Archives for November 2005
What’s next?
November already, spring is in the air and time to move on. Since the primary purpose of this site is meant to be keeping distant family and friends in touch, a brief update on what’s been happening and where I’m off to next.
Coronet Peak closed unusually early at the start of September after the warmest winter since 1913ish. To be honest, the snow was at its best before the season started. After three days of clearing up the Brasserie, 30cm of fresh snow fell and we opened again… for three days, before the the brown snow reappeared and we were shut for good. It was open just long enough for me to injure my back whilst trying to snowboard. Safer, I think, to stick to the snowblades:
Queenstown’s other snow resort, The Remarkables, stayed open for another few weeks so ground up the 13km gravel track several times to ski the slopes and try the jumps, although I never had the guts for the proper kickers. When you get into your early 30s the value of two (or three) functioning legs becomes all the more important. Hard to believe that we were still on the snow just six weeks ago.
I spent some time working in a number of places around Queenstown – Tatler, Prime and Skyline – back in the waiting mode, but that was just a way of paying the rent whilst I worked towards 100 hours of flying. Speaking of rent, my lease was up on my penthouse suite at the top of Thompson Street so Liz, Ali and Ali kindly offered me the spare bed in their cabin. It’s a classic Kiwi experience, cold in winter and hot in summer. Not bad for twenty quid a week, even if it sometimes feels like living in the ghetto.
Queenstown outside the ski season feels like a different world. The bars are much emptier, the tourists fewer and older, and the weather significantly warmer as my sunburn lines show.
The flying has been great fun, finally getting to carry friends and take a Tiki tour through the South Island. Learning a little about mountain flying has also been fantastic, although it beat me up a few times as I’ll explain in another post. Last Friday I reached 100 hours, which should make conversion to a UK licence a lot easier, so it’s time to leave Queenstown.
I have mixed feelings about leaving. I’ve had a great time here and made some good friends, but being a waiter is not my true calling and there’s a lot more of the country to see before reaching the Docherty wedding on February 11th. I leave today and head up to Christchurch, Picton and take the ferry to Wellington. From there I plan to head to the tropical sandy beaches of the top of the North Island and finally get to see summer since the UK in 2004.
Watch this space. I’ll keep in touch.
Mountain Flying
As I’ve said many times before the reason I came to Queenstown was for its reputation as a special place to learn to fly, with the mountainous terrain making flying more challenging but also making students better pilots. The airport is surrounded by high ground requiring trips over mountain saddles to the north, east and west.
Most of the PPL training avoids these hazards, and even post-PPL I’m not allowed to fly near the mountains in the club’s aircraft until I have completed special training. It’s what brings many commercial pilots to train at Wakatipu Aero Club; before they can pilot scenic flights to the west coast, they must complete a minimum of fifty hours training in the mountains including how to handle the terrain and learning the routes. No local operator will employ them without that experience.
And so, on my way to 100 hours of flying, I took a series of lessons with Tim and Blair. I’m nowhere near qualified to fly these routes solo but the experience taught me more, much more about flying.
Mountains make flying more difficult. Sure, you hit them but normally that’s easy enough to avoid. More dangerous is the invisible power of the wind. With a 6,000′ mountain towering above you as you fly at 750′ above the valley floor, enormous updrafts and downdrafts can make the aircraft rise and fall beyond the pilot’s control. Get caught in a 1,000 foot per minute downdraft and the plane cannot beat it. “Mother nature always wins”.
The only solution is to turn away to another part of the valley, but that valley may be very, very narrow. At first you’ll think it impossible to turn in that space, but with sufficient bank and the correct speed the aircraft can turn in a very tight radius. In one demonstration, Blair pulled the throttle, dropped all the flap, applied power as soon as we hit 70 and spun us round at a 90 degree angle of bank. Yikes! Bloody good fun, but also a potential life saver.
