Top Birds & Everyfing

RNZAF Mustang P51 NZ 2417 Meets Iroquois NZ 3814

 

 

An early morning departure from RNZAF Hobsonville. Early 1970's.

Over the years number Three Squadron of the RNZAF has been associated with Christchurch and the Canterbury Region when it was established as a Territorial unit in 1930.

 

RNZAF Sunderland on the point at Hobsonville. Hobsonville was probably the most pleasantly located, as well as affording the most relaxed lifestyle, of any base the Kiwi Air Force ever had in NZ.

When Three Squadron became the first RNZAF Squadron to operate helicopters it was based at Hobsonville in the upper reaches of the Waitemata Harbour. It’s association with Christchurch was re-established in the early 1970’s when a detachment of two Iroquois were based at Wigram for search and rescue duties for the South Island.

 

A formation of Iroquois and a Bristol Freighter at Hobsonville in the 1970's/

For some reason that has faded into the mists of time a public day was held at Wigram and the connection between No 3 Squadron Iroquois and one of the Squadron’s former aircraft was made. The upshot of that resulted in our crew being invited to fly our Iroquois out to Alyesbury on the Canterbury Plains to look at a former Three Squadron P51 Mustang. You can’t knock back an invitation like that.

 

 

In a paddock at Alyesbury... two No. 3 Squadron aircraft meet.

There are only a handful of aircraft to my mind that merit as truly remarkable. In it’s operational days the Mustang P51 was a fighter on steroids. These days pilots have been known to voluntarily get out of bed early, leave a cold beer on the bar untouched, abandon their girl friends just to get a whiff of a passing Mustang. To me it’s evocative name epitomizes wildness and unbridled performance. Like the Spitfire, the Mustang was in its day an incredible combat aircraft that today still looks as good as ever as well as having the unforgettable sound of that V-12 engine.

 

Getting ready for a flight, my mistake, a fast taxi, NZ 2417 and Iroquois NZ 3814.

A handful... a rather large hand... were delivered to the RNZAF at the end of WWII. So when that opportunity came to see one of them we jumped at the chance. On the 31st of August 1971 we departed the RNZAF Base at Wigram and flew out to Alyesbury, which is a small settlement on the Canterbury Plains west of Christchurch, and landed in a paddock where an ex-RNZAF Mustang... NZ 2417, was kept by Ron Fechney on his property. Although it was on the civilian register at the time as ZK-CCG, it was not officially airworthy at the time... so Ron started it up and roared up and down the paddock on his farm so we could get the sensation of what a Mustang would be like sort of airborne.

Serial number 45-11507, NZ 2417, ZK CCG

 

 

If a Dove is a Bird, Then What is a Devon and Why Are Runways So Long & Airliner Tails So Tall?

  What began as a tale about a Devon of its own accord peregrinated about like a wombat with a sore nose on a meandering path into a sort of filibuster about aviation things heterogenous... we begin with Devon...

 

This is a Dove. A Brown Cuckoo-dove no less and not related to a Devon.

Devon is a county in south western England; a processed luncheon sausage... dished out back in my younger days to long suffering Kiwi and Australian kids for school lunches... these days children have sliced Argentinean rare beef, Madagascan mustard, Mongolian roquette on a gluten free sourdough baguette... moving on... where were we... Devon... oh yes; its also an aeroplane. Dove is a bird first made famous by Noah; it’s also an aeroplane; or I dove headfirst into a lake. It is absolutely inconceivable to devon head first into a lake. 

 

A line up of three RNZAF Devons at Wigram in 1968. NZ 1808 and the two behind it were navigation trainers having an astrodome in the roof behind the cockpit. Harvard NZ 1085 parked beside was the aircraft I did my first solo in.

Devon's and Doves to me are the same aeroplane... Maybe Devon was the military model and the Dove was civilian. De Havilland produced the Devon in the mid 1940’s (and the Dove) and sold around 500 of them to many places around the world. The RNZAF bought about 30 of them as transport aircraft, as well as for pilot, navigator and signaler training. De Havilland produced many famous aircraft including the Tiger Moth, Mosquito (which my father flew in WWII), the Vampire (which I flew) and the Comet.

 

Concorde at the Yeovilton Naval Museum in the UK. Thanks to everyne for pointing out the DH Comet is in fact a Concorde... must have been one of those moments... which means this photo has nothing to do with the story... but it's a nice photo anyway!

