Photo of the day

Vancouver Island. Taken shortly after take-off from Vancouver Airport. One day I'll return to explore you... Vancouver itself is not close enough. I want to see the Pacific, trace the coastline, lose myself in an adventure. The yearning to go west resides in me like it did in the days of the Frontier. The pioneering spirit is not lost on me, but I do not go to seek wealth and stability but beauty, adventure, inspiration and maybe the unexpected. These are the things that dreams are made on.

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Gotta love this view. My hotel room on the 28th floor of the Blue Horizon hotel, Robson Street, Vancouver. We arrived just in time for the sun to come streaming through our windows and french windows! I've gotta say this was the most enchanting trip. Vancouver was in bloom and the weather was so fine. Every time I think about it I'm taken to a happy place. The sea air, the blue sky, the mountains, the ocean, the islands, the city. It's like a dream. I think I may have even dreamt of this view many years ago. It was like I'd been here before.

Up until this point I'd questioned the logic and reasoning behind returning to Canada, and whether I had been stealing these moments as though I'd forced my way back in spite of every sense telling me not to. And then Vancouver. It was as if God had slapped me in His usual loving way and pointed out that I was in fact *meant* to be here, that it was not all rashness and impulse and in fact He had lined up this little treat from the outset. Yes, this trip was sort of spontaneous but who could have planned such an amazing view, with such glorious weather? All this time I'd been running around trying to justify my existence over here, trying to give it some purpose, offering my services here, there and everywhere. This was good and made use of (and I still do make myself useful) but this trip sort of illustrated that I didn't need to strive so much - that moments of value and significance often happen on their own. They cannot be forced or even worked for. They just happen. God was smiling.

Let's play the values game...

No, not the one my coach gave me about the 15 top values we all live by (although it's a great exercise to do) But the one that makes you think of the things you value the most.

I'll give you a scenario. Two people have access to one car. One person needs to go visit an elderly friend who is blind and housebound and often lonely. The other needs to go to the stores to return some goods and pick up some others. Who should have priority? The one visiting the elderly, right?

Okay so this particular scenario did occur but with a little more factors affecting it. The one who needs to go to the stores is the owner of the car. The other one is only borrowing it to run errands while the other doesn't need to use it. So the owner should have priority because they are paying the bill. But in the bigger scheme of things the value of the tasks differ greatly. One is self-serving (shopaholic), the other is serving others (pastoral). Unless, of course, you consider the self-serving to be vicariously serving others through the pastoral.

Either way, I'm drawn to consider why it is that in this part of the world (North America and probably Europe too) we spend so much time making money and spending money in the great pursuit of happiness. Does it honestly make us feel happier? From what I've witnessed these past few weeks it does not. I've seen someone spend so much money each day on items in the house and in the garden but at the end of the day the happiness is short-lived. Each day turns into a vicious cycle of momentary peace, then the discovery of something out of place, then the desperate attempt to fix it followed by a massive rearrangement that subsequently becomes another trip to the stores and then more rearranging.

Meanwhile I spent some time visiting with a 93 year old and came away feeling so completely blessed by her company and pleased that I could bring a little light into a person's day.

So it's really simple. What do you value the most - spending money or spending quality time?

I don't deny that spending money isn't fun, and when you're serving people who have money the perks outweigh the bind of the tasks.

But still, in my heart of hearts I am content with less and would far rather spend quality time. And you really don't need money to have a good time!

I yearn for people in this continent to slow down, take time and enjoy life for its simplicities. Reject the control money has over you. It will NEVER satisfy. Stop thinking in terms of progress and change and start thinking in terms of moments, beauty, stillness, and all the things we're often too busy to notice. Turn your back on the temptation to improve and perfect things. Perfection is a state of mind but not necessarily an achievable reality.

If you're a Christian who is ensnared in this crazy paced lifestyle, what are you running from? Why are you striving to fill a gap that can only be filled with your one true Saviour? Let go of the control. Cease striving. God already knows what you need before you even thought of it.

And one for me - stop trying to justify your existence through service. Your existence is for a purpose and that may only be revealed to you in the quiet times and/or desert places.
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On board flight BA103 to Calgary

So, after that amazing crisis of confidence I sucked it up, packed, boarded the plane and headed to Calgary. Magical flight - dancing in cloud city, levelling out above the rain clouds with blue sky above and rippling white below. Stunning. West of Iceland I decided to spend some time enjoying the moment and absorbed myself with the panorama. I could see a line of what I thought was cirrus but could have been another jet's trail across from us. Then we cruised through our own little line of cirrus and as I looked across at the wide open sky I thought I saw another aircraft flying parallel with us about 20 miles away. I blinked a couple of times to see if it was still there. It was. But I couldn't see any wings. I tilted my head but still it remained oblong. Engines? I'm not sure. It was gradually flying away from us - it felt as though we were overtaking it gradually. I couldn't squint any further so I rested in the knowledge that it was probably another jet. But in the back of my mind I wondered... Maybe it was a UFO. Either way, I consider it a holy moment, reminding me that God is with me always - even up here in on my way to Calgary. With so many doubts racing in my mind this was a moment of peace.

