Last updated 2007-04-07
I started flying in 1982, and with a few interruptions have flown fairly regularly ever since.
I now hold a South African Airline Transport Pilot Licence, with a Grade I Instructor's Rating. The licence includes instrument and multi-engine privileges. I am also a Designated Flight Examiner, able to issue and renew any aeroplane licence on behalf of the Civil Aviation Authority. I also hold a South African Commercial Pilot Licence and Grade III Instructor's Rating on helicopters, although I relatively seldom have the opportunity to fly this category of aircraft. I'm a Class 2 Test Pilot on both aeroplanes and helicopters. Finally, I hold an FAA Commercial Certificate (ASEL/AMEL/Instrument) in the USA.
During 2001, I completed a business degree (BCom) in which I specialised in aviation management. The course work included a lot of industrial psychology dealing with flightdeck management. If you're an airline type, you'd probably know it as CRM.
Because I've never been a full time pilot, I have only about 3200 flying hours in my log. However, I've flown 83 aeroplane models and nine helicopter types, and am instructor rated on all but five of those types. Some of the more interesting types include the Beech King Air 90 and 200, the Cessna Citation 500, the Hawker HS125, the Eurocopter 120B, the Bell JetRanger and the Hughes 500. Perhaps the most fun to fly is the Robinson R22, although it also has the potential to bite the unwary at a bewildering rate. Should I mention that the least fun to fly was a specific locally-assembled CH701 Skyjeep?
I have had applications on file with several airlines, but most of them seem to feel that 3000 hours a pilot do not make. As I approach middle age, I guess I have to accept that the chances are fading--a 42-year-old's body with a 24-year-old's logbook...
During 2002, I flew more than usual, as a bout of unemployment forced me to do whatever I could to pay the bills--even helicopter flying! The picture shows me in the office, over the Free State plains in an EC120B. The picture was taken from the back seat by my friend Bernie van der Walt. The EC120B is a new-technology machine, and is indicating over 120 knots at an altitude of over 4000 feet (1300 m). Those who know helicopters will agree that these figures are not too shabby!
During my compulsory military service in the Eighties, I was trained as Air Traffic Controller in the South African Air Force. It was interesting to learn how the other half lives! Contrary to popular belief, my ATC job was the least stressful I've ever held. It did indeed sometimes get hectic. However, clearly the system is designed to prevent overloading any specific individual, so the pressure can never become too much to bear. Also, when one goes off duty, it's all over. One can't take work home! In case you're wondering: I was stationed at an Air Force base that was home to squadrons with at least ten aircraft types. At the time, in terms of movements, this base was the busiest in the country. For a single controller to handle 150 movements an hour was not uncommon. So: I like to think that I am qualified to venture an opinion on ATC stress levels!
Given South Africa's tumultous recent past, I have for some time felt that I wanted to make a contribution to maintaining law and order. In 1999, I found an avenue to do that. I rejoined the South African Air Force as a pilot on 111 Reserve Squadron. The Squadron is involved in reconnaissance and transport sorties. I am now the Squadron's training officer, and also occasionally fly transport sorties in jet aircraft. Unfortunately, due to budget constraints, the Air Force is rather inactive at this time, and our chances to contribute are somewhat limited.
The picture shows two of the jets I regularly fly, on a fly-by at the 2007 Air Force Day parade. The leading aircraft is ZS-OIF, a Hawker HS125-F400A, in which I have done some very satisfying flights. The longest have been to Mahe in the Seychelles and to Lagos in Nigeria, both on civilian medical evacuations. The one closest to the camera is ZS-PFG, a Citation 500 Eagle in which I recently presented my first jet conversion training course.
Apart from the Air Force flying, I also occasionally give flight instruction at several local airports. Because I have always worked outside of aviation full-time, much of the training has taken place at night. Over the past years, I've helped several pilots with advanced training, including night and instrument flying, multi-engine conversions and preparation for Commercial and Airline Transport Pilot licence flight tests. Because I've flown a few weird and wonderful types, I also give occasional conversion training.
One of the more memorable training tasks I've undertaken is conversion training on a King Air B90. I had to train two pilots for the new owners, and the insurance insisted that they each do 20 hours of training before ferrying the aircraft to Asia. The 50-odd hours of flying allowed me to consolidate my newly-acquired turbine instruction skills, something that I would have been hard-pressed to do within my own limited budget.
2007 saw another breakthrough when I managed to present my first jet conversion course. I must admit that I had no inkling when I decided not to become a full-time professional pilot that I would ever fly jets, much less that I would ever teach other people to fly them!
Towards the end of 2003, I started a flying school at Kitty Hawk airfield just east of Pretoria. The school is called Superb Flight Training, and is licenced to offer training towards all aeroplane licences and the majority of ratings. The mainstay of the ab initio training fleet is the Tecnam P92S, an Italian-built metal aircraft. We also fly the Jabiru SP. Both these trainers weigh around 500 kg fully loaded, but fly like real aeroplanes and offer superb training at 30% cheaper than traditional competitors. The school also has a simulator for advanced instrument instruction, and access to a range of aircraft including a Cessna 210 and a pair of Cessna Caravans.
I'm well pleased with the quality of training coming out of SFT. Because my time is limited, I have started making a transition. I leave most of the basic training to my instructors, while I concentrate on instructor training and writing books. My first book, What to do in an Aircraft Cockpit, is available in English and Afrikaans and is already in its second printing. It is also being prepared for international publication by a major aviation publishing house.