In my last year at school I was gazing skywards one weekend... as you do... and a Tiger Moth flew over our house. My father said he had fond memories of buzzing around in Tiger Moths over Auckland when he was learning to fly during the early months of WWII. Anyway, at that stage of my schooling I was thinking of becoming a lawyer, a hippie or a geologist... pretty much the same thing... anyway, why don’t I become a pilot I thought.... I applied to the air force the following day.

 

DH Tiger Moth flying past Darwin City. This Australian Tiger Moth - A17-640 (VH NMD) painted in RAAF training colours would have been very similar to the ones my father learn to fly in NZ and prompted me into in aviation.

My first flight in a DH Devon was on the 26th September 1968 at RNZAF base Wigram in NZ 1821 as part of my pilot training for the Kiwi air force. I was a member of Number 50 aircrew course, where a small number of teenagers were made into pilots and navigators in the space of twelve short months... I might clarify here that the months in 1968 were no shorter than their equivalent months today. The short months simply imply that maybe twelve months was too fugacious a time to produce aircrew members from a bunch of barely coherent adolescents who had only just started wearing long pants. Anyway... the first three months were officer training and aviation theory which left nine months to learn to fly. In those days the Royal Air Force still recruited aircrew from the colonies and began their training in NZ. The RAF students spent those first three months with us kiwi air force colonials learning to march and to eat with knives and forks before leaving for the UK where presumably British pilots already knew how to march and eat with knives and forks.

  RNZAF Devon NZ 1804 at RNZAF Base Wigram in 1968. Harvard NZ 1091, with a "Red Checkers" nose cone, either running a little rich or having it's smoke generator tested.

Flying training back then comprised of basic training in the Harvard followed by advanced flying in the DH Devon. We moved on from all the fun things we had done in the Harvard; like aerobatics, low flying, formation flying and weapons delivery... if you can call an 8 lb bomb a weapon... to concentrate on more mundane multi-engine handling and instrument flying in the Devon. 

 

NZ 1802 at Woodbourne. The tail fin in the Devon is too small to balance the trust when on one engine until well above take-off speed.

The Devon had two Gipsy Queen inverted six cylinder engines equipped with a feather-able props. Vmca is not the date of Caesar’s birthday but an aviation abbreviation that means something about being able to control a multi-engine aeroplane with one, or more engines not doing their job which is to produce lots of power to get as far away from the ground as possible as quickly as possible. Vmca, essentially is a control speed which in the case of the Devon (unlike all modern aeroplanes) was above take-off speed which meant that if you lost an engine (See technical note below for explanation of a lost engine) shortly after take-off there wasn’t enough rudder control to balance the asymmetric thrust of only having one engine working and to stop the aeroplane from doing an uncontrollable turn and an inevitable interesting landing of an unplanned nature. The general idea was not to have an engine failure at least until after the Devon had accelerated with both engines well and truly making loud noises to going faster than Vmca when there was sufficient airflow over the rudder to keep the aeroplane straight.

 The Woodbourne base Devon was painted in VIP colours taking off from its Marlborough home in 1970.

However, having been lucky enough to get faster than Vmca the problems were not all over yet because, although you might just be able to keep it straight enough, the aircraft was so underpowered on one engine it was in the lap of the Gods whether you could keep it airborne anyway. The ensuing flight path at best was a slow interminable climb that relied mainly on the curvature of the earth falling away to stop colliding with a tall tree, a church spire or anything else poking its head above the landscape like a giraffe.

Technical Note: I might explain to non-aviator types who read my blog that when pilots say that they have lost an engine it doesn’t mean they cannot find the engine because they have misplaced it somewhere and can’t remember where they put it like their car keys, wallet, sun glasses etc. It’s most unusual, but not totally unheard of, to be flying along fat, dumb and happy and suddenly look out on the wing and find the engine is no longer part of the aircraft and has completely vanished from sight and is not there any more. If this was to occur the pilot would be in a state of mild consternation! Pilots are usually stating when the say they have lost an engine that the engine has lost it’s power. 

 

On a cold winters day at Wigram... was there any other sort... Bell demonstrated an early model Huey Cobra and a Jetranger. Snow flurries weren't the only things flying during this 1968 occasion.