However it didn't last. Well the spiritual peace lasted but my physical peace was disturbed by the onset of a headache around Greenland. This continued for the rest of the flight and was added to by a nasty stomach ache. Thus my arrival in Calgary wasn't quite as joyous as I thought it might be. In fact it was miserable. My heart did leap a little at the sight of Calgary but my stomach was in agony and so my reaction was toned down more out of self-preservation...

But I was in Calgary. I had made the trip.

crisis of confidence...

Just had a reality check from a friend and professional mentor about the Canada trip, which then turned into a serious contemplation of where my goals have gone and whether they took all my drive and motivation with them...

I can honestly say that I am seriously having second thoughts about the Canada trip. I don't mind confessing this now. It's only 4 more sleeps until I depart and while this is normally the time I get the strongest jitters that account for the majority of this lack of confidence, my friend's words dug deep. Where is my life going? For how long will I have to depend on my parents until I get the wherewithal to gain some independence? Is it really fair that they should invest in my dreams now that I'm 29? What happened to those dreams and goals? Where is my drive and motivation? What is it that motivates me?

The clean slate has its pitfalls...

This trip is going to cost too much money that I don't even have, take more risks than I'm willing to bare, and put my life on hold for more than I'm comfortable with... UNLESS the outcome is bigger than any of that. And for that I trust God. But in the forefront of my mind I am wondering if God is actually asking me to use the common sense He endowed me with and STAY HOME.

If Canada was as important to me now as it was a year ago there would be no question in my mind as to what to do: take the flight and go see what's there. But Canada isn't. I love the people dearly, but my life has moved on. I'm not sure where it's moved but it's moved. I've rediscovered my passion for aviation, realising that it is a huge part of me. Sure, I should take the flight and bring closure to that season of my life if this is the case. But where next? I've got a student loan to repay, a credit card bill that is about to be maxed out and no job or prospects (aside from a Saturday job that I just relinquished in favour of the Canada trip). So why do I do this? It's bordering on insanity. I've only just begun to feel more at home and less displaced and what do I do? Travel to Canada and probably make it worse again.

Today is a crisis of confidence day.

But having read Psalm 73 I do feel a sense of focus returning and the spiritual influence restored. Sometimes God shows us that the path that He wants us to take is often the most illogical one, and the reason why He chooses it is often to frustrate the wise and the corporeal-minded. I guess I'm looking at things from a worldly point of view today. The disappointed look that my friend gave me when I told her I was returning to Canada still haunts me. She is the one who believed in me when I didn't (and still does believe in me). Admittedly she bought me the ticket home because she felt Canada was holding me back from my true potential. Perhaps she is right...

There'll be bluebirds over...

The White Cliffs of Dover...

Well, that or a white and blue PA28...
There's something deeply moving and poignant about being able to fly over the White Cliffs of Dover, especially seeing the wonderful Battle of Britain Memorial as you coast out. It's the privilege that we live in a part of the world where we have the freedom to see that sight and know that it has seen some tragic dogfights that ultimately won us the Second World War. Knowing that I'm looking at a view that would have been seen by both German and English pilots during the Second World War and wondering what emotions were experienced by both and what thoughts were going through the minds of each pilot I encounter something bittersweet. From where I am looking in this photo we are flying away from the coast of England towards Boulogne and the coast of France. In fact our destination - Abbeville - was a key airfield during the German occupation of France where the infamous Messerschmit 109s were based. As a British pilot this view could have been the last glimpse they had of their home country before perishing over the continental soil. As a German pilot this sight could have been met with great relief as though on the home run, having completed their mission and now heading for home. So many mixed emotions - fear and anxiety to relief and exuberance.

