Please,Think About It.

By Owen Zupp

From the outset, I’d like to say that this blog went very close to being called, ‘Airmanship’. However, I neither wanted to shrink such a significant topic into a relatively small space, nor did I want mislead the readership when the point I wanted to make was the relative absence of airmanship. You see, I was recalling a day some time back when I witnessed some acts that made my hair curl. And I’m as bald as they come!

What is even more sobering is that the time frame in which these unsavoury events occurred. I was flying a relatively low performance aeroplane which was to be the subject of a written review and by low performance I mean single-engined, fixed undercarriage and a cruise speed of around 110 knots. Nevertheless, this was typical of the category of aircraft arriving as I re-joined the circuit area to fly a variety of differently configured circuits.

The first incident was relatively benign as the aircraft ahead of me landed with inadequate clearance while the preceding aircraft was still on the runway. I shook my head, but was not overly shocked. As I flew downwind on the next circuit, an aircraft flying a very standard circuit had broadcasted his position and intentions in a very standard manner. As he called on ‘final’ a departing aircraft called “rolling” on the same runway. The problem was that this aircraft was still about 200 metres from actually being on the runway. Regardless of the warnings, he broadcast “Too late, mate!” and pulled out in front of the landing aircraft who prudently conducted a go-around. By the time I turned downwind for my final circuit, the offending aircraft was now overhead the traffic pattern and I suspect conducting a sales demonstration flight. With minimal clearance from the circuit traffic he was turning, stalling and generally throwing the machine around the sky. I should stress that there was miles and miles of clear air away from this rural airfield he could have chosen to use.               

To add to the congestion, my downwind call was quickly followed by a higher performance Mooney joining the circuit behind me. I re-affirmed my aircraft type and performance to subtly suggest to the pilot that he might like to slow down, but his circuit calls kept coming and it was evident that he was getting closer and closer. He was obviously right behind me on final approach and when I landed I looked back over my shoulder as I turned off the runway and onto a taxiway. There he was a couple of hundred metres behind me, on the runway and enveloped in a huge plume of blue smoke emanating from his tyres. Personally, I suspect he landed with his feet on the brakes such was the pall of smoke.

I parked my aircraft clear of the runway for a static photo session and caught this chaps radio call on the Unicom frequency that confirmed he hadn’t read his ‘Notices to Airmen’ either. One final point; the aircraft the had rudely lined up in front of the landing aeroplane earlier was now sitting forlornly off the runway amongst the grass and its pilots were walking away. I do not know the reason why, but it was not the scheduled arrival plan.

All of these events took place in the space of a few circuits. All of them were totally avoidable and were solely caused by poor management by their pilots. With the exception of the aircraft running off the runway, they were not directly attributable to poor manipulative skills, but more in line with poor airmanship. The Mooney could have lowered his landing gear earlier or widened his circuit slightly, while holding short of the runway or going around would have solved the problems of the other two offenders. Forward thinking, simple manoeuvres and early decisions would have solved these issues. Sometimes airmanship is little more than common sense and good manners and yet those two skills also seem to evade a number amongst us.

And it is not just the private pilots at fault. Airliners can at times be at fault, taxiing too fast, cutting taxiway guidance lines or pushing on with approaches to land even when the aircraft is not really in a stable position to do so. Granted, some incidents are the result of the pilot ‘getting behind’ the aeroplane and not managing it in a timely fashion. However, sometimes it is simply a case of rushing or straight out laziness.

As pilots, more is expected of us than the average motorist and those who fly with us as passengers have a higher level of expectation too. They entrust us to always take the safe and conservative option. They respect that as pilot licence holders we have jumped through the rigorous hoops to be deemed fit and safe to fly with. I would suspect that after most of the aforementioned incidents, the passengers were still unaware of the danger or given some rationalised half-truth by their pilot. And I use the term ‘pilot’ extremely loosely. So many incidents are totally preventable if a conservative decision is made early in the piece, or as I say, “If in doubt, bug out!” There is no shame in conducting a go-around, waiting for a stream of aircraft to land before you depart or choosing to hold away from the circuit area until the traffic decreases. Moreover it is sound airmanship.

Airmanship starts in the planning phase and carries through until the aircraft is locked away in the hangar. Rather than an onerous duty, it should be seen as one more skill that pilots need to possess in order to take care of their aircraft and passengers. I don’t mean to sound judgemental and if I seem frustrated by the actions of these pilots, it is because I have attended too many funerals of experienced people who have chosen poor options for very little reason. To name a few, scud-running beneath weather in an IFR aircraft, conducting unauthorised low-level flying and intentionally operating their aeroplane beyond the scope of its design. These were not incidents of bad luck, more to the point they were pushing their luck beyond the bounds of airmanship. There are enough genuine threats lurking out there without introducing a bagful of our own. Next time the developing picture starts to raise some questions, pause for a moment and really think about it. Please, think about it.

