Finally Free

Unpacking my fear injury

by Julia Knowles

:Free flight is a wonderful hobby that has enriched my life in countless ways, but the fact remains that it can be high-consequence. Spend enough time in the community, and you or your airborne friends may witness or suffer a traumatic event. As a pilot who has experienced both sides of the coin, I feel compelled to share my story in hopes of encouraging a productive dialogue within our community around incidents. So, here are some words on how I have unpacked my traumatic experience, drawing upon it to become a better pilot and person.

My Incident In July 2017, I chose to fly on an evening where winds were light and <almost> all of the sky was a friendly, welcoming blue. One dark cell lurked off to the east, but I found multiple reasons to rationalize flying regardless: it was miles downwind of me; it was late and diurnal heating was subsiding, meaning the cell was not building; others were flying, and the local school was at the hill with students. In addition, I felt current and confident, eager to continue my progression after a stellar week at my first competition.

I enjoyed 20 minutes of smooth ridge lift before all hell broke loose. Then, at roughly 7:30 p.m., that one dark cloud dropped out. A microburst hit, gusting 40mph from the direction opposite the smooth base wind. I

Color in the sky at the Red Rocks Fall Fly-In. Sunset hike-and-fly above Utah Lake. Photo by Bridger Henriksen.

fought to maintain my position over the open valley floor while two pilots were blown into and through town. After 20 minutes of sky battle, my glider and I found an extremely turbulent layer a few hundred feet AGL, and I took a large collapse. My wing locked into a spiral upon recovery and, without time to troubleshoot or successfully deploy my reserve, I spiraled into the ground, sustaining severe injuries that required a life flight, extended hospitalization, and multiple rounds of surgeries over the next three years.

The Road Back Nearly four years later, I am just now reaching a place of physical and mental recovery. My injuries have been the defining factor in my life until very recently. As a result, it has taken me time to face the psychological aspect of my recovery. My experience has followed the five stages of grief quite closely.

DENIAL: I spent my time in the ICU planning my comeback trip to Colombia for that winter. Of course, that trip still hasn’t happened. It took me over a year to realize the gravity of my injuries and how life-changing this experience was. It also took time for me to accept full responsibility as the “pilot in command” who decided to fly that night. I am grateful that my friends and loved ones accepted my out-of-touch attitude. No one tried to correct me; all were patient and supportive as this phase ran its course.

ANGER: There were many times throughout my journey when it just didn’t seem fair. Why did this happen to me? I was generally the conservative pilot—staying current with my kiting, hiking down more often than other pilots, and pursuing a more gradual progression than those around me. I would never wish my situation upon others, but I found it frustrating to watch others “get away with” what I considered risky decisions and suffer no consequences while I got stuck with such a hefty bill. I have cycled back through this stage a few times upon re-entering the sport, finding myself with limited tolerance for perceived recklessness from other pilots.

BARGAINING: The bargaining phase reared its head around the time I eased back into flying. Still struggling to accept responsibility for my actions, I instead ran through countless what-ifs: What if I hadn’t been fresh off that comp, feeling like I had something to prove? What if I hadn’t seen students out that evening—would I have hesitated? Bargaining and guilt also affected me as I subconsciously struggled to justify my return to the sport to myself and concerned friends and family. “Why am I doing this right now?” a tiny voice would ask in my

Learning to teach in Super Fly’s Instructor Clinic, August 2019, undeterred by a leg cast. Photo by Steve Mammano.

head every time I flew in even the friendliest conditions at the training hill. “Is it worth the stress it would cause your family if they knew you were up here now?” Sometimes, the answer was no, and I would sit it out. Otherwise, I always felt that I had to arm myself with 100 reasons why my choice to fly was justified.

DEPRESSION: My accident utterly changed my world, closing a chapter of my relatively carefree and, let’s be honest, selfish pursuit of outdoor adventure as the driving force in my life. The entire culture of Jackson Hole, where I live, is based on outdoor recreation. My social life and job are both built around my identity as an active, healthy individual. Without my health, I felt robbed, betrayed, and aimless. My usual methods of coping with mental challenges, such as trail running or ski touring, were no longer options. I was unable to socialize with friends on the trail or at launch. And it felt like every time I started to get close again, another major physical setback would rear its head. At times, the only thing that I found reassuring was that nothing lasts forever, and this too must somehow pass.

