Shall we dance (Flying)

Shall We Dance

The A side

Recently I have had the opportunity to travel in the jump seat in 737’s and ATR72’s. For the purposes of research you understand. I teach at the engineering school in Christchurch and I am afraid talking about IRS systems or VOR systems without some personal experience just doesn’t hold water with the students. If you can give a real life example or situation it is a) easier to be passionate about and b) it is more likely the student will be able to hang that system on a practical example that will aid recall.

 

So what did I learn from my observers seat. Practical things like current policy on the use of the APU. Procedures in an emergency, shut down procedures, traps for young players like disarming the emergency lighting. Anti-icing equipment, different TCAS displays. Talking to pilots about operational quirks.

Updating technical information like the phasing out of marker beacons and ADFs. The trailing of GPS systems for bad weather approaches. The comparison of auto pilot systems, seeing a pilot practice a hands on composite ILS approach (i.e. only one screen). Configuration differences i.e. spoilers, yaw damping, reverse thrust, prop brake starts, wild frequency systems verses spilt bus, fuel systems. How much is automated and what is not. etc etc.

I look forward to the left of field questions which I am more confident about being able to answer with a bit more experience under my belt.

That was what I learnt technically but I can’t help looking at underlying themes.

 

The B side

If coming into Auckland is like a Waltz and Wellington is the Quick step then Queenstown has got to be the Tango.

Watching a good dance partnership is poetry in motion. Watching a Captain and Co pilot work seamlessly together is equally easy on the eye and mind.

I say easy on mind because I observed consideration of the customers and equipment by always being smooth in their operation by thinking ahead and avoiding undue and unnecessary altitude changes or directional changes. The Captains although leading by example and obviously in command had the knack of letting information flow backwards and forwards. Passing on experience and acknowledging the co pilots strengths. There is a lesson here for all teachers.

For a dance to be a success you need a) a good partner who knows or can anticipate your moves b) suitable music with a well practiced orchestra c) an ear for that music d) a stable platform e) a passion for the art.

It helps to have set moves or steps but the sign of a good relationship is when the dance steps outside the norm and the partner falls in as if nothing was more natural.

Suitable music or rhythm not too fast and not too slow with a recognisable pattern. The orchestra (read the support staff) are a vital ingredient. Without them the whole experience would not flow as it does. In fact it would be a hollow and colourless. It would detract from the romance of flying.

An engineers ear to listen for changes in the beat and question what does not fit. Engineers to tune that instrument back into harmony.

A suitable platform. The pilots I flew with were comfortable and complimentary about their chosen aircraft and type of flying. The ATR pilots with the more scenic and the 737 pilots with their sports-car speed. The routes these aircraft fly are well suited to their characteristics. Who else but a French gal would you take for a tango in Queenstown, an American lass for a stylish quickstep and the sedate Queen of them all the 747 for a sophisticated waltz in the city of sails.

 
Note: A quickstep has a natty sidestep that I like to think of as a crosswind component which Wellington is so well known for. The Tango has a few dips and swirls which suit the awe inspiring approach around Queenstowns terrain and Auckland is just a long easy glide with an elevated opinion of itself. 

Published Sport Flying Summer 2008

Once in a Blue Moon (Flying)

Once in a Blue Moon

 

I’ve always said going to the Omaka bar on a Sunday night is a profitable experience. You get to hear great stories, deals are done and opportunities arise. Such an occasion occurred a Sunday some years ago. Pat Donavan was passing out invitations to lunch… in Hokitika tomorrow in his Electra. I was dying to say count me in but… tomorrow was a Monday and I’d run out of leave. Then a friend, reminded me of the famous Latin saying “Carpe diem”. I thought about it for a second. My students were in Ohakea doing a parade, I was ready to roll with my next lessons and I was sure the flight sergeant, knowing how plane-o-manic I am and not wanting to see a grown woman cry, would see it my way.    