Navigation equipment consisted the Mk I eyeball and for when we were in cloud, real or simulated, an ADF and sometimes a pre-Cambrian version of a DME. The ADF loop aerial was in the roof of the cockpit so that it could be manually rotated with one white kidskin gloved hand by the student... me... if the automatic system didn’t work, which was quite often.. so as to listen using our antiquated helmets for the null which gave the bearing to the station and home; all the while attempting to display some semblance of flying the aeroplane on instruments with the other white kidskin gloved hand; with one engine failed and without the autopilot working because there was no autopilot in the Devon. This required the mental powers of a nerd (which hadn’t been invented in those days) and the dexterity of a glass blower, attributes in which I was sadly lacking. 

However, once airborne and high above the ground and both engines humming away sweetly the Devon was a nicely balanced and smooth aeroplane and I enjoyed flying it. We flew it all the way up and down New Zealand and never got lost once. Somehow by the grace of God and sympathetic instructors I got my wings and became a real pilot.

 

10th December, 1968. Two Devons at Oamaru Airport on a navigation exercise. Not an instructor in sight. Both Devons were crewed by the four remaining student pilots on No 50 Course.

Having prattled on about engines going belly up I thought I might attempt to explain the technicalities of why aeroplanes do what they do seeing us birdos are prone to go off flying to exotic corners of the earth blissfully ignorant of the intricacies of aviation. So here’s a not too technical description of why your common-or-garden airliners have such tall tail planes and why runways are soooooo long: You will have probably seen that aeroplanes always seem to take-off and finish their landing roll well before the end of the runway...

 

Air Asia X art gallery featuring tall buildings, toucans, treking, scuba diving, monkeys all landing recently at Melbourne Airport.

So why are runways so much longer than they seem to need for normal take-off and landing? Well, each time an aeroplane takes off the pilot calculates what’s known as a V1 speed which is determined by a bunch of variables such as the length of the runway, wind, temperature, weight of the aeroplane and a few others which we wont go into.

What V1 means to the pilot is that should the aeroplane have an engine failure during take-off before attaining V1 speed the pilot will reject the take-off and bring the aeroplane to a stop before the end of the runway which is good. V1 is calculated so there is just enough runway remaining to come to a complete stop with the nose hanging precariously over the end of the bitumen or what ever the runway is made. If the pilot attempted to stop when faster than V1 airspeed the aeroplane will overrun the end and crash into the fence, sea, canal, trees or what ever happens to be there, which is not good. As you can imagine it takes some considerable distance to stop a heavily laden aircraft, so that’s one of the reasons why the runways have to be so long.

However, should it suffer an engine failure once the aeroplane thunders on past V1 speed, noting that at V1 speed the aeroplane is still well and truly on the ground, the pilot is committed to continue to take-off using the power from the remaining engine or engines. The aeroplane has to continue to accelerate, albeit at a reduced rate until it reaches its take-off speed and then become airborne. The aeroplane needs to remain on the runway almost to the very end before it has accelerated sufficiently to reach its take-off speed. It’s all calculated so that the aeroplane will be just 10 metres above the ground when it finally passes the end of the runway... which is the second reason why runways are so long. Provided the pilot calculates the take-off figures correctly these are guaranteed performance calculations bringing happiness to everyone on board should an engine fail during take-off.

 Qantas Airbus 380 taking off at Sydney. The tail needs to be extra large to counteract the thrust of the outboard engines if an engine failed on take-off.

So why are the tails of airlines so tall? Well, not all are, however aeroplanes that have their engines mounted on the wings, which is the majority of them, have very tall tail planes. Building a large tail is quite structurally demanding and adds a lot of cost, weight and complication to the whole shebang. The reason for the whacking great tail plane is because if one of the engines fail the aeroplane has more thrust or power from one side of the aeroplane than the other... its called asymmetric thrust. Uncorrected this could cause the aeroplane to enter an uncontrollable turn. It’s generally regarded as unsatisfactory to have a Boeing 747 or an Airbus 380 wandering around the sky out of control. The pilot therefore balances the aeroplane by using the rudder on the back of the tail fin to keep it flying in the proper direction. Modern aeroplanes have such powerful engines that they need very powerful rudders to control the asymmetric thrust. The most critical stage of flight is on take-off when the asymmetric effect of a failed engine would be at its greatest. This is because the engines are at very high power and the airspeed is low, so the tail and rudder are much less effective.. So the reason why the tail plane and its rudder need to be very tall is to control asymmetric thrust following an engine failure on take-off. If you ever get to fly in an aeroplane such as a Boeing 717 or rich enough to own a biz jet you may notice that their tails are less tall. This is because the engines are mounted on the back close to the centre line of the fuselage and therefore suffer from much reduced asymmetric thrust.

