Flying Without Fear

Turbulence is completely safe, as long as you take a couple of simple precautions. As far as the aircraft goes, its built to live in turbulence - so, it’s not dangerous to the aeroplane.

Picture a boat on choppy water. It bobs about, but it isn’t sinking. It’s sitting on the surface, held up, riding over the bumps. The aircraft wing works in exactly the same way. It’s supported by the air, and a stretch of rough air just makes the ride bumpy. You’re not dropping to the bottom of anything. You’re being held up the whole time.

Here’s the part most people don’t realise. Your body’s balance sensors were built for walking around on the ground. Put them up in the air, with very little to fix your eyes on out of the window, and they’re easily fooled. We see the exact same thing happen to pilots in the flight simulator. A small movement with no clear visual reference can completely convince you that you’re falling. You’re not. From the flight deck I can see the real numbers, and in normal turbulence the aircraft is moving by only a few feet, with the speed sitting rock steady.

So do what we do. Pilots wear a seatbelt loosely fastened for the entire flight, from the moment we push back off the gate to the moment we park on arrival. We still get up and move around, grab some food, stretch our legs, exactly like you should. But the instant we’re back in our seats, the belt goes on, loosely fastened. You do the same, and tighten it if the seatbelt sign comes on. We have ours on the whole time, so do what we do. The severe stuff, the kind people picture, is genuinely rare, and your seatbelt keeps you completely safe even then.

Both are completely normal and planned. A brisk, steep climb and a change in engine note are exactly what should happen. Nothing is failing.

Think about joining a motorway. You don’t pull on doing ten miles an hour and then try to speed up among all that fast traffic. You get up to speed on the slip road first, then join. We do the same on the runway. We build up plenty of speed and power, then lift off and climb away briskly, because we want to be up in the air and on our way, getting you to your destination as safely and as quickly as possible. That’s why the climb can feel steep. It’s us being purposeful, not struggling.

Then, once we’re climbing away nicely, we ease the power back a little, and that’s the change in sound you hear. You wouldn’t drive along with the engine screaming against the rev limiter. You’d change up a gear. That’s all we’re doing. And this is the bit to hold on to: easing the power back doesn’t mean slowing down or sinking. We’re still accelerating, and we’re still climbing the whole time.

Next time, listen out for it and just tell yourself, “there it is, the bit the captain talked about.” An unexpected noise or feeling sets off alarm bells. The very same thing, when you’re expecting it, fades into the background.

Long before you even board, the weather is already sorted. It’s the most studied part of any flight. We know what’s coming, we carry extra fuel for options, and we always have backup airports ready. We never gamble with it. If conditions aren’t right, we wait or we route around it.

And it doesn’t stop once we’re airborne. The planning and re-planning never stops. The pilots are talking it through together on the radio, air traffic control keeps us updated, and we have live links to the very latest weather, so we’re constantly adjusting to keep your ride smooth. By the time any of it could reach you, we’ve already dealt with it. So don’t worry. It’s handled.

Get ahead of it. Sleep well the night before, eat something proper, go easy on the caffeine and alcohol, and arrive in good time so you’re not rushing. Pack a few comforts: headphones, a film you love, a playlist, anything to keep your hands and mind busy. And tell the cabin crew you’re a nervous flyer as you board. They do this every single day and they’re brilliant at keeping a discreet eye on you.

And here’s a reassuring thought. A long-haul flight is really no different to a short one. One take-off, one landing. It’s just a bit longer in the cruise in between, that’s all.

First, know that the panic itself can’t hurt you. It feels awful, but it always passes. Slow your breathing right down: in for four, hold for four, out for four, and make the out-breath the longer one. That alone starts to settle your body. Press your feet into the floor, or sip a cold drink, and tell the crew. They won’t judge you, they’ve seen it countless times, and they’re there to help. Then remind yourself that nothing has actually gone wrong. Your body has just hit the alarm by mistake. Ride it out, and it will fade.

That the people at the front are every bit as keen to get home safely as you are.

Here’s what I’d love you to hold on to. We’re just the same as you up there. We’re ordinary people with families and homes we want to get back to, and between us we’ve seen just about everything involved with flying. I’ve flown through turbulence far worse than you’ll ever feel, and it doesn’t trouble me for a second, it’s just uncomfortable sometimes. But the part I think says it best is this: after seeing everything, we choose to bring our loved ones, even our own children, the most precious people in our lives, onto the very same aircraft you’re nervous about. None of us would ever do that if there were the slightest doubt. I really hope that brings you some comfort, because it isn’t blind faith. It’s simply what we know, after a lifetime of doing this.

So please don’t think of that cabin as somewhere to be frightened. It really isn’t. The bumps that worry you barely register with us, and the rough stuff people imagine is extremely rare. You’re in good hands, with people who have every reason in the world to get you there safely, and who do exactly that, every single day.

And one last thought. That aircraft isn't something to dread. It's the thing that opens up the whole world to you - the holidays, the sights you've always dreamed of, the family occasions you'd never want to miss, the people waiting for you at the other end. It's simply the vehicle that carries you to all of it. So try to see it that way, not as something to fear, but as the start of some of the best experiences of your life.