Why I, a 20-year drone veteran, still keep flying in my hometown

It has been about 20 years since I started flying drones.

No, to be precise, we didn't call them "drones" back then.

Multicopters.

Or, in a broader sense, "radio-controlled models."

"Aerial photography" and "FPV," which are commonplace now, were not general terms, at least not in our circle.

Buying a drone at an electronics store, connecting it to a smartphone, locking onto GPS, and taking off with the push of a button.

That future didn't exist yet.

What existed was a world of,

"How do I get this thing to fly?"

There were no products. There was no information. Still, I wanted to fly.

Those who only know today's drones might find it hard to imagine.

Back then, it wasn't a world where you could buy a finished product and have it fly the moment you took it out of the box.

You choose the motors.

You choose the ESCs.

You choose the propellers.

You build the frame.

You mount the circuit board.

You wire it up.

You configure it.

And then, with trepidation, you push the throttle up.

It lifted.

It tilted.

It flipped over.

It broke.

You fix it.

You fly it again.

It was a repetition of that.

Thinking back, the time spent building was overwhelmingly longer than the time spent flying.

Still, it was fun.

Actually, that's exactly why it was fun.

The "eccentric geniuses" somewhere in the world.

In that era, incredible people began to appear, centered in Europe.

Individual engineers and enthusiasts started building their own flight controllers, writing control programs, and releasing them.

It was the culture of open source.

For me, this was a shock.

Controlling the attitude of the aircraft based on information from gyros and accelerometers, and constantly and precisely controlling multiple motors.

The program does the control that a human could never do directly.

If you used that board and software,

"The aircraft I built myself actually flies in the sky."

Technology that had previously been the domain of a few researchers and companies had descended into the hands of ordinary hobbyists.

Enthusiasts around the world improved it, and someone else used it again.

Europe, the US, South Korea, China, Japan.

Similar trial and error began in various places, and technologies like flight controllers, sensors, motors, and ESCs evolved at a tremendous pace.

Eventually, manufacturers like DJI appeared from China, and the "flying machines that some hobbyists were building themselves" turned into industrial products that anyone could handle.

Looking at the history of technology, every era is similar.

One genius makes something.

Someone imitates it.

Someone improves it.

Someone appears who can make it cheaply.

A company appears that mass-produces it.

And in the end, what only a few hobbyists knew about spreads all over the world.

Drones were no exception.

The next thing we wanted was a "bird's eye view."

Once the aircraft began to fly stably, humans started thinking about the next thing.

"If I put a camera on this, wouldn't it look like I'm flying in the sky?"

CCD camera.

Video transmitter.

Antenna.

And a receiver and monitor on the ground side.

Now, anyone can search for it with the term "FPV (First Person View)."

But it was different back then.

While watching videos released by overseas enthusiasts,

"What is this..."

I was amazed.

Some enthusiasts around the world, starting in Europe, were leading the way.

They would load a camera onto the aircraft, send real-time video wirelessly, and pilot it while on the ground by looking at the view from the aircraft.

I still remember the feeling when I first experienced FPV.

This isn't aerial photography.

I am flying.

That was the feeling.

And then, the era of FPV racers arrived.

Around the time multicopters started being called "drones," the world of FPV also evolved all at once.

It wasn't just about flying.

Flying fast.

Flying low.

Passing through narrow spaces.

Going through gates.

And competing.

It was FPV drone racing.

This was the era I was most obsessed with.

Drones weren't as feared by society as they are now.

The general public's perception was also,

"Just a slightly unusual radio-controlled model."

I think that's all it was.

That's why we could rent out public grounds and facilities in prefectures and cities, build courses with our friends, and hold races.

We would build our own aircraft, adjust the PID, change the propellers, change the motors, and devise antennas.

We would spend hours touching the aircraft to shave off fractions of a second.

If it crashed, we would fix it.

Once fixed, we would fly it again.

And drone racing spread around the world.

I myself got so obsessed that I even competed in a tournament to decide the Japanese representative.

Those days were truly fun.

But we were vaguely aware.

At the same time, because we were people who did FPV, there was something we knew.

