End of an era: How the mighty Boeing 747 inspired this pilot

This month was a momentous but sad time in aviation history. After 53 groundbreaking years and more than 1,570 airframes, the final Boeing 747 ever to be built rolled out of the hangar at Boeing’s factory in Everett, Washington, just outside Seattle.

Soon to be delivered to cargo operator Atlas Air, the 747 is the aircraft of commercial aviation. Ask someone who knows nothing about planes to name an aircraft and they will probably say “jumbo jet,” the nickname coined for this iconic piece of aviation history.

Over its 53-year lifespan, the 747 changed commercial flight forever. Through economies of scale, the size of the aircraft opened up international travel to those who could never have afforded it previously. Its unrivaled range meant that cities worldwide became closer together, and its size meant that the industry could bring new luxuries to those paying for the most expensive seats.

For pilots, it was a whole new ball game. Four-engine aircraft already existed, but the size of the 747 — and particularly the height of the flight deck — changed what was previously known to be possible.

For someone like me growing up in the 1980s, this aircraft was a staple of international travel. When going on family vacations to the U.S. — whether via PanAm or United, British Airways or Virgin Atlantic — the 747 dominated the Atlantic skies.

So then, it’s unsurprising that the 747 played a major part in developing my passion for aviation and inspiring me to become an airline pilot.

My childhood at the airport

As a child, I was always eager to tag along with my dad anytime he was picking up friends or family from Heathrow Airport (LHR). I would insist on getting there with plenty of time to spare, so we could drive to the top of the parking lot at Terminal 3 and watch the incoming and departing aircraft.

As we would drive out of the tunnel linking the highway with the central area of the airport, I’d roll down the window to experience the sounds and smells of the airport. In those days — when planes had less efficient engines in terms of both fuel consumption and noise — the smell of the Jet A-1, a kerosene-based fuel, and the sound of the aircraft were incredible.

Even though I couldn’t see the planes at that moment, I could tell they were all around me. As we drove around the maze of roads (that’s one thing that hasn’t changed), I’d catch a glimpse of a tail fin here and an engine there; I'd listen to the roar of engines powering up for takeoff and see outlines of aircraft climbing away from the ground in the distance.

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My father would wind the car around those tight spirals up to the top level of the lot, and as we emerged onto the roof, my head would now be out the window like an excited dog waiting for a walk.

Back then, I couldn’t name many aircraft types but I did know the 747. Based on my age at the time, these planes would have been a mixture of the entire range of 747s. Some airlines may still have been operating the original 747 that entered service in 1970, and others would have just introduced the latest model at the time: the 747-400.

This means that most of the 747s I saw would have been the 747-200, affectionately known as the "Classic.”

Dwarfing every other aircraft type around them, they looked powerful yet simultaneously majestic. I’d watch them push back from the gate, loving every minute of the buzz in my ears as the engines started up one by one.

I would look at the flight deck windows, wondering how incredible it must be to sit in there with all that power and technology at your fingertips, imagining the journey and the adventures ahead. Little did I know I would later get experience that firsthand.

Related: AvGeek dream come true? What it’s like sleeping in the cockpit of a Boeing 747 jumbo jet hotel

London to Los Angeles

In my early teens, we went on a family vacation to California on a 747-400. By then, my interest in aircraft and aviation had become an obsession. Microsoft Flight Simulator was my standard after-school activity, and I would still go to the airport to watch the aircraft anytime I could.

At the time, my friend's father was a 747-400 captain, and he suggested I ask the cabin crew if I could go see the flight deck. He told me that the pilots would no doubt welcome me into their office and, if I was lucky, allow me to stay for takeoff (which was possible in those pre-9/11 days).

The pilots agreed to welcome me to the flight deck, so I shot a massive grin at my family and started what seemed like an endless climb up the flight of stairs to the upper deck of the aircraft.

Into the flight deck

At this point, I’d never been on the upper deck of an aircraft, let alone to the flight deck of a 747. I tried desperately to control my excitement but my heart was in my throat. We reached the top of the stairs and I didn’t even notice the galley in front of me as I turned back toward the front of the aircraft; I saw the glint of light that was the flight deck door at the front of the upper-deck cabin.

When I reached the door, I was met with three large smiles from the pilots, as the captain motioned for me to sit in the observer’s seat behind his. I’d seen so many photos of this flight deck, and even more playing Flight Simulator, but to actually be there among all the controls and switches was mind-blowing.

As we chatted, I tried to extend the conversation by asking more and more questions, desperate to prolong my stay in this incredible space. Imagine my disbelief when the captain asked me if I’d like to stay for takeoff. I don’t know whether I managed to mumble an answer, but I imagine the expression on my face spoke for itself.

