Born To Fly Read online

  Ken and I sat in the motel lobby and caught up. We couldn’t talk fast enough as we now had stories in common that so very few other people had. We spoke for so long that when Dave returned I was still in the flight suit and surrounded by my bags. I quickly changed before we all set off for lunch.

  What followed was three days of the famous Southern hospitality. As the aircraft service was major it would take a few days so Dave had decided that the maintenance crew would work away and keep a log of what was completed, a log that I could review before I departed once again. This way there was no need for me to hang around the airport and instead could have a break and complete some other jobs that were well and truly due.

  We had lunch with a very experienced 40,000-hour pilot based in Smyrna, the most time of any pilot in the Mitsubishi MU2 aircraft in the world. After an afternoon of jobs I was picked up once again and taken to the Grand Old Opry in Nashville, where Dave and I sat on the stage and watched one of the most famous live radio shows of all time. After the Opry we found ourselves at an Applebee’s restaurant eating some kind of French dip, which may sound exotic but it was far from that, being a glorified roast beef roll that was apparently enhanced by dipping it in a French onion soup. As Dave dropped me off late that night he asked whether I would like to stay at his home with his family instead of yet another motel. It was a wonderfully hospitable gesture to which I agreed instantly and organised a time to meet up the next morning.

  With my bags packed I moved from the motel and into a red brick house with an American flag flying on the front porch, it faced a grass airstrip and backed onto a river. It was everything I imagined a house and life in Tennessee to be.

  Dave and his wife Danese, along with their kids Caleb and Chelsea, took me into their home and temporarily adopted me. There were still jobs to do such as updating the avionics, flight planning, phone calls and emails but fortunately I had time in between. I had dinner with the Augustins that evening, attended a family birthday lunch the next day along and set off for the Sonic Drive-In with Caleb, Chelsea and their friend Daniel. It was a takeaway where you could stay in the car while they brought the food to you and hung it from your open car window, something I had only seen on an episode of The Flintstones.

  When the time came I was very sorry to leave. I had relaxed in Tennessee, as far as that was possible. The aircraft was now in great shape, everything had been looked over and I was ready to move on, though in the back of my mind I knew that things could become very difficult very quickly.

  Dave stood by as I started the Cirrus, contacted air traffic control to ask for my clearance and instructions to taxi to the runway.

  Without providing a clearance the controller confirmed I was an Australian and then out of the blue asked whether I followed Casey Stoner. Casey Stoner used to be the Australian motorbike rider in the MotoGP series. When I confirmed that ‘Yes, I follow Casey Stoner’, the controller became excited and began to chat on a frequency and in an environment where chats are usually non-existent. I found out that Casey Stoner was testing the 2014 MotoGP bike even though he had retired. How about that? The things you learn.

  I waved goodbye to Dave and taxied away from Corporate Flight Management. I lined up on the runway and took off, this time bound for the Outer Banks of North Carolina, the birthplace of flight.

  With another few hundred miles behind me, a long list of different states and a change of scenery, I looked into the distance to see a familiar sight. Water, and a lot of it. The mainland of the United States, of which I’d seen an urban metropolis, desert, green bushland, desert, rivers, cities, desert, small towns, huge mountains and a little more desert had now come to an end. I had found the east coast of the USA, and in particular the Outer Banks of North Carolina. The Outer Banks were just that: waterways parallel to the coast, and scattered slightly inland of the ocean itself, a long thin landmass that followed the coastline.

  I descended towards the Dare County regional airport, a quick fuel stop before landing at another airport a five-minute flight away, the one I really wanted to visit. I touched down, got out and refuelled. It was a busy little airport with aircraft flying skydivers up and banner towing aircraft displaying lengthy messages for all on the Outer Banks to see.

  I had enough time to stretch the legs and have a look at a few aircraft scattered across the ramp before I set off for the day’s final destination, Kill Devil Hills or Kitty Hawk, possibly the most famous airport in the world.

