Not Just A Man's World Anymore

By I.D. Foster

Eighteen-year-old Kelti Ferguson is determined to become a pilot and have initial success in what previously was seen as a man's domain. She is mentored by the owner of a beautiful sailplane and in turn becomes a mentor for other aspiring pilots. Her determination to succeed carries her through the ups and downs of overcoming the learning curve that all budding student pilots face. In turn, she learns the value of building friendships, accepting responsibility for her actions, recognizing and realizing that people can change and engage in a lasting relationship. From two entries in the Book to Grandfather's ride, she carries the reader along on her journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9798887939612

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Not Just A Man's World Anymore

I.D. Foster

Copyright © 2024 I.D. Foster

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2024

ISBN 979-8-88793-952-0 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88793-961-2 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

In the late seventies and early eighties, women were beginning to have a significant impact on careers in aviation, and according to Kelti Ferguson, it was

To Maggie.

Acknowledgments

Kelti: Scottish name meaning the pure

She is trusting, loving, virtuous, astute, wise, thoughtful, highly respected, and honoured for work well done. She has a positive attitude, is pure of mind and soul, and her respect and affection is given equally to all.

Chapter 1

Check Ride

Chapter 2

The Beautiful Bird

Chapter 3

Artemis

Chapter 4

Cockpit Intro

Chapter 5

Izzy's Crew

Chapter 6

Lac La Biche

Chapter 7

Grandpa's Story

Chapter 8

Meeting the 2-33 and Club Members

Chapter 9

The Long Winter

Chapter 10

First Day—the Book

Chapter 11

First Flight

Chapter 12

Jeff and Friends

Chapter 13

Breaking Up

Chapter 14

Li's Story

Chapter 15

Routine

Chapter 16

Bryan's Arrival—Tail Slide

Chapter 17

A Bump on the Way

Chapter 18

Setbacks—Parted Towline

Chapter 19

Solo

Chapter 20

CF-5 in Chipman Airspace—Inside a Cloud

Chapter 21

A New Bryan—Kelti's Kneepad

Chapter 22

Li's Solo

Chapter 23

Open House

Chapter 24

The Accident

Chapter 25

Aerial Recon

Chapter 26

Farm Recon

Chapter 27

Alex's Capture

Chapter 28

Yellow Is Trouble

Chapter 29

Lady in the Car

Chapter 30

Signing with Alex

Chapter 31

Hiding in the Truck

Chapter 32

In the Ditch

Chapter 33

Picked Up—John Antoniuk

Chapter 34

At the RCMP Detachment

Chapter 35

The Take Down

Chapter 36

Finally a Relationship

Chapter 37

Grandmother's Story

Chapter 38

The Check Rides

Chapter 39

Triumph

Chapter 40

Grandfather's Ride

About the Author

In the late seventies and early eighties, women were beginning to have a significant impact on careers in aviation, and according to Kelti Ferguson, it was

To Maggie.

Acknowledgments

To my friends, retired Air Canada captain R. I. Bob Crossley and Doctor John Bachinski, whose enthusiasm for the world of aviation instilled in me the desire to also overcome the effects of gravity and enter their realm.

In the thirty or more years it has taken to finish my novel, I must recognize all the valuable help I have garnered along the way.

To Jim Strong and Garnet Thomas, my instructors at the Edmonton Soaring Club's Chipman site, and to Dan Pandur who sent me solo, I sincerely hope that you will not mind my using you as important characters in my novel.

I also owe a great debt of gratitude to the following who read my initial manuscripts and offered critical comments that contributed greatly to the final publisher's offering.

My thanks go out to Jean Botteril, my former teaching colleague; John Elson, a retired English teacher; my sister Beryl Richardson; close friends Bob and Leola Crossley; and Edmonton Soaring Club member John Broomhall and Minuteman Press in Leduc for their assistance in preparing my publisher's offering.

Finally, to the person who started it all for me, Prof. Maggie Gee, who shepherded a class in creative writing in London, England, in the summer of 1984. Her comments and insights on my work were just what I needed. After numerous short stories, this novel has finally found its way into my collective portfolio. If she has a chance to read it, I will look forward to any critical comments she may send my way.

