The Rotary Nostalgia Thread
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Peter walker
Now that is going back a bit we must have met as I was at Bourn the day the first 105 arrived .all the names on the thread I remember from Roy to peter Nutting .Wayne may now be back in USA but worked in London for some years
in finance met him with Phil in Aberdeen early 90s
regards
Peter Walker
in finance met him with Phil in Aberdeen early 90s
regards
Peter Walker
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Wayne working finance fits with what I heard (insurance). I seem to remember he was from South Dakota. He and I went through Avigation in Ealing at the same time in '72 - along with another american called Skip who went to work somewhere else.
Indeed we must have met around the first of the Bolkow days, but my visits to Bourn were infrequent and brief. We were viewed as wasting time if we weren't out there working.
Curly used to tell me not to let Dave Bond see me loitering in the hangar waiting for whatever or there'd be an explosion. 
I've recently tracked down my ex-office manageress and she has a load of photos of Gleneagle operations in the 1980's, so I'll be getting them scanned and be able post a few here sometime.
Indeed we must have met around the first of the Bolkow days, but my visits to Bourn were infrequent and brief. We were viewed as wasting time if we weren't out there working.
Curly used to tell me not to let Dave Bond see me loitering in the hangar waiting for whatever or there'd be an explosion. I've recently tracked down my ex-office manageress and she has a load of photos of Gleneagle operations in the 1980's, so I'll be getting them scanned and be able post a few here sometime.
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I had great fun flying the 105 out of Longside for North Scottish in1977. Also did a little casual flying for Gleneagle Helicopters, a good small company with nice staff.
The Scapa maps took me back a bit. In the early seventies we took a couple of Pumas up to Ness Battery. This was a barracks used by an Artillery unit guarding the westerly approach to Scapa Flow. It's new use was as an exercise centre for the Army but the dining room still had all the murals painted on the walls by the wartime occupants. Ther main theme seemed to be small cottages with rose archs over the front door; something not to be found in the Orkneys.
The guns had gone but the magazines, empty, were much as they had been during the war. Double walls of concrete and even the blast shutters, designed to stop a hit on the gun position effecting the ammunition, were still working.
There is a photograph of a Puma, not me, perched on the top of the Old Man of Hoy. I had a look at it but I didn't let there be too much weight on the wheels in case this million year old structure plummetted into the sea. I would not have been very popular.
On the Island of Hoy there was several abandoned buildings somewhere near the centre. They were connected with the main fleet fuel store and it was in the process of being emptied. The fuel oil was kept in an underground complex and I had a wander down the tunnel for a couple of hundred yards then I was chased out for not having a safety helmet.
It is common for Her Majesty's aerial conveyances to visit parts of the UK where exceptional standards of food can be purchased. Machranhanish for kippers, Rathlan Island for lobsters, Channel Islands for duty free but we found one in Hoy for lamb.
The Orkneys produce more lamb than they can eat so once a year a ferry full of livestock trucks all baa baaing away departs for Aberdeen. We were fortunate in meeting a farmer who had some that had missed the boat, as it were, and were available at a very advantageous rate. A few phone calls back to Odiham and we had a group of buyers. Several lambs fell over and a butcher packed them into the requisite number of freezer packs and we punched oft daun sauf.
It was a long way back to Odiham and we had a planned night stop at Leuchers. A bottle of Orkney malt persuaded the NCO i/c airmans mess to put them in their refrigeraters overnight and they were in excellent condition and ready for the freezer at Odiham.
Any sort of mess function, officers or sergeants, would require copious amounts of Deutsche Sekt. We had a CAAP (Components Accelerated Ageing Programme) aircraft that you could take anywhere as long as you burnt off the hours. Gutersloh NAAFI was the obvious choice and certain arrangements may have taken place with them in the portcullis hats.
You cannot do it now. I was on a visit to my old squadron recently and every minute of flying has to be accounted for.
The guns had gone but the magazines, empty, were much as they had been during the war. Double walls of concrete and even the blast shutters, designed to stop a hit on the gun position effecting the ammunition, were still working.
There is a photograph of a Puma, not me, perched on the top of the Old Man of Hoy. I had a look at it but I didn't let there be too much weight on the wheels in case this million year old structure plummetted into the sea. I would not have been very popular.
On the Island of Hoy there was several abandoned buildings somewhere near the centre. They were connected with the main fleet fuel store and it was in the process of being emptied. The fuel oil was kept in an underground complex and I had a wander down the tunnel for a couple of hundred yards then I was chased out for not having a safety helmet.
It is common for Her Majesty's aerial conveyances to visit parts of the UK where exceptional standards of food can be purchased. Machranhanish for kippers, Rathlan Island for lobsters, Channel Islands for duty free but we found one in Hoy for lamb.
The Orkneys produce more lamb than they can eat so once a year a ferry full of livestock trucks all baa baaing away departs for Aberdeen. We were fortunate in meeting a farmer who had some that had missed the boat, as it were, and were available at a very advantageous rate. A few phone calls back to Odiham and we had a group of buyers. Several lambs fell over and a butcher packed them into the requisite number of freezer packs and we punched oft daun sauf.
It was a long way back to Odiham and we had a planned night stop at Leuchers. A bottle of Orkney malt persuaded the NCO i/c airmans mess to put them in their refrigeraters overnight and they were in excellent condition and ready for the freezer at Odiham.
Any sort of mess function, officers or sergeants, would require copious amounts of Deutsche Sekt. We had a CAAP (Components Accelerated Ageing Programme) aircraft that you could take anywhere as long as you burnt off the hours. Gutersloh NAAFI was the obvious choice and certain arrangements may have taken place with them in the portcullis hats.