 A rather fuzzy Air Niugini F28 landing at Goroka Airport in 1980. The engines are mounted on the rear fuselage and requires a smaller tail fin because assymetric thrust is less should and engine fail.

Connie Does A Circuit At Wollongong

Runway 34 at Wollongong. The take off roll begins...

just airborne...

finals back on Runway 34... and

touchdown....

Picasso, Monet, the Bell 47 and the MoMA

 

Bell 47G 3B1 NZ 3706 On the airstrip at Riverhead Forest 1969. Pilot Russ Cross. Bell 47 Sioux operated by the RNZAF from 1965 until 2011.

Picasso may have flown in a Bell 47. He was wealthy enough to afford to and didn’t die until well after they first began flying. Monet, who may have seen flying contraptions while he was plein-air landscape painting; and Vincent Van Gogh, who might have seen a hot air balloon; both died before first the helicopter was on the drawing board. So what have they got in common with the Bell 47.

 

Picasso; Museum of Modern Art, New York. Picasso was a prolific artist who changed the way we see ourselves.

And why does the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York city have originals of work by artists such as Picasso, Monet and Van Gogh when they don’t seem to us to be so modern-day. In so much in their day they challenged the concept of the established art that had been in existence for centuries... the old order that mustn’t be changed... as Monet brought light to dark canvas, Picasso destroyed the realistic and gave us a new view that confronted our perceptions. They changed things... art leads change...

Monet: MoMA, New York. The sheer size of this "water lilies" canvas astounded me. On the opposite wall another the same size.

There is so much to see in the MoMA that the recommended way of seeing the collection is to take the lift to the fifth floor where the Monet’s, Van Gogh’s and Picasso’s are displayed and work your way down from floor to floor via the escalators to the entrance. It only takes a few hours depending on the crowds and how long you want to spend at each exhibit.

Max Ernst, "Woman, old man and flower" MoMA, New York.

If you’ve visited the Vatican Museums in Rome or the Uffizi Gallery in Florence then it’s not unusual when there is so much to see that it all becomes a blur. So by the time I got to the bottom of the escalator that led on to the second floor of the MoMA I was getting into cultural overload. I was totally and pleasantly surprised to see a sea green Bell 47 hanging by wires in the free space above the ground floor stairwell. Here, a Bell 47 in the MoMA... a machine I had sweated blood learning to hover... at the same time trying to control rotor revs, remain in one spot and height over the ground, pointing in the same direction without crashing or hitting something... moving on. The lower you go in the museum the more recent the art... every day objects such as Vespas and surf boards and more...

Bell 47 D1, MoMA, New York hangs in the airspace above the stairwell. Introduced in 1949 with skids, bubble canopy, transverse fuel tank and open tube work tailboom. 

The Bell 47’s designer was Arthur Young who was also an artist and a poet. The museum’s website describes Young’s creation as an “ object whose delicate beauty is in-separable from it’s efficiency.” 

In a perfect hover on permanent display at the MoMA, New York, complete with fire extinguisher.

So, if you’ve been fortunate to fly or fly in a Bell 47 then you’ve shared in the creative genius of some of the world’s most re-known artists. The works displayed by Picasso, Monet, Van Gogh were already to my mind inspiring works, but it was for a me a leap of imagination to consider a helicopter in the same way. I guess the curators of the MoMA consider how designers such as Arthur Young challenged the accepted view of the world and created something new... not unlike Monet and Picasso. And I’m equally sure that Arthur Young would be delighted if he knew of the powers of imagination that subsequent aviators, that followed in his foot steps, had put his pioneering machine and the helicopters that have followed it, to work in all corners of the world from the city centres to the remotest parts of the planet. So, having got over my surprise I can see why the 47 hovers there indefinitely among such esteemed company.

