Articles for category Moggy's Musings
When a chap has already logged several thousand hours fixed wing, and then starts getting involved with helicopters, people will ask 'why?'. When on top of that, he has previously been unkind about helicopters, people will be doubly intrigued. My quiet opinion, along with a great many fixed wing pilots, had always been along the lines of:
"Fly helicopters? No chance! The day I climb into one of those contraptions will be the day I run over a Leprechaun! The most outlandish Heath Robinson concept ever thrown together. You need two nuts to fly a helicopter. One to hold the rotor on, and one to drive the infernal machine. There are more Jesus nuts and rotating parts than in an average scrapyard. It's far too complex a machine to have gyrating around the sky. At least in an aeroplane, if the engine quits, you've still got a wing. I do not fancy being suspended beneath a rotating paddle. If the engine quits on those damn things, you are going to know all about it. No thanks. I don't want to know. Should be banned from the sky."
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Moggy's Musings
What I don’t enjoy looking back on, is the times we were left shocked. Pondering some truly awful accidents. There are times I have put the phone down, totally stunned. Lost for words. If you search the UK accident fixed wing database, under the call sign G-BCTV, Cessna 150, you will read of a fatal accident, that killed a father and his son. During a Precision Flying Competition. (arrive over such-and-such a spot at EXACTLY this-and-this pre-notified time) I know, this was a fixed wing, and this story is written for the world’s best value helicopter magazine, Rotorcraft Pro. (we move on to helicopters and wires further below) But here’s the rub: the conundrum/challenge for Flight Instructors is the same.
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Moggy's Musings
In the fluid, endlessly fascinating world of helicopter flying, the Unexpected can come calling at the oddest times. Months, even years of relative routine may slip harmlessly by. But you never know when to expect that soft, unassuming knock on your door. It may be soft. But the subsequent detonation of sensory input is often anything but. That incipient, meek tap occasionally heralds in an explosive crisis that starts unfolding far faster than words can begin to describe it. The famous “Oh, shit!” moments helicopter pilots talk about afterwards, over a quiet beer, where even the expletive dies, stillborn, on your lips. You literally don’t have time to vent your feelings. It all happens so fast.
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Moggy's Musings
It’s a quiet night, and I am at home, sitting outside on the porch, relaxing under the emerging stars. A cool Guinness has hit the spot, and I am mellow, full of dreams, and silent thought. I have been pondering a simple question…
How much apple pie can you eat?
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Moggy's Musings
In the life of every Man, Woman, or Newt, there comes a point when He/She/It faces a moral dilemma. To wit: do I confess, and maybe get shouted at? Or do I keep it quiet, and hope nobody notices? Every Man, Woman or Newt has to answer this question in his/her/it’s own way, but the question will rear its ugly head, sooner or later. It will define your humanity.
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Moggy's Musings
I get a lot of emails, which is fun, and a few years ago, I received one such missive which positively bubbled cheerfulness. An exchange of emails led to a couple of phone conversations, and I found myself chatting to a bouncy young fellow, who was, in three words, ‘full of beans’.
Our hero was in the process of graduating as a Commercial Helicopter Pilot and CFI from the renowned Bristow’s Academy in Florida. A learning establishment about which I have heard much good. He certainly appeared to have enjoyed it, and he now faced his penultimate challenge: to wit, the giving of a presentation to his fellow class mates and his instructors. Apparently that’s a tradition down there, and depending on the graduate concerned, some have been known to give the event much preparation. To include slide shows, and detailed hand out notes. Well, this young fellow wanted to ask me if he could use “Moggy’s Tunaboat Helicopter Manual” and the associated outrageous stories from the Dark Side, for his presentation. It was nice of him to ask. “Sure”, I said, “You bet! Just let me know afterwards how it works out!”
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Moggy's Musings
Some things have long intrigued me. Understanding, despite my best efforts, eludes me. No, I’m not referring to Woman. Although in that area too, my L-plates are permanent. What I am referring to is the great “Fermi Paradox”. If there are billions of stars, more stars than grains of sand on all the beaches on this minor planet, then there are multi-multi-billions of planets, and if just one in XXXX thousand houses intelligent aliens, then that amounts to ga-zillions of intelligent civilizations polluting the Universe out there. And doubtless, somewhere, somebody has long since discovered the recipe essential to my personal contentment in this Universe: a simple formula.
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Moggy's Musings
In my dreams, in common with many people, I have achieved feats of levitation, and flying under my own power. Sailing through the sky, accepting that my spontaneous flying abilities were perfectly normal. Invariably, these experiences were pleasing and relaxing. They seemed to occur a lot early in the morning, as I was slowly beginning to emerge from a deep slumber. That was also when I seemed to experience Out of Body Experiences. I would find myself looking down at myself, and my gaze would wander around the room. I would see the clutter, the open books, the reams of scribbles, and even the dust on top of the cupboard. I would gaze at the sleeping figure, thinking in a kindly sort of way, that it was actually about time the lazy blighter got up and did something useful.
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Moggy's Musings
There’s an interesting old book floating around out there, which has been read by many people, and it conjures up some interesting cerebral (and optical) challenges. One of the passages refers to people who are obsessed with splinters. They seek these splinters in the eyes of others. They do so minutely, with a ferocity of inspection, hair triggered towards wagging an accusing finger: “Hey dude! You’ve got a SPLINTER in your eye! What is your PROBLEM!?”
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Moggy's Musings
You remember the Daleks?
Ex-ter-min-ate…
In the heli choppy industry, (and others) you will occasionally hear dark mutterings from the lowly rank-and-file on the subject of certain fellow pilots, supervisors, bosses, who exhibit one particular trait. And, indeed, they usually possess this trait in abundance. To what, you may wonder, do we refer?
1) Perfection.
Some people simply never screw up. They are wise beyond their peers, staggeringly knowledgeable, and uniquely qualified by dint of their magnificence, to sit in judgment on you and me. Us lowly worms, cast by Fate into “the gutters of New Orleans”, (where a certain large company owner claimed to find most of his pilots) are often required by virtue of rank to do obeisance to these Sky Gods, and –occasionally- I think we are expected to tremble a bit before them as well.
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Moggy's Musings