Some of my fondest memories of flying are from 1988. At the time, I had just completed my compulsory military service, and had a government subsidy to allow me to complete my helicopter training. For about six weeks, I had nothing to do but fly a helicopter around the countryside. I spent some time in the Drakensberg and on the coast near Durban, honing my skills and enjoying nature. Few things can compare with landing on a mountain summit and gazing down into the valley 2 km below for an hour or two, while nibbling at a lunch pack and sipping ice-cold fruit juice.
My timing was impeccable. Within weeks of my return, the Helicopter Association of South Africa organised its first helicopter competition. With airline pilot and helicopter instructor Glen Dell in the left seat and giving me directions, I won both heats hands-down, and was asked to do a display at the Star Airshow in September 1988.
At the airshow, I did a routine with a water bucket suspended on a long rope below the helicopter. The routine included having to manoeuvre the bucket through an obstacle course and then placing it on a table. The sequence was timed, and the amount of water remaining in the bucket was measured to determine one's performance. After I'd completed the sequence, again with Glen Dell watching the bucket and issuing directions, the chief flying instructor of the helicopter school followed in a second helicopter to do the same sequence. Unfortunately for him, he managed to get the bucket into oscillation, spilling all the water and not getting the bucket through the obstacle course in time.
With a huge crowd in attendance, and I had no way of knowing that my parents had decided to come and watch. Only later did I learn that they were standing in the crowd. The announcer did mention the names of the pilots on the PA system, but didn't mention who was flying which helicopter. At the distance, my parents could not recognise my face. Imagine my indignation when I discovered that, after watching the first pilot zooming through the course and the second not quite making the grade, my mother had turned to my father and said: "Don't worry, he's only been flying choppers for a few months. He'll get better"!
I often think back fondly to those days. For a decade, I did virtually no helicopter flying, but when I returned to it in 2002, I found that the basics were still in place. Given how hard it had been for me to learn to fly helicopters initially, it's amazing that my brain has retained the ability almost undiminished. Even mountain flying and limited-power operations still appear to work like in days gone by. The picture shows a Eurocopter 120B coming into the hover over a pad on the edge of a 300 m cliff. We were servicing a mountaintop repeater in the foothills of the Drakensberg, during 2002.
Perhaps the fact that helicopter flying appeals to me as much as it does is a matter of personality, as this famous quote from the days of the Vietnam war suggests:
"The thing is, helicopters are different from planes. An airplane by its nature wants to fly, and if not interfered with too strongly by unusual events or by a deliberately incompetent pilot, it will fly. A helicopter does not want to fly. It is maintained in the air by a variety of forces and controls working in opposition to each other, and if there is any disturbance in this delicate balance the helicopter stops flying; immediately and disastrously. There is no such thing as a gliding helicopter.
"This is why being a helicopter pilot is so different from being an airplane pilot, and why in generality, airplane pilots are open, clear-eyed, buoyant extroverts and helicopter pilots are brooding introspective anticipators of trouble. They know if something bad has not happened it is about to." --Harry Reasoner, 1971.
There is an alternative explanation, though. The LMF Theory was only recently declassified. It provides a convincing psychological model to explain why some fly choppers and some don't.
I flew the State President's Trophy Air Race in 1988, along with navigator Martin Scharf and technical support team member Peter Clark. We flew a Beech Baron B55, and placed in the top fifth of the field on our first attempt. The race was unforgettable, especially the last few minutes. Ours was one of several dozen aircraft, screaming down on the finish line after having crossed the mountain some minutes before. We had several thousand feet to lose, and the finish line was in sight. It felt like a Battle of Britain movie, except that all those aircraft were fortunately flying in the same direction.
Other vivid memories include flying a B737 simulator with a friend who was a South African Airways training captain, and flying a helicopter into a dark valley in the Drakensberg mountain range, at night. The latter flight was memorable only because I'd assumed that it was going to be a two-crew operation, only to learn in flight that the instructor and would-be crew-mate had not flown on instruments in more than a decade. He had not deemed it necessary to share this fact with me. A Hughes 500 is not a very stable instrument flying platform, and flying it into confined valleys on moonless nights is not recommended for single pilots...
Ironically, that flight ended uneventfully, but a flight in the same helicopter a few weeks later did not. I had an engine failure during a descent, and had to make a forced landing in very rough terrain at rather high elevation. I hit a tree during the flare, and came to a standstill inverted. It is clear from the wreck that the relatively minor injuries were a miracle, but I still spent several years recovering from a series of health problems. My friend and passenger Bernie van der Walt also had some trauma of the spine, but at least he didn't have a control column to penetrate his chest, like I did! This mishap didn't change my perception, though: The most dangerous part of flying is still getting to the airport by car, as I get to see on virtually every flight I make!
Early in 2001, I established an anonymous aviation incident reporting system for South Africans. The idea was to allow individuals to report aviation hazards anonymously, without fear of humiliation or prosecution. Unfortunately, I got no cooperation in advertising this service through CAA channels, as they were planning to introduce their own equivalent system eventually. And here I thought we were all trying to work together towards aviation safety!
I'm building a collection of useful reference materials for flight training. It will grow with time, but for the moment there are already a few useful items. Let me know if you have more ideas or material.
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds--and done a hundred things
You have not dreamt of--wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence.
Hovering there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
Where never lark, or even eagle flew;
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
John Gillespie Magee, written in a Spitfire over wartime Britain. He was apparently the first American to die in the Second World War.
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