CHC AW 139 operated for the ASNSW. Only the Italians can make a helicopter that looks this good. This is a helicopter pilots just fall in love with.

And, as I look at the Italian designed Augusta 139 helicopter that I fly these days, I realize that designers can put serious eye catching appeal into something as mundane as a helicopter. It’s only the Russians that have perfected the dark art of making aircraft so ugly that only it’s mother could love them. 

Van Gogh.

Olive Trees with the Alpilles in the Background, 1889, Museum of Modern Art, New York.

 

Fox Moth ZK ASP - Great Barrier Island

I was asked on this blog whether I had details of a lift we'd made of ZK ASP off the beach at Great Barrier Island. I thought I might post the details for general interest.

 

Brian Senn on the left and Stoney Burke standing on top of ZK ASP about to be slung of a beach at Great Barrier Island.

Somehow ZK ASP ended up on a beach on Great Barrier Island with engine problems and could not take-off. I can't remember the details but it was below the high tide level and was in danger of being swamped. The crew somehow got a message to the Air Force to request an urgent lift to sling it above the high tide. Remarkably the bureaucracy responded promptly and someone, obviously a brave individual, made a "snap" and we flew out there.

 
 A formation of Iroquois heading out towards Little Barrier Island. Nothing to do with the Fox Moth.

We rigged the Moth after folding it's wings and lifted it successfully before the high tide came in. From memory it flew very well. I far as I can tell, the date was the 11th November 1970, the helicopter UH-1H NZ 3812. The crew was Brian Senn, Stoney Burke and your truly.

Not even sure now where we slung it to but it was good to see an old aircraft, even in those days, saved from being destroyed.

Fat Boris Lands At Karratha

 

The Antonov AN 124 parked on the old runway at Karratha. Note the cones placed in front just in case you didn't notice 400 tonnes of aeroplane in front of you and it became a trip hazard...

Fat Boris is a bariatric aeroplane. Bigger than three very large things stacked end to end. It’s categorically Brobdingnagian! It’s officially called an Antonov, An – 124.  Probably the largest aeroplane to lift off from the steppes... that's if you ignore its big brother the Antonov 225 which I’m ignoring as one didn’t land at Karratha…

 

Four engines, more wheels than a road train, two internal container cranes borrowed from the port at Vladivostok, so large it affects the tides and darkens the sky when it flies overhead... bigger than a ... ...'s ... (fill in the blanks)

Moving on… Fat Boris landed at Karratha that is in the far north west of Western Australia. And when a substantial aeroplane lands out of the blue it’s hard to ignore, especially when it blocks off half the airport.

 

Boris in Russian means small which is about as an inappropriate a moniker as you can get for the number one big shot, large, cavernous aeroplane that has ever lifted of the ground…. apart from it’s bigger brother.

 

Comrade Captain, "Gregor can you change the middle tyre." "Yes Captain... I'll just find the 400 tonne jack."

Kiwi Iroquois In Fiji in the 70’s

 RNZAF Iroquois NZ 3809 cruises along the southern coast of the Fijian island of Viti Levu in September 1971. Well someone had to do it...

In September 1971 and 1972 the RNZAF 3 Squadron conducted operations in Fiji with their Iroquois helicopters. These deployments were definitely not jolly’s but a genuine exercise in gaining operational experience in tropical conditions… moving on!

 

Bristol Freighter NZ5912 parked at Norfolk Island on the way to Fiji. Categorical evidence that a Bristol Freighter, for all intents and purposes resembling a bus shed can indeed fly and make it there from NZ… no doubt ably assisted by the rotation of the earth. (Note the Norfolk Pine proving the BF definitely got to Norfolk Island)

The first year we travelled to Fiji on a Bristol Freighter NZ5912 via Norfolk Island. We could have got there quicker and more comfortably by Drua, which is a sacred Fijian double canoe. Being up to 30 metres long, could carry 200 people and were rumoured to be faster that a Bristol Freighter… mind you everything is faster than a Bristol Freighter.