On a personal note, I have to acknowledge my partner Irene's patience as I was working to finish my stupid book.

Kelti: Scottish name meaning the pure

She is trusting, loving, virtuous, astute, wise, thoughtful, highly respected, and honoured for work well done. She has a positive attitude, is pure of mind and soul, and her respect and affection is given equally to all.

Chapter 1

Check Ride

It was late in the afternoon before Kelti's name came up on the flight schedule. She had been busy with ground duties helping launch other aircraft when Izzy walked up and told her that her next flight would be a check ride with Dan Dvorak. It would be her first flight with the chief instructor, and she did not want to blow it. She still had a faint premonition in her stomach that something was going to go wrong and concentrated on the upcoming flight, hoping it would go away.

She had finished her walk-around, and now, strapped in the front seat, she only had to wait for Dan to finish his conversation with Izzy Franklin.

Soon, discussion over, Dan walked the short distance to the aircraft and climbed into the back seat. As he fastened his seat and shoulder harness, he outlined what he expected.

First of all, Kelti, this is a check ride. I am only along for the ride. Unless I ask you to do something specific, I expect you to tell me what you are going to do. However, you don't have to tell me when you are going to do a shoulder check before starting a turn. I will be expecting that.

Kelti was aware for the first time that he had a slight accent. But like everything she knew about him so far, he was very serious about everything he did, and the precise language he used confirmed that observation.

According to your instructors, you have reached a level of expertise that requires my attention, so I will be expecting to see some of that. Any questions?

No, sir, Kelti replied.

Well then, why don't we go find a couple of thermals, do some air work, and then come home. Okay?

A quick check around the cockpit was followed by I'm ready. Alex is ready. Let's do it.

After a flawless tow and release, Kelti found a nice little thermal with enough lift on the VSI to give them about twenty minutes of incipient spins, stalls, a full spin, and an exhilarating spiral dive before joining the downwind leg of the circuit. Except for a curious request for the spiral and a moment when he pointed out a coyote in a farmer's field, Dan had said nothing. At first, she was disconcerted by his silence, but engrossed in her flying, she soon forgot he was there and just enjoyed the flight.

Kelti's set-up was perfect. As she made the turn for final, she realized that she was passing over the spot on the road where she had stood with her family to watch Izzy Franklin landing his aircraft that fall day nine months before. A little distracted, she noticed that she was a little high in her turn on final. As she corrected with a little right rudder and left aileron, the aircraft was set up in a nice side slip for the center line of the green strip in front of her. I've nailed it, she thought. What a day!

Kelti was jolted back to reality by Dan's words.

I've got it! he said.

She felt the controls move under her feet as the aircraft began a wide curving approach to the right before straightening out prior to landing on the airstrip moments later.

Kelti knew what she had done. She had been so busy congratulating herself and reminiscing that she had lined up on the strip in front of the hangars instead of the main runway. This one would definitely go in the Book.

Dan's only comment came when he had removed his harness, opened the canopy, and stepped out.

Stay there! he said before he walked over to Izzy Franklin.

Boy, am I in trouble! Kelti thought as she sat there in dumb silence like a condemned prisoner.

What've I done?… Rhythm… Fell into a rhythm… Passed over the spot on the road… It's been nine months… Concentration… Lost it… Not much to do now… Wait and hope.

Chapter 2

The Beautiful Bird

The day was warm and comfortable. A pleasant enjoy it while you can fall afternoon. A car was stopped on the side of a country road. Four people, standing beside it, were peering intently into the eastern sky at an object that seemed to be coming toward them.

What is it? One of them wanted to know.

It was definitely moving. It was white and looked like a large soaring bird. It's almost like the pelicans we see at the lake, the man commented.

As it approached, they realized that it was an airplane. At times, it would appear to soar upward for a moment in the shimmering air and then resume its slow advance toward the small group at the side of the road. It was like a feather in capricious air currents, a white bird that moved up and down and sometimes appeared to move sideways. An aerial ballet played out against an awesome tapestry of towering white skyscrapers and sky.

It was silent as it approached. As if held up by an invisible hand, it moved through the air effortlessly, growing larger and larger, as it slid down the sky toward them.

