The Flight

She had awoken that morning very early. Sleep had evaded her for the better part of the night due to her being overly excited about her day trip to France. To be flown there in a two seater Van’s RV6 aircraft by her wonderful pilot friend was a concept she was still struggling to get her head around. Her stomach fluttered, filled with equal parts excitement and trepidation.

Not only was the flight a first – something she was sure only rich and famous people were accustomed to – arriving on French soil was a well awaited culmination of years of dreaming and wishing. Le Touquet otherwise known as little Paris by the sea, it sounded exotic. Seeing her friend Rob after 20 years or more was the icing on the cake and she was looking forward to spending the day with him, filling in the gaps of the past 20 years of their lives.

She had been to France many years before … in that different life, a different girl. She didn’t remember much of it, driving through the night heading to Avoriaz for a weeks’ skiing 25 years ago. A different life maybe but France had fascinated her even then.  She dreamed of visiting Paris but it was never to be so. She never returned to France even living so close and now here she was, ready to fly into a country she had always aspired to visit.

The husband dropped her at the airport and left … telling her he loved her and to have a good day. She was brimming with anticipation and could not help thinking this could be their last goodbye as she died a fiery and tragic death over the English Channel. Her safety brain was running rampant with all the potential disasters. She kissed him warmly, repeating the often overused I Love You but lingering on it, and hurried to the terminal shaking the apocalyptic thoughts from her head.

Her friend the Pilot (she loved the way that sounded) was waiting by the aircraft looking dashing in his flight suit ready to give her the necessary safety briefing. The plane was smaller than she had imagined … she was instantly terrified thinking of being locked inside that tiny cockpit with no escape but his calm and relaxed demeanour put her at ease. He’d been flying for 30 years …. it would be fine! But at the back of her mind she couldn’t help thinking of how she would land the plane if anything went wrong and become a national hero for saving both their lives.

As a result, she paid extra special attention to his checking of the instruments and explanation of the controls … still thinking it may be necessary to be talked down by ground control if the unthinkable was to occur. Stop it, she told herself …. enjoy this experience … he does this all the time!

The butterflies returned as they taxi’d to the runway … her face sore already from the non stop grin that was planted there. Taking off was quick and smooth and they were in the air before she knew it and she was giggling with the absolute pleasure of it. France in an hour, she settled in and watched the English countryside speed past below her, the patchwork of fields and villages and manor houses on their fine and manicured estates. Again, equal parts terror and joy.

The weather had not behaved and they had cruised low along the coast and over the channel, the French coastline remaining elusive from view. Once seen it was only a few minutes to Le Tourquet international airport where their landing was smoother than she thought it would be but not quite as uneventful as expected after a wayward seagull’s kamikaze suicide mission resulted in a wing strike. RV6 1 – Seagull 0.

Customs was almost a non event … a flash of her passport and her excited smile and they were away, walking through the manicured lanes lined with pines and stunningly beautiful homes heading for the town. Oh which one would they buy! Beautiful thatched homes, immaculately presented with their white washed walls and pristine gardens and impeccably groomed horses and riders passing by.

First stop was crepes and coffee …. an essential in France and the coffee was good, gulped down with Nutella Crepes as they settled into their conversation. The waiter was jaunty and delightful as she attempted her French … giggly and giving up fairly quickly, resorting to a point at the menu option instead.

A walk along the Le Tourquet water front, brisk and windy but she could see the charm and imagine the view being wholly different on a better day. The restaurant was calling … champagne and steak, joined by her pilot friends, pilot friend!  Lunch with two pilots!  The steak was good, followed by quintessential French profiteroles, impossible to get through but devilishly good.  Another happy and cheeky French waiter – his gentle flirtation and encouragement to try her French, again badly, providing further entertainment.

The time was flying by … she laughed at her own unintended pun and they wandered back through the streets towards the airport. Passed President Macron’s summer house, guarded by a hoard of special services, their guns hanging casually across their shoulders, looking suitably menacing and aloof. The town streets like a movie set, perfectly laid out, clean and tidy, the houses all so different and yet somehow the same.

Walking across the tarmac now towards the plane the butterflies returned. Less anxious, due in part to the champagne perhaps but also the awareness of what was to come. A slight delay waiting for the air GPS to connect and they were off again .. down the coast and across to Dover, the white cliffs clearly visible as they cruised at 2000 feet. She was exhausted, hot and tired in the cockpit and although it had been an amazing and wonderful time, she was looking forward to the end and a gentle landing, often the part of flying that made her ill.

They skirted below London, the O2 stadium standing out in the smog, the city looking much smaller than she thought from this privileged view.  Before very long she could see Oxford Kidlington airport looming in the distance and they made their descent, the wind not providing them with the gentle landing she had anticipated … a hop and another and the tail twisted to the left, buffeted by the wind and he decided it was best to abort and try again. Up they went sharply, circling around, requesting air control to try another runway. Her safety brain kicked in, once again thinking of the worst case scenario… a traumatic fireball as they crashed into the A40 ….. she quashed the thoughts quickly.

She was happy to land at last …. this time without drama and as he opened the cockpit roof she breathed the fresh air in deeply and with a small sigh of relief. She could see her husband waiting by the fence and wondered what he had been thinking as they had aborted their landing … possibly dreaming of the £2.5 million passenger insurance and how it would be spent …. after a short period of mourning of course.

Goodbyes are excruciatingly hard this time, she knows it is unlikely they will see him again, but for their Facebook messaging, her dashing pilot friend, so she hugs him tight and kisses him warmly. Thank you, she whispers, I will never forget this day nor our time together.

Do one thing every day that scares you …. that pushes you outside your comfort zone. And she had. And it had been marvellous.