You cannot do it now. I was on a visit to my old squadron recently and every minute of flying has to be accounted for.
Nigel will probably remember this one, when men were men and Midshipmen were scared
24/5/1961. Dragonfly HR.3 WG722/548.
Emergency landing on hillside at Pemboa Helston, after transmission failure. Rolled down hill and crashed through bedroom window of farmhouse at the bottom of the hill.
24/5/1961. Dragonfly HR.3 WG722/548.
Emergency landing on hillside at Pemboa Helston, after transmission failure. Rolled down hill and crashed through bedroom window of farmhouse at the bottom of the hill.
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...and the following year it was this Wessex 1 that continued the trend of rolling down Cornish hillsides. XM868 at Maenporth, Falmouth, after the engine failed during a night navex on 13/2/62. Following an EOL on sloping ground it rolled backwards into a hedge and the starboard undercarriage collapsed.
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Ahh the Bulldog!
It was 1973 and I'm pretty sure that we were the first course on it, after they had replaced the Chipmunks at Church Fenton.
Panic in the tower when a fellow newbie who is halfway round his first solo navex (a wonderful guy with a broad west country accent) calls to say "I think I've got mud on my windscreen"
ATCOs all freeze and look at each other, trying desperately to find the right response to that until...
"I don't suppose that could be oil could it?"
"Oh yes, could be"
Sigh of relief in the tower "return to base"
Happy days.
It was 1973 and I'm pretty sure that we were the first course on it, after they had replaced the Chipmunks at Church Fenton.
Panic in the tower when a fellow newbie who is halfway round his first solo navex (a wonderful guy with a broad west country accent) calls to say "I think I've got mud on my windscreen"
ATCOs all freeze and look at each other, trying desperately to find the right response to that until...
"I don't suppose that could be oil could it?"
"Oh yes, could be"
Sigh of relief in the tower "return to base"
Happy days.
Seeing that things are getting a bit slack on this thread I will continue with my experiences in China. I mentioned Wenzhou on my post describing my trip from Tanguu to Shenzhen. I had been there before; flying to the first of that area’s exploration rigs.
There is a ridge of mountains inland from the coast of Eastern China that acts as a barrier to the flat lands of the Yangzte flood plain. This, over the centuries, has resulted in a population that is different from the rest of China. The have different languages, i.e. Hakka and Min, they have also been heavily influenced by western traders and missionaries. We were, for the first time since the Communist takeover of the country, the only foreigners there. We had, as normal, interpreters to sort out various problems with the locals but this led to difficulties as they could not understand the local language. Luckily there were sufficient who had learned Mandarin to be able to operate normally.
Wenzhou, over the past two hundred years or so had been heavily influenced by Jesuit missionaries. This was apparent by the number of churches; as from the Air Traffic cupola seven spires could be seen. Not all operating as during the Cultural Revolution Christianity was virtually wiped out and churches became police stations or similar.. However, there was, just a few miles from the airfield, a brand new cathedral sized church nearing completion which illustrated the new tolerance that had taken place. Years of lonely Jesuit missionaries had also impinged on the population. There were more redheads in Wenzhou than the rest of China put together. The area was famous throughout China for the beauty of its women and believe me, there were some real stunners.
The Chinese company had organised their part of the airfield. A temporary two storey office block with a passenger departure lounge and beside it was a blister hangar with associated engineering accommodation. This with a concrete taxi track from the main apron took a couple of weeks to put up. There was a brand new hotel behind the brand new terminal building and we were virtually the first guests. The standard was about UK 3* but there were a few shortcomings in the construction. There was a leak in the water system somewhere so the corridor carpets squelched a bit and the wallpaper had been applied before the plaster had cured so it was peeling up from the floor. It was supposed to be to international standard, the menus were in English and Chinese, but it was dreadfully expensive. No English tea or toast, unknown in that part of the world. We were paid a monthly allowance for food and suchlike and back in Shenzhen in our company apartments this was sufficient but not for hotel living. Just outside the airport were what were known as the garages; open fronted chop houses where all the raw materials were on display and you selected your choice and they cooked it for you there and then. Papst beer was only 4 yuan (30p at that time) a 485ml bottle so living became very affordable. They were very basic; no toilet, the midden out at the back was where you gave the rats a warm shower and as I have mentioned before the entertainment was watching a mother rat chasing and recovering her brood back to her nest under the freezer.
It did not take us long to have an international incident. The rig that we were going to service was being towed from Singapore through the Taiwan Straight, the sea between Taiwan and China. We had a request to put the survey party on boards who were going to position it on its drilling site. No problem; we got the lat/long, time, course and speed and the GPS forecast the position on arrival. The helicopter launched (I wasn’t flying it) and everybody was happy. Approaching the rig Taiwan Air Defence radar picked it up and launched their QRA. When their F15s punched into the stratosphere the Chinese Air Defence launched their Shenyang J8s so whilst our hero was changing over on the helideck the two sides were stalking each other from the respective borders of their ADIZs. There was a bit of a stink when they got back but I think ATC were in it deeper than we were. A day or so later the rig was in position and we could get started……………………………………….
There is a ridge of mountains inland from the coast of Eastern China that acts as a barrier to the flat lands of the Yangzte flood plain. This, over the centuries, has resulted in a population that is different from the rest of China. The have different languages, i.e. Hakka and Min, they have also been heavily influenced by western traders and missionaries. We were, for the first time since the Communist takeover of the country, the only foreigners there. We had, as normal, interpreters to sort out various problems with the locals but this led to difficulties as they could not understand the local language. Luckily there were sufficient who had learned Mandarin to be able to operate normally.
