Dancing the Skies on Laughter-Silvered Wings

I learned to fly in a Cessna 152 when I was 26 years old. I fell in love with a depth and passion that I had not experienced before and have not experienced since. Not only was I no longer earthbound in the literal sense, I developed faith in a new self - a woman with the ability not only to dream but with the capacity to follow those dreams.

This all came to mind recently when, after 40 years, we reestablished contact with the co-owner of the flight school where I learned to fly.  Bob was the instructor who soloed me, the pilot who gave me my first ride in a biplane, and an aerobatic pilot who was one of the subjects in articles I wrote for aviation magazines. He was our friend. Today he is a retired Delta captain and the owner of a beautiful, highly modified Cessna 180 (pictured on the left with Bob and wife, Amy).

There is a saying that there are old pilots and bold pilots but no old bold pilots. Now in his early 70's, Bob is the exception that proves the rule.

Back in the 60's and 70's, Bob owned N2RZ, a Dehavilland Chipmunk, which had started life as a WWII trainer and had been modified for aerobatics. Together Bob and N2RZ performed in airshows here in New England and throughout the country and in Canada.  I remember seeing him on early mornings flying inverted over our house on his way to the practice area as though hanging upside down high above the ground was the most natural thing in the world.  For him it was.

With Bob's permission, I'd like to share what he wrote when he sold his beloved Chipmunk 35 years ago.   More than just a tribute to flying in the "old days," his words express the joy of being alone in the sky at the controls of an airplane that he knew and loved.  It is a feeling shared by all pilots who love flying. even those of us who are not necessarily comfortable flying inverted.

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LOSS OF A FRIEND - by Bob Ziminsky 1976

The loss of a friend in my situation was like the passing of an era.  For that matter, it was the passing of an era!

I knew that the good era in which we spent so much time together was rapidly ending when we we were no long able to travel together in any direction at any time without the burden of restrictions on our freedom....

I recall so many times aiming the pointed snout of N2RZ directly at Kennedy Airport, my first check point on the way to my destination, then flying directly over the airport at 3,000 feet and watching the then behemoths, 707's & DC-8's, lifting off and passing me vertically in the distance on their mechanical un-fun way to far away places.

Traveling cross country, I used to pick a compass heading, consider winds aloft and then fly for 3 hours on that heading, navigating by dead-reckoning. After the time was up, I would determine my position on the map, make a single heading change and land at my fuel stop. The compass was always perfect with no deviation because there was no electrical system to bother it. These trips could be made across the country without ever having radio contact or any other tether to the ground. The Chipmunk's Ranger 200 engine would drone on flawlessly like a well-oiled Singer Sewing Machine - what a pleasure!

In early 1975 N2RZ had a radio permanently affixed to its insides as well as an ELT (emergency locator transmitter) that had to be removed during aerobatics because it set off under G loads in flight. Surely that was the most definitive signal of the end of our era together.

Few people have ever flown aircraft that were hard to manage, ready to breakup and poorly designed, and then had the experience of sitting in and flying to its limits a DeHavilland Chipmunk that couldn't break. N2RZ could fly vertically straight up to a point where I thought there was nothing left, and then continue higher and higher. It could dive straight down at more than 260 miles per hour and pull out in a few hundred feet with no more effort than used in opening a car door. The controls were responsive and light just as an extension of one's body should be.

I became part of the Chipmunk when I flew it. It was an extension of my will. I would often find myself flying aerobatics without physical awareness of what I was doing. It was almost as if the plane was flying through its maneuvers simply because I willed it to do so. I would frequently find my conscious self projected outside of the cockpit, in space where I would watch and critique. There is no more beautiful nor graceful flying machine in the world than the Chipmunk....

My decision to part from the Chipmunk was made some time before the day came. One could not part company with such a devoted servant without long and painful consideration. The decision was based on many factors, personal and otherwise. I owned N2RZ for almost ten years without a hitch, and that alone was a valid consideration for parting company while we were still on good terms. Sure, I swore at her many times  and even came close to throwing a wrench or two at her. I'll bet that she would have done the same to me on a few occasions if she could. Sometimes I'd almost have sworn that she was getting back at me for my abuse. We did have bouts of not speaking to each other, periods of not even wanting to see each other. And then the renewed vigor of forgiveness and love and working together in the freest place and way that I know of would bring us together again. In my memory, the most beautiful part of my life will be the hours spent together with N2RZ alone, up high, feeling light as ether with no restrictions in any dimension.

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For the curious, the title to this blog comes from the following poem. 

High Flight Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air. Up, up the long delirious, burning blue, I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace Where never lark, or even eagle flew - And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod The high untresspassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee No 412 squadron, RCAF Killed 11 December 1941