Married to the love of my life:)

Howzit people of the interweb:)

It has been a long stint of in-activity on the blog but a lot of thing's have changed and a lot of things have happened since my last post.

I got my airline exams done,moved to Johannesburg and more importantly married the lady of my dream's:) I really want to be more active on my blog from now on:) I have stories to tell, poem's to let loose on the world and adventures beckoning.

Let's start with a poem for my beautiful wife:) Thank you for being the most wonderful person in my life. I love and cherish you always.

For Jess

Our day has come, I can hardly believe it. A pilot and a ballerina,who could have dreamed this.

But there you were in Afrikaans class, all blue eyes and blonde hair. Nothing more I could do except stop smartly and stare. 30% term pass is all I could handle, my attention drawn by this stunning sweet damsel.

A long stemmed red rose, led to a soft, subtle kiss on my nose. She is beautiful I thought, but brilliant like Mozart and soon enough she became my high school sweetheart. 

My support and my partner, akin to ship and home harbor. She has stood there and gasped when I soloed a glider and always shouted incentive at her favorite mountain bike rider. When my eyes are tied and it all seem's too much, she hold's out her hand, the best kind of crutch.

My sweet Jess has the kindest heart of all, she has picked me up and believed in me no matter how far I may fall. My dearest, my darling something's never change. My love for you is endless, however far I may range.

Thank you for all your tireless love and support, the most precious gift's in life , can never be bought. Yesterday you were my princess, today my Queen. This could only be a day , PLUCKED from a dream.

-25/02/2017.

The Lone Ranger: A new Perspective.

A cool, wet wind blow's through the top's of a buffalo thorn tree. Rough branches sway awkwardly in the south-easterly breeze. The vulture ruffle's his damp feathers and irritably flap's his heavy damp wings. Another long rain-soaked and freezing cold night, survived in South Africa's biggest National Park. Blade-like talon equipped feet, stretching out the heartfelt cold. Anxious but eager, the bird acknowledges a tough day ahead.

Low mamma surfaced, grey stained cloud, blankets the landscape. No thermals to assist a frame designed for soaring, no help from the elements today as the scruffy bird crane's his featherless neck over shifting branches in the hope of spotting any indication of a predator kill. All around him he scan's in vain. No colleagues circling,not a breath of movement in the expansive, Satara flood plain.

Deliriously low on energy but survival instinct intact. He know's he has to try, taking into consideration body limits and only having 30 minutes of flying energy available to him,anything more and his body will not be able to create enough warmth to survive the unforgiving African night. Pondering now he take's into account all the variables,alternate landing areas,dangers,wind and the best direction to head in for a sustenance. A dull hum echoes through the low acacia-veld. Initially he is concerned but the sound fades as the wind whips and rolls the noise, in and out of earshot.

Just like a dinner bell ringing a lion's roar bellows out across the bush-veld, the vulture however fears nothing in his state of insatiable hunger. This is his chance,he must take it. Dark brown and densely feathered wings arch outstretched into the humid and cold frontal air . Using every inch of strength left in weary muscles and a mindset of do or die, a soft breeze on the beak compels the crafty creature off of his homely perch. He drops momentarily but this is familiar to him,speed brings lift to a set of wings designed for thermic flight. He turns in the direction of the pride of lions, scanning for a kill,hoping for a scrap. Survival is all that matters.

Above in the dreary, wet and grey mass of climatic culmination,water molecules cling keenly to dust and dirt particles. This never stops the stalwart Caravan, plying its trade in so harsh an environment. A single pilot comfortable in his lush leather chair gazes down on the scene from above. The soaring vulture disappears in a flash of  monotone cloud as the Pratt and Whitney powered foreigner climbs hard, away from the rugged reality below. The pilot focus's intently on the task at hand, six pack instrument scan followed intently. Nothing else in the moment matters. Scanning for home, hoping for a gap.

The Swiss Miss (PC12 Tribute)

Since the touch of flight, the feel, took my thoughts and dreams forever steal. In my aviator’s heart the softest place, sits a sweet Swiss maiden in aluminum lace. I have longed for her comfort, her presence, her pace.

Four bladed, sleek perfection. A blend of function and form not needing correction. Sitting high atop trailing link, soaking up pilot’s mistakes without the slightest blink. Cockpit equipped with all a commander could wish for and a cabin, self-loading baggage can only adore.

Into the worst of climatic distress, she will push on faithfully whatever the test. Twelve-hundred horse power bridled by valve, long legged distance she continues to halve. Thousands of miles and coast to coast meet, our lady of Pratt and Whitney purrs on, not skipping a beat.

There she sits proud and poignant on the ramp, firmly and forever her mark on aviation stamp. Master goes on and red beacon cycle, ignitors are ticking and prop turns to spiral. Acceleration brisk and rotation so crisp. Onwards and up into silver-lined white wisp.

Tis’ where she belongs, our sweet Swiss miss. On golden edged clouds and never ending blue abyss.

-The Swiss Miss.

Update and a C208B Vid:)

Hey People of the interweb, its been too long:)

An update on life so far, got very lucky with a position with Federal Airlines and I have been flying around Kwazulu Natal for the past year and a bit in South Africa. Oh I also recently got engaged.

Can't complain at the moment.

Here is a video link of the C208B flying I have been doing recently. Excuse my video editing skills,still got lots to learn:)

Have a good one. I will try add some more content to the blogs in weeks to come.

Lekka

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tBbqqFRZZkk

The Old Man and the Sea, RIP Mark Evans.

There atop rough sea sprayed rock, stood a bald happy fisherman, as if standing on berth side dock,wave's of life so persistent, his balance could not knock. Hour's in happy pursuit of toothed quarry,calm heart and sea-side soul, free from worry. Warm,true smile, found on long and distant transkei mile.