Life and death are regularly discussed in these lessons, a truth brought home by the death of an Aero Club instructor on a mountain flying lesson during poor weather in December 2003. The accident investigation recently published its conclusions, which were not definite, but whatever the cause it’s a permanent reminder of the hazards of flying in this area. Neil Turner is still well remembered by all at the Aero Club and his death informs all aspects of the mountain flying training.
To maximise safety, we’re taught to fly close to the valley wall, closer than I’d have ever gone without the training. This gives the greatest area in which to complete a 180 degree turn if required. Being in the middle of the valley is the worst place to be as options are more limited. Flying on the windward side of the hill, rather than in the lee of it, reduces the chances of inescapable downdrafts in strong winds.
Aside from navigation, a key part of mountain flying in knowing how and when to cross saddles. At the lowest point of a mountain range, these present special hazards. The valley beyond may be cloudy, the wind may cause a tremendous rate of sink on the approach or exit, and there are limited options if one decides not to cross. Therefore one normally chooses to cross from left to right (depending on the land surrounding it), at a 45 degree angle and at a stable altitude. If any of these factors is missing, turn away. Immediately.
Another challenge is remaining at a constant altitude through variable terrain. It’s easy to lose height and gain speed as the valley floor drops away; conversely, going up a valley one can lose speed and risk stalling as the valley floor rises. The automatic response is to keep the ‘picture’ outside the cockpit the same, whereas it should be changing as the valley changes. This is particularly dangerous if flying up an unfamiliar valley, where opportunities to turn may suddenly be very limited. The solution: “never fly up a valley you haven’t flown down”, plus constantly monitor power and airspeed to catch up and down drafts. Don’t rely on the instruments – they have too much lag in these conditions.
Putting this all together resulted in some memorable lessons. Some were simply beautiful, cruising over mountain passes and below glaciers in pleasant weather. Others were much more challenging, for example going out when winds were 50kts at 5,000′ and getting really, really beaten up by my standards. The aircraft swung from 60 degrees of bank to the right, to 60 degrees to the left. Move the ailerons (a ‘natural’ response) and you just risk stalling the aircraft and falling from the sky; instead, apply sufficient force to the rudder in the opposite direction and the plane will regain balance. Its pretty scary at first, but challenging – and fun – the more one does it.
At one point in that lesson we caught such a bump that I hit the ceiling and knocked my headset clean off. My first reaction was to go for the headset and put it back on, but as Tim rightly pointed out, that’s the last thing I should have done. “Aviate, Navigate, Communicate” is a mantra of flying. Headsets come last, even if they’re flash Bose ones. On another breezy lesson Blair and I approached a saddle and got so knocked that we entered a wing drop stall. Didn’t try that route again in that lesson.Yet drop down a couple of thousand feet and the air can be calm and welcoming. Elsewhere, we spent time following mountain rivers at 500′ or landing on farm strips that have 5,000′ mountain faces at the end rather than a big paddock for a go-around.
Two recent flights will stick in my mind as great memories of flying in Queenstown. On one mountain flying lesson we flew over to Milford Sound. The weather was fine and warm in Queenstown, but heading over the lake and across the first passes the clouds dropped down low and it was a grey, rainy day on the west coast. Descending through rain Tim talked me through (or rather, did) a landing at the airport before heading back up and across the hills home. It’s not possible for me to articulate the beauty of the landscape, nor the satisfaction of flying through it.
My final flight, to hit 100 hours, was from Queenstown, over the Cardrona Saddle and across Lake Wanaka, then over the Haast Pass to Haast itself. I had arranged to take friends but they had to work at the last moment, so I flew solo. I was glad I did; the winds weren’t strong, but there were a fair few bumps on the way and I’m still not confident about what’s ‘good’ and ‘bad’. Across the Lake, and over Makarora, the clouds were down to about 4,500′ and I could see the snow covered tips of mountains, including Mount Aspiring, poking through. With mountains up to 6,000′ shading the valley, and lush untapped forest covering the floor and valley walls, it was like flying through Jurrasic Park. I passed one other aircraft, looking like a small yellow dot within the expanse of green. Planes feel very big when you’re in them, but look very small when set against the enormity of the New Zealand landscape.