Wenzhou, over the past two hundred years or so had been heavily influenced by Jesuit missionaries. This was apparent by the number of churches; as from the Air Traffic cupola seven spires could be seen. Not all operating as during the Cultural Revolution Christianity was virtually wiped out and churches became police stations or similar.. However, there was, just a few miles from the airfield, a brand new cathedral sized church nearing completion which illustrated the new tolerance that had taken place. Years of lonely Jesuit missionaries had also impinged on the population. There were more redheads in Wenzhou than the rest of China put together. The area was famous throughout China for the beauty of its women and believe me, there were some real stunners.
The Chinese company had organised their part of the airfield. A temporary two storey office block with a passenger departure lounge and beside it was a blister hangar with associated engineering accommodation. This with a concrete taxi track from the main apron took a couple of weeks to put up. There was a brand new hotel behind the brand new terminal building and we were virtually the first guests. The standard was about UK 3* but there were a few shortcomings in the construction. There was a leak in the water system somewhere so the corridor carpets squelched a bit and the wallpaper had been applied before the plaster had cured so it was peeling up from the floor. It was supposed to be to international standard, the menus were in English and Chinese, but it was dreadfully expensive. No English tea or toast, unknown in that part of the world. We were paid a monthly allowance for food and suchlike and back in Shenzhen in our company apartments this was sufficient but not for hotel living. Just outside the airport were what were known as the garages; open fronted chop houses where all the raw materials were on display and you selected your choice and they cooked it for you there and then. Papst beer was only 4 yuan (30p at that time) a 485ml bottle so living became very affordable. They were very basic; no toilet, the midden out at the back was where you gave the rats a warm shower and as I have mentioned before the entertainment was watching a mother rat chasing and recovering her brood back to her nest under the freezer.
It did not take us long to have an international incident. The rig that we were going to service was being towed from Singapore through the Taiwan Straight, the sea between Taiwan and China. We had a request to put the survey party on boards who were going to position it on its drilling site. No problem; we got the lat/long, time, course and speed and the GPS forecast the position on arrival. The helicopter launched (I wasn’t flying it) and everybody was happy. Approaching the rig Taiwan Air Defence radar picked it up and launched their QRA. When their F15s punched into the stratosphere the Chinese Air Defence launched their Shenyang J8s so whilst our hero was changing over on the helideck the two sides were stalking each other from the respective borders of their ADIZs. There was a bit of a stink when they got back but I think ATC were in it deeper than we were. A day or so later the rig was in position and we could get started……………………………………….
The rig was about 140 Nautical miles out. There was nothing en route so it was a straight line out from one of the airfield’s beacons. The beginning would track you over the small islands that were scatted off the coast. These were like little mountains with the land coming out of the sea at 45 degrees. It was then terraced all the way to the top and the inhabitants would live in clusters of boats in little harbours at the bottom. The GPS would keep you on the straight and narrow so there was little problem finding the rig. Despite that it was nice seeing it come up on the radar where it was supposed to be. We were well clear of Taiwan but for the last thirty or so miles I would duck down to 100 ft so as to be out of range of any radar, especially the US Navy.
The rig was the Nan Hai 5. Nan-South, Hai-Sea. It was an ex Pacesetter rig that was owned by a Chinese company. The Chinese had little experience in offshore drilling then so it was run by a mixture of American and British contractors. It was only fourteen years old so it had all the latest drilling kit, topdrives etc, incorporated. There had been a fair amount of seismic work done and the indications were very optimistic. The rig was supplied with hardware and victualling from Wenzhou. They had built a harbour capable of handling six supply boats in three months but their Western food still had to come from Hong Kong. We couldn’t get any in Wenzhou so this is where a long tradition between helicopter pilots and rig crews came in.
We supplied them with blue movies and they supplied us with goodies.
Getting blue movies was easy. In Shenzhen there was a stall that sold pirated VCDs that included everything from the latest blockbusters to the best that the Californian grunters and groaners could manage. You couldn’t miss the stall; it was outside the police station. A message went down, the necessary were purchased, converted to VHS because that was all the rig had and we could run a programme change ever five days. In return we got freshly baked bread, real bu’’er, jam and stacks of choccies of all sorts. The ultimate was on Christmas day where they laid on a trip in the morning and it came back with a full roast turkey dinner for all the Brits on the site.
There were two helicopters involved; one British registered and one Chinese. They flew with a national crew on alternate days; the other crew and aircraft on stand-bye for SAR, there being nothing else. In fact about half way out was the main shipping route between Japan, Korea and Singapore so there was a multitude of massive container ships crossing your route. The ships were so big that it was difficult to count how many containers they had on the superstructure in the time available to count them. Should you have a problem and ditch in the shipping lane the first worry was getting run over by one of them. Should they see you then they would probably just pass your position to a maritime authority. They would require several miles to stop and there was an awful lot of money tied up in the containers. However, we would still be able to launch the stand-bye and be there with a winch before they could turn it round and steam back.
Our dispersal was just off the main apron and when the Chinese aircraft was en route our British one would stand outside ready to go. The company logo and the G- registration would attract instant interest from the fixed wing airliner crews passing through. Many a time my eyes would flutter as the slender scarlet shapes of Shanghai Airlines stewardesses were coming over for a look see. Sometimes there would be some problem on the airway with the Air Force so everybody was grounded for a couple of hours. We would then have the whole lot, Air China, China Southern, Shenzhen Airlines, to name a few. It was hell, believe me, it was hell.