ACCEPTANCE: The depression phase, although long and challenging, spurred some valuable personal growth once I chose to embrace the journey. I tried focusing on how far I had come rather than how far I still had to go to get back to “the new 100%.” Through counseling and conversations with friends, I began unpacking the emotional scars from my accident. After so many medical complications, I found myself constantly preparing for the worst-case outcomes to occur in my personal and

The author and Patrick Greene soar Nelson’s Butte in Jackson, WY. Photo by Richard Grove.

professional life as well as at the hill. It has taken a conscious effort to shift my inner dialogue away from this paranoia. However, it has become easier with practice and time. Catastrophe no longer feels as if it constantly lurks in waiting at every corner.

:Like physical injuries, damage to one’s psychological well-being can take a long time to mend. Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs states that we need safety and security as one of our most basic human needs, and my accident robbed me of this. My fear injury is still healing, and sometimes I need to step away from the flight park or community to nurse it along. In my stubborn fight to “get back on the horse,” this has perhaps taken the longest to embrace: walking away can be necessary to gain perspective and tackle the next hurdle. However, the more I embrace the gradual process of recovery, the more smoothly it seems to go.

Lessons Learned Although it hasn’t been all rainbows and sunshine, my journey has certainly offered plenty of silver linings in the form of gratitude and heightened empathy for others. I hope the following insights help support other victims of traumatic events, as well as community members who wish to comprehend what a friend may have experienced after a fear injury.

1. Fear injuries take time and work to heal. The duration can vary wildly from person to person, but across the board, it tends to take longer than anticipated. Sweeping your demons under the rug doesn’t make them vanish; in fact, not listening to your fear might simply feed it. Chris Santacroce has often been known to say, “Don’t make a mountain of it in your mind” when helping his students face their doubts, a testament to the self-perpetuating nature of bottled-up negative thoughts.

I found benefits to using a wide range of methods to acknowledge and face my fears head-on as I felt ready. Meditation, therapy, friends, writing, and learning new skills all helped me process my fear and push past it. After a few years, I even felt ready to recreate the maneuver that caused my injury in a controlled setting over water with a coach, something I never thought I would do. Talking through my experience, especially with others who have experienced trauma, has been the most important tool for me to heal and grow.

2. When returning to the sport, consider going all the way back to square one. Taking a step back certainly helps with re-entry, but sometimes even flights from the training hill can overwhelm the senses and the mind. After stubbornly fighting to pick up where I had left off, I was fortunate to share a conversation with John Wolfe, an accomplished XC pilot from southern Arizona. When returning from his own major injury, he

set out to practice some kiting only to find that having his 2-liner overhead felt quite daunting. Taking time to re-familiarize oneself with building a wall (feeling the tug of the lines, hearing the sound of the canopy filling with air, and seeing the wing respond as one moves relative to even a grounded wing) can be sufficiently exhilarating after a traumatic experience. No step is too small when making your comeback.

3. Re-learning the sport has made me a fundamental-

ly better pilot as well. Remember how confusing the line set looked the first time you clipped in? Imagine how much more you could absorb if you could go back to your basic course with the experience you have now. Re-examining the basics after years of experience has given me a more meaningful perspective on their importance. Kiting drills aren’t just a way for your instructor to keep you busy: they can prevent you from getting plucked and dragged at launch. Smooth exits from small s-turns scale up into smooth exits from big aerobatic maneuvers. Every little drill has a purpose, or two or three, that will continue to pay off throughout our flying careers. Take the time to perfect them!

Going through the entire progression again has helped me bounce back higher than where I had left off before my injury. I found the same to be true when I returned to skiing, hitting the bunny slopes for the first time since childhood. Weakened from injury, I no longer could simply power through variable conditions and was forced to re-learn the most basic techniques. These basics have made me confident skiing even more technical terrain than before my injury! This process has also fostered empathy, helping me relate better to new students and their perspectives in both sports.