It's a glider, the girl heard her father declare. I've seen them flying in the Crowsnest Pass. As they watched, the aircraft began to take on discernible proportions, visibility no longer affected by the waves of heat rising from the plowed field in front of them.

It looks like it's going to land. There must be a field close by. Look! There, you can see the pilot now. They all looked at the airplane and its pilot who appeared to be sitting in a large plastic bubble in the front of the craft. They could see him quite clearly. He was wearing dark glasses and had a white shapeless hat on his head. Just before the airplane passed in front of them, they saw his hand move in greeting.

Mom! Dad! Did you see that? He waved at us! the girl exclaimed excitedly as the glider, its gleaming white body no longer silent, passed over their heads. They could hear a moan-like low whistling noise as it disappeared from view behind the trees on the other side of the road.

The girl, her brother in close pursuit, charged off down the road to see if she could get another glimpse of the aircraft before it disappeared completely. Shortly, their view no longer impeded by the trees, the two stood there, panting, as the airplane, now about half a kilometer away, settled gracefully to the ground and, after a short roll, stopped with the nose of the aircraft pointed at some buildings.

Running back to the car. The girl asked, Can we go see, Dad? It was beautiful. I've never seen anything like it. Do we have time?

Your grandmother is expecting us, Kelti, but if it's okay with your mother, we'll see if we can't find it. He turned to his wife with the same look his daughter had used on him. I think I saw a road turning off. Back aways, he indicated with a nod of his head. Not far.

Alright. I can never win when you two gang up on me. Your grandmother should be used to this by now. Remember the osprey's nest last year? It was a rhetorical question. Since Kelti and her father were already at the car, with her brother close behind, it fell on deaf ears.

Minutes later, the car turned off on a narrow gravel road paralleled on the north side by a long row of poplar trees and a dense thicket of willows, most of them displaying a rich mantle of autumn colors. Driving slowly down the road, Kelti's father found another turnoff about the same time they all noticed a small group of buildings. One of the larger ones was shaped like a tin can that had been split in half vertically and lay on its open side. They were apparently facing away from them because few of them had doors or windows on the side they could see.

Kelti's father followed an obviously well-kept road that curved around a grassed area containing picnic tables and fire pits. He stopped the car in front of a white building that had an official yet inviting look.

There appeared to be no one around. Kelti bolted from the car and ran toward an opening between the buildings where she immediately spotted the gleaming white aircraft they had seen from the road.

It is so beautiful, she thought. The airplane sat there, the nearest wingtip resting daintily on the ground, as if reluctant to accept the absence of flight. The front of the craft was shaped like a teardrop poised on a single wheel, with the top half of what appeared to be a large plastic bubble tipped to the right side. The wing was attached to the main part of the aircraft immediately behind the open area where the pilot had been sitting when they watched it land. The wing was very long and narrow. The teardrop body ahead of the wing tapered off to a tall tail that had a large black number 15 painted on the tail and a smaller wing on its top.

Wow! You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen! she said to herself out loud.

You're right! I feel that way about her myself.

Startled, Kelti turned to find a man standing behind her, obviously pleased with himself. He was wearing a light blue flight suit with lots of zippers and pockets. His face was deeply tanned, and he was holding the sunglasses and rumpled white hat they had seen when he passed over them on the road. His free hand was busy trying to restore order to a rumpled shock of salt-and-pepper hair.

I'm sorry, she began, I didn't see anyone and—

Never apologize for admiring something as much as that, young lady, the man said. She really is a thing of beauty, isn't she? Flies like she looks too.

Is this your airplane? Were you just flying it? Where did you come from? Wh—?

Whoa, young lady! Catch your breath and let's start over. My name is Isadore Franklin. My friends call me Izzy. You were on the road when I passed over, right?

I'm sorry. Oops, there I go again. Uh-huh, that was me and my mom and dad and brother. What a beautiful sight. She couldn't resist looking at the airplane. I'm Kelti Ferguson. I've never seen anything like this before.

"Well, Kelti, I'd say that this is my lucky day! I had a problem before you arrived. My crew were supposed to be here to help me load Artemis in the trailer. Kelti could see the name in script on the side of the airplane. He indicated the airplane with a wave of his hand. They're not here yet, but you are. Do you think you could convince your dad to give me a hand?"

