A Sunday Stroll
The sun is high in the afternoon sky. Peaking through the white clouds, streams of golden rays are reflecting off the black and silver wings of the 450 Stearman. Today is the day that will change my life forever. The time is drawing near; the time for final decisions is growing shorter. I am dressed, but am I ready? I look down at my shoes tied in their standard bow. Unsatisfied, I sit down and double tie them weaving the laces tightly to ensure they will not come undone. With helmet and goggles in hand, I walk up to the Stearman. “What in the world am I doing? Am I as crazy as everyone says I am? There is no possible way I will draw enough courage to do this!” I stand and admire the airplane. My mind is wandering, thinking about the unique adventure I am about to embark upon, on an airplane twice as old as I am! The 1943 Boeing Stearman is ancient framework wrapped in nothing more than cloth. Endless questions are racing through my mind as I run my hand across the leading edge of the wing. I can depress the fabric with my fingertips. It is old technology, but one that was proven strong and valuable back in WWII when countless aviators trained in her. A living piece of history sits beneath my finger tips and I am one of a handful of lucky people who will experience her in a way like no other.
The scent of oil drifts into the air and I am awestruck by the 9 foot propeller topped with the shiny chrome spinner. It glimmers in the sunlight. The reliability of this old airplane sits between me and disaster. “I do hope it does not falter.” The airplane is old, dirty and loud. But there is no doubt; I am in love with her. Time continues to tick away and I must get in position. I walk around the field and take my place in the crowd, watching the rest of the airshow.
The Flying Farmer, is amazing the crowd with his antics in the J3 Cub. Normally I would enjoy watching him, but the apprehension and nerves begin to eat away and all I can do is sit there staring at the airplane that will take me aloft. My stomach is turning faster with each passing moment. Then I hear it! Off to the side of the grass field sits the Stearman. With two clicks of the propeller the engine coughs a billow of smoke that surrounds the airplane. It comes to life with a tremendous growl. My stomach sinks to my toes. I have never been so nervous in my entire life. My entire life changes within that instant. There is no turning back and I am now committed. After a month of intense training I will have to prove myself the courageous soul that I have convinced all the others that I am. Here I sit on the rickety wooden bench waiting for my chance in the lime light. “I sure hope I don’t get a splinter now.”
The Airplane, grumbles up in front of the crowd. The announcer introduces me and I meagerly climb over the fence. This is it! Looking up at my eventual destination, I climb onto the bottom wing and into the front cockpit. “Heavens, what have I go myself into? What is this going to feel like? Will I chicken out? Will I be petrified when I see the crowd sliding under the wing at 100 MPH?” The questions keep coming, yet I am continuing on. Waving to the crowd I smile nervously as the airplane races down the field, flatting the blades of grass underneath her weight. The powerful sound as the airplane screams down the runway is loud and extremely intimidating. Once airborne, I peer into the mirror looking at the pilot. I am waiting for my cue. The power comes back and he nods his head. What on earth possessed an mild mannered girl next door to do this? I reach above and grasp the hand holds on the top wing. Lifting myself up, I wrap my right arm around the left cabin strut and swing my leg over the left side of the cockpit. “Well, this isn’t that bad.” I duck my head out and under the left wing. BAMM! The force of the wind slams against me like a freight train. “Hold on Jane, this is the hardest part. Get through this and your home free.” I reach forward with my left arm and reach for the front flying wire. Nothing! I try one more time and still am unable to reach it. The power of the wind and the pressure along the fuselage is just too strong. “Come on Jane, I know you have it in you.” I take every bit of my body weight and throw it forward. Got it! (I eventually learned an easier way to do this!) Pulling myself out of the cockpit, I carefully make one step at a time, just as I trained, on the balls of my feet. Walking on the wing spar, the strongest point, I work myself midway out to the javelin. “Wow! What a relief!” A majority of the wind has dissipated and now it’s just like standing up in your car. (Not that most people do that!) I finally get out to the N strut. I place myself in position to wave to the crowd and then I catch my first glimpse of where I really was. Through all my concentration I had yet to look beyond the airplane and now I get the chance to see the view of a lifetime. This is the most incredible thing I have ever seen. The wind is rushing over me as I lean out and wave below to the crowd. There is no fear of height, no fear of falling. This is the biggest thrill I could imagine. I truly feel as if I am flying. I turn my head toward the fuselage and that is when reality strikes me down. I have to get back! I must make that walk, which now seems so far away, all the way back to the cockpit.
Halfway to the Javelin I get there with no problem, but now I am compounded with both the energy that is now exhausted and the increased wind pressure. I am not as fresh as I was when I first got out. I am starting to breathe heavier and with each breath, pounds of ram air are being thrust into my lungs. I finally get back into the cockpit, but now I can’t catch my breath. I am beginning to hyperventilate. The faster I am breathing the more air that is loading my system. Now, among everything else, I need to muster the strength to climb up on the top wing. I reach up and grab the stanchion and lift myself so I am standing on the back of the seat. Ducking through the guy wires, I climb up and slide my back up the stanchion. I arrive but now I must grab the belt and hook it. I still can’t breathe. I tell my self slow down. Once I clip in, I let out a long sigh of relief. I give my thumbs up to the pilot announcing that I am ready.
The airplane comes back around to the runway and dives toward the ground. “Gee, we seem low!” “Don’t think about that Jane, just enjoy the ride.” The pressure increases and pushes my body down and against the stanchion. I struggle to stand upright. “This is tough!” And I thought the hardest part was over. At 120 MPH the airplane pulls up to the sky and then...silence. The eeriest and most wonderful feeling overcomes me. The quiet and peace take over as the airplanes drifts over the top of the loop. Now this is flying! There is no longer any wind pressure, the noise has subsided and I begin to feel light. I am floating. The wonderful feeling is short lasted as the wind pressure and noise returns with a vengeance as we come down on the back side of the loop.
One more pass before the crowd gives me the opportunity to wave to the people who just witnessed a first time wing walker. This is a day that I will never forget. I climb back into the cockpit for landing and wait until we are ready to taxi up. Back on the wing, I climb up and greet the applause that I can now hear. I’m exhausted, but the adrenalin is intense. I have just embarked on what would become a 12 year career full of the most incredible and unimaginable experiences that anyone can ever dream of.
By Jane Wicker, jwtigergirl@braemarnet.com,www.beautyonthewing.com