Of course, today we were enjoying the novelty of being able to take a light aircraft to visit another airfield in the continent, have lunch there and soak up the experience; a huge contrast to the scenario 67 years ago. We enjoy peace and merriment - but this came at a price, and I feel it is only right to honour and appreciate the liberties we have today. It was such a wonderful experience though. I've flown across to France in a light aircraft before, visiting Le Touquet in a Cessna 172. The adventure never diminishes. And as for the cuisine - well that's worth the trip in itself. I would like to return by car some day and explore the area at greater length. You can't beat flying in, but we were in a huge crowd of British aviators and it almost didn't feel like France once on the ground, aside from the french menus, waiting staff and the occasional french aviator. But what a day... Abbeville itself is some km's away so the airfield was kind of remote, but it was a very peaceful, quaint little place with much gliding activity and a lot of campers. We entered what must've been the clubhouse first and tried to communicate with the locals. They didn't speak English but assured us (in French) that they spoke wonderful French, which I thought was hilarious. I wished I could've communicated in French to demonstrate that we aren't complete xenophobic philistines...

But we found the appropriate building shortly afterwards only to discover that the official was away for lunch. I love the French. So laissez faire... It seemed almost pointless to have brought our passports. No-one was remotely interested in seeing them. So we headed off to the restaurant for lunch and bypassed the office on our return to the aircraft. They also didn't talk to us on the radio. It's funny because it's not unwelcoming but more a sort of "do as you please".

On our return flight we were routing back to Boulogne again and I noticed that every time my pilot reached across to the right to adjust the transponder he allowed the aircraft to turn right. He corrected this the first time, but failed to the second time. He then wondered why the radio aids seem to indicate that we needed to turn left in order to be pointing in the right direction for Boulogne. I also wondered why he hadn't noticed that the compass was indicating that we were heading Northeast. My instincts were telling me that we needed to be heading North if not North-northwest. So it was no surprise when the kindly french air traffic controller (one that finally decided to talk to us) informed us that if we were routing to Boulogne this was at our 9 o'clock position (i.e. to our left). After correcting our heading the pilot mentioned that the wind must've been stronger up here than he'd anticipated. True enough. Admittedly he was doing his PLOG while airborne which would account for most of the errors. But we coasted out in the vicinity of Boulogne and the rest was pretty basic visual reference points. Once over the British coast we needed to descend from 5500ft to 2000ft so we pulled the engine back to idle and just floated down, warming the engine from time to time, occasionally sideslipping to kill more altitude faster (well that's one way of doing it). Everyone I fly with seems to enjoy putting the aircraft into a sideslip... Romey did it on final approach last Monday (which was hilarious!) and Aiden did it to descend today. It can be a dangerous manoeuvre but both seemed to know what they were doing, and it's also pretty exciting so I didn't mind.

Seeing Ashford then Headcorn and hearing the airfield over the radio was so welcoming. I loved the journey but always in the back of my mind there is a little fear of the unknown, and of the potential risks involved. Being on the home-run felt somewhat akin to what the wartime pilots must have felt, only probably more relieved having been a little more rattled. Knowing that Headcorn (or Lashenden) is a wartime airfield also adds to the novelty.

Such a great day, such a beautiful flight.

"Flight Operations - Here to Massage your Ego"

vs.

I've gotta say that today has been a "tread carefully - ego's present" kinda day. Testosterone was a-flowing. One very senior instructor wanted to book the 150 Aerobat for some aerobatics training. I was aware of an Airworthiness Directive on all 150s and 152s preventing spinning (and possibly other aerobatic activity) but wasn't sure if the problem had been fixed so I questioned whether we were okay with aero's in general. This senior instructor somehow interpreted this query as me questioning his authority and/or legitimacy to perform the aerobatic detail. Like I would dare to question such a highly decorated, well-seasoned instructor... Poor Ego. Let me massage you a bit. All those long hours of having people listen to you and heed your highly experienced wisdom must be taking its toll.

Generally known as Sky God to all (including most instructors) I cannot imagine how he could possibly perceive that I would be questioning his authority. All he has to do is look at me and I feel thoroughly inadequate for the job I perform. Luckily for me a senior mechanic was on hand to advise on the specifics of the AD. It strikes me as greatly peculiar how someone with nearly two decades of providing flying instruction and ground school tuition, not to mention the authority to sign people off for their Pilot's License could be so amazingly poor at communication. I am aghast. This is also not the first time his gross misconceptions have almost landed me in deep water and I have no doubt that in the one week I have remaining in this job it will not be the last. It's one thing to have a very male-dominated environment. It's another thing completely to have dominating pragmatist male environment. Three cheers for aviation!
Come on girls!! - get your instructor ticket ASAP!!

I wonder if mission aviation has the same trouble... I work in a highly secular environment, but there must be similarities. If so, I think I shall create a list of "things you'll never see on the official prayer letter but still need praying for". We are all human after all :)