People often say they dreamed of becoming a pilot since they were kids. For me, it wasn’t like that. I don’t recall childhood dreams filled with cockpits and cloudscapes — just one picture of me and my father after a 10-minute tourist flight in a PZL W-3 Sokół helicopter. It was brief, exciting, and then life moved on. Or so I thought.
Years later, in 2018, something changed. I signed up for flight training at the local aeroclub. I started with the Cessna 172, then moved to the Cessna 152 and Aero AT-3. Later on I was flying on Extra 300, Bristell and even a motoglider over Corsican moutains. From the very first day, I knew I wasn’t training for a career. I didn’t see myself in a uniform, flying airliners. Flying was something I chose for myself — a way to create balance in life, a counterweight to everyday responsibilities. It was personal.
But something didn’t quite fit. The environment in most aeroclubs seemed focused on training commercial pilots — young, ambitious, airline-bound students. I was looking for something else. I wanted community, guidance, a different kind of journey. That’s when I started looking for mentors.
And that’s how I met Robert and Piotr
Robert didn’t just fly with me. He gave me his time, his experience, his stories. We flew over remote fields and quiet lakes, discovering Poland from above, one airstrip at a time. He introduced me to other pilots, among them Captain Piotr Kowalski — an airline captain, aerobatics instructor, and proud co-owner of a Lim-2 jet.
Flying with Robert and Piotr opened new doors. It wasn’t just about the machine or the checklist anymore — it was about relationships, mentorship, passion. It became a shared experience, one that shaped how I fly and how I think about flying.
Zlin Savage Cub
Somewhere along that path, I fell in love with taildraggers. Maybe it was the simplicity, the raw connection to the airfield, or the way they demand your full attention. Eventually, I made the decision to buy my own aircraft — a Zlin Savage Cub, an ultralight taildragger that became my ticket to true freedom in the skies.
Zlin Savage Cub
By the way — if you still think ultralights are flimsy toys, think again. Today’s ultralights are capable, refined, and thrilling machines. They’re built for adventure, not compromise.
Adventure
And speaking of adventure — some of the most breathtaking flights of my life happened far from Poland, in the skies over Sardinia and Corsica. Crystal-clear waters, wild coastlines, ancient mountains, and forgotten villages unfold beneath you like a living map. Flying low and slow in my Savage Cub over these islands was a reminder of what flying is really about: freedom, discovery, and the joy of seeing the world from a new perspective.
Dominique Duriani & author
Freedom
Along the way, I met more and more people like me. Pilots who fly for the love of it — not for hours in a logbook, not for licenses or careers. People who don’t want to ask for permission, who don’t want to book a plane for “a few hours” and rush back because someone else needs it. People who want to fly when they want, not just when they can. That mindset changed everything. It turned solo flying into a shared mission.
Looking back, my story didn’t begin with a dream. It began with curiosity, and it grew into something much bigger: a lifestyle, a network of real friendships, and a different way of seeing the world.
Flyriders
That’s what Flyriders is all about. And this is just the beginning.