I arrived in time to help pre-flight just before 1000 hours. Moving 3.5 tonne of aircraft with a 15-metre wingspan is no five-minute exercise. Oh boy, oh boy I was really going to get to fly in her. I was like a kid about to go to the circus for the first time. Pat thought I was bouncing on the balls of my feet to keep warm. About then the rest of the crowd turned up Mr Patchett, Mr Wilkey and Mr Richards. Pat’s lovely ground crew assistant attired in worked jeans and a retro Vincent jersey, was on hand to help refuel.

I’ve found it’s always a good idea to give the kid with too much energy something useful to do. Pat tasked me with door opener/closer, ladder fitter and bungee keeper. He then instructed me to go sit up the front RIGHT. Weight forward I figured. Once seated Pat ran me through the safety procedures and I listened like I’ve never listened to any airline pre-flight brief before because if things went horribly wrong I was in the hot seat. I am sure I would have been quickly relieved of duties by misters Patchett and Wilkey. I was trying not to look back in case the urge to put my thumb on my nose and wriggle my fingers at them took over.

 

Taxiing out Pat called Hayley at Woodbourne tower. Pats quick-fire airline radio calls got no response. Hayley was dealing with a birds vs Herc, coupled with an enthusiastic fire crew. After several tries we got a firm but polite standby.  After five impatient minutes we were off down 30. I had a sudden memory of a story about Amelia Earhart ground looping one of these things. I had no time to dwell on such thoughts, the tail was up the motors were humming and we were rocketing down the runway. Lift off and I had that Cheshire grin I reserve for when I am having extreme fun.120kts and climbing! 3.5 tonnes meant nothing to this girl. In no time at all we were heading up the Wairau valley with not a cloud to be seen or a burble to be felt. As we passed Johnston Peak I spared a thought for the Electra that ended its days abruptly 60 years previously. It only kept me quiet a minute. I was having too much fun.

Rainbow ski field skiers got extra for their bucks on Monday as the Lockheed did a sedate fly-by. Then we tracked direct for the coast. At XX litres/per minute it doesn’t pay to take the long way. It was clear right down to Mount Cook. One of those 1 in a 100 coast days. There wasn’t even any fog in the Murchison valley. About 20nM out from Greymouth we started a slow easy decent for Hokitika from 7,000ft. Having established where the field was, the wind direction and the vectors we started into a gentle right hand for 22. I am sure we must have rattled a few windows in Hokitika on the way around as by the time we were lined up for finals we had an audience at the field. Ray couldn’t help himself anymore and I suddenly had an Ag pilot on my lap telling an airline pilot how to land his plane.

We rang for a taxi. Though I don’t know why because he was on his way anyway. Hokitika is like that. Half way to town the taxi driver asked if we had any small change. Maybe he didn’t trust us, part payment? We turned out our pockets and gathered a few gold coins. The taxi driver duly stopped at the high school and gave his daughter and her friend their lunch money. What the poor girl would have done if we hadn’t turn up goodness only knows. Literally pennies from heaven.

Ray wanted Steak, Pat wanted Sushi and Kevin wanted lots. We managed to find a place that catered to everyone’s tastes. Café Paris has wonderful food, friendly service and deserts to fly to Hokitika for. Whilst talking over lunch Chris mentioned he hadn’t been to Hokitika for a blue moon. It was then I realised he was so right we were having one that night.

After finding a present for Louise (Ray’s wife) we hailed the taxi again. It didn’t take long. Such is the service of the locals that he ran us back to the airport via the local tourist sights with a running commentary, supplemented by some of Mr Patchetts stories. Whilst sitting out at the bar hearing the history of wrecked ships and other misfortunes the taxi driver got a call for a fare from the supermarket. Could he run some dear old lady home with her weekly groceries? He confidently told them he’d be 15minutes. What was she going to do ring another taxi company? I just hope her ice cream didn’t melt on our account. The highlight of the tour was the oxidation pond. I am not making it up he especially ran us out there to relay a story about some Japanese cycle tourists who thought it was a swimming pool. For this executive service Chris paid $10 because he didn’t have change for $20. It’s a long way from Auckland.

We happily all piled back in the plane still chortling about characters of the coast. I was happy to do the tourist thing and try out a new camera from the luxury of the rear cabin. Back in the 1930’s they really cared about passenger comfort.