We only did about three trips a week so we weren’t rushed off our feet. Our free time was more interesting for us than for our Chinese pilots and engineers. Foreigners were a rarity so when you sat at a table in a teahouse people would practise their English on you. I would regularly have about seven schoolchildren with their books going through their lessons with me to get the pronunciation correct. You couldn’t do that in the UK, you would have to be vetted first. The Chinese crews had a language problem. As I mentioned before they couldn’t understand the locals so they ended up in their, separate hotel, playing non-stop Mah Jong………………………………..
The rig was the Nan Hai 5. Nan-South, Hai-Sea. It was an ex Pacesetter rig that was owned by a Chinese company. The Chinese had little experience in offshore drilling then so it was run by a mixture of American and British contractors. It was only fourteen years old so it had all the latest drilling kit, topdrives etc, incorporated. There had been a fair amount of seismic work done and the indications were very optimistic. The rig was supplied with hardware and victualling from Wenzhou. They had built a harbour capable of handling six supply boats in three months but their Western food still had to come from Hong Kong. We couldn’t get any in Wenzhou so this is where a long tradition between helicopter pilots and rig crews came in.
We supplied them with blue movies and they supplied us with goodies.
Getting blue movies was easy. In Shenzhen there was a stall that sold pirated VCDs that included everything from the latest blockbusters to the best that the Californian grunters and groaners could manage. You couldn’t miss the stall; it was outside the police station. A message went down, the necessary were purchased, converted to VHS because that was all the rig had and we could run a programme change ever five days. In return we got freshly baked bread, real bu’’er, jam and stacks of choccies of all sorts. The ultimate was on Christmas day where they laid on a trip in the morning and it came back with a full roast turkey dinner for all the Brits on the site.
There were two helicopters involved; one British registered and one Chinese. They flew with a national crew on alternate days; the other crew and aircraft on stand-bye for SAR, there being nothing else. In fact about half way out was the main shipping route between Japan, Korea and Singapore so there was a multitude of massive container ships crossing your route. The ships were so big that it was difficult to count how many containers they had on the superstructure in the time available to count them. Should you have a problem and ditch in the shipping lane the first worry was getting run over by one of them. Should they see you then they would probably just pass your position to a maritime authority. They would require several miles to stop and there was an awful lot of money tied up in the containers. However, we would still be able to launch the stand-bye and be there with a winch before they could turn it round and steam back.
Our dispersal was just off the main apron and when the Chinese aircraft was en route our British one would stand outside ready to go. The company logo and the G- registration would attract instant interest from the fixed wing airliner crews passing through. Many a time my eyes would flutter as the slender scarlet shapes of Shanghai Airlines stewardesses were coming over for a look see. Sometimes there would be some problem on the airway with the Air Force so everybody was grounded for a couple of hours. We would then have the whole lot, Air China, China Southern, Shenzhen Airlines, to name a few. It was hell, believe me, it was hell.
We only did about three trips a week so we weren’t rushed off our feet. Our free time was more interesting for us than for our Chinese pilots and engineers. Foreigners were a rarity so when you sat at a table in a teahouse people would practise their English on you. I would regularly have about seven schoolchildren with their books going through their lessons with me to get the pronunciation correct. You couldn’t do that in the UK, you would have to be vetted first. The Chinese crews had a language problem. As I mentioned before they couldn’t understand the locals so they ended up in their, separate hotel, playing non-stop Mah Jong………………………………..
Going downtown was easy, you caught a trishaw. This was a three wheeler bicycle with a settee between the rear wheels. As long as you driver didn’t break wind you were OK. We would catch one just outside the airport and it was about 2 yuan to Longwan, a small town between the airport and Wenzhou proper. He would drop us off at the bridge leading into the town and in this area were a few stalls telling bits and pieces. I had an interpreter with me for the first time and I noticed an old man in a stall that was shaped like a sentry box. Just room for him with the bottom closed and a small shelf in front of him. It what was on the shelf that stopped me. I had seen it before when I visited the Singapore CID when I was stationed in Singapore……
It was cut ball of raw opium.
I asked my interpreter to confirm it. He only replied that it was bad stuff. I went over to the box; the interpreter was having nothing to do with it; you can get a sudden headache being caught with opium. I knew that before the Revolution in 1949 opium use was widespread; they had a war named after it. Come 1949 it was banned but I also knew that because so many people were addicted to it, including a few very senior members of the politburo, a licence could be obtained to continue buying and using it. What I had stumbled on was the last of the old dope peddlers serving at that time a rapidly diminishing band of customers.. He was an old boy with the biggest smile I had seen on a Chinese man; so opium must be good for you. As I approached him he waved both palms of his hands to indicate that I could not buy any. I wasn’t interested so tactfully I turned away and proceeded towards the town. As an posrscrpt he wasn’t there three months later so he must have joined his customers in that big opium den in the sky.
The town centre was absolute bedlam. These were the days when all Chinese drove with one hand on the horn. The vehicles were small buses that followed a route but stopped anywhere to pick up and let down. Moving out onto the road again was merely a signal and a long blast on the horn, followed by a orchestral sounding of horns by all the others trying to stop him coming out. The were no modern shops, they had only just started in Wenzhou itself, so they looked exactly like they did a hundred years before. You could, however, get just about anything you wanted. Wenzhou wasn’t known as the counterfeit capital of China for nothing. There was a Philishave there which was, apart from the weight, identical to my own. What gave it away was a normal plug and wire to the 220 volt motor in the shaver as opposed to the transformer plug and 9 volt of the Philishave. You would find out the difference if you did a wet shave.
