I’ve been looking forward to my spin training for awhile. I’ve never been in a spin, and I wanted to know what it was all about. Now I know.

As Ed taxied out to the runway he asked me what a spin was. “A stable, stalled condition where one wing is more stalled than the other, resulting in rotation.” We talked about spin entry and recovery techniques and how Cessna 172’s require full rudder and up elevator control inputs to stay in a spin. “Do you get sick on a roller coaster?” he asked. “Nope.” “Eaten lunch?” “Haven’t eaten anything today,” I told him. “Good!”

There was a cloud layer at about 4,000 feet, so we found a hole and climbed up to 7,500. First, Ed demonstrated an incipient spin– the nose-down stalled attitude that will eventual develop into a spin. I’d done this before, so there wasn’t really any surprise there. Stall the plane cross controlled, one wing falls off and you’re staring at the ground sideways.

“Are you ready for a 3-turn spin?” he asked. “Yup!”

He pulled the power idle, pitched up, and watched the airspeed decrease. “50 knots, full back on the yoke… there’s the break, full right rudder.” The plane fell off on the right side, rolling about 120 degrees and pitching down simultaneously. The plane lazily pointed down for a moment and then WHOOSH. The ground was whirling around violently. “One! Two! Three turns and recover!” We hit about 150 knots on the pullout of the resulting dive. Everything looked blurry and seemed to still be spinning even though we were now in a stabilized climb. I didn’t know I was capable of releasing a few gallons of sweat instantly. I was totally unprepared for just how violent it was going to be. Fortunately, I had the climb back up to 7,500 (a few minutes) to recover. Wow.

“Okay, now your turn.” I pulled power, pitched upward, at 50 knots I added full back pressure and stomped the right rudder pedal. Around we went. There was no way I could manage to count the turns, it happened too fast. “One, Two, Three!” Ed yelled. I released the rudder, and pushed the yoke forward just a little bit and we were flying again. Once again, everything was blurry, and I was quite dizzy. Back up to 7,500 to do it again.

I wondered just how much sweat the human body could release in a matter of seconds, and wished I had some water to drink. I was feeling rather queasy and still had to demonstrate a spin to the left.

My entry was nice, but after one rotation the spin dissolved into more of a spiral drive. We tried it again with the same result, but then gave up. Which was fortunately, because I don’t know how much more I could have taken.

As Ed flew back to the airport, I concentrated on trying to calm my tummy.

I remarked to someone back at the airport, that while it was fun, I apparently don’t have the physical stamina to be an aerobatic pilot. “Oh, you probably could if you wanted. You build up a tolerance and get used to it after awhile.” I hope so, because I’ve always wanted to do aerobatics.