4
GA
/ Vol. 5 / No. 3 / MARCH 2013
Owen Zupp has over 16 000 hours of varied experience having first flown as a
commercial pilot in 1987. His background includes charter work, flight instruction
and ferry flights. Serving as a Chief Pilot, Chief Flying Instructor and an Approved
Test Officer rounded off his time in General Aviation before joining Ansett Australia
in 1994 as a First Officer on the 737.
He has a Masters Degree in Aviation Management. His writings on aviation have
been published both in Australia and abroad. Owen won the Australian National Avia-
tion Press Club's Aviation Technical Story of the Year award in 2006. In 2007 his first
book,
Down to Earth, was published and traces the combat experiences of a WWII
RAF fighter pilot.
By Owen Zupp
Global View
The Spider's
Web
PO Box 32816, Kyalami, 1728
Tel: +27 11 805 0652 Fax: +27 11 805 0649
E-mail: info@jemaxaviation.co.za
Web: www.jemaxaviation.co.za
GRAND CENTRAL AIRPORT - MIDRAND - Johannesburg
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072 768 9828
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LANSERIA AIRPORT - Johannesburg
A
s I locked my hangar for the
final time and drove away
into the red setting sun, it
was almost cliché. For the first time
in quite a few years I was without
an aeroplane or a hangar and it all
seemed rather strange. The demands
of a young family had meant that
hours at the airfield had become
scarce and the luxury of ownership
could no longer be justified; despite
my very best efforts. Between my job
as a commercial pilot and writing,
my poor little aeroplane had only
taken to the skies for eight hours
in the last twelve months and it
deserved better.
Fortunately I am still privileged
to fly other people's aeroplanes at
regular intervals, but still there was
something nice about ownership.
Those quiet early mornings when
the hangar doors would squeak open
and the first rays of the sun would
illuminate the darkened shed. My
little aircraft would be sitting there
patiently, just as it had been left after
its previous trip aloft. Clean and
shiny, covers and chocks all in place.
There was almost as much
pleasure in the preflight and post-
flight ritual as there was in the act
of flight. Like saddling or grooming
a prized thoroughbred. With no
schedule to keep and nobody
sweating on the aeroplane's return, I
would meticulously dawdle about the
airframe and engine, checking that
everything was just right. Whether
the flight was taking me to the top
of Australia, of just around the
block, the procedure was much the
same and it was always enjoyable.
Sure, you can always hire
an aeroplane instead and in fact
in generally makes more sense.
However, beyond the cockpit,
thinking logically is not always
the most enjoyable option; certain
emotions and experiences render the
balance sheet an impotent document.
Aircraft ownership can sometimes
prove to be a money pit, but there is
still an undeniable value in being an
owner. And yet here I was without
an aeroplane to call my own.
As I drove off, my daughter
brushed off some annoying spider's
webs she had acquired in the hangar
and asked why I still had keys to the
airfield. If I didn't own a hangar or
an aircraft, why was I even a member
of the club? These were very valid
questions popping up from the seat
beside me. I didn't exactly struggle
for an answer, but I definitely paused
to grasp her perspective. And it
was in this process of thought that
I revisited the most fundamental
of reasons; a love of aviation.
As I put forward my explanation,
I remembered the many hours of
pleasure I had gleaned from flying
before I ever grasped the controls. As
a young boy peering over the fence as
wheels touched the pavement before
the drill of the engine's tone increased
and the aircraft set course for the
circuit area once more. Wandering
along the flight line, looking up
at towering transport aircraft, or
gingerly climbing onto the wing
root's rough black strip to squint into
the cockpit of a smaller craft with a
sense of amazement. Control towers,
fire trucks and flashing lights set to a
soundtrack of some foreign phonetic
language squawking through nearby
speakers. This was the exciting stuff
of dreams for a young lad like me.
Still there was more. For every
individual that becomes a pilot,
there is a wealth of worthy folk who
fill critical roles in aviation. From
engineers and air traffic controllers to
refuellers and firemen, the list goes on
and on. Like the spider web, almost
invisible, the passer-by only ever
notices the spider. And yet without
the support of the web, the spider
would simply fall back to earth. The
interdependent nature of aviation
and the way in which the players
co-ordinate across a broad spectrum
of responsibilities is one of its true
marvels. However, we only seem to
pay attention when the choreography
slips and a flight is delayed or an
overhaul misses a deadline. But for
every glitch in the system, there is
a humming continuity that beats
its quiet drum, day in-day out.
And then there are those that are
removed from the actual process,
who are no less enamoured with
the world of flight. Train drivers to
accountants, since childhood they
have been gripped by the sight of
inert metal leaving the ground and
gracefully sweeping through the sky.
Some read ferociously about long lost
biplanes and others use the cameras
lens to capture the essence of flight.
Then there are those who are happy
to park their car at the runway's
end and watch the magic take place
in the best free show in town.
All of these individuals, workers
and observers, children and grown-
ups, are a part of aviation. Whether
they participate first hand or foster
flight through their passion, they
are no less involved. They are all
essential wheels on the cogs within an
immense global machine. No matter
where they travel, there will be the
ability to fuel their love of aviation,
or strike up a conversation with a
like-minded soul. In fact in this digital
world, aviation can be shared by a
few keystrokes and hitting `send',
or participating in online forums.
All too often aviation is perceived
as a pilot-centric, elite realm. For
those at the coal-face, up close and
personal with the industry, they
know how false this misconception
really is. They know the faces and
the backgrounds of those who share
a common dream and they are not all
wearing flight jackets and sunglasses.
They are just as likely to be in
pyjamas, holding a sleeping child
in one arm at 2am with an aviation
magazine in the other hand. Aviation
is its people. They are the spider's
web that keeps it aloft, no matter
how small their thread may seem.
So now as I return to
my daughter's question, I
acknowledge her perception but
steer her in another direction.
I ask her how many spiders'
webs she had seen in the hangar.
"A million, Dad!" she replied.
And how many spiders?
"Not one, Dad."
"See, for every spider you see,
there are millions of webs. I guess
we don't have an aeroplane now, but
we can still be one of the millions
of people who like aeroplanes."
My point seems to have hit
home. "I understand that Dad.
Thanks.".....and then she paused.
"... but I still had spider's webs." ·