It is a classic tale, and probably everyone has heard it in some form or another. If I had paid attention in high school English class, I would probably know of a version of it in Greek or Roman mythology. It is the story of an expansive and expensive search which, in the end, reveals that the object of the quest had been at hand- but unrecognized- all along. The quest at first seems to have been unnecessary, but without having made the search, the knowledge would not have been obtained.

As one version of the story goes, a man sets out to find a rare medicinal herb. He searches the high mountains, the steep narrow valleys, crosses the deserts and explores great swamps. Upon finding the rare herb, he immediately recognizes it as the same plant that grew in his back yard as a weed.

I thought of the story last Saturday while I was flying a couple on a late afternoon sightseeing flight. The sky was so clear that we could see the Rochester skyline just after leaving the Elmira area, and the air was as smooth as a mill pond at dawn. I felt myself wishing that I could make new students understand how easy flying can be, if only they would let the airplane work for them.

We had departed Elmira and done a lazy circle over the city as we climbed away from the airport. We had no definite plan when we left, but after a look around, it was decided that we would go north to see the lakes. I set the power and trimmed the plane for a very leisurely climb as we flew towards Seneca. I sat with my hands folded in my lap, adjusting our heading with the slightest of rudder pressure changes.

From a vantage point high over the hills west of Watkins Glen, we could see parts of five Finger Lakes, Canandaigua, Keuka, Seneca, Cayuga, and Owasco, and we could see the distant shore of Lake Ontario. We reached 6,500 feet near Pulteney, on the west shore of Keuka, and then reduced the power slightly and trimmed for a gradual descent as we flew south to Bath and then down the Cohocton valley towards Corning and then Elmira. The sun was just setting, and the shallow rays bathed the brown hills in reddish light and cast a sharp silhouette of each ridge line onto the sides of the hills to their east.

I often tell my students that flying is a lot like being the boss, You just sit there and do nothing, and all the right things just seem to happen automatically. Most of them understand that a good boss sees problems early and makes the least intrusive correction as soon as possible, so that the flow of events appears to be seamless. To do the job well requires experience, confidence, and patience.

So very much of flying is simple, as simple as the weeds that grow in the back yard. To understand how simple it is though, you have to go on the quest. You have to bounce your way over the mountains and the valleys, worry your way across the desert, and navigate the trackless swamps. Your quest will be done when you have traveled full circle and discovered that flying was simple all along. You will have the experience to anticipate the plane's needs, and the confidence to be patient in controlling it.

A flight instructor cannot transfer his ...or her... experience to a student, but a good instructor can make the student's quest shorter. The instructor can tell the student where to look for cues, and what they look, feel, and sound like as they just start to appear. The instructor can teach the student to handle the controls with a fingertip touch, to better communicate with the plane. The instructor can walk the student through the darker corners of the airplane's performance envelope so that there are no unknowns to generate irrational fears.

Both the student and the instructor must remember that the private pilot license is not an end, but a beginning. It certifies that the new pilot is knowledgeable and skillful enough to travel safely through the quest, to continue learning on his own. The instructor's job is to leave the student with a tool kit, not just a certificate