enough, whether in the pattern, around a point, in a turn, in a spin, or in life, gives one the opportunity to acquire wisdom of the sort those saffron-robed bearded holy men in the Himalayas also pursue with similar dedication and passion.

Cap’n John was one such blessed instructor, with stories that always had a point, even if I didn’t always get the point at the time.

I remember once shamefacedly admitting to him that I had decided not to go flying after arriving at the airport on a CAVU day because I simply didn’t feel up to it.

“A no-go is a positive decision!” he admonished me. “I remember one time as a kid in Iowa being all green about the gills from the night before and getting teased into going flying — and having to clean up the cockpit for hours afterwards and still catching it from my dad!”

When I spotted announced traffic and was congratulating myself, he warned “it’s not the one you see that gets you — don’t stop looking and always assume there’s more coming for you,” followed by a hair-raising story involving a farmer’s NORDO Cub.

When I wouldn’t flare adequately because the Cessna’s nose would obscure the runway, it was stories about how “people might relocate right out from under you when you least expect it, but I’ve never had a runway run off on me in the flare — and besides, if you allow, your peripheral vision is telling you all you need to know — about the person and the runway…”

But the best stories and best lessons imparted were in the practice area, most often around that solitary tree doing turns around a point. When I lamented how bad my clockwise turns had been while setting up for counterclockwise ones, he told me about fixing up old cars for racing in Iowa as a kid and how the first thing they would do is ditch the mirrors. “Hard to focus on or win many races if you are constantly looking in the rear-view mirror, bud.”

Or if I was fixating on gauges, it was “learn to live and fly by your butt and your gut — they tell you all you need to know.”

Entering S-turns over the railway tracks without consulting the wafting smokestacks to judge the winds would reward me with a story about how the obvious was right in front of John somewhere in his past, but he didn’t bother to read the signs.

He also loved to make sure I loved some aspect of each and every flight: “Stay low until we cross the river so I can see the sun glinting on the water,” “no one else knows that our tree is casting a mile-long shadow right now,” “plan to exit your steep turn so I can see those beautiful balloons coming up over Albany.”

And when I expressed regret over pursuing aviation so late in life, he advised: “Some never do. Savor what you’ve got and leave those regrets for a non-flying day.”

I think I will go practice some turns around a point.