The task I had that day was to find a toaster. This was for the bread that we were being supplied with by the rig. I didn’t hold out much hope, it was bad enough trying to get one in Shenzhen, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. The interpreter wasn’t a lot of use; he didn’t know what a toaster was either so I had to draw pictures to show them how it worked. I went from electrical shop to electrical shop and was getting nowhere and then we came a second hand goods shop with old extractors, water heaters etc. I went through my spiel again with the same blank looks but on this occasion they called to the back of the shop and out came granddad.
He was like something out of a Chinese Opera without any makeup. He was old, incredibly old with a thin moustache and beard that drooped down to his waist. Behind him was a fully waxed pigtail that was just as long. He wore a full length black silk embroidered gown and it was topped off with a small silk bonnet. I couldn’t see his feet but it sounded as if he was walking with clogs or wooden sandals. I put my hands together and bowed to him as a sign of respect for his age and tried to explain as before. He thought for some time and then gave directions to his minions. They disappeared into the back, out again for more directions, in, out, in again and then they found it.
It was in a tatty brown box without any manufacturers name on it. I lifted it out and it weighed as if it had been made out of armour plate. It looked the part; two slots for bread with the elements inside and a variable control knob on the outside. It had an American flat pin plug which was normal for China but I didn’t try it out as it was full of dust and it would probably cause more harm than good. 10 yuan (70p) was all that they wanted so without further ado I bought it and returned to my hotel.
The next day I presented out engineers with the toaster. They took one look, took it outside and blew it out with a nitrogen bottle. There were no instructions so we set the dial to one quarter point and with careful use of a hacksaw, no breadknife, we cut two slices to fit. We didn’t do a dry run first; if we had we would have noticed the intensity of the elements. We dropped in the bread, gravity did it all so it wasn’t necessary to push down the handles and we plugged it in. Some thing was happening and in a short time came the aroma of toasting bread. The time reached zero, a buzzer sounded and we started collecting together the butter and jam. Our backs were turned for only a few seconds but that was enough for it to start turning it into charcoal biscuits. A panic stricken unplug before the Chinese called the fire brigade and we went to plan B.
This involved a strip down and circuit analysis. The first problem was finding a flat bladed screwdriver the correct size to unscrew the bottom. All the tools we have were cross head or small flats for instruments. Once that was done the detective work started:
There were no springs on the handles; they were there just to lift the bread out.
The timer had a push in/out function that switched it on/off and the rotating timer just rang a buzzer but did not switch it off.
The size of the wiring indicated that it was rated for 110 volts.
How it got to Wenzhou we had no idea. It was probably a 1940s American model but being Wenzhou it may well have been a counterfeit copy that wasn’t exported.
Once we had established this we did a dry run. This is when we noticed that the elements were almost incandescent. However, our greeny (aircraft electrics) stated that they would probably last until a replacement arrived. We phoned back to Shenzhen, declared TOS (Toaster Out of Service) and they promised that the next person going into Hong Kong would buy another and it would be dispatched tout suite………………………………………..
It was cut ball of raw opium.
I asked my interpreter to confirm it. He only replied that it was bad stuff. I went over to the box; the interpreter was having nothing to do with it; you can get a sudden headache being caught with opium. I knew that before the Revolution in 1949 opium use was widespread; they had a war named after it. Come 1949 it was banned but I also knew that because so many people were addicted to it, including a few very senior members of the politburo, a licence could be obtained to continue buying and using it. What I had stumbled on was the last of the old dope peddlers serving at that time a rapidly diminishing band of customers.. He was an old boy with the biggest smile I had seen on a Chinese man; so opium must be good for you. As I approached him he waved both palms of his hands to indicate that I could not buy any. I wasn’t interested so tactfully I turned away and proceeded towards the town. As an posrscrpt he wasn’t there three months later so he must have joined his customers in that big opium den in the sky.
The town centre was absolute bedlam. These were the days when all Chinese drove with one hand on the horn. The vehicles were small buses that followed a route but stopped anywhere to pick up and let down. Moving out onto the road again was merely a signal and a long blast on the horn, followed by a orchestral sounding of horns by all the others trying to stop him coming out. The were no modern shops, they had only just started in Wenzhou itself, so they looked exactly like they did a hundred years before. You could, however, get just about anything you wanted. Wenzhou wasn’t known as the counterfeit capital of China for nothing. There was a Philishave there which was, apart from the weight, identical to my own. What gave it away was a normal plug and wire to the 220 volt motor in the shaver as opposed to the transformer plug and 9 volt of the Philishave. You would find out the difference if you did a wet shave.
The task I had that day was to find a toaster. This was for the bread that we were being supplied with by the rig. I didn’t hold out much hope, it was bad enough trying to get one in Shenzhen, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. The interpreter wasn’t a lot of use; he didn’t know what a toaster was either so I had to draw pictures to show them how it worked. I went from electrical shop to electrical shop and was getting nowhere and then we came a second hand goods shop with old extractors, water heaters etc. I went through my spiel again with the same blank looks but on this occasion they called to the back of the shop and out came granddad.
He was like something out of a Chinese Opera without any makeup. He was old, incredibly old with a thin moustache and beard that drooped down to his waist. Behind him was a fully waxed pigtail that was just as long. He wore a full length black silk embroidered gown and it was topped off with a small silk bonnet. I couldn’t see his feet but it sounded as if he was walking with clogs or wooden sandals. I put my hands together and bowed to him as a sign of respect for his age and tried to explain as before. He thought for some time and then gave directions to his minions. They disappeared into the back, out again for more directions, in, out, in again and then they found it.
