For the Love of Flying

I cast my line out, up stream into the river. The hook and bait make a splash, barely perceptible amongst the ripples in the water. My eyes follow the line as it is carried downstream,... they say patience and persistence are the essence of fishing. I slowly reel my line back in, pick off the weeds it has collected and cast it out once again. To be perfectly honest, the fish themselves are only part of the reason I have come down to the river at 7 pm on a Saturday evening. In a world of instant messaging and instant gratification, it is nice to come to a place where impatience is very rarely rewarded.
A friend of mine, and fellow pilot who has come along today breaks the silence,
"At some point in time I guess we have to ask ourselves what we are doing this for?"
While he very easily could have been referring to the distinct lack of fish, or at least the lack of fish interested in our bait, perhaps the conversation which had preceded this comment would allow for a little more context.

This friend of mine, like myself, had been hired as a king air copilot during a period where the aviation industry could not find enough pilots to fill the front seats of their airplanes. As with anyone else who moved up or into the industry during that time would know, we were all very fortunate to be at the right place at the right time. Unfortunately, just as it has happened in the past, this period of good fortune for pilots and the aviation industry as a whole would run its course, and with time, the industry began to slow down as it had done before. For many pilots this meant a reduction in hours, downgrading, or a loss of position altogether. My friend was one of those who fell into the latter group. Left jobless with a current ppc, he went off in search of a flying position, although at that point in time, any positions that were worth applying to were long gone. Undeterred, he continued knocking on doors until his persistence was rewarded, albeit with a position that was a step backwards from the position he had held previously.

"What are we doing this for?"

The question that my friend had asked was one that I was not unfamiliar with. There had been times during my career where I had asked myself the same question. Days where, despite having just put in 14 hours at work, I felt further behind at the end of the day then I did at the beginning. Aviation can be a demanding occupation, that from time to time takes all that you can give, and offers little in return. There are plenty of pilots who, after years of service with their airlines, show up to work to find that their pensions have been cut in half, or worse yet, no longer exist, who are a testament to this.
For all of the negative aspects inherent in the aviation industry, there are a few pluses that pop up from time to time to counter the hardships. This morning as I climbed through a grey overcast layer of cloud into a sparkling sunlit world above I experienced one of those pluses.
In my time flying I have seen and experienced some incredible things that if I were to try to explain to those who do not fly, would fall on deaf ears. Tales of brilliant sunrises from 23000 feet, of Northern lights so close it seemed as though they could be touched, the magic of St Elmo's fire dancing on the windshield.

I think of my friend's question as I cast my line out into the river again. While there are certainly a number of pilots who have understandably thrown in the towel after enduring some of the worst that this industry can dish out, I still hold a great respect for those who continue to press on against the hardships towards a potentially nonexistent light at the end of the tunnel. Those like my friend, who despite the setbacks, continue to show up and give their 100% if for no other reason than for the sake of a job well done. It is these individuals who make the industry what it is, and serve as an inspiration for the rest of us.