"If this is seriously misused, it's going to be dangerous."

Incredible performance.

Small aircraft.

Tremendous speed.

Beyond-visual-line-of-sight flight via FPV.

Radio range.

And the piloting skills to control the aircraft.

While playing, we experienced those capabilities more than anyone else.

We used those capabilities to race.

To fly fast, accurately, and on the lines we intended.

That was all.

However, what would happen if someone with malicious intent used the same technology?

Anyone can understand if they think about it.

That's why I thought something would happen someday.

And it actually happened.

April 22, 2015

Nagatacho, Tokyo.

A drone was discovered on the roof of the Prime Minister's Official Residence.

In addition to a small camera, the aircraft was carrying a container containing radioactive material.

Later, a man from Fukui Prefecture turned himself in, and the investigation and trial proceeded as a criminal case.

It was the so-called "Prime Minister's Official Residence drone incident."

This incident left a strong impression on Japanese society.

"Can a drone really fly that far?"

I think it was an event where the general public learned about the possibilities and dangers of drones at the same time.

And the atmosphere surrounding drones in Japan changed significantly.

Flight rules for unmanned aircraft under the Civil Aeronautics Act were established, and in 2016, the "Act on Prohibition of Flight of Small Unmanned Aircraft, etc." was enacted to regulate flights around important facilities.

The "sky" we had been playing in was no longer the same as before.

The "era when we could fly freely" was over.

After that, the system continued to be improved.

And now, there are many things that pilots must understand, including aircraft registration, permits and approvals depending on where and how you fly, flight plans, and rules regarding radio waves.

For someone who knows the old days,

"It's become a troublesome era."

I sometimes think that.

Twenty years ago, I would take a mysterious flying object I made myself to a wide-open space with friends,

"I wonder if this will fly?"

And we would excitedly fly something that we didn't even know would fly properly.

Thinking about it now, it was an incredible era.

The old days were better.

…I'd like to say that, but actually, I don't think so.

Of course, I feel nostalgic.

I liked the free atmosphere of those days.

It was fun because we didn't know anything.

We thought for ourselves because there was no information.

We made things because there were no parts.

We investigated because it wouldn't fly.

We fixed it because it broke.

I was struggling with the same problems as enthusiasts I didn't even know somewhere in the world.

There is certainly a passion that only existed in that era.

But,

I don't want to talk about drones by reminiscing about the past.

Because.

I'm still flying today.

I still love "piloting" today.

It's not that I want to do aerial photography.

I don't want to take pictures of beautiful scenery and post them on social media.

Of course, I think that's also a wonderful way to enjoy drones.

But what I have been chasing for 20 years is a little different.

I love the act of piloting itself.

The feeling of my fingertips connecting to the aircraft.

The reaction of the aircraft when I push the stick just a few millimeters.

What I couldn't do yesterday, I can do today.

More smoothly.

More accurately.

More freely.

I want to move the aircraft more like my own hands and feet.

Even after 20 years, it's still fun.

Perhaps what I like isn't the product called a "drone."

It's the act of controlling a machine that flies in the sky with my own will.

And after encountering FPV, that feeling became something on another dimension.

When you put on FPV goggles, the real world in front of you disappears completely.

You can't see your own feet.

You can't see the ground you're standing on.

All that's in front of you is the video sent from the drone's camera.

Your entire field of vision becomes the aircraft's field of vision.

At that moment, a strange thing happens.

I, who should be standing on the ground, am in the sky.

No,

I get the feeling that I have become the drone.

If I tilt the aircraft to the right, I tilt to the right.

If it dives, I fall.

If it passes between trees, I slip through them.

If it flies at high speed just above the ground, I get the feeling that my own body is being pulled forward.

Of course, my real body is on the ground.

I'm not feeling the wind.

My body itself isn't flying in the sky.

Even so, my brain gradually forgets that fact.

That's because the information coming in from my eyes is too intense.

If the aircraft accelerates, the scenery blows away behind me.

If it turns, the world itself tilts.

If it climbs rapidly, the ground moves away in an instant,

And if I cut the throttle, I get sucked into the ground.