  On 17 December 1903 two brothers from Ohio changed the way the world travelled. They conquered a dream of many who lived before them, many who strove for the same goal, and proved wrong the many who had not believed in their outrageous aspirations. Orville Wright successfully made the first sustained heavier-than-air powered flight. I was off to the First Flight Airfield, an airstrip only metres from the exact place where he made that very famous first flight.

  I took off from Dare County, only just missing what looked like the entire bird population of North Carolina that had come by to say hello. I turned right and stayed nice and low, tracking for the airfield that I could almost see already. I crossed the coast and flew north alongside it, taking in welcome and familiar sight of beaches and bustling tourists taking in the sun. I turned over the airfield, which is done every now and then in the hope of spotting the windsock, but this time I wanted to look down and see the historic First Flight Airfield from above.

  I turned and began my descent, scooting down past the busy coastline and touching down metres from Wilbur and Orville’s hangar. Unfortunately the Cirrus wouldn’t fit in it, nor did it match its décor, so instead it sat outside and was tied down close by.

  After securing the aircraft, I took a short taxi ride to a small motel. I quickly changed and had a drink of water before taking the taxi back to the airport. I spent a couple of hours just looking around, taking photos and trying to imagine what these hills had seen. I stood next to a long wooden rail, the actual rail that was used to stabilise the Wright Flyer on takeoff. I peeked through their workshop window and stood on a hill alongside the monument dedicated to the brothers and their phenomenal work and contributions. I was mesmerised, standing surrounded by aviation history.

  I couldn’t help thinking how aviation had evolved, what 110 years, war and commerce had changed. What would Wilbur and Orville Wright say if they knew a teenager could now fly solo around the world? Would they be surprised?

  After a good night’s sleep I was back in the aircraft which was full of fuel and ready to go. I backtracked the runway, taxiing slowly to the other end where I would turn and take off into the favourable winds. I stopped and started, trying to make as much noise as possible and scare away the lurking deer, because I know fast-moving aeroplanes and deer are not friends. After the last checks were completed I took off from the small airstrip and pointed west for the first time since leaving Australia, heading for Wisconsin.

  Situated just west of Lake Michigan and north of Chicago, Oshkosh in Wisconsin is home to AirVenture, which calls itself the ‘World’s Greatest Aviation Celebration’. The Experimental Aircraft Association or EAA hold their annual fly-in during July and August each year, bringing in half a million people from all corners of the globe. This year one of those people would be me, along with the Spirit of the Sapphire Coast.

  Since the beginning of the planning for Teen World Flight, the one event we aimed to attend was AirVenture, not only as an avenue to promote the flight and its associated goals, but as a way of meeting some of the international sponsors who had supported the flight from the beginning. I would fly to nearby Appleton before arriving at AirVenture, and afterwards head back to Appleton before continuing towards Canada and the North Atlantic Ocean.

  A clear blue-sky day made life easy as I approached Parkersburg in West Virginia and flew an instrument approach through some fluffy white clouds that lay a few thousand feet above the ground. After thirty minutes to refuel I was airborne again, next stop Appleton.

  I
neared a watery mass known as Lake Michigan, one of the five Great Lakes of North America. The nose of the Cirrus pointed directly across the lake from east to west; to the left of the windscreen and in the distance was Chicago while Oshkosh and Appleton lay to the right. As I reached the middle of the lake and aided by a little haze on the horizon, I lost all sight of land in any direction. It really was one of the Great Lakes.

  I passed over land and turned right, tracked right past the Oshkosh airport and continued onto Appleton. I was beyond excited. To think I was now here and overhead in my own aircraft was just fantastic, the dream of pilots all over the world. Every year 12,000 to 15,000 aircraft arrive at AirVenture, making Oshkosh’s Whitman Field allegedly the busiest airport in the world for the week-long event. Fighter jets, airliners, home-built planes, private planes, ultra lights, blimps, helicopters: whatever flies will be at AirVenture. The challenge lies in accommodating the wide range of aircraft, having each pilot safely arrive at the air show in between a busy air display schedule. So how is it done?

