Monday, August 4, 2008

Clearing Weather At Last

You'll note the Huckleberry Mine site, the big scar on the earth at the north end of Tweedsmuir park. There's a couple of the forest fire operations centre in Smithers, a mountain that appears to be volcanic (Nadina Mountain). We flew close to it later to view the many goats that live up there. And pic of me enjoying a day of riding the motel's mountain bike.










































Wednesday, July 9, 2008

SLOW IT DOWN


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Robert couldn’t go fast enough. I was flying with him one fine summer day in his Taylorcraft, enjoying the scenery as it slowly drifted by at about 80 mph. He was complaining, and at the same time apologizing for the snails pace of the plane. But it didn’t matter to me. It was, and still is the flying, not the destination that’s important. That’s why I fly. And I suspect that’s why most recreational pilots take to the sky as well. Not to get somewhere, but just to be up there. We seem to have lost sight of that over time. Back before we earned our pilots license, even before we actually flew for the first time, we knew that’s what we wanted. To some of us, flying was the most important thing in our lives at that point. It didn’t matter how fast or how high. But all too soon, the magic had worn off. Or at least diminished a bit as our need for more speed took over. Part of that came from the ever improving tech- nology in aviation. Some of it was our egos. To arrive 30 minutes ahead of a buddy on the same cross country gave big bragging rights to the owner of the faster plane. But it’s not just the availability of better aircraft that compels us to speed up. It is life itself. In his recent book In Praise of SLOW, Carl Honore points out how the entire world is bent on upping the velocity of travel, of work, meals, education, relationships, even sex. Fast food is consumed by more and more of us. We seek faster computers and internet connections, learn speed- reading, and choose liposuction because diets are too slow. We’re impatient in line ups, road rage is not uncommon. We’re choosing the fast options, yet keep losing the advantage because everyone else is speeding up too. The food we eat today is derived from production processes far superior than just a generation ago. The first microwave ovens of the 1950’s became big time home appliances in the ‘70’s, allowing cooking times to be measured in sec- onds. Where it once took the average pig five years to reach 130 pounds, producers can now have it up to 220 pounds in just six months through intensive feeding, antibiotic digestive enhancers, growth hormones, rigorous breeding and genetic modification. A Dig auvantage in a worm increasingly unable to feed itself. And another example of the need for speed. Doctors are swamped with patients complaining of stress manifested in migraines, hypertension and burnout. Some prescribe medication to treat the symptoms, yet fail to address the root cause. The doctors can’t be blamed, they’re in their own race against time.
Choosing to slow down our own lives seems to be the only solution. But in the face of all the outside pressures to speed up, it’s an uphill battle for sure. Television, radio and newspaper advertising could be a good place to start. Simply ignoring it or turning it off seems to me to be an easy solution. Spending more time doing enjoyable activities would also go a long way toward rekindling your serenity and san- ity. Activities like flying. I don’t suppose Robert will catch on to the slow-down movement. He, like so many others would be on the list for one of the new personal jets that are in the aviation news papers these days if he could afford one. But so far, he’s contented himself with a faster, piston engine plane, a homebuilt KR-2. He should be proud of it too. One day while crossing the water between Victoria and Vancouver, a ter- minal controller requested he keep his speed up for a Dash 8 right behind. Robert put the nose down a bit, opened the throttle and actually outran the big- ger airplane. The pilot was on the radio asking what engine was in the KR. “Volkswagen,” Robert answered. Not another word from the Dash 8. My clock on the wall has no minute or hour hands, just a second hand going round and round. The face reads “Island Time.” So I never know exactly when it’s time for dinner. Except I get hungry. Then, without hurry or pressure, I’ll cook something I enjoy and take my time eating it. I’ll pass on Uncle Ben’s five minute rice... which by the way, has been reduced to two minutes in the microwave. As Lily Tomlin once said, “For fast acting relief from stress, try slowing down”.

Peter Houghton of Cordova Bay, Victoria, B.C. provides his. comments regarding the above column, “Time to slow down.” Ten out of 10 for that. It should be mandatory reading for all. I’m one of: those swamped docs, also an AME and a PPL of nearly 30 years. I am constant- ly amazed how people want instant fixes for everything. Patience and smelling the roses seem to be anathema these days - more’s the pity. Most of us try not to prescribe medication, exhorting our patients instead to exercise, lose weight, etc. This is usually not the advice many people wish to hear. It takes effort and time. To happier topics, I learned to fly in South Africa as soon as I started earn- ing money. Twenty years ago I emigrated to Canada and worked in Ft. St. James for eight years. I had a share in an old 150, and looking back in my log book brings back many happy memories. Tooling along at 8Q mph on a gorgeous fall day, the air so still it was hahds off flying. A flight on a minus 15C day with the lake all frozen and the sun shining bril- liantly, the plane virtually leaping into the air. We then moved to Prince George, I sold the 150 and for a couple of years had a quarter share in a Cherokee Six. A fine beast, but I sometimes missed the slow, deliberate pace of the little 150. These days I rent from the flying club for an easy flight over the islands or the city and haven’t done a cross-country for ages. But 40 minutes or so on a calm evening gives great pleasure and keeps one’s hand in.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Former broadcaster, long-time ambulance paramedic turned commercial pilot and aviation writer, Barry Meek describes interesting situations, ideas and comments on this site.
He retired early, but still does seasonal flying jobs and makes his home on Gabriola Island, British Columbia, Canada.
He is a monthly contributor to four aviation publications. You can read many of the articles here on this site.
Thank you for browsing. Any comments you have are welcome.
Please e-mail bcflyer@propilots.net

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