 

Bristol Freighters were less affectionately known by us as “ten thousand rivets flying in close formation” due to the ear shattering roar and shuddering coming from the two 1980 horse power Bristol Hercules engines. We were convinced the aircraft was going to shake itself to pieces at any moment. Of the 1980 horsepower developed by each engine approximately 1900 went into noise and vibration, the other 80 providing possible forward speed most of which was imagination. So slow was progress, on the first day we turned back half way to Norfolk Island due to head winds… three or four knots probably… and it’s somewhat barnlike shape… it had more drag than the Sydney Mardi Gras… didn’t exactly help matters.

 

Fijian Military Forces personnel gained experience in helicopter operations.

Anyway, anyway… we eventually made it to Suva with the only casualties being the entire crew suffering nicotine deprivation… smoking was compulsory in the kiwi air force in those days and the Bristol Freighter was smoke-free being a flying high-octane firebomb. Lets not mention the freezing drafts that entered the gaps in the fuselage and doors, and the solid backbreaking backward facing seats in case you think we were not grateful for going on overseas deployment. Thankfully we came home in a Herc.

 

For the 1972 deployment we took the D-model Hueys; 3803 and 3804.

Moving on. It was great to escape the cold of a NZ September to the warm tropics of Fiji. We stayed at the Queen Elizabeth Barracks in Suva, scene of various military coups in later years. We exercised with the Fiji Military Forces and the Ghurkha’s.

 

Refuelling at Nadi Airport. Nadi is on the opposite end of Viti Levu to Suva necessitating a long flight all the way back to Suva following the southern coast.

Not one of us was game to ask one of the Ghurkha’s to show us his Kukris… due to the absolute certainty of the legend that a Ghurkha never sheathes his blade without drawing blood and guess whose blood that was going to be.

 

A Qantas Boeing 707 at Nadi.

Back in those days Fiji was a haven for duty free shopping. We spent our spare time combing through the Suva Markets arguing with Indian traders for watches, stereos and other goodies and figuring out how we were going to smuggle the excesses above our duty free allowance past Customs back at Whenuapai when we went home. Rumour has it that boxes labelled military aircraft spares was the best method… I’m sure those Customs Officers weren’t that stupid but we being military, I’m sure they turned a blind-eye because of our selfless duty to our country… moving on.

 

Some of the 1972 deployment. Note the range of different coloured flying clothing. RNZAF supplies must have come from the op shop in those days.

Anyway, we gained experience in tropical helicopter flying techniques, swimming in tropical seas, haggling with Indian traders, laying around on gleaming white tropical beaches and serving our country. All too soon it was back to reality and cold weather…

 

RNZAF Avro Vulcan Bomber at RNZAF Wigram

 RNZAF Vulcan Bomber doing a low approach and landing at RNZAF Base Wigram in 1968. Note the Kiwi roundel. Registration is possibly XH 582. Speed brakes deployed above and below the wings.

Believe it or not the Royal New Zealand Air Force operated one Avro Vulcan Bomber during 1968, presumably in anticipation of attacking Norfolk Island or maybe even Soviet Russia. Undeniable proof of this is now revealed from secret files found under tight security hidden in my shed in a dusty box of old photos.

A low flypast exhibiting the delta planform of the Vulcan Bomber.

In 1968 while I was living at the New Zealand Air Force base at Christchurch in the South Island of New Zealand, I inadvertently photographed a RNZAF Vulcan Bomber while I was an impressionable trainee pilot standing in the middle of the airfield minding my own business. I looked up and by co-incidence, just as I gazed innocently skywards, perhaps looking for a bird, this ear splittingly noisy, offensive and extremely deafening aircraft darkened the sky above me.

 

With four engines at high power the noise was so loud our bodies reverberated from the shear volume of the sound. This photo was taken using my old camera and a standard (non-telephoto) lens... indicates just how low they were!

It did repeated vulgar passes, obviously lost, and flying low enough to be able to read the name of the airfield on a signpost or something so as to become un-lost. Apparently satisfied they had found the right place the crew then made some practice approaches, but then realising that the airfield, apart from a narrow strip of sealed runway barely wide enough for the resident Harvard and D.H Devon trainers to fit on, was mostly all grass, it then departed.

    

This photo also taken in 1968 using a standard lens. They were low...

Later, while on a visit to RNZAF Ohakea I found another one of these Vulcan Bombers. Fortunately this one had found an airfield suitable to land on. This Vulcan was a different one from the one I had seen at Wigram. It was called XH 806 and owned by the RAF.

 

XH 806 parked at RNZAF Ohakea. Successfully standing on all three legs.