Safe Flying.

"Taking Flight" (Final Part)

CLICK HERE for Part Three.

To Go or Not to Go?

Airline category aircraft have specific data relating to the point at which a take-off can be safely continued in the case of an engine failure. Similarly, beyond a certain speed, the decision to reject a take-off and remain on the ground exposes the aircraft to the real danger of over-running the runway. While the decision to go, or not to go, may be straightforward for such things as an engine failure in a Cessna 152, matters are not always so black and white.

Light aircraft don’t generally possess a “go or no-go” speed, but there are incidents that may take place on the take-off roll that are not necessarily an emergency, but will require attention at some point. The challenge then is to ascertain what action will present the greatest risk; continuing to fly or over-running the runway. Each decision will be different for each pilot, runway and aircraft and even the stage of the take-off. However, it is worth dedicating some thought to the scenarios before they ever occur.

One of the most common incidents is a door coming open just upon rotation on take-off. For all the associated noise of rushing air and startled passengers, generally the door will only pop open a small amount and be kept quite flush by the relative airflow. On a 3 kilometre international runway, you may decide to re-land ahead, but on a short remote airstrip with a precipitous drop off the far end, you may decide to continue. Additionally, the point of decision may be indicated by a physical feature along the runway indicating the distance remaining, or may be as simple as actually becoming airborne is the cue to continue. Each day will be different, but a plan in advance is well worth having.

A door opening is just one such scenario. Poor acceleration on the take-off roll, a realisation of an incorrect flap setting or a seat sliding back prior to lift-off are all events that are best considered before they strike. The very best technique is to guard against such eventualities with good airmanship and sound checklist discipline.

Taken for Granted.

In many ways, the take-off manoeuvre is a straightforward exercise of aircraft control. However, there are ample opportunities for this critical phase of flight to turn sour. The seat belt hanging out of the aeroplane and doors popping open on take-off have both been quoted as distracting occurrences on take-off. Wrong trim settings, incorrect flap selection and an unsecured seat sliding back are potentially fatal oversights in the take-off process. A misidentification of the correct runway has seen a number of accidents occur, particularly in low visibility situations, while fatal accidents have stemmed from attempted take-offs on occupied runways. Who can forget the collision of the KLM and Pan Am 747s at Teneriffe in 1977!

Our best defence against is often in our own hands. Respect the performance limitations of the aeroplane, follow standard operating procedures and conduct checklists in a thorough, measured manner. Even so, there are additional ‘safety filters’ we can introduce to our flying; the engine out and departure planning is one such measure. Prior to lining up, we can verify that we are at the correct holding point before entering the runway. Additionally, a final assessment of the wind, local weather and terrain is timely. Consciously look for aircraft before lining up and be aware of how design features such as a high wing may impede the lookout. Once aligned, our check of the runway direction against the compass is another verification of the runway.

Sometimes, there are final checks that vary from pilot to pilot just before they start the take-off roll. It may be a push back upon the seat to verify that it is absolutely locked in. For others a last look at ‘Fuel, Flap and Trim’ may be seen as worthwhile. However, once the take-off has commenced, the focus must be purely on the manoeuvre as it has been trained for. If it hasn’t been checked now, it’s not going to be. If it is that critical, this may be one of the reasons for which you decide to reject the take-off if it is safe to do so.

Taking Flight.

We have said previously that with so much emphasis on the approach and landing phase of flight, the humble take-off is frequently overlooked. Often perceived as simply lining up, pushing the levers forward and pulling back when the time is right, the take-off is actually a very critical phase of each and every flight. 

We have seen that to the contrary, a truly safely executed take-off is one that has catered for a series of events that hopefully never occur. Furthermore, the variables that are presented on each occasion need to be considered for their impact upon the take-off manoeuvre before we start to roll down the runway. Only when man and machine are truly ready should they venture into the sky above. When prepared, the take-off can then safely open the door to the wonder of taking flight.

"Taking Flight." (Part One)

With so much emphasis on the approach and landing phase of flight, the humble take-off is frequently overlooked. Often perceived as simply lining up, pushing the levers forward and pulling back when the time is right, the take off is actually a very critical phase of each and every flight. 

Surface to Air.

There is nothing quite like that moment when the earth falls away from the wheels and the earthbound restraints transition into freedom in all three dimensions. From the initial surge of power to the nose pointing skyward, guiding the aircraft back to its natural habitat, this is when flight becomes a reality. This is the take-off and for all its majesty, it is also a potentially vulnerable time for man and machine.