Dad! Dad! Mr. Franklin needs some help with his airplane. Can we give him a hand? Can we? She turned to her father who had walked up and overheard much of her conversation with the aircraft's pilot.

Well, I don't know how much help I can be but… He let the thought trail off. I'm Scott Ferguson, Mr. Franklin…Kelti's father. He extended a hand to Isadore Franklin. That's her mother, Sarah, by the car and her older brother, Sean, trying not to look too interested. We're just on our way to Kelti's grandparent's place in Lac La Biche for Sunday dinner.

Izzy nodded at the petite blonde-haired woman and the young man standing by the car. He was struck by the thought that Kelti bore no resemblance to either parent. She had intense green eyes set in an oval face, framed by a mane of shoulder-length auburn hair highlighted by a soft glow from the late afternoon sun.

The shampoo ads are right. I'll bet her hair really does bounce when she walks.

Are you the owner of the aircraft that is suddenly the focus of my daughter's affection?

I am. Actually, I share ownership with the bank and count on the good graces of friends. They volunteer to crew for me when I'm on a cross-country.

Kelti looked at the airplane and the buildings on the edge of the grass strip and wondered if it would fit inside. Your airplane looks awfully big to go in one of those buildings, she observed.

That would be a problem, alright, Kelti. However, we solve the problem by removing the wings. At any rate, it doesn't go in a hangar. I keep it in a trailer that is now somewhere between here and Vermillion.

Is there something wrong with the trailer? Kelti wanted to know.

What? Oh no, it's on the highway. After a soft chuckle, Izzy continued, I just finished a flight that started this morning.

Kelti's brother found his voice and made the obvious observation. But how? Where is the motor? Wha—?

Oh, that dirty thing. It doesn't have one. This is a sailplane. It is designed to ride rising air currents. That's how I stay aloft…up in the air, he added.

Kelti's attention returned to the pilot. "But how do you get it into the air…aloft?" She appeared to savor the new word.

Depends where you are, I guess. Izzy paused for a moment. We use a towplane here at the field. It's usually kept in that hangar over there. He pointed at the rounded metal building. "Some clubs use a winch for launching. The winch might be stationary or mounted in the back of a truck. Once at the top of a steep climb—around nine hundred feet—the glider is released and allowed to continue on its own. In England and the US, some towing sites tow aircraft aloft using trucks on long runways. Powered gliders for take-off are in common use at some soaring sites in the UK and Europe. Once at a determined altitude, the motor is turned off, and the aircraft is allowed to glide on its own.

In my case, the towplane dropped me off at three thousand feet aboveground, and I caught a nice thermal. He paused when he saw the puzzled look on her face and added, "That's a column of warm rising air…unusual at this time of year I might add…so I decided to take advantage of it and try to see how much altitude I could scratch out. It looked good, so I contacted my crew… We stay in touch by CB radio… And they agreed to follow me in case I was forced to land somewhere. They were on their way to Cooking Lake. I was to meet them there after being dropped off my tow. You know, I doubt if there is a soaring pilot anywhere who can resist a chance for one more flight before putting his aircraft away for the winter. Some of us even tow our aircraft to California or Arizona for some winter soaring.

Anyway, I have bent your ears long enough, and you probably have better things to do…

But…but…where did you come from? How far did you go? How—?

Young lady, Izzy interrupted. You sure ask a lot of questions. Is she always like this, Scott?

Only when she gets her teeth into something that really interests her, he replied. And I think she has hit the jackpot here, and there won't be any peace and quiet for anyone until she gets some answers.

Oh, Dad! That's not true, and you know it. But…? She left the question unfinished as she tried to divide her attention between Izzy and his aircraft.

"Okay. You got me! To answer your questions. I found lots of nice lift. Farmers working their fields mostly. Anyway, I made it to the other side of Vermillion before I turned around. I passed over my crew near Vegreville. They should be here shortly. Now do you want to see how I put Artemis to bed?"

Chapter 3

Artemis

I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but isn't that an odd name for an airplane? Kelti inquired as they walked over to the airplane followed by her father and brother. Artemis was the goddess of the chase, wasn't she? What do you chase?