In my head, I know,

"I am on the ground."

But my senses are saying,

"I am flying in the sky."

This gap is interesting.

In a sense, it might be a bug in the brain.

But for me, the charm of FPV lies exactly there.

Body on the ground, consciousness in the sky.

When I fly for a long time, I sometimes get a strange sensation.

Even though my body is on the ground,

my consciousness enters the aircraft.

The aircraft flying hundreds of meters away

is no longer an 'object over there.'

My perspective is there.

My consciousness is there too.

So, the feeling is that

while my body stays on the ground, only my consciousness escapes into the sky.

To put it a bit dramatically, it's close to an out-of-body experience.

Of course, I'm not actually having an out-of-body experience.

But inside the FPV goggles, the sense of 'where I am right now' can sometimes become blurred.

My real body is on the ground.

But the world I am seeing is in the air.

I even lose track of whether I am standing or sitting.

This sensation is completely different from flying while looking at a regular monitor.

FPV goggles are not just tools for watching video.

I think they are devices that transfer your own perspective and senses into the aircraft.

The feeling of having become a bird.

What I especially love is flying in nature.

Forests.

Woods.

Rivers.

Mountains.

Between the trees.

When I am flying freely in a place without man-made objects,

there are moments when even the awareness of 'piloting a drone' fades away.

I fly at a low altitude along the flow of a river.

I raise my altitude a little.

A tree appears in front of me.

I bank the aircraft as if tilting my own body and pass by it.

I can see the sky through the gaps in the branches.

I ascend toward it in one go.

The bright sky spreads out to fill my field of vision.

From there, I flip the aircraft and fall back into the forest.

At that moment,

'I am flying a drone'

rather than that,

I feel as if I myself am flying freely.

I don't know if birds really feel this way.

But,

if a human could become a bird,

I wonder if they would see a world like this.

I sometimes think so.

'Where are you flying right now?'

Reading this far, those who have been doing FPV for a long time might want to ask,

'So, where and how are you flying right now?'

As for that, I will leave it to your imagination.

The only thing I can say is that there is absolutely no malice involved.

I don't want to cause trouble for anyone.

I don't want to film anything either.

I just, with all my heart,

want to improve my piloting skills.

That is all.

Of course, today's era has today's rules.

It's not that I can fly with the same mindset as in the past.

I must understand that.

I don't think, 'If only I were overseas, I could fly freely' either

If you love drones, you might think about it at least once.

Vast land.

A wilderness with no one around.

Putting on FPV goggles and flying to your heart's content.

I sometimes see such footage in videos from overseas.

I think, 'That's nice.'

But,

'So, let's move overseas'

I don't think about things like that.

Rather than thinking about such unrealistic things, I want to enjoy myself in the place where I live.

I fly locally.

I fly in the land I know.

And when I'm done flying, I return to my usual life.

For me, drones are not a special event.

Having continued for 20 years, it is already a part of my life.

So, that is fine.

No,

that is exactly why it is good.

To those who have been flying since those days

If there is anyone reading this article who,

has been flying since the days when we called them multicopters.

Someone who built their own frames.

Someone who bought parts from mysterious overseas websites.

Someone who was moved by mounting a CCD camera on their aircraft.

Someone who panicked when the video turned into static.

Someone who spent a whole day on PID tuning.

Someone who broke dozens of propellers.

Someone who was obsessed with FPV racing.

If there is such a person, they have probably seen the same era as me.

The sky we knew and the sky today are different.

Drones have become a huge industry.

They do surveying.

They do inspections.

They spray pesticides.

They transport cargo.

They are active at disaster sites.

And systems for flying have also been established.

I think that is, in a sense, natural as a process of technology being accepted by society.

That is why I,

do not intend to just tell old stories while saying,

'It was free back in the day.'

Today has its own way of flying.

And above all,

what I felt the moment my homemade multicopter first lifted off the ground back then, has not changed even now.

I raise the throttle.

The aircraft lifts off.

It reacts to my controls.

Just that alone is interesting.

20 years ago.

And now.

In the end, what I am doing is the same.

I want to fly better.

That is all.

So today, too, I fly.