It was in a tatty brown box without any manufacturers name on it. I lifted it out and it weighed as if it had been made out of armour plate. It looked the part; two slots for bread with the elements inside and a variable control knob on the outside. It had an American flat pin plug which was normal for China but I didn’t try it out as it was full of dust and it would probably cause more harm than good. 10 yuan (70p) was all that they wanted so without further ado I bought it and returned to my hotel.
The next day I presented out engineers with the toaster. They took one look, took it outside and blew it out with a nitrogen bottle. There were no instructions so we set the dial to one quarter point and with careful use of a hacksaw, no breadknife, we cut two slices to fit. We didn’t do a dry run first; if we had we would have noticed the intensity of the elements. We dropped in the bread, gravity did it all so it wasn’t necessary to push down the handles and we plugged it in. Some thing was happening and in a short time came the aroma of toasting bread. The time reached zero, a buzzer sounded and we started collecting together the butter and jam. Our backs were turned for only a few seconds but that was enough for it to start turning it into charcoal biscuits. A panic stricken unplug before the Chinese called the fire brigade and we went to plan B.
This involved a strip down and circuit analysis. The first problem was finding a flat bladed screwdriver the correct size to unscrew the bottom. All the tools we have were cross head or small flats for instruments. Once that was done the detective work started:
There were no springs on the handles; they were there just to lift the bread out.
The timer had a push in/out function that switched it on/off and the rotating timer just rang a buzzer but did not switch it off.
The size of the wiring indicated that it was rated for 110 volts.
How it got to Wenzhou we had no idea. It was probably a 1940s American model but being Wenzhou it may well have been a counterfeit copy that wasn’t exported.
Once we had established this we did a dry run. This is when we noticed that the elements were almost incandescent. However, our greeny (aircraft electrics) stated that they would probably last until a replacement arrived. We phoned back to Shenzhen, declared TOS (Toaster Out of Service) and they promised that the next person going into Hong Kong would buy another and it would be dispatched tout suite………………………………………..
I have been fortunate to have travelled over a large part of China. Many places I have been to have never seen a Westerner before. One gets used to young children hiding behind their mothers skirts because I am a ‘gweilo’, a white ghost that comes into naughty children’s bedrooms at night. Over the twenty odd years that I have been there, I have seen 500,000,000 people lifted from abject poverty to having something in life worth living. That still leaves another half a billion who are waiting.
Just over the fence was a farmer and his whole life revolved around about half an acre. At one end was a big shed where he lived with his family, one wife and one statuary child. His little acre was solid with vegetables in every stage of growth and every morning he would spend two or three hours with two large watering cans feeding the crops with diluted night soil. He had already been up before daylight so that he could cut that days produce to take to the farmers market in Longwan. On the way he would stop by a man with a hosepipe who would, for a few fen, douse his crops with water so that they weighed more when they arrived. He never stopped sowing and planting all day apart from meals and this was in winter. His collective daily produce would probably realise about 20-25 yuan, six days a week. Assuming everything went well he would have an income of about 7,000yuan; at that time £470 a year. Before the reforms in 1978 he would only have had what the Collective would have given him.
There was an MD80 in China Northern colours with a Hainan Airlines crew that would fly Hainan-Guangzhou-Shanghai and then to Wenzhou for a night stop. The next day it would reverse the route. There seemed to be three crews that did this roster continuously and two of the pilots we got quite friendly with.
At this time China’s licensing system was not in accordance with IATA. A Chinese national licence was in Chinese only as were most of their let down plates. This restricted the holder to Chinese airspace and he could not fly overseas until he had a foreign going licence similar to an internationally accepted ATPL To pass this he had to pass an English exam and an international navigation paper. This meant that he had to be familiar and be able to fly procedures according to Jeppersons. This was difficult because it was almost impossible for them to get hold of a set of Jeps.
But we had them.
We came to a mutually satisfactory arrangement. They would practice procedural English whilst studying and being prompted by us with our Jeppersons. In return they would buy the beer. The bar used to close at nine and one evening at that time we were in full learning mode. The problem was solved by the captain sending his steward out to the aircraft and he returned with a slab of Princess Lager from the aircraft’s galley. We didn’t have early takeoffs as we had to wait for our pax to fly in but they did. I don’t know what their company’s regs with regard to bottle to throttle was but it was way less than ours. As time went by the Chinese aviation system came closer to ICAO standards. Towards the end of my flying days they stopped pilots flying with an endorsement for their foreign licence and we were required to get a Chinese ATPL(H) and I was over sixty-five at that time. In answer to our query CAAC said that if I passed the exams and the medical I would get a licence. This I did and at sixty-seven I may well have been the oldest commercial pilot in China.
The time came when the NH 5 had finished it task and was going down south. It was being replaced by an all Chinese rig so they did not need white eyes up front. We would return to Shenzhen leaving the Chinese machine to carry on. SAR? no problem.
Before we left there had to be a company dinner. You do not mess about with company dinners in China. You find the best restaurant and order the best food, lots of it. The Chinese captains organised it in a fabulous place in Wenzhou. You have to be careful dining as a guest. Every one of your hosts, all fifteen of them are honour bound to challenge you to ‘Gambie’; basically to throw down a drink as fast as possible. Fortunately the Chinese beer was a licence brewed Papst which most Brits can drink continuously so one after the other challenging you was easy enough.
