Shouting from my shed

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Flying in a Fighter Jet

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’mve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, —and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of— wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hovering there,
I’mve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air…

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’mve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark nor even eagle flew—
And, while with silent lifting mind I’mve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
– John Magee

I recently climbed Britain’s Three Peaks in four days. Many people do them in 24 hours. But I woke up one morning last week planning to bag them all in just over an hour. I had given a talk to the Royal Air Force and was kindly invited to join a pilot on one of his training flights. The pilot, Tim, suggested we nip up to Scotland, zip round the Lake District and squeeze in a quick lap of Snowdonia. Naturally I jumped at the chance! Unfortunately the weather was too poor for low-level flying in Scotland so instead of Ben Nevis we headed over to an imaginary “target” in Yorkshire. Click to watch a video of the flight.

We flew in a Hawk, the plane used by the Red Arrows display team. At 500mph Britain appears very small. But the flight did not feel particularly fast until we reached the Lake District and dropped down to just a few hundred feet from the ground. The sensation of manoeuverability was startling. Turns felt more like aggressive rugby sidesteps than smooth curves. We hurtled above green woodlands and wiggled our wings over a primary school (“kids always like us to say hello,” Tim told me). Then down, down lower still for the length of Lake Windermere. I glimpsed a couple of sails and then England’s longest lake was down. Now we were at Keswick and circling round towards Scafell. I realised that we were doing the Bob Graham Round (a 72-mile, 42-peak, 24-hour challenge that I have been trying to complete for a couple of years) in a matter of seconds. Whoosh! Along Waswater then banking right and fast and following the familiar valley up towards the mountain. And suddenly the plane flipped and I howled with exhilaration as we swept around the peaks upside down. And every time I stand on the summit of England in the future I will remember that moment when I danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.

Thank goodness Tim had more idea of which way was up than I did, that he felt less like vomiting his breakfast and less perturbed by the crushing weight of a 4-g turn (meaning, approximately, that your weight feels four times greater than normal) or else the outing could have been very short indeed! He straightened out the aircraft and turned towards Yorkshire.

It is a good thing to become a master of a skill, and flying very cool planes at very fast speeds certainly felt like a craft worth learning. I admired the skill, professionalism and competence of all the RAF pilots I met. For I am too impatient with my own life, too slapdash and I spend too long coveting the grass on the other side of the fence to ever become an expert at anything.
I listened in to Tim talking to all the small air control towers we were passing and we chatted together through the helmet microphone system as we flew. The conversation that sticks in my mind now was on the subject of satisfaction. Two extremely fortunate young men, roaring through the sky, ruminating on how ambition and opportunity often combine detrimentally to create a person who is always striving, trying to do better, anxious to do more rather than being grateful and satisfied with what they have. Tim adjusted direction and I felt the pedals beneath my feet and the joystick in front of me move as we fell away to the right. The flying capsule gives you an incredible field of view and I drank in the beauty of the Yorkshire Dales. It is an important challenge, we agreed, to fulfill a sense of obligation to achieve your potential as so many people in the world do not have the opportunity to do that, and yet to do it without succumbing to affluenza or being in too much of a hurry to stand and stare occasionally.

We had no time to stand and stare just then. For already we are in north Wales, thundering up the A5 pass at Ogwen. Inside the plane is sunlit silence though I know well the visceral, violent noise we are shredding through the valley with. The road flashes past beneath us and we accelerate through the pass. The g-suit I am wearing clenches my legs and abdomen tight, working to keep some blood up inside my head to keep me conscious. On both sides mountains rise high above the aircraft. We are very safe and yet a mistake from Tim would kill us both. We are on the cliff edge of life, looking over the edge. It is an intensely powerful place to be. Life is simple for pilots at 420 knots and just 300 feet above the ground. You are doing what you love. You do it to the very best of your ability for to lapse is not an option. At that moment nothing else matters. There is no past and no future. You have slipped the surly bonds of Earth. You are living in the present, really living. And then Tim throws the plane to the left. We are out of the pass and hammering up through the hills and circling round Snowdon. And I look across at the mere mortals who have had to walk to the summit. They are all looking at us. In the last hour I have felt a hundred things they have not even dreamed of. And I raise my hand and give them a wave. I feel like the king of the world.

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Comments

  1. Very evocative and descriptive, especially liked the account of your conversation mid-flight on satisfaction. As you have demonstrated, you should take the opportunities afforded you in life!

    Reply
  2. Tim Posted

    You are the ‘king of the world’ Al, don’t forget that! Glad to have had you on board – take care.

    Reply
  3. You jammy sod!

    Reply
  4. Lovely – lucky – experience!

    Reply

 
 

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