By Russell Young
Who can remember their first solo?
Or, put another way, who could forget their first solo?
We can all recall, can’t we, that moment in our first solo when we noticed that the plane climbed so much more willingly once the instructor had vacated the passenger seat, and we wondered how long it would be before we would be allowed to take our first passenger.
I am lucky that my wife Julia often accompanies me on AOPA trips, where a second pair of eyes is very helpful in busy airspace, and a second opinion on weather decisions usually errs on the side of caution. Passengers often query what is meant when aircraft are requested by the controller to squawk, and Julia has been known to provide our own squawk. I confess to occasionally having disabled the intercom when battling turbulence, as not many passengers enjoy it. That is probably the reason why rather few wives come along as passengers.
So it was at the Darfield fly-in October. Julia arrived by car while I flew our Cherokee 180 from Omaka to the Kimberly Road strip in perfect weather.
While waiting for more planes to arrive, a pair of red-band gumboots approached with somebody in them. It was Charlie Draper. Charlie is one of those people who, once you’ve met, you stay met. Out came a 1967 Chev Impala with bench seats that allowed six beefy pilots to sit side by side with elbow room.
Julia and I elected to stay at the hotel and had no complaints.
At the Friday evening BBQ we were invited to nominate our preferred group for the following day’s strip flying. I chose ‘easy & fun’, while the tail-dragger guys signed up with big grins for the more difficult strips.
After the first strip landing at the Intake on the north bank of the Rakaia River, the Canterbury nor’wester was starting to let everyone know who was in control of these parts. After being biffed around a bit I pulled out and dropped in to West Melton, unaware that, after the second strip, Nell’s, most of the others had also pulled out and landed at Ashburton. Just for members’ information, should you land at West Melton, you may find yourself confronted with several pages of VFG printout and be reminded that, if you have not done so, you should telephone first. A different kind of camaraderie.
As always, one of the more enjoyable aspects of these outings is the socialising. The Friday evening BBQ was at Aylesbury, with several tethered aircraft nosed in. If anybody knows the story of the Mobil Mustang which flew around New Zealand in the 1970s, the story goes that for quite some time the owner flew in and out of a large paddock at Aylesbury. The owner had to buy large quantities of fuel to run the Merlin occasionally, rather than inhibiting it. And I love the story of the owner, Ron Fechney, who had only ever flown Austers, asking the RNZAFtrained Mustang pilot if he ‘could have a go’. Without any dual he flew the Mustang in and out of a Canterbury paddock. I never got around to asking the locals the whereabouts of this paddock, but I believe Brian Fechney still flies a C185 out of the strip.
The Saturday night function was in the Kirwee Recreation Centre. After a few wines, Julia declared that AOPA Executive Committee member Ian Sinclair bore quite some semblance to Eric Clapton, the likeness increasing with each glass of wine. However, when he pulled up in a ute with Charlie Draper next morning, he was just like any other bloke.
This article first appeared in the Summer 2022 edition of Approach Magazine, the dedicated magazine of AOPA NZ, which is published quarterly.