I drove on down the airport to pick up my Super Decathlon to fly it to the cafe. While I was there Michael met me told me to up in a Cessna 150 with him. He would do a demonstration with me in the airplane.
I took the left seat slightly nervously,as I knew I was about to get my first dual in instruction in a long time. Little did I know I was about to learn an important life's lesson in the cockpit of N 11419 I started the airplane and realized the joy of tricycle geared airplane as I taxied to 02. Taxing for once did not require my full and undivided attention. It was driving with 2 feet. I fed N 11418 full power holding the breaks till full juice was in and in the slightly chilled and still air we rose after about 600 feet of runway. We were going to Fredricksburg. As the airplane rose above the departure end of the runway and we were climbing northward above a slowly building ridge towards I-10 Michael said do some turns I noticed a spike the in the rate of climb indicator as we caught a thermal. Michael then said pitch back to about say sixty five and do a couple shallow turns to the left and right. I looked below the airplane and saw the distinct shape of white lime stone outcroppings. Michael said that despite cold air that with the sun hitting the rock air is getting heated. The airplane's rate of climb held near double what the book said it should get. Michael then uttered take me back I'll debrief you on the ground. I entered the now familiar thousand-foot pattern and then Michael yanked the power on downwind and let out a sly grin and said simply hold it about 65-70. I came in on short final and while adding twenty degrees of flaps. Despite the shock I put the mains down first and came in with a satisfying thunk on our arrival but it did not cause us to shrink. We taxied back. I parked and shut down the airplane near my Decathlon.
Michael walked me over to the bench in front of the tan hanger that I had gotten to know so well. He then said, "Flying and living have a whole lot in common. I have known you for coming on four months now you talk about thermals you don't ride them. Now your climb was by the book I am amazed you remembered best rate of climb for a 150 but you were straight climb unless to the help around you or you were almost fighting it instead of taking advantage of it. One thing every pilot oughta learn is number one you ain't God and number two God is in control of the weather and the air. Ride a thermal when you got a thermal on a hot day look for them. You can get a hill wave rise off of both sides of this Valley if you just use it. Stop forcing things so hard; be in command of the airplane tell it what you want it do by all means but remember there are other elements around that airplane that can be used and should be used relax be fluid but be in command." I nodded in agreement. I had just been given a lesson about life through flying by a wiser brother.
I quickly flew over the cafe and as I thought about the demonstration I used it and I noticed I got to my cruise altitude faster and I realized I had been taught more about life then I had about flying. I didn't go to minimum sink speed but riding the ridgeline provided me with a much higher rate of climb then I was used to. I got to altitude five minutes faster then I thought I would. I had slipping good time to drop enough altitude to final and flare.
Donna was there smiling seeing something different in my face. She asked, "Your guitar is not here." I replied no. She smiled again I realized my practicing was slightly annoying to her. There was a dark haired guy with glasses that came in with Doctor Smith.
She introduced him as a writer Michael Lonetree. He was very much pro American Indian. As I would get to know him I would wonder how much of a prisoner he was to a turbulent past and if he knew did e have the key. He was a descendant of both Texas Ranger and Apache. Four years later I would see him doing a Kerouac impression following Townes Van Zandt to the grave. Behind his glasses in his deep dark eyes there was a fire burning for all the world to see. He was an intense man. He asked to see some of my writing. He looked at it and nodded his head there was a riff of disagreement between us he stared hard at me and said, "Good stuff real sincere." I thanked him. He started talking, "What do you think of this land?" I replied, "The hill country of Texas is a battle ground. We can get hit by remnants pacific hurricanes, Gulf Hurricanes in the summer. We can be under great mountains of stale almost non-moving air-drying us out beneath the summer sun like a desert. A Siberian express can roll through like a runaway train in springtime creating massive thundershowers and dropping temperature thirty degrees in thirty minutes. This is really too rocky for cattle too rocky to farm. The Cedars need to be torched and yuppies are building over San Antonio's watershed. This is rough land that forged cooperation among those who first settled it. The Germans were smart making peace with the Comanche: one head of cattle and free right to use the land in transit. The Council House massacre is dark mark in history. The Good Lord has saw it fit to shape me in this land and there were few things as sweet as that back flavor of limestone in the water it reminds me that I'm home." Michael Lonetree paused for a moment absorbing all the information. He then asked me what I thought of the development my reply came simple: "The cowboy is having a hard time understanding that what he once thought was limitless is limited. The whole water situation with people and their septic tanks on the Gaudalupe is one example the waste of water around here is an example. The earth ain't my mother but my dad let me borrow it and it is utterly sinful to waste it." I stared him dead in the eyes as I made that last statement indicating to him that Christianity and concern the ecology went hand in hand. I knew as I was saying those words it was like a backhanded use of the sword challenging is assumptions about Christians and the "radical religious right." He then handed me an essay he wrote about growing up in Talpas and his thoughts on the city and its lack of sustainability. I read it and simply smiled. The anger he felt towards the city I felt. Talpas in her glory I enjoyed the essay was well written and honest. We had a couple cups of coffee he read a couple of poems and I listened as Donna took care of the locals. I noticed that the two elements did not mix at all I hoped they would but they did not. The night ended and Donna and I quickly did the long process of closing.