Like landing, it is a manoeuvre conducted at ground level where there is little time and altitude for forgiveness. It is susceptible to all manner of variables; environmental, aerodynamic and human in origin. Accordingly, like any phase of flight, the take-off should be given the respect and consideration it deserves. Attempts to rush it can at the very least result in poor handling and at worst leave the aircraft exposed to all manner of lethal variables.

Fundamentally, aircraft are not designed for ground operations, they are meant to fly. As such, designers endeavour to build an undercarriage that will sustain the impact of landing, maintain a straight line at high speed, taxi at slow speeds and offer up the lowest possible weight penalty in the process. Similarly, the wing is meant to fly and generally fly fast. The slow speed envelope is recognised as a necessary evil in transitioning the aeroplane to and from flight, so often aerodynamic devices on the leading and trailing edges are added to facilitate this. Yet on take-off, the undercarriage will be asked to absorb the shock and slipperiness of all manner of surfaces and we will reconfigure the wing so it will fly at speeds that it would really prefer not to.

At the helm sits the pilot who has hopefully both configured the aircraft correctly and considered a myriad of possible eventualities. Should the take-off go awry, decisions may need to be made in a split second and yet enacted with a seemingly unrushed, efficient methodology. As with so many aspects of aviation, the result of thorough preparation is often a routine non-event. Take-offs are no exception to this rule.

The Goal.

In its most basic form, the purpose of the take off is to transition the aircraft safely from the ground into the air. It is not to be considered purely as the instant of lift-off, for there are several components of the take-off both preceding this moment and following it. In fact, the take-off can really be considered as commencing with its planning in terms of weight and balance, performance data and the ambient conditions. Likewise, the take-off can be thought of becoming a ‘climb’ only when the aircraft is reconfigured and at a safe altitude. This may involve reducing power and the retraction of flaps and undercarriage, or simply extinguishing lights and selecting the fuel pump off; it will vary from type to type and even departure to departure.

The take-off is virtually a ‘blink’ in the overall duration of a flight, but the degree of preparation isn’t a function of time. Just ask an Olympic sprinter or world class photographer. Safely executing a take-off is a combination of consideration and physical execution and in ‘Taking Flight’, both will be treated with equal respect. However, to start, let’s review what is actually involved in taking our aircraft from the runway to the sky.

A Numbers Game.

Before the park brake is even released, the ability of the aircraft to physically perform the take-off manoeuvre must be verified. This is a function of numerous factors including aircraft weight, payload, centre of gravity, the runway environment and ambient conditions. Each of these variables plays a significant role in their own way and to overlook any aspect can be fraught with danger.

In most cases, the individual approved aircraft Flight Manual is the defining document in matters of performance. Some larger operators may have an entire approved loading system that is a stand-alone manual or in modern times, part of the Electronic Flight Bag. Whatever the means, there is always a valid method to calculate the limits of an aircraft’s performance in executing a take-off.

The take-off must be able to accelerate and climb away at a safe speed with adequate obstacle clearance in the distance available. In the case of multi-engine aircraft there will also be a need to climb away with one engine inoperative and for higher category aircraft, the ‘stop-go’ scenario, amongst others, becomes a performance dictator. Fortunately, the hard work has been done by test pilots and performance engineers when the aircraft is certified, so the preflight process is a case of arithmetical gymnastics rather than ‘trial and error’ destructive testing off the end of the runway.

Typically with most GA piston powered aeroplanes, the number of seats doesn’t directly reflect the everyday uplift of the aircraft. You may well plan to take 4 people aloft in a Piper Cherokee 140, but that will rule out anything near full fuel tanks. To this end, performance calculations often require the pilot to make do with the best legal solution. If a full load of passengers is a requirement on a cross country flight, the fuel load may need to be reduced and additional refuelling stops must be planned. It will always be a combination of aircraft weight, payload, people and fuel without exceeding any limits. If the numbers still don’t work then it might be time to consider upgrading to a larger, more powerful aeroplane to meet your needs.

Further complicating the matter is that even if the total weight to be uplifted is legal, it must also be loaded in a manner that the aircraft remains ‘balanced’. Like a see-saw, the aircraft can tend to pitch nose up or down depending on how the aircraft is loaded in relation to its centre of gravity. Too far forward and the nose may not want to lift off on take-off, too far to the rear and the nose may just keeping pitching skyward after rotation until the aircraft stalls. To avoid the imbalance of an aircraft leading to disastrous controllability issues, a graphical representation or tabular calculation of the limits fore and aft is used. Calculations of load distribution must have the weight and balance of the aeroplane falling within the safe region known as the Centre of Gravity ‘envelope’. Bearing in mind that this position may also change enroute as fuel is burned.