Rough,salt stained hand's on weathered fibreglass,focused deep eye's intent on task. Into the depth's of scum-line blue,sail's a number ten grapnel arcing perfectly, far out of view. Bait was prepped with shaking finger's, Screaming reel's, fresh in the memory linger's. An artwork of 200pound carbon coated,to the grey-finned death of Davey Jone's Devoted.

As the creation disappear's into un-forgiving blue,changing medium just like you,flasher twinkling in the darkness of depth,Once the eye's are dry and the close one's have wept. Calm has taken over and I see it it's true,the fishing god's have opened up their heaven's for you. Soul of a Sea-man has moved on a-new, after year's in pain,to where the reel's scream and the North Easter maintain, your beer a-plenty and icey cold,all kind's of fisherman friend's to share your story of old.

XK-166-9 the transkei bus, has come to collect,the 10-O circle hook in the corner of his mouth, firm and set. He is taking you with, but please don't fret,you are off to fishing bliss now and we will never forget. So see you soon but in the meantime Aurelius, don't tune spoon baboon.

23/07/2014.

1000 Flying hours:)

So there it is 1000 flying hours in the logbook.

It has been an interesting journey up to this most enjoyable milestone in a pilots career. Over the last few years i have been broken down but flying has always built me right back up again........it has taken everything from me and then like a loving mother given it all back again with interest......it has almost taken my life but given me everything i could ever ask to experience and like the good lord flying just keep's on giving in ways i could only dream of.

I feel a sense of calm over my flying now,a heightened understanding of control over the aircraft and more importantly a control over the mental part of aviating. I would never claim to be a better pilot but i am most definitely a safer one. The mistakes i have made and the silly things i have done send a shiver down my spine, but none the less i am grateful because no matter which way you look at it....be it statistically or factual,flying is dangerous. Add in horrendous weather,workplace pressure and in-experience and the risk level triples. But here i am alive and smiling......would i ever change any of those experiences or challenges? No....because it made me the man i am today and the pilot i am today.

Pilots these days truely do take what they do for granted. To look out the window and down onto the boring rat-race and mundane day to day living of normal people always brings a little smirk to my face. But it also gives me a brief moment to thank the lord for everything i have and everything i have been given. I cannot complain. Even though so many of my colleagues do. We laugh atop a silver lined cloud, not risk nor fear will ever stop me from laughing out aloud.

So where do i want to go from here and what do i want out of my life? To be honest i have no clue but aslong as i am flying i am happy and thats all that matters.

So keep watching this space its going to be an awesome ride.....cheers for now.

For the love of flight and a six cylinder,fuel injected romance:)

For an aircraft to earn your trust,it takes a long,long time and many situations before you really do feel a connection to that aircraft. Many hours,difficult airfields and shall we say marginal weather conditions before an airmen feels a seemless connection between man and machine......this natural feeling slowly dieing, in the modern age as the romance of true flight and the skills associated with the pilotage of a hand crafted machine through the endless expanse above changes forever more. This  is all traded in for advanced systems,automation and the ever lengthening checklist. All in the name of safety and efficiency but none the less, killing off the essence of being an aviator.

 Today, an aircrafts idiosyncrasies are seen as a threat. Instead of something to be aware of and to learn to handle, aircraft ideas and plans are engineered away from something interesting into something mundane and "pilot friendly". This is sad because it takes away from the art involved with making a flying machine. Heart and soul of an aeroplane are traded in for good handling qualities,safe design and efficiency. Aircraft are all different but it is the older dis-continued models,the aircraft that pilots respect and fear that really become part of you once you have known them long enough. Not the aeroclub C172 or Piper 140 or the modern airliners of today. What impresses me in flying is not how big your career is but pure,un-filtered flight skills,that is what matters most,a 5 year old can land a 747 or A319,its been proven but go back to real flying and that's when you see who the real pilots are.

 These old tricky aircraft become like an old friend......initially awkward like a first dance with a pretty lady,you stand on her toes and she doesn't like it and shows you why but as time goes by you become close......calculated and fluid in intent.....she learns to like you and you figure out all her intangibles......you don't become man and machine but instead you become one form of function, call it airborne poetry. The aircraft becomes part of you and that's when your adventures begin together. You walk up to her on the ramp or strip,calm and confident in your abilities to control her. This is where the truly passionate aviator's heart warms at the sight of his aeroplane(although most of the time not his, he firmly believes so)and he feels an attachment to it. Caliced hands move softly over classic lines and a warm smile flickers on the pilots face. The smell of avgas or Jet fuel drawn strong into the nose with one smiling breath. The sense of familiar touch,sight and smell bringing a difficult to explain joy to a pilots soul. This to me is the love of flying,the love of aircraft and the greatest career available on the planet we call home.

 

I have flown a couple aircraft types and although I am fairly new to the industry and still young. In 2013 I had the opportunity to fly an aircraft that I had a little romance with. Memories of flying it warm my heart and it is the first aircraft I really truly do miss to fly. Dis-liked by many but loved by some. Pretty and gracious in function,not form. But an old aircraft that I bonded with, Many thousands of miles flown and majority of Mozambique covered from dingy delta swamps to the green and blue eden of offshore islands. She is worthy of a place on this blog and many believe one of the finest aircraft to ever come out of piper's factory. Awkward to fly and with some strange flight characterisitcs like running out of aileron authority with a forward COG on landing and off axis controls in the cockpit to tip tanks with weight limits for landing. She is an odd-ball, a mix of a couple different piper designs thrown into one.....to achieve incredible weight carrying capability,decent turn of speed,passenger comfort and above all one of the finest handling aircraft still gracing the skys today. She is an absolute honey and I will long to fly her always......welcome to the lovely Piper Cherokee 6.