YBAF. One of the last of a dying breed. Ladies and gentlemen, I feel the GAAP aerodrome will soon be a thing of the past. Despite the attraction of a CTA environment and a control tower; the inability of Airservices to attract enough ATC to staff the damn things, the insensitivity of private owners to the needs of struggling GA operators and the endearing tendency for pilots to come charging in without the foggiest idea of GAAP procedures and regrettably occasionally suffer the ultimate in consequences has spelt doom for these little suburban oases of the ultimate freedom.
I ask you though, why even consider Archerfield at all? The reasons I gave at the outset should surely be enough to discourage anyone who knows what they are doing from considering any one of the eight (?) GAAPs around the country, but YBAF in particular, along with its cousins Jandakot, Moorabbin and Bankstown, appears to be in its death throes. The criminally exorbitant fees charged by Mr Campbell and his AAC cronies are forcing many business to shut up shop for good, or at best relocate to more aviation friendly parts of the South East - which are few and far between for the perpetual battlers of GA.
YBAF is one of those places that drains the soul. That feeling of wonder we no doubt all feel when we look up and see a jet pass overhead, or the joy of nothing but air supporting our weight when we are taken aloft, are feelings all but destroyed when looking out across the vast expanse of mission brown desolation that is this once great aerodrome. A piece of history slowly being whittled away into nothing but the blank, subtly undulating greyness of industrial building projects.
I am not completely disenchanted by YBAF however, nor should anyone be. There are still some things to be seen and done that cannot be experienced anywhere else. A 6am departure into the rising sun, out over the bay for some stomach churning fun, annoying the neighbours in the southern training area with FLWOP practice at all hours, the thundering departure of the Rolph-Smith Trojan and Yaks and low-level circuits in a Duchess just a few hundred feet over Canossa hill are things that can be replicated elsewhere, but never duplicated.
I trained there, so I will always love Archerfield in a strange way. There will always be a little piece of my heart that leaps for joy passing overhead on the Brisbane 01 ILS, or hearing the voices of the long-suffering but always professional controllers on duty, just as there will always be that subtle sinking feeling as I cross the threshold into what feels like the final wheezing gasp of recreational but professional flying in the area.
Archerfield, I love and hate you all at once.