Sitting down the back I had time to reflect on the day, the scenery, the aircraft and my companions. It was an awesome combination. I felt extremely privileged and spoilt. One of those lifetime experiences that feeds the soul.

We had a lovely trip home with a slight tailwind. At the top end of the Wairau valley we encountered a bit of rougher air. Nothing you’d notice in a Lockheed. Woodbourne was just too big and empty to fly by so we paid a visit using our own executive runway, refuelled (man those dials click over fast) and hopped the last leg home to Omaka.

 
Driving home from the aerodrome I turned onto New Renwick road and there she was our lady of the night big, round and full just lifting off the horizon. Neither her nor I were in the least bit blue.

*A blue moon is when you get two full moons in the same calendar month.

Refocusing (Akaroa 2005)

Refocusing

 

Do you remember those 3D pictures that were all the rage about ten years ago? I worked on a science road show at the time and we had a couple of large pictures for exhibition. They drove me crazy. I was convinced it was a conspiracy. I couldn’t for the life of me see anything but a mosaic of colours. Time after time I’d be walking across the hall to see a group of children suddenly collectively gasp, point and titter on about fish then move on to the next exhibit. It was infuriating, it was a have. One day a student feeling sorry for me told me the trick. You’ve got to focus beyond the pictures surface. It helps to focus on light reflected in the picture. My mind still refused to see.

Then the next day at the end of a particularly tiring day I stopped in front of one of the images.  My lazy eyes fell on a reflection from an overhead spotlight. The image just leapt out at me, I gasped and stood mesmerised for a full minute. It was there all the time I just needed to look at it with the right focal length to see it’s full depth.

 

This memory came back last weekend while I was staying in Akaroa it seems a fitting assimilation. The first time I went to Akaroa I was showing around an overseas tourist. We went to the lighthouse looked back at the village and drove out of town again. The next time I was with a group of motorbike friends and we raced over for an afternoon ice cream from Christchurch. The next time I took my mother to see the Herb Garden. I almost saw it then but the light wasn’t quite right. Only bits of it were coming into focus.

Last Friday I was feeling a bit dragged down by the ho hum life stuff so I decided to run away. I rang up the first Motel I found in the yellow pages La Rochelle and booked a night. I threw my stuff in the car. My camera, my togs, my raincoat, some walking shoes and some going out clothes.
 
Upon arrival my host convinced me I should stay two nights. Something about room allocations. It wasn’t a hard decision. Once I’d rattled all the cupboards and eaten the free biscuits I headed into the village, camera in hand. Something about the sea has always unwound me and I strolled along shoreline breathing in the scenery and the fresh sea smell. I walked the wharf and noted some new buildings since last I visited. A bit juty because of their newness. I chose to sit at a café and ordered Oysters just to poke my tongue at protocol. I don’t see why lovers should get the worlds supply of oysters. I had an enjoyable hour people watching.

The tourist writing in his diary, the businessman on his cell phone whilst his dinner got cold, the local girls getting together for Friday drinks, a few lovers and a few x lovers. None of them had oysters. As yet I’d taken no pictures, it was getting dark, I walked back to my accommodation.

The next day I grabbed something at the bakery and set out on a walk to redeem myself of three months of inactivity. I took my camera. At the far end of the track I sat down on edge of a very steep slope and watched the dolphins swimming with the humans. They were too far away to focus my camera on but I was beginning to build a picture. That was the catalyst, that was the spot light that made me start to see.

After a full day of walking I rewarded myself by hobbling down to “The French Restaurant” C’est La Vie. I was seated with a group from such far fling places as Singapore, Aussie and New York. The lady from New York had been working in Sydney for the week and decided to come to Akaroa for the weekend and I thought I was being impetuous! Someone has done a fantastic job of promoting the little village. Certainly Magdalena’s seamless hospitality that evening made one feel at home with friends. Perhaps my New York friend had heard about the fudge. I read on the packet that it had 3 months shelf life. They should be weary of false advertising claims, mine lasted 12 hours and that included 8 hours of sleep. Yes mum I ate Fudge for breakfast but I brushed my teeth afterwards.