So your aircraft is loaded to below its maximum limit with fuel, folks and freight distributed in a balanced manner. The next piece of the puzzle relates to the runway environment. Is it long enough? Is the surface long, wet grass which will impede acceleration? Is it sloping uphill? What is the current temperature and prevailing winds? These considerations must also be assessed when using the performance charts to verify that the available runway is ample and suitable for take-off.

Only when the aircraft performance data has been calculated with respect to weight and balance and airfield limitations can a take-off be legally and safely executed. Accident investigations are littered with instances where pilots either overlooked or chose to ignore the performance envelopes of their aircraft. Take the time to do the numbers and peace of mind will inevitably follow.

Ready?.............

Check back here soon for "Taking Flight" (Part Two).

Five Tips in Choosing a Flying School.

As this aviation blog continues to grow in momentum and followers, the range of topics has been broad, from airline accidents and flight training to aviators of the past and reflections of the pure joy of flight. Accordingly, the range of feedback and aviation-related questions is equally diverse, so over the coming weeks I shall try to address some of these. As there’s no time like the present, here is the first one, “Top Tips for Choosing a Flying School.”

Now I won’t pretend for a moment that there’s a magical list to suit all scenarios, but what I can offer are some fundamental requirements that your new flying school should offer you. Prospective students can often feel like overwhelmed novices when they walk into a new flying school and are immediately surrounded by folks in uniforms and epaulettes speaking a strange dialect known as ‘pilot speak’. What is critical at this stage is that you remember that you are a customer and they are endeavouring to sell you a service, so listen carefully to the real words between the sales pitch and be careful with your cash. Take the time to chat with current students of the school as well.

Also, do your homework first. Research the aviation regulatory body in your part of the world to see what the minimum requirements are to achieve a licence and then bear in mind that these are absolutely MINIMUM LEGAL REQUIREMENTS. You will require more hours of training than this and this will equate to a higher cost. Additionally, endeavour to define what level of licence you’re looking for. Do you just simply want to go solo to say that you’ve done this or do you aspire to the flight deck of a Boeing 747?    Watch out, you might only want to go solo but find yourself hooked! As such, does the flying school provide comprehensive training all the way through to the commercial licence and ratings? The internet is a great tool in researching various schools and finding those in your area. Armed with a little prior knowledge about their school and your goals, you’re now ready to pay a visit to the local airport and seek out a flying school.

Without further ado, here are the tips....

1. EQUIPMENT.

What aircraft does the flying school have? Is there a substantial fleet built upon a few types, or is there a ‘Noah’s Ark’ fleet with seemingly two of every type known to man. What you need is a small range of different types, but enough of the type that you will be training in that it won’t be double-booked and leave you stranded or without an aircraft when maintenance falls due. There need to be enough of the aircraft to meet the demands of the school.

Additionally, what is the condition of the aircraft? If they are tired and worn out, then that doesn’t suggest much re-investment into the fleet by management. It may be a possible indication of cash-flow issues and a signal that corners might be getting cut elsewhere. Either way, a scrappy looking aeroplane does not reflect the mind-set of a proficient, meticulous pilot, nor does it provide the sort of craft in which you’d like to take a family member aloft.

Also, equipment is not limited to aeroplanes. What are the offices and briefing rooms like? Are they modern and equipped with good lighting and furnishings? This is where you’ll be undertaking your all-important briefings and sitting exams, so you want a sound learning environment.

2. PEOPLE.

Behind every good flying school are good people. What is the sense of the school when you first walk in? Are the instructors professionally dressed and polite or do they look like they’re auditioning for ‘Top Gun 2’ and you’re kind of in the way? Is there a mix of junior instructors and senior instructors, or just a few youngsters starting out? Personally, I have found some brand new instructors amongst the most dedicated and proficient in the early phases, but they still need mentoring from the old hands. Equally important is a spread of experience so that you are not kept waiting for a senior instructor to check you as you reach the various tests and milestones. Furthermore, to train for a commercial licence, ideally the instructor should have some commercial experience.

Take the time to speak with the Chief Flying Instructor. If the CFI doesn’t have time to speak with you on that first day then make a booking to chat when it’s convenient. If this proves difficult, or impossible, than that isn’t a good indicator at a very early stage. I have been a CFI and it can be a very demanding job, but a CFI is also part of the management team and should actively assist a new prospective customer.

What is the support staff situation? Is there a full time receptionist attending to the front desk and enquiries, or are bookings and new clients rated as a secondary duty for the flying instructors? Interestingly, in my experience I have found a common feature of good flying schools is a dedicated staff member attending to the front office duties.

