Someday we’ll know where the pilots go

When their work on earth is through

      Where the air is clean and the engines gleam

And the skies are clear and blue.

      They have flown, with the engine’s moan

As they climbed to the great beyond

      And taken delight at the awesome sight

Of the world spread far and ‘yond

      And how they love, and are beloved,

But their love is most for air

      With wings spread out, they still fly out

And leave their troubles there.

      How near to God, these men of sod

Who come near danger’s door;

      They are real, not made of steel

He knows who goes before.

      Yet not alone, above their home

When the earth is out of sight

      They make their stand, He takes their hand

And guides them through the night.

      He knows these things, of men and wings

And they are surely true.

      He’ll give a hand to such a man,
Because He’s a pilot, too.

Mr. Hymas’ friend, Astronaut Don Lind, carried a copy of this poem on Space Shuttle Challenger when it flew SKYLAB 3 around the earth 110 times.

Leo Hymas learned to fly in 1947 in a small Piper Cub airplane, a picture of which is at the top of this page. He made his first solo flight, passed his FAA flight test and took his new bride, Amy, on her first airplane ride in that little plane. Over the years he has enjoyed many hours of sport flying as a licensed Private Pilot.

In 1976 he and two friends, Walt Bybee and Gene Barrett, purchased a Great Lakes open cockpit biplane, seen below. He wrote this poem about the thrill of flying and the feelings he had as he flew that plane through the skies and among the clouds over the Pacific Northwest.