Gently rounding the corner of the taxiway, the full length of the runway now filled the entire cockpit window. Everything in the aircraft shook and vibrated. According to my pilot, the plane was over 40 years old and had even been rebuilt two or three times. To say it had a "lived in" look and feel would not do it justice.
The tiny aircraft paused, there was a brief exchange between my pilot and the control tower and then the noise from the single engine Mooney M20K fixed-wing aircraft drowned out every other sound as the throttle was opened and it revved to full speed. In a matter of seconds we were racing towards the end of the runway and it was impossible to tell we’d even left the ground. Then a few seconds after that we felt the crosswind and suddenly it became clear just how fragile this tiny aluminum aircraft really was. Thoughts raced through my mind: Was this safe? When had his plane last been serviced? Does God exist? Who invented liquid soap and why?
Sure, there were a few hanging wires and the odd strip of duct tape could be spotted along with other signs of four decades of frequent use, but the actual instrument panel was as modern as anyone could expect. Cutting edge digital readouts were mixed with a few remaining analogue dials in a custom-designed layout and my pilot was supremely focused on what he was doing.
That pilot was a gentleman named Mark Smith, a Santa Monica resident who has spent his whole professional life as a broadcast journalist and producer for CBS, reporting on stories across the country and crisis hotspots around the world for award-winning network news shows like 60 Minutes, Frontline and PBS. Smith (54) has been flying his entire adult life, in this very aircraft, even when he lived in New York City and his passion for aviation was immediately apparent. He prefers to fly to say, Mammoth for a weekend, rather than driving.
He had carefully plotted a route for this two hour-or-so-long flight, taking me to a maximum altitude of about 5,000 feet, while at first following the coast down to Long Beach, performing a slow circle then returning back over the city, the Santa Monica mountains and Hollywood hills, circling over Malibu before beginning a very gentle return back to the airport.
Smith had been following the features that the Daily Press had run in recent weeks concerning the future of the airport and in a staggering gesture of generosity had kindly offered to take me up in his own plane so that I could gain a little insight as to what all the fuss was about. We might not be pulling a 4G negative dive with a Soviet-built MiG 28 anytime soon, but this was my chance to actually understand why the airport is so important to some.
It had been my intention to video, photograph as much of the experience as possible and maybe even interview Smith while we were in the air. Consequently, I’d brought along five different cameras, including a GoPro and three DLSRs, but as we performed our pre-flight preparations, I quickly found that there was nowhere near enough room to have all this hardware at hand. In fact, there was barely enough room for me to actually shoehorn myself in. Smith himself is a slender 5’9" and 155 lbs…and I’m a 6’1" former rugby-playing 220lbs. Needless to say, it was cozy. I wasn’t even sure if we’d make it off the ground.
As we cleared the runway and began climbing, I was really struggling to not accidentally knock the yoke with my knees and inadvertently cause another crash on Santa Monica beach. Of course as soon as I stretched my legs in an attempt to avoid a potential catastrophe, I found myself hitting the rudder pedals with my feet. "Oh God…" I thought to myself, "What am I doing up here?!"
All the while, Smith was as cool as a cucumber. There was no way we could talk normally, it was just too loud, so as part of the pre-flight prep, he showed me how the headset and mic worked. And then the sheer awesomeness of the experience begin to sink in. We slowly circled the city, flying over the pier and Downtown, all the while gently climbing and on this beautiful sunny Saturday morning, Santa Monica looked truly tranquil.
We were even able to fly over LAX, which I’d always thought was impossible, but apparently there is a narrow corridor that light aircraft can use provided they fly at a certain altitude and a certain speed. Sure, I’d seen footage of views like this from traffic report helicopters on television, but to be up here, looking down from a rickety old propeller plane, sitting next to the pilot, was an entirely different experience altogether.
To make sure I had a good view, Smith dipped the wing on my side, catching me somewhat unprepared. Aside from my stomach rolling to the right along with the aircraft, it was an amazing sight. Clearly, this beautiful Saturday morning, the first such cloudless, sunshine-filled sky for some time, had attracted many other local pilots and aviation enthusiasts as Smith remarked on how "busy" the sky was.
Scanning both his radar and the sky visually, Smith was super keen to eyeball every aircraft. "There he is," he shouted over the microphone. "One o’clock high," he added, pointing up, to my right. I could barely see it and in my mind it was still many miles away, but flying is a serious business and rules of safety — and therefore distance — must be observed without exception.
Aside from the occasional comment or explanation about what it was that we were currently in the air over, Smith remained laser-focused on flying. It was hard not to feel rude because I wasn’t being very talkative, but every time I tried to make conversation, it never lasted more than a second or a sentence because he was intently listening to the control tower chatter over his headset.
"Ooo, is that Hugh Hefner’s house…" I tried to joke, only to be met with a gentle "Shush." His passion and dedication was obvious and most importantly, a delight to be able to witness in person. This was very much his natural habitat and what a habitat it is.
Before long it was time to return and we began a gradual, gentle descent as Smith had expressed a little concern with a possible tailwind. No, we weren’t going to buzz the tower or request a flyby and I’m pretty sure this little 25ft single engine turboprop didn’t have afterburners, sadly, but none of that mattered. I felt like I’d come as close as I ever could to actually flying, rather than just being a passenger onboard a plane.
We did indeed have a tailwind upon landing and Smith wasn’t going to even attempt it until he was happy. Somehow, using the most basic of controls, essentially consisting of a lever or two, a few dials, switches and knobs, he was eventually able to kiss the runway like it was a newborn baby’s head. And we were down, safely on the runway tarmac.
We taxied back to the dedicated hangar where he keeps his aircraft and Smith pointed to some of the other light aircraft that were parked as we passed them. While some looked much more modern in design, none of them were very much bigger. Apparently the YT-1300, or some such thing, had steel-tipped wings and was certified for flying through ice clouds, which his aircraft was not. It also costs upwards of $1million.
It really wasn’t all that different from Marina del Rey. Some of the boats there I’m pretty sure also cost upwards of $1million and in order to enjoy them safely, training, experience and dedication are prerequisites. Granted, gravity is not as much of an immediate concern, but then a light aircraft is less likely to sink.
Quite what the future holds for Santa Monica Airport is unclear and what the best use of the land actually is remains open to debate. Whether or not that’s even what it’s used for is yet another issue. However, it’s probable that the Airport will close, but if it does, I won’t celebrate, because while most of us will never be able to afford to buy a private plane or learn how to fly, that doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate aviation.