Before I knew it, they closed the door behind me and placed a headset on my head. Then, the two pilots at the controls eased into their departure flow. As we pushed back from the gate, it felt more like the gate and the entire terminal building were moving away from us.

When the engines started I was quite surprised at the complete lack of any increase in noise. I was so used to hearing the almighty scream of the engines from the top of the parking lot that I was almost disappointed not to hear that on the flight deck. Anyone who has had the pleasure of sitting in the nose of a 747 will attest to this.

When the captain pointed out that the engines were located about 20 meters (65 feet) behind the flight deck, the true scale of the beast became apparent to me. If the engines were 20 meters away, my parents must be a good 50 meters (164 feet) away — almost the distance of the soccer fields I spent most Sundays on.

With the engines rumbling and the indecipherable chatter of air traffic control in my ears, we began to taxi toward the departure runway. I watched the captain move the thrust levers forward, but still, there was very little increase in noise — just the distant sensation of power as we eased forward.

Related: The science behind a beautiful aircraft takeoff

Taxi to the runway

I watched as the two pilots discussed the taxi route, the captain skillfully maneuvering the aircraft through a series of bends until we reached a 90-degree turn to the right. I kept expecting the aircraft to turn but it didn’t. The paved surface ahead disappeared under the nose to be replaced by nothing but grass.

Still, we moved straight ahead.

At this point, I was sure that the pilots had messed up. We’d gone onto the grass and would now be stuck. How would we get out?

Then suddenly, with a dramatic lurch, the whole room swung to the right. My body was pushed to the left, the armrest digging into my side as I tried to comprehend what was happening. To my complete amazement, straight in front of us appeared the yellow line of the taxiway. We’d made it around the corner.

The captain later explained that the main wheels of the 747-400 are 25 meters (82 feet) behind their viewpoint in the flight deck. As a result, when turning 90 degrees, they have to go deep into the turn before swinging the aircraft around. This makes it look as though the plane is on the grass, but in fact, the nose wheel is still well short of the grass.

I still think about this memory today, especially when I taxi the longer versions of the 787.

As we approached the runway, we got cleared to line up and wait our turn to depart. I still vividly remember looking out of that left-hand window and seeing the white paint on the ground of “27R” and the strip of asphalt disappearing into the distance.

With another great swing of the aircraft, we were lined up and facing down that seemingly infinite road. Ready. My excitement reached a fever pitch. Any moment now, those thrust levers would advance all the way forward, and we’d experience the raw power of four Rolls-Royce RB211 engines. Then it happened.

Once we received takeoff clearance, the captain pushed all four massive thrust levers slightly forward.

When setting takeoff power on the 787, the initial whine gives way to a refined, efficient hum. So advanced are the engines that pilots barely realize they are there. However, when pilots set takeoff power on a 747, you know.

The same initial whine gives way to a deep, powerful purr. It’s raw and it’s animalistic. It means business.

Takeoff

There was a slight delay as the power bit, but as soon as it did, we were moving. The thumps from each runway light passing under the nose wheel reverberated through the whole flight deck, causing all four of us to bounce in our seats. As the speed increased, the single, defined bumps became a constant vibration, each bump indistinguishable from the last.

Even though I could see our speed on the screens increasing, looking out of the window, we seemed to be barely moving. Once again, this was an effect of the massive size of the aircraft. The pilot’s eye level on the flight deck of a 747 is just a little more than 8 meters (26 feet) above the ground. This is the same level as the windows on the third floor of a building.

With that elevation, the sensation of speed reduces massively. Instead of feeling rushed and frantic, the whole experience was leisurely and almost regal.

As the end of the runway came into sight, the first officer called out “rotate,” and the captain gently eased back on the control column. At first, nothing seems to happen, but as the aircraft pivoted around its 16 main wheels, the tail sunk lower to the runway and the nose wheel lifted off the ground.

Related: Flight planning: The unseen detail behind every flight

With the increased angle of attack of the wings, the extra lift bit and we soared way from the ground, the deep purr from behind launching us toward Los Angeles. I was mesmerized, I was in awe, I was hooked.

I no longer wanted to be a pilot, I was going to be a pilot.

Bottom line

The 747 holds a special place in the hearts of many. Some rode them as passengers and some had the honor to fly them as pilots. As for me, I never got the chance to fly the aircraft, but it inspired me to become a pilot.

Even though Boeing built its very last 747, the planes will still be around for years to come. A handful of airlines still fly them on passenger services and even more use them for their huge capacity as cargo aircraft.