Some people mark a milestone birthday with cake. Jenny Thurgut went with a biplane wing.
At 80 years old, Thurgut strapped herself to the wing of a Boeing Stearman and flew at 128 kilometres per hour over the Gloucestershire countryside, ticking off a celebration that most people would not dare attempt at any age.
“I like doing things that scare me, because if you don’t scare you get complacent and I don’t want to be complacent,” she said.
Thurgut, who lives in Newbury, Berkshire, is no stranger to chasing that feeling. Before this, she had already zip-wired across a quarry in Wales and abseiled down Portsmouth’s Spinnaker Tower. Still, standing on the wing of a moving aircraft brings its own category of nerves.
The flight itself lasted about eight minutes, launching from RFC Rendcomb in Gloucestershire. Before takeoff, Thurgut was briefed by professional wing-walker Libby Dover-Smith, who knows exactly what newcomers are in for.
“I always describe it as like an onslaught to the senses,” Dover-Smith said.
“The wind is incredibly strong, it’s noisy, it’s fast. She’s in a unique club of seriously brave people.”
That “onslaught” is part of the appeal. The open cockpit, the roar of the engine, and the rush of wind all combine into something that feels closer to controlled chaos than a smooth ride. For Thurgut, that intensity is the point.
After landing, she summed up the experience in simple terms. It was “weird,” she said, and “like being tossed around in a tumble dryer.”
Not exactly relaxing. But also not something she would trade for a quieter celebration.
Despite the adrenaline, Thurgut is clear-eyed about what motivates her. It is not about chasing youth or trying to prove anything about age.
Asked if these challenges keep her young, she replied: “No, I’m as old as the hills. I just think it keeps me interested.”
That distinction matters. There is no illusion here about turning back time. Instead, it is about staying engaged with it, pushing against routine, and refusing to settle into a version of life that feels too predictable.
And that idea shows up in how she chooses her challenges. Each one is a little uncomfortable, a little intimidating, and very far from ordinary. The kind of thing that forces focus, demands courage, and leaves a story behind.
Wing-walking is about as literal as it gets. There is no barrier between you and the sky, just a harness, a pair of goggles, and a willingness to trust the process. For Dover-Smith, that willingness is what separates participants from spectators.
For Thurgut, it is just the next step in a pattern she has built over time.
As for what comes next, she is not rushing to decide. The list of possibilities is open, and the bar has been set fairly high.
In the short term, though, she had a more immediate plan.
A cup of tea.
After flying through the air at highway speeds, sometimes the simplest landing is the one that matters most.
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