The Young and The Restless | An introduction to flight at great height

They were spoken by flight trainer Adam, from Secure Air Flight Training in Shepparton, who sat beside my 14-year-old in the front of the plane at the controls, while I sat nervously in the back.

We had just begun a 30-minute ‘discovery flight’; an experienced-based gift I’d bought for my aviation-loving son for his birthday last month.

This was our third attempt to get in the sky after the day of the original booking on his birthday weekend was plagued by that devastating storm that swept through the Goulburn Valley recently, and another very windy day the weekend after that.

Superstitiously — and thankfully — it was actually a case of third-time lucky.

We’ve been in various aircraft this year, from Airbus A320 and A321 jet airliners to a Piper PA31 Chieftan piston-propelled and a Robinson R44 II chopper (credit to my son for these descriptions).

But this Cessna was a new experience.

Despite Adam warning us that it was still windier than ideal for an introduction to flying, he was unconcerned by the bumpiness of the flight and said we’d just go a bit higher to avoid the brunt of it.

Higher? I mean, it probably doesn’t matter. If we plummeted from higher or lower, the result would still be the same.

My son, who constantly researches and studies aircraft and flight conditions and has flown in several simulated games, was also unperturbed.

I, on the other hand, who had been blissfully unaware about the activity that takes place in these light aircraft that pass overhead several times a day, was borderline panicking about how unsafe I felt in the tiny machine rocking around in thin air, so far above terra firma.

I did that thing where you rationalise and calculate.

“How many planes do I see go over hourly? Daily? Weekly?”

“How many crashes are there?

“So, not that likely, right?

“Would a flight company even risk taking people up if conditions were unsafe?”

It was all I could do to stop panic manifesting into a full-blown attack.

When Adam casually took his own hands off the controls after instructing my 14-year-old to take over and put his hands in the air to prove he wasn’t bluffing, the pit in my stomach deepened.

What if my son panicked too and did something unexpected that caused us to go into a tailspin?

What if his intrusive thoughts took over?

What if some large, freak gust of wind hit us and knocked us right out of the air?

I didn’t consider this then, but I’m considering it on reflection now I’m writing about it — what if Adam had suffered some kind of medical episode and my son was left on his own to land us?

I understand to pilots reading this, I probably sound ridiculously manic.

But the unknown is known for making us fear it, right?

Of course my son — who wants to be a pilot — took control of that lever and calmly followed Adam’s instructions to lift, level and turn, while I just closed my eyes and willed us to land safely, and soon.

In the moments I collected my mania, I concentrated my efforts on documenting the experience through photographs.

If it weren’t for the fear I felt in that tiny tin shell, it really would have been amazing to be able to fully appreciate the view.

One day, when I’ve learned more — not least how to trust aircraft and the people who operate them — I look forward to my son taking me up in the clouds to watch the sun sink below them.

But until then, I’m glad his future flight training will be one-on-one with an experienced pilot, meaning I won’t have to go up every hour of those 25 supervised hours he needs.

Of course, my fear will remain vicariously for him every time he lifts off, but it may be in vain if he himself has confidence in his own knowledge, ability and the aircraft he’s flying.

I would never stand in the way of my kids following their dreams, but there are maybe some times I hope those dreams will stay literally grounded.

Why I blindly trust the pilot of an Airbus A320 jet airliner flying my whole family between states without meeting him or her, viewing his or her resume, knowing him or her personally or even simply sighting him or her, is probably something that begs a more concerning question.

I’ll see my child start at the very beginning and when I fly with him at the helm some day, I’ll know he’s learned what he needs to do via the correct channel in proper stages.

I’m sure the dent in my bank account is also going to be a constant reminder.

Let the flight training begin.

The sky really is the limit for this one.