3. FILES AND FLYING.

Ask to see a copy of a training file. Does it look professionally presented, or has the same master file been photocopied for the last twenty years with no thought of re-visiting the syllabus and making it better. Perhaps they are of new a digital, online format. Also have a look at the training notes provided by the school for apparent quality. While you won’t necessarily appreciate the content at this point, if their briefing notes are poorly presented, not readily at hand, or worse, don’t exist at all then this is critical as these notes are the link between the text-book and how the flying school executes the lesson in the air. If they just recommend you purchase a manual and self-study, then that isn’t what you’re looking for.

The way in which a school administers its ground-based responsibilities often reflects how they operate in the skies. If attention to the paperwork is poor, then you’ll probably find that it is one of those schools that just want you in the aeroplane, ticking over the meter and then out the door as soon as you’ve paid. Flight training is a broader based undertaking than that; the flight time is critical, but its quality is dependent upon many supporting factors outside the cockpit.

4. LONGEVITY.

Is the school well established with a reputation that precedes it? If so, they are probably doing something right as longevity in itself is difficult in the flight training business. I say “probably” because some sharks have been known to live for over seventy years. Hence, the recommendation of past and present students can be invaluable third party information. Bear in mind that a newly established school may also have much to offer; new aeroplanes, unbridled enthusiasm and a desperate need to grow its customer base. They may have poached experienced instructors to provide the expertise and be situated in a new building where the paint has just dried.

Longevity should be considered with all prospective schools. Does the operation look like it’s running on a shoe-string and won’t be here in a year? (Sometimes the big, glossy schools suffer from this too). As such, a word of warning, never put large amounts of cash up front for your training. I have seen more than one school close its doors and leave its students thousands of dollars out of pocket. Pay promptly following each lesson, or you may choose to deposit a small amount into an account for ease of payment, but don’t be talked into depositing a whole lot up front.

5. COST.

The biggest variable and most critical factor for many is simply the cost. Flight training is not an inexpensive exercise and anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is kidding themselves. As with so many things, you’ll get what you pay for. Better aeroplanes will come at a premium above their clapped-out counterparts. Some schools may charge for briefings, but that is more cost efficient than not receiving them and having to repeat flight lessons.

There are all manner of costs associated with flying from equipment to text-books. Ask the school at the outset, what you need to purchase and what they provide. What is the price of these ancillary items? Do they provide ground theory training and at what price? What are the hire rates for the aeroplane and is there an additional fee for flight tests, or a lower rate for solo flying. Ask them REALISTICALLY how many hours it generally takes a student to achieve the licence you’re pursuing. What is the breakdown of hours in terms of dual, solo and tests and what is an estimate of the overall cost? Ascertain this figure before you even start and then add on a little to factor in rising process and hiccups along the way. As I said, it won’t be cheap, but you ultimately get what you pay for.

Learning to fly is a major step, so don’t rush in. Take the time to gather information and ask the right questions of the right people. If the answers are muddled or slow in coming, then that’s probably a ‘red flag’ for how they conduct their business. Quality flying schools don’t hide their costs or information and they’ll take the time to discuss both with you.

So there are some tips to set out on your great adventure of flight. It may seem daunting, but it will be well worth it. As I said earlier, these questions are a guide, not a complete answer to all circumstances but they should set you on the right path. Next in this series I’ll relate some of the common traps and pitfalls of flight training, so check back here for the next set of tips.

Safe flying!

Owen

At some point in my childhood, between converting Mum’s clothes-horse to a P-51 and sitting atop our garage with binoculars, I asked my father a fairly simple question, “What was a Tiger Moth like?”

Starry-eyed, I awaited the reply that would define the sheer essence of aviation and the pioneer spirit. “The Tiger?” he started, “It was cold, draughty, noisy and you’d end up with windburn, sunburn and goggle marks to prove it” He tapped his pipe empty on the verandah. Paused. Then continued, “…but it was blessed good trainer for its day. It taught you to use your feet. It taught you a lot of things.” That answer was about as extensive as Dad would ever venture when it came to reminiscences, however, if it was a technical question you’d be best advised to take a seat with a pen at the ready. Nevertheless, I think this is when the first seeds of owning an antique aeroplane were probably sown.

