Sunset Flight
Article by
Roger Kellogg
Life at the office was rather rough today. After 11 hours of swimming against the current, I grabbed my hat, closed the door, and headed home. As I put distance between me and the halls of business, I couldn’t distance myself from the stress and frustrations of the job. The beautifully balmy August evening was wasted on me as I wrestled through expressway traffic. Eventually John Denver came on the radio and reminded me that I have control over the perspective that I choose in life. Huh. Yeah. Why not choose to enjoy a taste of freedom? A quick diversion to the airport might give me a chance to readjust my perspective.
The airport was deserted as I pulled in and opened the hanger door. Glad that the Aerolite 103 is maintained in a ready-to-scramble state, I pre-flighted and taxied to the runway. A quick traffic check, full throttle, accelerate, rotate, and… ahhhh!!
The roughness of the grass strip dropped away behind me. The air was stable and cool, Philadelphia-brand smooth as it passed under my wings. The sun was setting behind a distant cloud bank in the west; a giant full moon was peeking up over the eastern horizon, red with the embarrassment of a low smog layer. Fragrances of Midwest agriculture wafted through the balmy air. I climbed to 300 feet AGL and reduced power to a level that would hold altitude at best glide airspeed. It was perfect shirtsleeve flying weather. My senses were suddenly sharper, seeing myriad shades of red in the sunset, the seamless gradient of blue to black in the sky overhead. Witness the texture of the cropland below, the intricate features of the layered cloudbank to the west, the delicately cratered surface of the moon. The fresh evening air caressed my face and hands, creating a soothing rippling in the sleeves of my denim shirt.
With no place in particular to go, I looped aimlessly around farms on the prairie below, admiring the hard work and discipline that makes a farm succeed, while imagining that the farm hands were wrapping up tasks and seeking a bit of their own reverie. I exercised the controls, gently rocking, yawing, slipping and skidding through the still air, mimicking the efforts of a butterfly struggling to shake off the cocoon that he is leaving behind. The flying carpet ride over the evening corn fields gave me a chance to readjust my perspective. Perhaps one can survive the frustrations on the surface if occasionally rewarded with the gift of an evening flight in an open ultralight.
A flock of long necked geese flew past, much higher, looking as though they were in a hurry to get someplace. Not me, I wanted to make this moment last as long as possible. Two whitetail deer browsed in the soybeans below, oblivious to my observation. The flight path took me alternately from admiring the sun’s red display in the west to pondering the moon rising in the east, slowly climbing into an ever-darker sky. The little plane provided the best seat in a theater that can’t be rivaled on the surface. It would be difficult to capture the images of the evening panorama slipping slowly beneath my little plane, albeit far more difficult to capture the feelings and sensations. I pondered how John Denver, also a pilot, might have created a song to communicate this experience to others. What would it be like to sit and talk with John, together building a lyrical skyscape that captures the change from day to night, the sun passing the baton as the moon rises to make its steady journey to the west, as one drifts slowly above the surface of the lush green Midwest? What words and phrases can capture the experience?
Civil twilight was pretty well played out as we touched down and taxied back to the hanger. With hair ruffled and blood pressure lowered, I gently put the little bird away, savoring the experience of the sunset flight.
Where To Now?
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First-Ever Chanute AFB Air Festival
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Annual Chicago Air and Water Show
Annual Flight to Tommy George's at Lake Sangchris