Through the Eyes of a Wombat

This post comes to you from 40,000 feet over New South Wales.

I'm sitting down the back of a Virgin 737 on my way back to Melbourne, and thought it high time I posted something new.

Since my last update, I have finished my instrument rating, am half way through completing all my ATPL subjects (which I will need eventually for being able to fly as captain on an aeroplane that needs more than one pilot), and have a low-flying approval in my logbook.

Being instrument rated has opened a whole new world of aviation up – whereas in the past I have had to take great care to remain outside of any clouds, and ensure that all my flying was conducted in good visibility, I now have the capability to fly through and inside clouds, and find my way around the country without actually needing to look for landmarks on the ground to identify my position – that can be accomplished using only the instruments in the cockpit. The advantage to this, obviously, is that weather is far less of a factor in limiting where one is able to fly.

As you may have gathered, I was less than keen to rush back to Broome, after the interesting time I spent there last year, so I began looking elsewhere for work. This really is an industry where the adage about who one knows, rather than what, is the greater factor in finding jobs. My search led me to an aerial survey company, which would involve flying around at an altitude considerably lower than what I am used to – although helicopter pilots are far more comfortable around these levels. However, flying lower than 500 feet above the ground (around 150 metres) requires a specific course of training, and a stamp of approval in my logbook. So back to school I went, for a weekend of flying in circles around a paddock at what I naiively assumed would be 200 or 300 feet off the ground.
Flying low is no different to flying up high, although the optical illusions created by moving so quickly in such close proximity to the ground mean one needs to be aware of what is really happening, for at a low altitude there is far less time available should something not quite go according to plan. 200 feet off the ground at 105 knots (about 220 km/h) gives a far greater feeling of speed than 150 knots at five thousand feet, but has indeed a greater element of fun. But no sooner does one get comfortable at this height, than the friendly bloke sitting next to me took me lower... and lower... until we are no more than 30 feet high – which is about ten metres: barely higher than the poles that hold power lines off the ground.

In any session of flying with an instructor, they will always take great delight in removing all your available engine power at precisely the moment you least expect it. This is, of course, excellent training for the one-in-a-million time when an engine will fail for real while flying – and because pilots train for this, should an engine actually die, there is very little reason that the aeroplane could not make a perfect landing.

So, as all good instructors do, he closed the throttle to simulate an engine failure, while I was heading towards a power line barely higher than the wire itself. Now, contrary to popular fiction, the engine does not keep an aeroplane in the sky. The wings do that. What engines do is allow the aeroplane to get into the sky in the first place, and once there, climb further or maintain height. Without engine power, the aircraft will slowly lose height, and one is then forced to plan a landing somewhat earlier than otherwise desired. But aircraft still keep travelling forwards during this descent – an airliner in the cruise will easily glide four hundred kilometres before reaching the ground – and in my situation, I was faced with a power line in front of me, and slightly below my aircraft. Precisely where I would find myself in a few seconds, if I didn't do anything.

There being a large enough gap underneath the line, I decided to go for that, instead, and pushed the aircraft down a little steeper, clearing the line with a large margin to spare, upon which the ever-friendly instructor let me have engine power back again, allowing me to climb away.

As this all happened rather quickly, I mentioned to the instructor that that particular moment had increased my heart rate a little, and I queried whether or not I had indeed done the right thing.

He laughed, and made me fly underneath the same power line twenty more times, to ensure I was comfortable in doing so.

Nevertheless, I completed the approval and am now permitted to fly below 500 feet when required. All that was to remain was the call from my new boss advising me on when I would need to present myself in Perth to start this job. While waiting, I resumed study, filling in the time trying to complete the seven exams required to upgrade my licence from a Commerical to Airline Transport. As I mentioned before, I'll need this eventually, although not in the immediate future. The ground school classroom in Melbourne is one of the two best places in Australia to study for these exams, and I have always been very pleased with the quality of the education received there. However, after two of the seven subjects completed, the fact that courses usually ran when they said they would began to wear thin, and I have spent the last week in Maroochydore on the Sunshine Coast – the location of the other best place in Australia – plugging through yet another one of these exams.