2014-02.pdf

GLOBAL

FEBRUARY 2014 / Vol. 6 / No. 2

Magazine for the Airline • Charter • Travel • Business • Defence • Air Show • Training & General Aviation Industries

R35

No Escape!

Avia

Solutions

Group to

develop and

manage the

fourth Moscow

Airport

Eurocopter has

been rebranded as

Airbus Helicopters

Bird Strikes

and damage to

jet engines

1Time Acquires

Global Airways

for R21.6m

Airbus Military

reveals more

details of

C295 ireighter

programme

Why

pilots are

unwilling

to move

to China

Task Group

We land

on Lanseria’s

new runway

with Comair

‘Black Cats’

Bombardier 415 Superscooper

Business Jet Market - 2014

Dynali DH2 Helicopter

GLOBAL

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Cesaré de Villiers (SA), Mike Wright (SA), Dr

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2014 FEBRUARY Vol. 6 / No.2 / GA 3

Global View

No Escape!

By Owen Zupp

M y resolution was quite clear.

The rumbling of extending

leading edges and thumping of

the landing gear lowering were

the irst subtle disturbances in

nearly nine hours aloft. Outside

my window a lower level of

occasional cumulus was all that

interrupted the view down to the

rolling waves and the massive

vessels stirring up their wake.

The sandy coastline sweeps

beneath me and the rich green

volcanic peaks and craters are

everywhere to be seen. A runway

here and another there and a range

of old warbirds sitting on a greying

tarmac. It is a military museum I

gather and soon its conines give

way to living, breathing military

aircraft. Row upon row of C-17

Globemasters and KC-35 ‘Tankers’

ill the window while a row of

F-22 ‘Raptors’ are being readied

for the day ahead. Even as they sit

dormant on the ground their form is

both impressive and intimidating.

Our wheels hit the runway

and I hit the Customs Hall. Clear

of the airport and waist deep in

crystal clear water I am inally free

of light. I immerse myself in the

water as ish swim around me and

the cleanest of sand slips between

my toes. A line of airliners launch

above me one after the other at an

incredible rate. There are coloured

tails of airlines that I have never

seen and the forms of jets that

have long ceased frequenting

my homeland. It’s a passing

parade of interesting aircraft

turning left and right and setting

course for exotic destinations.

Lower down helicopters full of

tourists skip along the beach before

torque-turning back to whence

they came. Brightly coloured

with scarlet and orange stripes,

they are distinctly different from

the thumping of the camoulaged

military choppers that thump

past me. There seems to be an

absence of single-engined piston

aeroplanes but an abundance of

turbo-prop Cessna Caravans.

Perhaps those rugged hills

and craters are best seen from

behind a turbine I ponder.

Away from the water I trek in

the heat to the base of one of the

craters and through a tunnel to

reach the deep bowl of vegetation

within. Here the air is still, hot

and moist with the breeze unable

to spill down over the lip. I

traverse the steep incline which

is a mixture of occasional stairs

and a hacked out pathway. Twists

and turns break down the slope in

places while ladder-like ascents

conquer the climb in others.

As I sight the peak ahead a

shadowy grey form, its wings

swept back, passes almost silently

overhead. It massive silhouette

is the unmistakable shape of the

venerable B-52 and it soon is gone

as mystically as it came. I pause

on a landing mid-ascent where

a rusting winch looks out to sea.

At my altitude a C-130 Hercules

cranks about an invisible pole in

a steep turn over a speck in the

ocean. My eyes adjust beyond the

glare of the waves and there sits

a vessel beneath the Hercules’

curious gaze. Then he levels

his wings and sets course away

from me towards the horizon.

At the peak I climb inside a

bunker from World War Two and

survey the coast beneath me. The

colourful helicopters and bright

sails of the boats below seem to be

at odds with the somber purpose

the bunker once performed. Up

here the breeze has returned and

swirls past me as I regroup and

begin the more speedy descent.

Whether I am retracing my path

through the crater to the drum of a

Blackhawk above or lowering my

cutlery momentarily in the evening

to catch a glimpse of the Boeing

eerily entering the cloud above, the

skies always seemed to be illed.

And no matter how sincerely I

might have intended to go ‘cold

turkey’, the truth is that my eyes

will always be cast skyward at

the hint of an aircraft above.

As surely as I checked my

footing with each step as I climbed

the crater, I will check the sky for

signs of life. Be it the graceful

lines of a soaring hawk or the brute

force of a B-52, the act of light

cannot help but captivate me.

As the Boeing raised its nose

to take me home, thin whisps

of vapour danced back over the

wing, growing stronger as we

banked smoothly in the tropical

air. With the wingtip climbing

into the sky, my window illed

with clear blue sky. A blue that

is only interrupted by the outline

of a dark grey dart as a Raptor

rockets into the Stratosphere.

I guess when light is in your

blood, there really is no escape.

Safe Flying.

It was to be a break from

lying and an escape from

writing and I would leave the laptop

computer and my ‘light bag’ at

home to ensure that happened. It was

an aviator’s ‘cold turkey’, just a few

days away to unwind and recharge

after a hectic month of deadlines

destinations. Well that was the plan.

The opportunity had unfolded

to ly with my wife to a distant

island with swaying palms, soft

music and bamboo torches burning

on the beach at sunset. OK, I

had to catch a light to get there,

but I’d just be a passenger, so

that won’t count; no laptops, no

licences. In fact, the trip will give

me a chance to read those books

that I’d been wanting to inish.

I was content that this would be

a break to remember and as we

pushed back from the terminal in

darkness and the Boeing’s engines

turned over I was well at ease.

Soon the runway lights were

lashing past at increasing speed

and then falling away all together.

They were soon replaced by

the landing lights illuminating

the cloud until we emerged

into the clear night above. The

landing lights extinguished,

only the blinking strobes and

twinkling stars interrupted

the blackness of the night.

Somewhere over the Paciic I

peeked out the window and distant

lashes reminded me that the

tropics were alive and well. Their

rising air masses and moisture

were bubbling even without the sun

there to heat them and shards of

lightning provide a stark warning.

The sun rose with pace and the

irst red rays were soon replaced

by the stark brightness of day that

disturbed my fellow travellers.

Owen Zupp has over 16 000 hours of varied experience having first flown as a commercial pilot in 1987. His background includes charter work, flight instruction and ferry flights. Serving as a Chief Pilot,

Chief Flying Instructor and an Approved Test Officer rounded off his time in General Aviation before joining Ansett Australia in 1994 as a First Officer on the 737.

He has a Masters Degree in Aviation Management. His writings on aviation have been published both in Australia and abroad. Owen won the Australian National Aviation Press Club’s Aviation Technical

Story of the Year award in 2006. In 2007 his first book, Down to Earth, was published and traces the combat experiences of a WWII RAF fighter pilot.

AVIONICS

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Hangar 201, Gate 6, Lanseria International Airport – clinton@aeronautical.co.za

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A ERONAUTICAL

I NSTRUMENTATION

• Instrumentation • Gyroscopics • Autopilots • Engine Management • RVSM • Panel Refurbishments

• Panel Retroits • Laser Engraving • Avionics • Component Overhauls

4 GA / Vol. 6 / No.2 / FEBRUARY 2014

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