I was surrounded by aviation growing up. Dad had first started flying privately at Wagga Wagga NSW in 1948, whilst an apprentice mechanic in the RAAF. His early flying with Eric Condon lasted about six months before he was mustered for aircrew and posted to Point Cook. His subsequent career saw active service in Korea with 77 Squadron, the early days of the ‘Connie’ traversing the globe, primitive attempts at cloud-seeding, umpteen hours of instructing, testing and checking before winding up his career with the NSW Air Ambulance in 1986. Even after this he used to “do a bit” with Rebel Air and Schofields. As a youngster, I took every opportunity to tag along to the airport and not infrequently buckle up beside Dad. I vividly remember old Syd Marshall and his collection of aircraft at Bankstown and sitting in the Mustangs that Dad had flown at a previous time. Even today, I treasure an old Hurricane model Syd gave me. The older aircraft had always been of more interest to me. Their shape. Their character. Their history.

In 1994 I was fortunate to be given a relatively rewarding and seemingly secure job with Ansett, (enough said). I had no sooner “checked to line” than I noticed a Tiger Moth project for sale. I made the initial enquiries, but questions hovered over the completeness of the aircraft and the logistics of an interstate restoration daunted me. I let this opportunity slide; nevertheless, it was effectively the turning point for my childhood dream to start taking form. I started reading everything I could get my hands on and chasing up information from any source available, particularly the living, breathing kind. I found loitering around fly-ins to be particularly beneficial and the friendliness and generosity (i.e. free rides) of those involved with antique aviation bolstered my decision to go ahead if I could fund the project adequately. My wife agreed.

In 1996 my wife was fortunate to be given a relatively rewarding and secure job in aviation, (fingers-crossed).

Together we ventured to a place we had heard about and flown over numerous times in our days before turbines; Luskintyre. Nestled in the Hunter Valley, just west of Maitland, lies a facility busily putting long-forgotten deHavillands back in the air. My first memory of Ray Windred’s hangar was its’ similarity to Santa’s workshop. There were numerous tradesmen at different stations, each thoroughly engrossed in a task that seemed to call for patience as the primary tool. Access was gained by weaving between airframes, some standing proudly on their own undercart, others braced in jigs ready for covering. My wife and I did the “cook’s tour” of the restorations and the surrounding airfield. We subsequently retired to one of the vineyards for lunch, where we agreed no decisions would be made on grounds of diminished responsibility.

Time passed as we attended to other minor matters such as buying and selling a home, but as 1997 drew to a close we advised Ray Windred that we would purchase one of his old airframes and have him restore it to its previous glory. This was to be Ray’s 18th rebuild of the type. One of the factors that made purchasing an antique aircraft more attractive was the history that is attached to each of the aircraft of yesteryear. Accordingly, we set about finding the history of our airframe, construction No. 82358. In the process, we made contact with pilots that had flown in the aircraft in its war service and a number of these gentlemen kindly forwarded copies of their log books. Together with old RAAF documents and photos of the restoration taking place, my wife and I compiled a journal relating to our project. This exercise is one which I would highly recommend as it keeps the spirits up through those delays, trials and tribulations that are associated with the rebuild of an old aeroplane and on completion it serves to tell a fascinating tale. 

The aircraft had an interesting history. To the best of my knowledge, it was built at Hatfield, U.K, as part of the original order 0I758 that saw the British Air Ministry deliver 100 Tiger Moths to the RAAF. Arriving at RAAF Richmond in February 1940, it subsequently served with a variety EFTS units throughout the war, maintaining its British markings of N9257 throughout. “De-mobbed” at Cunderdin, W.A. in 1947, it began its’ civilian life under the markings VH-AKN, passing from private hands to an “air-ag” operation in April 1955. As was the way, the front cockpit was gutted and replaced with a hopper for spraying. This commercial chapter of 82358 was to be short-lived, crashing at Midland Junction, W.A. on June 13th 1955.

Almost 46 years to the day, on June 12th 2001, the Tiger again took to the air at Luskintyre. Restored in a civil scheme, with a new call-sign, I finally got my hands on my childhood dream shortly thereafter. The euphoria of the flight that followed very closely rivalled my first solo twenty years before………….it was great. The only regret?  That the old man wasn’t there to see it.

I did a number of hours at Luskintyre to consolidate my own familiarity with the type and monitor the engine and airframe for any gremlins that may surface. The aircraft performed without fault and after a “5 hour check-up” I prepared to ferry the aircraft to its’ new home. As I was delayed by early morning Hunter fog, my wife set out ahead in our car with the plan being to rendezvous outside the hangar at Mittagong. Late morning, I became airborne and armed with a P8 compass set course to the south. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and I took every opportunity to sightsee as I visited lesson after lesson of navigating in an open cockpit. Midway I discovered that sitting on one’s charts was far more satisfactory than the clipboard I had earlier employed and that recovering one’s pencil from within the many layers of clothing was easier said than done. All this and no autopilot! I laughed at myself and took absolute pleasure in stumbling through the grassroots of aviation. As I trekked south into a very light headwind I calculated that the aircraft was making good time…….for a Tiger. Even so, freeway traffic seemed to be making a very comparable pace until the benefit of straight-line travel opened up a lead. My wife, having stopped to pick up to pick up my Mum, a former WAAAF radar operator, saw me pass overhead somewhere near Pheasants Nest, consequently on my arrival at Mittagong the welcoming party was yet to arrive. As you would expect, I took the opportunity to waste time over the beautiful Southern Highlands and the hamlet of Bowral, home of Sir Donald Bradman. It is a great privilege to be able to dawdle around the sky with no particular place to go and no specific time to be there.