  Usually described in an eighty-page booklet, the arrival into AirVenture can be simplified. Normally air traffic control and pilots communicate with each other, but when flying into the air show in Oshkosh the pilots are not allowed to say anything unless it is vital. Instead air traffic controllers will speak to an aircraft and identify it as ‘the red high wing’ or the ‘blue biplane’ before telling them where to fly or where to land. The pilots then confirm the message has been received and understood by ‘rocking the wings’. The art of rocking your wings, a casual bank to the left and then to the right, has become an iconic part of the Oshkosh AirVenture air show and something that I had imagined doing since I first attended the show.

  A very large number of aircraft take off and land on only a few runways, while each afternoon the airspace closes and air show performers zoom through the skies above. Large coloured dots are painted down the centre of the runways, and after being directed to an assigned runway by air traffic controllers situated away from the airport, you fly towards the field until spotted by the controllers from the actual control tower. The now very well-known controllers will clear you to land on a specific coloured dot, whilst you may touch down on the ‘blue dot’ there will be a number of other aircraft landing on the same runway at the same time, all onto a different colour spot. This is not recommended for colour-blind pilots.

  I would land on the Monday morning and the Cirrus was being put on display that day. Charles Woolley and the 60 Minutes crew were at Oshkosh to film part of the story. I too was there to work. I had an immense amount of flight planning to complete for the rest of the journey as well as a number of video conferences with schools back at home, organised by Telstra. At the same time, the aircraft had to be prepared for the journey onwards. I knew that the next month wasn’t going to be the smooth experienced of crossing the USA; I would revert to the kind of flying I had already done in crossing the Pacific.

  On the Monday morning I hopped into the aircraft at Appleton, while my family, 60 Minutes and a number of interested people were waiting at the show to see the arrival. 60 Minutes had flown to the USA to meet with me as I neared the halfway point, what better place to meet than at one of the biggest aviation spectacles in the world? A number of family and friends, many who had a lifelong dream to attend the Oshkosh air show at some point in the lives, had taken the opportunity to travel over and see the Cirrus and me arrive. With a few days to see through a number of obligations and complete further flight planning, it was an opportunity to also spend some time chatting with familiar faces. All I had to do was land at 11am.

  I took off from Appleton with the Cirrus accompanied by the clicking of cameras, nervous because I had read so many stories about landing at Oshkosh. I just wanted it to go well. I tracked low towards a certain waypoint; the idea was to find other aircraft all converging on the same point from different directions and form a single line, which sounded like a good idea. I arrived overhead and quickly spotted several aircraft, picked a black two-seat low-wing ‘RV’ and slotted in behind with only half a mile spacing between aircraft. We all flew a certain height, speed and direction towards a point called FISK. On the ground at FISK were controllers with binoculars; their job was to identify you, ask you to rock your wings and then send you to one of two runways. They did just this, and when I heard, ‘White Cirrus, rock your wings,’ I couldn’t help beaming. I was assigned a runway and continued tracking along railroad tracks and following the ‘RV’ in front. Slowly but surely the Oshkosh Whitman Field appeared.

  One by one the tower cleared each aircraft to land. I watched as the ‘RV’ rocked his wings, turned right and descended for a landing.

  ‘White Cirrus, turn now, cleared to land on the green dot.’

  I turned right very low to the ground and flew along the runway, just staying airborne until the green dot appeared and the wheels of the Cirrus touched down.

  ‘Good job on the green dot, turn left off the runway and onto the grass as soon as possible. Welcome to Oshkosh!’

  Woohoo!

  I was on a high, excited and relieved that it been a success. I looked at my watch as I held up a sign signifying my parking position. Three minutes to eleven. Spot on.

  I taxied into the main plaza of the airshow, the centre and hub where all the action happened. I looked up to see family, friends and my manager Dave Lyall. They were nowhere near as excited to see me as I thought they’d be.

  I hopped out and walked up to them where they were waiting behind a barrier. ‘What are you doing here?’ my brother said.

  ‘Ahhh, it’s eleven o’clock, I am meant to be here at eleven.’

