Sunset Flights

Generally when I think of flying, my imagination sets the time of day to morning. I always envision pre dawn hours with just enough light to see inside the hangar. To the east, a bright purple sky though the sun has not yet begun to peak above the horizon.

However, some of my favorite and most memorable flights have been during the evening; when the setting sun cast a warm cherry glow on the western horizon. 

These flights always seem to start the same way, with no intentions of flying.

Sweeping out the hangar, a local radio station playing softly in the background, something clicks in my mind. Looking up I notice for the first time all day the wind is calm. The windsock hangs limp against the pole. The heat, which seemed to beat down and wear me thin all day, is now gentle and feels comforting in my T-shirt. The sun, perched barely above the horizon, seems big and casts long shadows across the airport. Even the sounds across the tarmac are muffled as nature begins to settle in for the night.

It hits me. What a time for flying! Looking at my watch and the position of the sun on the horizon, it is obvious there is probably only enough daylight for a half hour flight at the most. I have to act fast. Throwing the broom along a side wall I scramble to get the small Taylorcraft pushed from the hangar. A quick throw of the prop and dash around the wing as the small Continental springs to life. Taxiing quicker than usual and doing the run-up and magneto checks on the role, I haven’t even bothered to plug my headset in. A stomp on the rudder brings the nimble bird circling a quick 360 to check for traffic, the sky is empty. Powering out of the turn and onto the runway the throttle is firewalled as we speed across the threshold and break ground quickly in the cooling air.

The air is calm and carries a rich smell of green grass. No need to get too high, I just want a view of the countryside as nature splashes its most vibrant paint brush across the horizon. We sneak up and cross over a small unnamed lake. The water seems to be on fire as it mirrors the horizon’s tapestry back into the sky. The surface appears smooth as glass save for the small disturbances made by flocks of waterfowl settling in for the evening. The moist air over the lake turns cool and causes small goose bumps to form across my arms.   

The sun sets fast on these evenings and it quickly becomes time to head back. The rotating beacon begins to spin and acts as a guide as I point the nose in the general direction of the airport. I line up on the closest runway and think briefly about reaching for the handheld and quickly clicking the transmit button until the runway lights appear for some assistance. The thought passes quickly. Bringing on the lights would only prove the slipping evening has vanished and night is upon me. Instead I relax, kick in a little rudder, cross controlling the T-craft into a nice slip, holding until the last second then releasing just in time to flair. The old taildragger thumps gently against the runway, a quick exit onto the ramp and shut down in front of the hangar just as night embraces the sleepy airport.

Quietly I push the plane back into her nest and close the door.

I have had many great evening flights. The beauty of a setting sun from the air is a visceral moment. During work, with a crew of three manning the flight station, some of the most silent times I have heard the intercom is during the last minutes of a setting sun. All aboard sit quietly, content with their thoughts as the day ends directly before their eyes.

Anyone else ever have flights such as these? Please feel free to comment and share your own experiences.