There were the usual speeches to which we replied on how good the co-operation had been-it had. Then one of the co-pilots gave a speech addressed to me. To get it into perspective I was a fairly heavy smoker in China. (When in China----). There were no rules about smoking in the cockpit so I would continue to get through my 40/day at 50p/packet. The co-pilot described how everybody liked to fly with me because they could always find their way back to base. They just followed the dog ends in the sea. They then presented me with a fiery dragon table lighter which is still one of my favourite possessions.
The next day I flew to Xiamin, lunch, then routed via Shantou and along the coast to Shenzhen. The next time I routed that way was slightly different but I have already described that.
I will be giving this a rest now as I shall be travelling some.
FED
Just over the fence was a farmer and his whole life revolved around about half an acre. At one end was a big shed where he lived with his family, one wife and one statuary child. His little acre was solid with vegetables in every stage of growth and every morning he would spend two or three hours with two large watering cans feeding the crops with diluted night soil. He had already been up before daylight so that he could cut that days produce to take to the farmers market in Longwan. On the way he would stop by a man with a hosepipe who would, for a few fen, douse his crops with water so that they weighed more when they arrived. He never stopped sowing and planting all day apart from meals and this was in winter. His collective daily produce would probably realise about 20-25 yuan, six days a week. Assuming everything went well he would have an income of about 7,000yuan; at that time £470 a year. Before the reforms in 1978 he would only have had what the Collective would have given him.
There was an MD80 in China Northern colours with a Hainan Airlines crew that would fly Hainan-Guangzhou-Shanghai and then to Wenzhou for a night stop. The next day it would reverse the route. There seemed to be three crews that did this roster continuously and two of the pilots we got quite friendly with.
At this time China’s licensing system was not in accordance with IATA. A Chinese national licence was in Chinese only as were most of their let down plates. This restricted the holder to Chinese airspace and he could not fly overseas until he had a foreign going licence similar to an internationally accepted ATPL To pass this he had to pass an English exam and an international navigation paper. This meant that he had to be familiar and be able to fly procedures according to Jeppersons. This was difficult because it was almost impossible for them to get hold of a set of Jeps.
But we had them.
We came to a mutually satisfactory arrangement. They would practice procedural English whilst studying and being prompted by us with our Jeppersons. In return they would buy the beer. The bar used to close at nine and one evening at that time we were in full learning mode. The problem was solved by the captain sending his steward out to the aircraft and he returned with a slab of Princess Lager from the aircraft’s galley. We didn’t have early takeoffs as we had to wait for our pax to fly in but they did. I don’t know what their company’s regs with regard to bottle to throttle was but it was way less than ours. As time went by the Chinese aviation system came closer to ICAO standards. Towards the end of my flying days they stopped pilots flying with an endorsement for their foreign licence and we were required to get a Chinese ATPL(H) and I was over sixty-five at that time. In answer to our query CAAC said that if I passed the exams and the medical I would get a licence. This I did and at sixty-seven I may well have been the oldest commercial pilot in China.
The time came when the NH 5 had finished it task and was going down south. It was being replaced by an all Chinese rig so they did not need white eyes up front. We would return to Shenzhen leaving the Chinese machine to carry on. SAR? no problem.
Before we left there had to be a company dinner. You do not mess about with company dinners in China. You find the best restaurant and order the best food, lots of it. The Chinese captains organised it in a fabulous place in Wenzhou. You have to be careful dining as a guest. Every one of your hosts, all fifteen of them are honour bound to challenge you to ‘Gambie’; basically to throw down a drink as fast as possible. Fortunately the Chinese beer was a licence brewed Papst which most Brits can drink continuously so one after the other challenging you was easy enough.
There were the usual speeches to which we replied on how good the co-operation had been-it had. Then one of the co-pilots gave a speech addressed to me. To get it into perspective I was a fairly heavy smoker in China. (When in China----). There were no rules about smoking in the cockpit so I would continue to get through my 40/day at 50p/packet. The co-pilot described how everybody liked to fly with me because they could always find their way back to base. They just followed the dog ends in the sea. They then presented me with a fiery dragon table lighter which is still one of my favourite possessions.
The next day I flew to Xiamin, lunch, then routed via Shantou and along the coast to Shenzhen. The next time I routed that way was slightly different but I have already described that.
I will be giving this a rest now as I shall be travelling some.
FED
There was coming a time when my career in China was coming to a close because of my age. I was going to retire at the designated point from the company but as they were strapped for pilots with experience in China I continued flying with them as a contract pilot. My official job specification was as a ‘Casual Pilot’.
After all those years I’d been rumbled.
I was there on an ‘as required’ basis and I kept going all through the year but in February I was not required for a few months. However, the Australian arm of the company did, so I flew out to Darwin on the same contract basis. There was only one exploration rig to service some 265 n.m. out. The onshore diversion was in Indonesia; a small airstrip where you flew around in a circle until some minion came out and unlocked the shed where there were some barrels of JP1. This was the reason why you also carried a portable fuel pump. One wasn’t rushed off their feet; I did three trips in ten days, and there wasn’t any standby requirement. The operation had satellite tracking of the aircraft so it’s position was always known and one could leave the rest to the considerable Australian naval forces in that part of the world.
