Thirty Minutes
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I tend to think about my flying the same way I think about my logbook: in one-hour blocks. I suspect it stems from those first few flights as a student. The magical 1.0 hours logged. Need to book a flight lesson? That’s 1.0 hours. Need to rent a plane? That’s 1.0 hours. Want to go for a flight? I guess that’s 1.0 hours as well.
It seems the more I want to fly, the less time I have. Work schedules, weather, fatigue, short winter days—all get in the way of my flying. But I make the most of the time I get, and I’ve learned you can build a lot of learning, experience, and fun into flights with total times that begin with a “0.”
Sometimes those short flights simply come from the time available. There have been days when the only opportunity I have is a flight before the start of the workday. I pull the airplane out of the hangar knowing the resulting flight will be well under an hour. But what wondrous flights I’ve had in those moments.
Most of these early morning flights feature calm winds and cool temperatures. The airplane seems as happy to be out of the hangar as I am. I’ve watched the sunrise, flown over fog-covered fields, waved to people fishing, and simply enjoyed the moment of flight with no purpose other than to be above the hills and trees. On these flights, I keep an eye on my watch to remind myself that I have to return to base; otherwise, I could easily stay up for hours.
These short flights stay with me. When I’m neck-deep in work later in the day, I can pause for a moment, reflect on the morning spent behind the controls, and feel a bit of calmness settle back into my spirit.
It was in my aerobatic flying where I started logging a lot of times less than an hour. Just do a little math and you’ll understand the nature of these short flights. Take a 25-gallon aerobatic tank, burn between 18 and 30 gallons per hour during takeoff, travel to and from the box, practice, land, and maintain a 30-minute VFR day reserve, and the resulting log entry is going to start with a zero.
Additionally, while there are some days when I turn back from a practice session ready to keep going, there are many more days when the g-forces have hit me harder. I’m physically and mentally tired and ready to head back to the airport.
Still, in those 30–45 minute flights, a lot can be packed in. I can do a full stall series, slow flight, and twenty or more aerobatic maneuvers. I’ll also have time to repeat a few maneuvers I wasn’t happy with. Sometimes I’ll add an extra maneuver or two just for fun. Snap roll or tail slide, anyone? The point is that a lot of practice and work toward precision can take place in a relatively short amount of Hobbs time.
The mornings are also fairly quiet at my Class D airport. So 0.5 on the Hobbs means I can get in some pattern work. One of my most memorable landings came during one of those pre-work flights.
I was in the Cub working on three-point and wheel landings. I practiced power-off 180s and short approaches. It was a good morning, and I was keeping my approaches short, stopping near the numbers.
It was a perfectly calm day, so I wasn’t too surprised when the tower cleared me for the option and then cleared a King Air to land in the opposite direction. For the first time that morning, the tower asked me to keep it in close. I let them know this would be a full stop back to the hangar.
I could clearly see the King Air on final as I turned my short base. I didn’t do anything different than I had been doing all morning. I was cleared to land number one, and technically the entire runway was mine. But I made the first taxiway turnoff and cleared the runway quickly. Both the tower and the King Air thanked me as I exited the runway. I remember thinking that it would have been an expensive go-around for that twin-engine turboprop if I had missed my mark.
I’ll use the end of the day the same way. Sometimes work ends, the sky clears, or the wind dies down earlier than expected. A short flight on these “gifted” afternoons or early evenings really helps clear my mind and relax. Watching the sunset from the air is worth the effort, even if the logged time is only 0.1.
Like the mornings, these flights tend to be calm, with cool air and less traffic in the pattern. The warmth of the setting sun seems to bring the landscape to life. Add a cloud or two for contrast, and it can feel like flying through a painting. It may be a little more difficult putting the airplane away after dark, but the flight is always worth it.
Enough of the poetry of short flights. What about a strictly utilitarian flight? Can you actually get any practical value from a short cross-country? I do—often.
I don’t know about you, but I hate sitting in traffic. I don’t mind a 100-mile drive through backroads, but even a five-mile drive in bumper-to-bumper traffic is something I try to avoid at all costs. I’ve logged many 0.2-hour flights to get to a store, dinner, or even my dentist. Thank you to whoever invented the crew car!
I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is yes—the total time spent pulling the airplane out of the hangar, doing the preflight, flying over, flying back, and putting it away may take as long as the drive in traffic. But where a traffic jam would have sapped my soul, the flight lifts my spirit and becomes a far better life experience.
Please do not misconstrue my message. None of these flights are rushed. Every flight I’ve logged with less than a full hour of flight time received a thorough preflight, a normal checklist flow and run-up, and the prerequisite weather and NOTAM checks. If anything, I’m probably more attuned to taking my time when my time is limited, because I know pressure can lead to mistakes. More than once, I’ve driven to the airport, opened the hangar door, only to close it again when a glance at my watch confirmed the timing simply would not work.
The more I fly, the more I learn. Multiple short flights have taught me that a lot of meaningful experience can happen in a surprisingly small slice of Hobbs time. I hope you too will get out and enjoy whatever flight time presents itself. If you are a student, go make two landings with an instructor. If you are learning a new aircraft, go practice one particular procedure. If you are a seasoned pilot, go watch a sunset from the air.
Don’t worry if the time in your logbook starts with “0.” Sometimes the shortest flights leave the longest memories.
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