People assume the hard part of learning to fly is the flying. It is not. The hard part is the twenty minutes on a grassy slope with the wing above your head and the sun in your eyes, learning to keep it there.
Phase one — the ground
Days one to three barely leave the earth. You inflate the wing, hold it overhead, walk it, turn it, and let it down under control. Then again. And again. Ground handling is the single strongest predictor of how quickly a student progresses, and it is where good pilots are made.
Phase two — the bunny hops
Short flights from a shallow slope, a metre or two off the deck. You learn what the brakes actually do, how the wing responds to weight shift, and how to flare at the right moment. Everything is on radio.
Phase three — high flights
From the Kijabe launch, with an instructor on radio talking you through the circuit and into the landing field. The first one is the longest four minutes of your life. By the fifth, you are looking around.
Phase four — theory and judgement
Meteorology, air law, equipment, site protocol, and the thing nobody can teach quickly: the judgement to stand down on a day that does not feel right. That is the skill that keeps pilots flying for thirty years.