The Northern Territory and Western Australia were heavily involved during the War and there were still plenty of traces lying around which would keep one occupied during the time off. This was suddenly amplified when the aircraft had undemanded floatation equipment inflation on approach to the rig with the other crew. On return it required a new float bottle and these were unavailable in the Southern Hemisphere owing to lack of demand. Owing to the delay the rig operator moved their rig offshore Western Australia and the operation moved States with it. I didn’t take it to its new base, that was going to be a detachment from Darwin as a new aircraft was coming out from Aberdeen. That meant that until it arrived or I went down to the new base at Kununarra I had nothing to do, a car plus fuel at my disposal, and I was getting paid for it!
Darwin suffered, for Australia, heavy bombing by the Japanese. There were still some of the old fortifications and a trip down the tunnel near the docks was a must. The Stuart Highway, the north/south road that spears through the Territory to South Australia had the remains of airstrips beside it and on many there were displays with a short history and sometimes old photographs of the aircraft that operated from there. One day I took a trip down so a place by the Adelaide River where one could go on a boat trip and observe ‘Jumping Crocodiles. This is where the commentator drones on about the untameable crocs dating from the time of the dinosaurs and you look over you shoulder and there is the ruler straight wake of the local performing crocodile coming for lunch.
Fast forward a few years. Back in Zimbabwe after an absence from Rhodesia of a few years. Similar boat, similar drone; this time it's a Zambezi crocodile creating the self same dead straight wake for his lunch.
The dinosaurs must have done it too; jumping out of the water to snatch a pigs head off a piece of string.
Coming back I decided to try the old Stuart Highway. This was the old winding road that had a few surprises, like trees lying so low across the road that the leaves brush the roof. I breasted a hill and there was a police Ute (Utility/pickup) parked across the road with two cops fast asleep in it. They woke up and pulled out a breathalyser; it was a random breath check???? I blew into the machine and asked them if they had had any trade. No, they said, they weren’t even expecting me. The check point was probably where the dart at landed.
Shortly afterwards I came across a fairly large airstrip. There were the remains of a tarmac runway with dispersals in the trees and even an old sandbagged machine gun position. A notice board had pictures that showed it to be a B26 base that flew empty to Darwin, loaded up with ordinance and then unloaded it on the Japanese. I had no idea of the take-off performance of the B26 but I would have thought that with the space available departing virtually empty would have been a good idea. The site spread across the Highway and the remains of a traffic control shed where the chief who supervised the mingling of taxiing aircraft and loaded lorries plied his trade.
A couple of days later I was detailed to proceed to Kununarra.
After all those years I’d been rumbled.
I was there on an ‘as required’ basis and I kept going all through the year but in February I was not required for a few months. However, the Australian arm of the company did, so I flew out to Darwin on the same contract basis. There was only one exploration rig to service some 265 n.m. out. The onshore diversion was in Indonesia; a small airstrip where you flew around in a circle until some minion came out and unlocked the shed where there were some barrels of JP1. This was the reason why you also carried a portable fuel pump. One wasn’t rushed off their feet; I did three trips in ten days, and there wasn’t any standby requirement. The operation had satellite tracking of the aircraft so it’s position was always known and one could leave the rest to the considerable Australian naval forces in that part of the world.
The Northern Territory and Western Australia were heavily involved during the War and there were still plenty of traces lying around which would keep one occupied during the time off. This was suddenly amplified when the aircraft had undemanded floatation equipment inflation on approach to the rig with the other crew. On return it required a new float bottle and these were unavailable in the Southern Hemisphere owing to lack of demand. Owing to the delay the rig operator moved their rig offshore Western Australia and the operation moved States with it. I didn’t take it to its new base, that was going to be a detachment from Darwin as a new aircraft was coming out from Aberdeen. That meant that until it arrived or I went down to the new base at Kununarra I had nothing to do, a car plus fuel at my disposal, and I was getting paid for it!
Darwin suffered, for Australia, heavy bombing by the Japanese. There were still some of the old fortifications and a trip down the tunnel near the docks was a must. The Stuart Highway, the north/south road that spears through the Territory to South Australia had the remains of airstrips beside it and on many there were displays with a short history and sometimes old photographs of the aircraft that operated from there. One day I took a trip down so a place by the Adelaide River where one could go on a boat trip and observe ‘Jumping Crocodiles. This is where the commentator drones on about the untameable crocs dating from the time of the dinosaurs and you look over you shoulder and there is the ruler straight wake of the local performing crocodile coming for lunch.
Fast forward a few years. Back in Zimbabwe after an absence from Rhodesia of a few years. Similar boat, similar drone; this time it's a Zambezi crocodile creating the self same dead straight wake for his lunch.
The dinosaurs must have done it too; jumping out of the water to snatch a pigs head off a piece of string.
Coming back I decided to try the old Stuart Highway. This was the old winding road that had a few surprises, like trees lying so low across the road that the leaves brush the roof. I breasted a hill and there was a police Ute (Utility/pickup) parked across the road with two cops fast asleep in it. They woke up and pulled out a breathalyser; it was a random breath check???? I blew into the machine and asked them if they had had any trade. No, they said, they weren’t even expecting me. The check point was probably where the dart at landed.
Shortly afterwards I came across a fairly large airstrip. There were the remains of a tarmac runway with dispersals in the trees and even an old sandbagged machine gun position. A notice board had pictures that showed it to be a B26 base that flew empty to Darwin, loaded up with ordinance and then unloaded it on the Japanese. I had no idea of the take-off performance of the B26 but I would have thought that with the space available departing virtually empty would have been a good idea. The site spread across the Highway and the remains of a traffic control shed where the chief who supervised the mingling of taxiing aircraft and loaded lorries plied his trade.
A couple of days later I was detailed to proceed to Kununarra.