The clouds came down further near the coast, before one more turn and the Tasman Sea suddenly appeared before me. The horizon, blue sky and sandy beaches were a welcome, novel sight after months in the mountains. Brought a big smile to my face. Then back through the valley towards Queenstown. At one point near Haast Pass the wind tipped me to a 60 degree angle of bank. Quick, firm application of the rudder returned me level in a couple of seconds but it was an adrenaline-filled moment. Once all was back in order, I had to shout a big ‘yee-hah!’. At least I should be ready for anything the North Downs throw at me.
I’ll miss flying down here, although my wallet will breathe a sigh of relief. If I’m to keep my NZ licence I’ll need to have a biennial flight review with an instructor before September 2007. A good excuse to return to the hills.
Bungy!
There are a couple of things that one should not leave Queenstown without doing, one of which is a bungy jump. I’m not that keen on heights and had found plenty of reasons not to leap. Not before my flight test… too expensive… I have a track record of personal injury when trying anything dangerous (cf. snowballing, paintballing, skiing, parachute jumping, cycling, all of which have broken skin or bones).
But one ‘benefit’ of working for less than five pounds an hour at the top of the Skyline Gondola is a Letter of Introduction for a free jump from The Ledge. Having watched my friend Ali jump last week, there was no escape. I had to bungy.
As these photos from the video we made show, I was pretty cocky on the way up. Nothing to worry about, I thought, it must be much easier than landing an aeroplane (or jumping from one).
The weigh in and walking out onto the bridge was not a problem, even getting kitted up and sitting on the sofa waiting for my turn. I watched two others go, who went without a sound.
My turn came and the bungy rope was attached. “Just walk over here and take a look”. Okay. Oh no! All of a sudden I wondered quite what I was doing. It was a long way down and I had to run about eight feet and jump off.
“Three, two, one, jump!”
“Er, you’ll have to do that again.”
“Three, two, one, jump!”
[Deep breaths]. “Um, can you do it again?”
“I’m only gonna count one more time, mate! Three, two, one, jump!”
And off I ran. As you can see from the picture, it was not the most elegant jump ever.
In fact, it was ridiculous. Ali did well to stifle a laugh when videoing it. Still, I did it. Oh yes!
Before I jumped I thought it would feel like being winched down, but of course it was freefall. That’s what made me scream, from fun rather than fear. Felt like ages even though it only lasted a couple of seconds. A unique feeling, and one that I’d definitely do again – at least I was smiling afterwards.
Sadly the end of the video, in which I explained that I my have lost a testicle, is missing. But even that loss was worth it for the experience. I might even pay for it next time…
Queenstown Frisbee Golf
When I first arrived in Queenstown back in March one of the fellow inmates at the hostel introduced me to frisbee golf (also known as disc golf). It really is golf with frisbees, but a lot more fun than I imagine regular golf to be, with eighteen ‘holes’ set around Queenstown Gardens. As I sit now outside my cabin I can see the tip of the peninsula on which the course sits.
There are several courses around the world but not one on Tooting Common, yet; perhaps something my ultra-competitive London friends can look into. Like any sport, one can become deeply engrossed in it, with different size discs for driving, putting etc. No 2 driver Eagle is my personal favourite.
Despite the adrenaline-fueled reputation of Queenstown, its real heart comes from the landscape that surrounds it and that’s why Frisbee Golf will be one of the long lasting memories I take away from the town. For the record, and for Googlers everywhere, here is a photographic guide to the Queenstown Frisbee Golf course.
A relatively gentle start to the game, pass your frisbee underneath the Monkey Puzzle tree towards the tall tree on the far side of the path. Your first chance to try and avoid hitting other park users.