The ground party finally caught up and I was all out of excuses to remain aloft. Touching down on 24, I rolled out to the hangar that is now to be home to this Tiger. An old Royal Aero Club mate and his wife were there so we took to the air for a quick hop, as you’re prone to do. Back on the ground, I was all out of excuses, so we pushed the aircraft in for the night. Armed with champagne we toasted the Tiger and even allowed a little to trickle down the prop. All in all, the flight had been cold, noisy and draughty and I did indeed bear windburn and goggle marks, but there was no doubt, this Tiger Moth was a blessed good aeroplane.

....The Montagnard, or “Mountain People”, were another ally. Brown remembers them as being a good people; short, tough and “very anti communist”. They possessed small crossbows that were incredibly tightly strung and would fire a 12 inch bamboo arrow. In his room one evening Brown attempted to relieve the boredom by shooting the arrow into the thick solid wood door of his villa apartment. “It went straight through the bloody door! It was incredibly powerful.” Left jutting from the other side, the arrowhead fortunately caused no damage to life or limb. Though not fired again, the crossbow did make the long journey home to Australia.

The RTFV did not have the airspace to itself. An absence of radar and prevalence of cloud meant that aircraft were not always aware of each others presence. “I saw a Canberra dive down in front of us,” he starts, “and then another and another.” Brown describes the looping motion of the bombers using his hands in the best fighter-pilot fashion. “I had flown through the middle of a Canberra bombing raid!” At times, being on the ground wasn’t any safer. “At one of the bigger bases, I think it was NhaTrang,” Brown strains the memory banks, “I was waiting to take off when a South Vietnamese A1 Skyraider landed on its belly tank right in front of me. The whole aeroplane went up in flames.” Miraculously, the pilot, the squadron CO, escaped without a scratch. Faced with an obvious delay and readying to offer assistance, the Aussie crew shutdown their Caribou. As fire tenders whizzed by, the Tower called the ‘Wallaby’ to ‘back out’. Brown hurried to comply, “I had no sooner started it, when the starboard engine went Voomf! There were flames for about 3-4 seconds and then it went out.” The culprit was found to be a cracked component in the fuel system that subsequently sprayed fuel over the hot engine. There was a happy ending though, “Unbelievably, the deHavilland Canada representative to Vietnam was on the base. He stripped and rebuilt the back of the engine overnight and totally rewired it. The aircraft flew out the next day.”

At Vung Tau the Australian Caribous were supported by RAAF ground crews, about whom Brown cannot speak too highly. Unlike the American system of “Crew Chiefs” assigned to a single aircraft and expected to be a ’jack of all trades’, the RTFV was supported by a team of skilled RAAF tradesmen. “An aircraft would come in unserviceable and 10 people would hit it. Bang. The next morning it was on the flightline, ready to go. It was a 24 hour a day job and they worked like drovers’ dogs.” On arriving in Vietnam in 1965, Brown’s tour of duty was originally six months, though this was extended to eight months whilst he was there. In that entire time he can only recall 3 or 4 occasions when a full complement of aircraft was not available.

When describing the suitability of the Caribou to its role, he puts it simply, “100%. It was a lovely aeroplane and very strong.” Warmly describing it as a “truck with wings”, he states that he never had cause to shut down an engine in flight and rarely was an engine change required for anything other than reaching its scheduled ‘life’. Coupled with its amazing short field performance, its sturdy reliability has seen the Caribou serve in numerous theatres of operation since Vietnam. For Brown, his ‘tour’ ended in January of 1966 and he subsequently entered the civil ranks of QANTAS. Now in retirement, he was present at a recent air show when the air, dust and crowd were stirred up by the distinctive growl of the deHavilland Caribou. For those in attendance it was a display of impressive low level manoeuvrability and short field performance. For Barrie Brown it probably evoked memories of the mountains of Vietnam, tight strips, old friends and the occasional flying pig.