4. One CAN regain self-trust and joy in flight. Returning to the air was not even a question throughout my recovery. When I finally did get back under the canopy, however, self-doubt and guilt overtook my

mind. How could I trust the universe not to smack me down “out of the blue” again? Could I trust myself not to freak out in the air and do something irrational? And how upset would my family be if they knew I was back at it? I had already put them through enough. Making flying fun again took concerted efforts. Re-learning my fundamentals gave me an extra confidence boost. I shrank the window of conditions I deemed flyable, only launching on absolutely perfect days. I studied weather in-depth, reading forecast discussions and publications such as “Understanding the Sky” by Dennis Pagan. I checked out lectures and articles on risk assessment and emergency preparedness. Any potential tool I could find went into my mental kit. Despite all this, flying was still not quite fun.

5. Introspection was the key for me to enjoy flight again.

Before my injury, I always felt like I had a lot to prove. As often the only female at a site, I felt I had to earn my place hanging out with the guys. I learned to fly with my partner at the time, and it seemed I constantly had to demonstrate that I was not just a sidepiece whose boyfriend was dragging her along but was, in fact, capable of making my own decisions. Additionally, as I returned to the sport, I was trying to chase the pilot I had been instead of embracing the pilot I was now.

Unpacking those expectations took a long time, and facing the root causes of them was not always comfortable. Most were self-imposed and silly; my fear injury forced me to face them all. After leaning into some personal growth and giving things time, I have found a deeper level of joy and gratitude for flying than I ever experienced before. My old attitude of “what do I have to prove to my peers?” has been replaced with “what do I have to offer to my community?” Mentoring, sharing knowledge, and learning from others have become as rewarding as big flights and new milestones. I have come to appreciate that, for me, free flight is at least as much about the community as the airtime.

Supporting Others with Fear Injuries How can we all be supportive towards those who have suffered trauma? Well, I’m glad you asked. I will offer a few of my suggestions below, but these are merely the perspective of one individual with one specific experience. Providing a listening ear and a supportive environment for a victim of trauma, without pushing him or her to divulge things before she/he is ready, is a great starting point in any scenario.

One of my instructors told me when I was an aspiring P2 to “always make it look good!” Keeping your launches and landings super clean and your flight pattern deliberate inspires confidence in other pilots and bystanders as they watch you. This alleviates anxiety for people like me who know too well the consequences when things go wrong. Erratic and risky flying can trigger uneasiness or even PTSD for those still grappling with a fear injury. Sometimes I choose to leave a flying site rather than anxiously watch. Make it look good and deliberate, and it’s

Bundled up for a brisk autumn flight. Photo by Julia Knowles.

more fun for us all! We can all get awfully excited to fly, and sometimes this enthusiasm may feel like pressure to a pilot on a comeback mission. Positive words of support are great, but avoid pressuring others into flying. I certainly placed enough unnecessary expectations on myself. Whenever a fellow pilot asked me why I wasn’t launching or why I hadn’t done [x] yet, it highlighted the gap between my expectations and reality. This led to feelings of disappointment. Avoid placing any expectations on others, even those whose level of competence was high before a traumatic event. Comparisons to the past are less constructive than embracing the present status quo. As a pilot returns to the air, help them to embrace patience. Look for and acknowledge subtle cues of discomfort and respect them, even if the pilot cannot verbalize them yet. Provide space for processing the progression— debriefing after a flying session is an excellent opportunity for this and generally provides nuggets of wisdom for everyone involved. Promote small stepping stones on the road back, and celebrate even the minor accomplishments along the way. The road back to free flight after a fear injury is often like the ocean tide which advances one wave after another, barely perceptible to an observer. Sets of smaller waves (setbacks) inevitably intersperse it, yet the tide is an unstoppable force over time. Give your fellow pilot room to embrace such a gradual approach if they so desire. Those with a passion for returning to the skies will find their way back in due time!

EN B

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