Last week I’ve done something entirely new to me: flying VFR cross country at night. I was visiting the World Gliding Championship at Uvalde, TX (a 3.5h drive or 1h flight from Austin) and watched about 100 gliders land within an hour. After chatting with the pilots and having had dinner at a local restaurant the sun had set at 8:20p and it was getting dark.

We drove back to the airport and used the car’s lights to shine onto the plane for preflight. Around 8:55p it was time to fire up the engine – by that time it was dark.

Flying at night was a first for me.

I checked the interior and instrument lights, checked the lights again and made sure I had a backup working flashlight, maps, knee pad, pens, and the route programmed. I took my time to not miss a step. The frequency of the uncontrolled airport was quiet. Nobody else was flying at this late hour. As I started taxiing I got my eyes used to the cone of light that was shone ahead of the plane by the landing light. I taxied slower than usual and made sure I stayed with the yellow center line to clear any objects hard to spot at the wings. My heart was beating. I could feel it. The strobe lights were reflecting off the close by hangars. It was a spooky scene. But the air was still warm from the heat of the day and the winds were almost calm and straight down the runway. The orange windsock was lighted – so was the runway and the PAPI was on. The tower beacon was giving its signal every 5 seconds. Very calming and quiet. I thoroughly performed my runup check and double checked the lights – again. Engine parameters were in the green. All systems “go”.

I contemplated my emergency response plan, thought about obstacles at take-off, took a moment to double check the check list items before lining up on the runway. I made the radio call for departure into the silence of the aether. Then it was show-time: I commenced the power and accelerated to v-rotate to take the wheels off the safety of the ground into the darkness of the night. And off I went. I kept a shallow straight out climb and soon after the runway lights disappeared behind me as I climbed into a see of black. Climing through 1000ft AGL I banked gently to the left to turn towards Austin. All engine instruments were still in the green and the humming of the engine became a song to my ears during this night.

I soon engaged the auto-pilot to take the workload down in the cockpit. I called in Houston Center to request flight following to Austin. They assigned me a transponder code and established radar contact shortly after. Cheap insurance. Now at least I could call in should the engine stop to cooperate. I continued my climb all the way to 9500ft were I leveled and reconfigured the plane for cruise. There were no clouds in the sky. Then I was droning along at 145kts ground speed with an Estimated time enroute of 45min. 45 long minutes, where every vibration, every little wind gust, every motion of the autopilot would find my scrutiny and heightened alertness. But the plane did just what it was built for: it flew. And I was happy. I was at ease. I caught a little tear in my eyes when I was staring at the beautiful display of stars and constellations above me in this pitch black sky. It was beautiful; it was calm; Harmony and perfection;

Classical music was playing softly from my XM radio. It was like in the iMax movie. Just better. The real deal. Because it was real. And it felt as such. That’s what life is: real. For a moment I was thinking how happy flying makes me. It’s me. It makes me complete. There’s little else I want. Some people call it passion.

The lights of the city of San Antonio were laid out in front of me slightly to the right. Again I was wondering what I would do should the engine quit. Oil pressure and temperatures where all solid and stable. Nothing to worry about. But the first time you always worry. Always. So I did.

Then it was time for Houston Center to hand me off to San Antonio approach. They had very little traffic to handle but there were still some airliners coming in. I was just a blip on their radar, crossing through their approach paths. And then it was already time to talk to Austin approach. The city lights where visible at the horizon. Austin was even less busy on the frequency than San Antonio.

At 15 miles out I started my decent. My first night decent, with my first night landing. Excitement arose. I cleaned up the cockpit. Prepared maps and frequencies, checked the seat belt and configured the plane for decent. Austin vectored me around another airliner approaching to the parallel runway 17R. I flew with the autopilot on. Less risk.

I had the airport beacon early in sight… and the 17R runway lights. But the smaller 17L lights were still hiding from me. I double checked the map to improve my situational awareness. I tried to stay high, in case bad things happened, but not too high. I was planning to fly the visual PAPI glide path lights.

Then I spotted the runway extension lights – they look like an Autobahn construction site with their running strobes. They lead right to the threshold of the runway. As I turned base to final and adjusted speed and flaps I had the PAPI on two white and two red- right were I wanted it. Now the runway lights were almost overwhelming my senses: white strobe lights, yellow threshold lights – and lots of them – green taxiway guidance lights, red PAPI lights, and blue taxiway limit lights. It was like a Chrismas tree – and a pretty one! The marker was blaring over the headphones. Forget the iMax! This is real 3D. Speed check. Altitude check. Remember: at night you tend to flare too high – fly it to the ground.

As I overflew the threshold I cut power and started to flare, my strobe lights were reflecting off the runway. I held the nose up, held it, held it, and ….. squeak, squeak. the main tires settled smoothly onto the runway. As I put the nose down I retracted flaps and opened the canopy. It was a perfect landing. I couldn’t have asked for more. The silk summer air of a hot night entered the now open cockpit. I was ecstatic. What a thrill!

As I taxied off the runway, a Southwest Airlines jet lined up on 17L behind me to depart with paying paxes. They don’t know what they’re missing! But it doesn’t matter. Not in this moment. Blaring jet engines behind me. The smell of burned Kerosine in my nose. I’m alive!

The tower asked me to stay with him for ground control, as nobody else was out there. I slowly made my way to the Signature terminal to park inside our T-hangar. It was 10:05p. After I shut down the engine it was just quiet. No more sounds. No more flashing lights. Just quiet. I stayed in the cockpit seat with the open canopy to take in the moment. What a nice way to move around planet earth! I will have to do this again! It took me some five minutes or so to get back to reality which meant to unpack the plane, push it back into the hangar and wipe off the bugs.

When I was driving home from the airport I was still flying. What a night! – What a night.