I recently took a young lad for a flight over our local district; just a dawdle for half an hour or so. He keenly looked down upon the earth with that bright-eyed enthusiasm that all youngsters with dreams of flight in their hearts tend to do. For me, it’s over forty years since my father shared that experience with me for the first time, although I still vividly remember the ground falling away from the Cessna’s wheel outside my window. It was liberating and to quote John Gillespie Magee’s immortal poem ‘High Flight’, I truly felt that we had “slipped the surly bonds of Earth”. The fuse had been lit and the fire was to rage inside me until my turn came to take my own aircraft aloft.

Along the way the journey would prove to be both a struggle and an adventure. There would be weeks where the wage only just covered the rent but there would be nights where the sounds of the New Guinea jungle would play an amazing tune as I hung in my hammock. There would be life in a caravan in the midst of 40 degree heat and nights where the ice was getting so thick on the wings that I was sure there was no way out. I would bury good friends who had fallen in harm’s way and bury relationships that couldn’t overcome the distance and absence. But at the end of the day, I was flying.

Aviation was much more than a career choice for me; it was more akin to facilitating a passion or feeding an addiction. I had never possessed an alternative ‘life plan’ and always figured that I’d never need one. Yet now as I contemplate aviation on another 3am drive to the airport, I question whether it is everything thing to me that it once was. Had the dream become little more than a means to an end? For so much has changed in the industry that it is almost unrecognisable when compared to that first flight in the tiny, gleaming Cessna of the 1960s.

The face of the pilot has been through many transformations over the last century. From fledgling pioneers to heroic knights of the air, the aviators were seen as keen, strong and fearless. And in those days they definitely needed to be, although a little dose of ‘crazy’ was also a useful ingredient in the mix. When the world found the post-war peace of the 1950s and the airliners began to span the globe, it was not so much heroism as glamour that now painted the picture of the pilot. Exotic foreign lands and five-star hotels were the office, while the flight deck laid at his feet views of grand diversity. And they were ‘his’ feet as the airlines were still a man’s domain. Obviously this imbalance needed to change and finally it did when it was realised that women could actually operate airliners just as efficiently as their male counterparts. But while this door opening was a change for the better, it was far from the only change.

Jet travel saw the slashing of flight times and crossing the globe slowly moved further away from its former perception of luxury travel that was more akin to a cruise liner. World travel became big business where deals across borders could be sealed with a handshake in a matter of hours, rather than days. Passengers no longer had to layover in exotic ports, but could catch connecting flights and travel through the night to be home days earlier. And while these changes offered up a variety of worthwhile options for the customer, the role of the airline pilot was beginning to change.

And change it did. No longer did the role resemble the ship’s captain surveying the world from the bridge, instead the pilot became more closely related to the hard-working truck driver. Additionally, the security needs of a fragile world meant that air-crews were faceless creatures secured away in a bullet-proof flight deck. Like a rare species of nocturnal mammal, a glimpse of them could be caught if you happened to be in just the right place at the right time. The children’s visits to the flight deck were now a thing of the past and announcements about the world passing outside the windows were replaced by in-seat entertainment and iPods.

As fuel prices rose and fiscal reality rammed home, the five-star stop-overs disappeared. Low-cost carriers emerged to place further pressure on the bottom line of an already capital intensive industry. In some quarters, pilots began to pay for their own training to effectively buy a ‘jet job’ and their wages dropped as well. Fiscal reality had arrived for aviation and its survival depended on squeezing every inch of efficiency out of the operation in what was now a highly competitive industry. Accordingly, multiple days of sight-seeing in ports became measured in hours before it was time to turn around and cross the Pacific Ocean or some great continent once more. Travel became more routine and frequent and over a far greater distance and time. Sleep became the really valuable commodity to the pilot and crews flying to Europe could routinely see their ‘body clock’ passing them in the opposite direction somewhere over Afghanistan. Days off at home would be spent re-adapting to the time-zone just before it was time to leave again. Similarly, domestic flying became a series of multi-sector days, with minimum turn-arounds at the hotel before the transport would be shuttling the crew back to the airport for another day in the saddle. Just as glamour had replaced heroism, routine and efficiency had become the pilot’s new benchmark.

It was still dark as I pulled into the airport car park to start another day in the flight levels. I spared a thought for the young lad with the gleam in his eye and a burning desire to fly. I contemplated my own career and wondered if I had foreseen the hours of study, the cost of training and the years of minimum wage and second jobs would I have been so enthusiastic? If I had foreseen the freezing cold pre-dawn pre-flight inspections and the lonely hours waiting for passengers at hot remote airstrips, would I have accepted the challenge? If someone had told me that the airline operations would become just like any other job, would I have listened to them? If I had known then all that I know now, would I have ever chosen to be a pilot?

Yes.

Absolutely. In a heart-beat.