  ‘No, it’s ten o’clock.’

  So some of my friends and some Aussies I didn’t even know, as well as the crew from 60 Minutes, had missed the landing and arrival. I had learned yet another lesson: North Carolina time is not Wisconsin time, and when you set off towards the west you need to change your watch back an hour. Damn.

  CHAPTER

  16

  Oshkosh and beyond

  The Spirit of the Sapphire Coast, complete with its Australian registration, an Aussie flag in the window, a myriad of sponsors’ logos and the 500 Club names on the aircraft itself, sat quietly under the International Visitors Arch, taking pride of place on the air show line. Thousands of people came over to take a look, and every time we passed the Cirrus there were people peering into the windows, wondering where it had come from. It was all very cool.

  There were interviews of all sorts and I was also able to shake hands with some phenomenal air show performers, including Mike Goulian, a pilot I have looked up to for many years. I also met Jack Pelton, the boss of the entire air show and the ex-CEO of the Cessna Aircraft Company, who had spoke with me shortly after my experiences in Wichita, Kansas. Being well into my trip now and chatting with Jack was great, he had only the kindest things to say about the flight and at the same time he was in the middle of running the air show! I also caught up with Bob and Laurie Carlton. Bob was the pilot who had flown the jet-powered sailplane at the Avalon air show back in Australia. To have such people take an interest in the trip was fantastic.

  We spent a day with the 60 Minutes crew, filming all sorts of snippets around the grounds. I was slowly learning just how much work went into a story on the 60 Minutes program. Those guys work damn hard for what we see in a fifteen- or twenty-minute package.

  I caught up with Jack Weigand, the twenty-one-year-old Californian who had broken the record for the youngest pilot to fly solo around the world, landing on the very day I took off. Only four pilots under the age of thirty-seven had flown solo around the world, and it was rare to have the two flights overlap. I spoke with Jack at length. He was a great guy, quiet and reserved yet encouraging in every way, regardless of who would hold the record in the end. Later in the week we caught up with Carol-Ann Garrett, a phenomenal woman who has taken on the world in a single-engine Mooney aircraft several times. Almost ev
erything Jack and Carol-Ann said was reassuring, giving me some peace of mind about the next stage of the trip.

  We spent hours speaking with schoolchildren back in Australia. Partnership with Telstra enabled me to connect via live streaming with a number of schools and colleges, including my own high school back in Bega. We were up well into the night thanks to the differing time zones but the response we received from the kids was fantastic and made it so worthwhile. I felt we were achieving our goal to inspire youth, not just in aviation but in other areas they might choose.

  On a few mornings I stayed away from the airport to work on the flight planning from the USA onwards. Although most of the work had been completed, a few things had been left out. It was better to tackle these in Oshkosh having gained the experience of the flight so far; if I wanted to change the way I was going about anything, this was the time to do so.

  AirVenture Oshkosh was a wonderful experience and I felt I had achieved so much: I had made new friends, promoted youth in aviation, spent time with sponsors, taken a trip to Milwaukee to do a live cross for the Today Show in Australia, had worked with 60 Minutes, had rested and repacked. Above all, I had landed an aircraft in the world’s biggest air show. Life was good.

  The departure from Oshkosh for Appleton, where I would repack and prepare the ferry tanks and HF radio aerial, was a long process. I arrived in the morning ready to fly and with the attitude that I would take things as they came. Many planes were leaving Oshkosh that day and we had no idea how long that would take. I completed a pre-flight check on the plane, untied it from its tiedowns and had a large group of people help pull it to the flight line. I climbed in and started up, then I waited.

  I had read all the instructions on how to depart Oshkosh safely: a heap of paperwork. A number of aircraft had all arrived at the end of the runway to wait their turn to take off, and I moved forward to join them. Two to three aircraft were being lined up on the runway at once in the hope of clearing the congestion on the taxiways. It was amazing, there were jets, warbirds, ultralights and home-builts all within 100 metres of the Cirrus. It was as diverse as you could imagine and for an aviation nut like me it was brilliant.