You know your Greek mythology… Studied it in school…right? At Kelti's nod, he continued. "Okay. But before I answer that, let me ask you a question. I was going to name my airplane Icarus. Why didn't I?"

Didn't he crash?

That's right. Initial success wasn't enough. He was the world's first test pilot, and he pushed the performance envelope too much…went too high…too close to the sun, and the wax in his wings melted. Not a good metaphor for me.

Okay. But…what about his father… Daedalus?

Wow! You really know your stuff. His compliment elicited a huge grin that lit up her face. "He would be a good choice, but I wanted a name that evoked a successful flyer rather than a designer, a builder, or an inventor. And that brings me back to your original question.

"Why Artemis? Well! All soaring pilots chase rising air. It's a challenge that we face with every flight. When we release from a tow, we hope to better our previous best in distance or altitude or speed across country…or just enjoy the day flying or sharing the time with good friends.

And the chase is important. Remember, the Greeks made Artemis the goddess of the chase or the hunt, not the kill or winning or losing. I'm probably using a little literary license to stretch a point, but I think the Greeks had the right idea. Most people get in airplanes today in order to reach a destination. Our lives today are like that. There is too much emphasis on the kill or wins and losses. With soaring pilots, it is the journey or goal for the day that is important, not the destination, because without power, we have to depend on knowledge, weather, our physical condition, time, and the aircraft. All these factors have to work together for us to be successful. The pursuit of the perfect chase.

Kelti nodded her understanding. She looked at the sleek aircraft for a moment. What are those letters on the side for? Kelti pointed to the letters CF-IDF on the side of the aircraft."

That's the aircraft registration assigned by the Ministry of Transport. That's the federal government agency in charge of Canadian aviation. In their language, it means Charlie Foxtrot India Delta Foxtrot. Izzy paused. Normally it is just a call sign, but…

I'll bet I know. The last three letters are your initials. Right?

Okay! You've got me there. Izzy glanced at Kelti's father who shook his head and smiled. "Everyone is entitled to one moment of vanity, and I guess this is mine. This is the second airplane to carry them. The first one was a homebuilt that a few of us built from a kit. It was damaged in a forced landing, and we sold it to a guy we knew in the States. I was able to keep the registration until I applied it to Artemis."

Okay, but what does the D stand for? Is that your m—?

It's my middle name, but don't you think a man should be able to keep one secret? And I'll bet I know what your next question will be. He paused, waiting for her reply.

Do girls or women fly airplanes like these, Mr. Franklin? she asked.

Aha. I was right. Absolutely, Kelti. Please call me Izzy. Everybody does. He glanced at Kelti's father who nodded. Some of the finest pilots I know are women. Some folks claim that women are better soaring pilots than men because women tend to be more patient. Are you interested in learning to fly? he asked Kelti.

Oh, yes! she replied. She didn't know where her reply came from. She had never thought about it before. I'd like that very much.

Okay then. If it's okay with your parents—he glanced at Kelti's father who nodded—I'll get some information for you to look at. There are club meetings in the city throughout the winter. You can attend ground school over the winter or wait until spring when flying begins. An introductory ride in the spring when flying starts again is available for a nominal fee, and you can decide for yourself what you want to do. Learning to fly a glider is not as expensive as powered flight, but it's a social activity that requires a regular commitment from each member. All the club members have active duties to perform around the airstrip. We receive flying minutes for our volunteer participation. It will take up a lot of your weekend time, but you will meet a lot of fine people, enjoy great times, and learn how to fly. How does that sound?

Kelti, a huge smile on her face, merely nodded, and returned her captivated gaze to Artemis. The airplane was a magnet, and she walked toward it to get a closer look. She was hooked.

Turning to Kelti's father, Izzy handed him a slip of paper he took from one of the many pockets of his flight suit. Here's my business card. If you give me a call, I will get an information package together for you, and you can go over it with her. I think you have a daughter who has picked a whole new direction in life. I like her enthusiasm.

You're right, Izzy. Thanks a lot. She never does anything halfway, and I admire that quality in her. She is like her grandmother in that respect. But that enthusiastic fire is going to burn a few people, and I am going to have to be the family fireman. He paused as if he had forgotten something.