Solo is the Big Thing

We had the Kinner power, they also had fleets that were powered by a berth engine called a Civet which was seven cylinders, but the Kinner was a five cylinder air cooled engine and biplane, fabric and metal and wood frame and sturdy. I think perhaps from what, all that I have heard that it was perhaps a little more demanding to fly than the Tiger Moth. One had to be a little more alert on the landing I guess which was probably a good introduction to the Harvard which was I think later on, I believe if you could fly a Harvard properly, you could fly any aircraft in the inventory with just handling notes and probably a pat on the shoulder, as we did in our single engine aircraft. The first five or ten minutes was a little bit strange looking over the side and I don’t know whether the knuckles were white, but they were on the edge of the cockpit. Then the instructor said, “Well, put your feet in the pedals and take a hold of the pole,” and from then on, it was like sliding down a tin roof, no sweat. I recall the instructor saying, “Iris,” or he called “Ireland.” He was showing the landmarks, he says, “There’s Regal Mountain down there,” and he pointed down. We were flying toward the Saint Lawrence River and Regal Mountain was, you may know, is just outside Montreal where Oka cheese is made. Well Regal Mountain is a pimple on a landscape about 500 feet high. It isn’t a mountain at all. I don’t know how they’d call it, a big hill. And from 1500 feet, you couldn’t see Regal Mountain and I couldn’t see Regal Mountain anymore than you could see a mole hill from that height. I suppose the instructor thought I was rather dense, but I couldn’t see Regal Mountain. Finally in exasperation, he turned the old fleet toward it. Took control, turned the fleet toward it and flew down and as we got down to about 800 feet heading straight towards Regal Mountain, sure enough I could see this little pimple on the landscape. But that was about as close to as Scotty Cameron, a hell of a good instructor, was about as close as he ever came to being exasperated with me. Everybody knew when the wing, when the solo check was coming up because it was usually they expect you to go by eight hours. Some went at seven and some took nine or ten, but eight hours seemed to be the magic figure. As you approached eight hours, you were expected to be getting ready for your solo check. So I had an idea this was probably my solo check. So went out, we did a circuit and I greased around. It was no problem. “Round again we go Iris, Ireland,” so we did another circuit. This time I squeaked around. “Okay, Ireland around we go again!” Around again, I did another one. This time I didn’t wax around. I got a bump, dropped down a bit and it bumped and it bounced and I recovered from the bounce as one is supposed to do, the correct procedure. And he says, “Okay, take me into the flight line” and we got near the flight line. He was unbuckling in the back seat and he was all ready to get out by the time I taxied up to the, in front of the dispatch office and he said, “Away you go”. He said, “I was waiting for you to make a bad one to see how it would work out.” So from then on the solo was the big thing. The solo on the Harvard I don’t recall except it was around five or six hours and it wasn’t as significant as the first solo.