Not so suitable a place to land was Wellington’s Rongatai airport where a RAF Vulcan, XH 498, while attempting to demonstrate a landing in front of the crowds of onlookers there to see the official opening of the airport, broke the left main landing gear and other things when it touched down short of the threshold. The crew managed to get the aircraft airborne again and did a successful emergency landing at Ohakea.

Note: It was only when reviewing these photos after scanning my old slides onto my MacBook that I noticed that the roundel on the aircraft had the kiwi symbol in it. Obviously some ground crew wags had done a surreptitious repaint in the dark of night while the RAF were visiting us colonials...

A closer look at the forward fuselage showing the kiwi roundel!

Note 2: Sam has forwarded the link below with more information on the Kiwi Vulcan.

http://www.avrovulcan.org.uk/vulcan_people/562_kiwi.htm

They give the date as in March 1972 not in 1968 as I originally thought. I must have been at Wigram on a later occasion... the storage and retrieval system is not what it used to be!

The Crash of Harvard NZ1017

During December 1972 the RNZAF were conducting an exercise at Taupo in the centre of New Zealand’s North Island.

Taupo is the name of a large lake, which allegedly was created as the result of a single massive volcanic explosion that you could have heard halfway around the world… had you been alive at the time. The lake is about 26 miles across which is 40 km and at that size it must have been a fairly ear shattering bang. Now the crater that the explosion left behind is full of water and trout and tourists trying to catch the trout.

Harvard NZ1017 becomes airborne at Lake Taupo Airport. Its last flight. 

Harvard NZ1017 was there as a Forward Air Controller (FAC) aircraft complete with bomb racks for marking targets. I took a photo of it getting airborne from Taupo on what proved to be its last flight.

Sometime time later it suffered and engine failure over Kinloch, which is on the northern side of the lake, and successfully carried out a force landing.

Wheels up landing in a paddock at Kinloch. 

The pilot landed the Harvard in a paddock on the top of a small ridge and skidded down the other side coming to rest facing the way they had come. All in all a pretty good job considering the terrain and bush surrounding the lake in that area. Someone once said that any landing you can walk away from is a good one.

There were some high-tension power lines in the vicinity of the landing site… always best to avoid.

 NZ1017's final resting place after the forced landing. Note the high-tension power lines in the background.

I dashed over in a UH-1H to rescue the crew, which fortunately survived the crash landing. 

I would be grateful for any more information about this event. My logbook doesn’t indicate who the crew was with me and which UH-1 we were flying or who were the crew of the Harvard.

RNZAF Hueys at Mt Cook - 1971

Mt Cook. Mt Tasman is on the right.

The Tasman Glacier, which is New Zealand's longest glacier, moves down the eastern side of Mount Cook, New Zealand's highest mountain.  Although, on occasions the weather can get really atrocious there, when it is fine, the sky is clear and cloudless and the air is calm there are few places on earth more spectacular.

View of the Tasman Glacier from Mt Cook Airstrip. Mt Cook is the high peak.

On the 19th and 20th of October, 1971, the crews of two RNZAF UH-IH Iroquois flew members of 40 Squadron RNZAF on a snow survival exercise to the top of the Tasman Glacier. 40 Squadron (C130 H Hercules) flight crews would have been doing survival training as they would have been about to begin their summer support flights to Antarctica.

NZ 3813 landing at Ball Hut, Mt Cook.

The 40 Sqn crews were flown from the Ball Hut close to the terminal moraine (where it was back in those days) up to the top of the glacier where they conducted their survival training.

Looking down the Tasman Glacier towards Mt Cook. NZ 3811, 3813 and the 40 Sqn crews.

Pilot Officer Sinclair was my co-pilot (apologies for not recording the name of the crewman) in UH-1H tail number NZ 3811. We were accompanied by NZ 3813. (crew names unknown).

There is a rumour (totally unconfirmed of-course) that we managed, for a few seconds, to land one skid on the summit of Mt Cook.

Mount Cook showing the Caroline Face.

Next year we carried out the recovery of a climbing accident victim on the Caroline Face that required a quick exit due to an avalanche. Mt  Cook rangers revised their recovery procedures after that incident.     

40 Squadron Personnel on the Tasman Glacier.

    Mt Cook sunset.