Going to both the Akaroa and Okains Bay Museums brought the place into sharper focus.

Having opted for the two nights I finally had time to visit the NE Bays of Le Bons, Okains, and Little Akaloa. Roads I wouldn’t want my mother driving on but worth the winding mileage. I think Little Akaloa brought it all together. The delightful church built in a European style outside, inside is adorned with Maori motifs. Carved and sculptured in wood, limestone and glass. Situated on a small headland overlooking a long deep safe harbour.  

What was it about Akaroa that was so enchanting. It wasn’t just the old buildings, it wasn’t just the harbour, and it wasn’t just the food. It was the whole mosaic. The history, the people it attracted to live there, the spirit, le essence (as the petrol station is named). It is the quirky nature. Its not something you can see at a glance you have to sit awhile and catch the right light to see the reflections of what it was and what it has become.

 
And the image in that 3D picture all those years ago…was of course of Dolphins. They are the extra magic.

Published The Akaroa Mail December 2005

Oceans and Forests (Akaroa 2013)

Oceans and Forests

I have a picture of myself at about six months old in a wash tub at little Waihi beach. It is Christmas. I have another picture of a slightly older me with my brothers in a cow trough which doubled for a spa pool at the same beach. As soon as we became more mobile our holidays went bush. So my childhood memories of family holidays are a mixture of oceans and forests. Nowadays I find that if I return to similar environments I tend to relax and unwind. Like water quenching a thirst I didn’t know I had.

Wood and water would be common holiday memory triggers for a large majority of New Zealand adults brought up in the 60’s and 70’s. Beaches and forests were the cheap and cheerful places of choice for the Christmas break. This is back before the proximity to a mall, connectivity to the internet and lack of cellphone coverage had any bearing on a holiday destination.

Blue penguins are not unlike us in many ways when it comes to their summer vacations. They return to the same bay, same beach, even the same nesting box year after year. Often with the same partner (but not always). The older more established residents own the prime waterfront locations. The younger ones are forced to set up camp further up the hillside. Better views but further to walk.

Blue penguins are social by day but private at night. In the late afternoon they join up in rafts, floating out in the bay. I image they are exchanging fishy tales. Humans do something very similar. Gathering around a selected caravan, beer in hand, exchanging tall tales about the fish that got away. Then just before dark/dinner time they torpedo into shore, hop up onto the rocks and waddle home to the partner smelling decidedly fishy/beery.

Penguins spend the spring/summer at their holiday homes producing and rearing the next generation. Not unlike humans, think about it, when is the peak of birthdays in New Zealand, September. Pohatu, on the eastern side of banks peninsula, is a place fixed in the penguin memory banks. They have found a sheltered haven here for generations. The name Pohatu roughly translates to the use of sun soaked rocks to warm up the kumara pits. The warmth seems to suit the penguins too.      

In a way Akaroa, on the inside of banks peninsula, mirrors the penguin colony at Pohatu. Nesting boxes stack up the hillside. The older more established families on the waterfront. The nouveau residents in the newer boxes behind. Sometimes an older box beside the waterfront becomes vacant and it is quickly snapped up by a keen eyed individual or more likely someone with the right family connections.

For me the charm of Akaroa is the familiarity of wood (Hinewai) and water. I love its quaintness, the late afternoon sun and I most definitely appreciate the fine cuisine.

Penguins come to Pohatu because they always have. The food is good and the locals friendly. The Helps, Shireen and Francis are everything a penguin could hope for in a camp ground caretaker. They keep the camp maintained, funded, build new facilities, care for the delicate souls and chase away the pests. They even cater for the lucky few humans that wish to soak up a bit of the Pohatu sunshine, unwind to the sound of the lapping waves, the babbling brook, whoosing wood pigeons and tuneful bellbirds. During the evening the sounds of nature continues. If you are light sleeper don’t forget your earplugs. Blue penguins like humans can be noisy neighbours.

Perhaps I’ll take my grand-nieces out there for a summer holiday. I am sure I saw an outdoor bath, the bush reserve is only a quick stroll away and then we can head back to Akaroa for some lovely fish and fudge.