And then things start getting tricky. The main part of this picture is taken from the tee for the second hole, from which you must hit the thin post hidden behind the bushes towards the right. It helps to pace out this hole, like several others on the course, before playing it.
Game on! This picture is taken from the target, looking back towards the large rock from which you will throw your frisbee. Good luck; you’ll need to get past those other tree first…
Ignore the red circle for now. You’ll need your energy for this one as you have to make the 145m from the tee towards the large trees at the left of this picture. Not as easy as it sounds.
Hole 5, Dog Leg, 90m, Par 3 is also in this picture. At least this one sounds difficult. Starting from the right hand side of the picture of the fourth hole, get your frisbee through the gap marked with a red circle to reach a small tree in a clearing. You need x-ray vision for this one, as well as for the thirteenth hole, and you must pass to the right of the huge Ponderosa Pine.
For this hole you must pass between the Y-shaped branches of this red leafed tree. Perhaps more difficult in summer than winter.
Hard to believe this is just a par three hole as you have your first attempt at getting the disc into a basket. Not only must you land in the basket or the chains that surround it, but also pass between at least two of the five tall pine trees that block your way. And remember this picture was taken with a zoom lens…
If you go down to the woods today, you’re sure of a big surprise – a big rock and a tree between which your frisbee must pass. And lots of other trees in the way. Judging from the experience of those I’ve played with, rock climbing skills can be useful if you overshoot.
The end of the first leg and the hole that I tend to forget about. Up the hill, blind, to another basket (or as locals call it, a pole hole). This picture looks across the fairway, with the hole atop the embankment on your left and the tee at the foot of the tree on your right.
If you look very carefully between the two trees at the centre of this picture, you may make out another basket. That’s your target. Watch out for the slow moving groups of Japanese tourists walking down the path.
Step to the right of this sign and you’ll be on the tee for the eleventh hole, one of the tall pine trees in the distance beside the lake shore. A par three as the trees are difficult to avoid.
The twelth hole is pretty much hole eleven in reverse, heading up the slope towards one of the distant trees. Don’t get stuck in the (literal) bunker.
Please excuse my language, but this hole is a bastard. Follow the path up and your target is somewhere off to the right, over another path and up a small hill. Literally behind the trees. There’s no way out of it, unless you fancy your chances working through the flowerbed to your left (and that would be wrong since you’re destroying the fabric of the gardens, as well as heading in the wrong direction). Prepare to lose heart.
Somewhere out there is another basket, just off to the right of and behind the digger (not a permanent fixture). Don’t worry, players, your round will soon be complete.
Another monster. The basket’s visible in the centre, glowing in the sun, if you know where to look.
Out of the woods at last. Here’s a nice hole, surprisingly difficult to complete in one shot, with the target a simple pass between the two trees. Miss it, though, and you’ll have to drive back and try again; no backdoor shots allowed.
Believe it or not, there is a big oak obscured by the tree in front. Hit that and you’re already at the tee for the last hole.
See that big tree in the middle of the picture? Well, you need to get past that one before you make it to the big conifer beside the road. The 18th hole.
Congratulations, you have completed your first round of the Queenstown Frisbee Golf course. Did you cheat? I did when you weren’t looking, trying to get your frisbee down from that tree.
(All information from the ‘official guide’, a handwritten sheet on sale at Queenstown’s SportsWorld store.)
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If you love a man in uniform…
The marvellous modern day adventurer Alex Mira has recently been in the heart of Colombia. His travel updates are always entertaining and very well written, but I particularly liked this section in his Bogota report:
Colombia is a great and fascinating diverse place to be enjoyed, and also, a very affordable country compared to others in the Continent. Furthermore, for those of you who like women, no doubt, Colombian women are possibly the most beautiful ones in the World, and for those into men, I will say that the strong and imposing military presence everywhere makes this country not just safer but overwhelmingly sexy.
Which is accompanied by this picture of Alex and three soldiers.
Oy! Salut and forze el canute, my friend.
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