I felt much more in control of my own destiny on dry land or water.  I was convinced that I would have a far better chance of survival if I were involved in a train crash or emergency on board a ship.  I might be able to take action which would increase my chances whereas I saw little hope of surviving if something went wrong aloft.  Of course this was a purely emotional response and therefore did not take any account of the relative probabilities of such a situation arising in the first place.

Nurtured by Norway in a nutshell I decided that perhaps with time and exposure I could adapt to geographical and cultural differences.  On the other hand flying provoked a level of anxiety I had no wish to repeat.  And surely the more I flew the greater the odds that some disaster might strike. Unhelpful people presented the hackneyed rational, statistical counter arguments without any understanding of real, irrational terror.  If an intellectual perspective were possible I would be tempted to fly every day just for the view.  I wondered whether standard issue parachutes might help!

But fear fades.  Twelve months after my first flight, the fjords called again.  This time I sought some help and the doctor sold me a simple solution - a double dose of Valium.  Giggling ridiculously I tripped my way across the North Sea and skipped through Bergen singing some topical tune.  Consuming a seafood platter when the mere thought of shellfish normally induced nausea convinced me.  Drugs were definitely not the answer.  Instead I found a British Airways Fear of Flying course based at Manchester Airport.

A Glimmer of Hope (Summer 1986)
Although emotionally unconvinced by statistics, basic information about airports, aircraft and procedures did help reinforce the rational arguments for flight safety with which I continually presented myself.  Somewhere over North Wales on my first unaccompanied flight a little magic momentarily displaced fear as I distracted myself picking out places I'd visited as a tourist.

My fear would not dissipate overnight but, given time, I could learn to do this.  If blind panic subsided a little awareness would surely help me to develop more helpful ways to cope.  The Cambrian Mountains provided my first clue.  But my aim to employ scenic distractions to ease the passage of four hours between Glasgow and Reykjavik later that year was thwarted by inclement weather conditions.  Rain clouds hid the runway until touchdown.

Able to read for the first time the Star Trek universe's comforting familiarity allowed me to pretend that I was cruising at Warp Speed under the watchful eye of Captain Kirk & co.  I also discovered that size matters. The larger Icelandair craft seemed more stable, less prone to turbulence and therefore felt safer than BAC 111s.