22clipper
1st May 2006, 00:16
I looked in the rear view mirror of the hire car we were using to get around town in, the two young commercial pilots that had accompanied us on the last RotorHeads trip were sound asleep in the back seat. "Just like travelling with the kids", I said to the wife.
The mostly middle aged RotorHeads are a Sydney based bunch of private pilots that try to escape the winter chill by doing a trip each June or July, this latest one was to Australia's rugged north west. For the last few years we've taken a couple of newly licensed commercial chopper jocks with us. They are great company, only a twenty something can fly for eight hours in thirty five degree Celsius heat, then party with the local girls till two in the morning and still put in an appearance at 7am the next day, sporting dark sunglasses ready for another stint in the cockpit. It makes a nice blend, the young & precise mixed with the not-so-young & dangerous.
Don't get me wrong this is not charity. The young blokes pay their share of accommodation, meals & fuel. They get to log some hours, see something other than the training area & learn some real fear (you haven't lived till the thousand hour private pilot wonder you're flying with decides he'll chase emus and never mid the fact he's never done a low level endorsement).
Us old farts have watched the treatment the youngsters get at the flying schools & its good to see the lads off-the-leash. To be honest I've never envied the young buck commercial guys & their struggle to get licensed then find a job. That is not till I started to visit pprune. That bloody blender pilot & his procession of drop dead gorgeous passengers. Blender, I am so jealous. I can honestly say it has taken my fifty six years, but I now know the meaning of envy!
The mostly middle aged RotorHeads are a Sydney based bunch of private pilots that try to escape the winter chill by doing a trip each June or July, this latest one was to Australia's rugged north west. For the last few years we've taken a couple of newly licensed commercial chopper jocks with us. They are great company, only a twenty something can fly for eight hours in thirty five degree Celsius heat, then party with the local girls till two in the morning and still put in an appearance at 7am the next day, sporting dark sunglasses ready for another stint in the cockpit. It makes a nice blend, the young & precise mixed with the not-so-young & dangerous.
Don't get me wrong this is not charity. The young blokes pay their share of accommodation, meals & fuel. They get to log some hours, see something other than the training area & learn some real fear (you haven't lived till the thousand hour private pilot wonder you're flying with decides he'll chase emus and never mid the fact he's never done a low level endorsement).
Us old farts have watched the treatment the youngsters get at the flying schools & its good to see the lads off-the-leash. To be honest I've never envied the young buck commercial guys & their struggle to get licensed then find a job. That is not till I started to visit pprune. That bloody blender pilot & his procession of drop dead gorgeous passengers. Blender, I am so jealous. I can honestly say it has taken my fifty six years, but I now know the meaning of envy!