Jim Davis - PLANE TALK

FLYING CLUBS

A little while ago a gloomy bunch on interweb forum www.avcom.co.za declared, seemingly with some pleasure, that flying clubs were a thing of the past. I’m delighted to tell you they are wrong - many are thriving and new ones are popping up here and there.

FLYING CLUBS ARE THE HEART for GA’s fun fliers. If they are well run they set the culture for the pilots and the tone for the industry. Unfortunately, that’s a big IF. I’ll tell you a bit later about the things that can go wrong. But first let’s look at their anatomy, and see why they exist, and how they work. Perhaps the reason that many are thriving right now is partly as a reaction to Covid’s social distancing, and partly because of the antisocial atmosphere at the big flying schools. Or maybe it’s because of the affordability of little floppy aeroplanes. Actually I think it’s quite simple - the bottom line is that us humans are far more dependent on socializing than we like to admit. Somerset Maugham put it neatly into a nutshell when he said, “…pleasures are only pleasures because they are enjoyed in common.” I reckon he got it right. You need a little convincing? Then help me with mind experiment - welcome to Jim’s Magic Island. This is a place where everything is perfect. It’s a beautiful, lush, tropical island with pristine white beaches and palm

trees waving gently in the cooling breeze. The weather couldn’t be better – and there are no mosquitos. Now think of something that you really, really want - a mansion with spectacular gardens, fountains, French antique furniture, Persian carpets and Rembrandts on the walls. Or would you prefer a Ferrari or Maserati that never needs maintenance, and the Nürburgring to play with? How about a Lear jet with unlimited fuel? If you are into photography, have the ultimate camera and lenses. You fancy skiing? Boom - there you have it - a snow covered mountain with – and there perfect slopes. You want a yacht? Will Onassis’s one, Christiana, be are no okay for you? On this Magic Island, you can mosquitos have whichever one of these wonders you want. There’s only one snag - there’s no one else there, and there never will be. You have no contact with the rest of the world, and neither your yacht nor your aeroplane can get to outside civilizations. So you can live in the mansion, or sail your yacht, or drive your fancy car round the race track, or fly your ideal aeroplane, or ski those glistening slopes as much as you like, but remember there’s no one to share your fun, or admire your skills. And there’s not

even an internet connection - so there are no virtual get-togethers. Briefly, we have the toys, but no playmates. Do we really want the things of our dreams, or do we actually crave the community that goes with them? It’s the people who put the fun and sparkle into our toys. That’s why flying clubs will always thrive - they are the magnets that bring people and planes together. Okay - now back in the real world, picture the scene: you rock up at the airfield to find a whole bunch of people enjoying the sun while they laze or stand on the grass and watch light planes taking off and landing. There are a couple of guys with flags, handheld radios, and a long tape measure. It’s a full-on flying competition with spot landings, forced landings, flour bomb dropping, paper cutting and even a short nav. It’s all organized by the local flying club. These people are having fun playing aeries. Pupils and licensed pilots are all involved, in fact the pupes are likely to win the forced landing competition and do well with the flour bombing. And where is all this happening? Well, it wasn’t so long ago that the Algoa Flying Club organized this sort of thing as a monthly event at the main airport at Port Elizabeth. No fences, security passes or hi-viz jackets - anyone could just walk out across the airfield and join in the fun. ATC trusted the club to keep their members toeing the line. Of course it’s no longer possible at major airports, but it still happens at many country flying clubs. It was also not long ago that the flying club was the only place you could learn to fly. It was the cornerstone of all fun flying, as well as being the launch pad for commercial pilots, who also flew for fun. Well, except for the occasional one who became a 20,000 hour airline pilot and now enjoys bitching about the inadequacy of his $100 a mouthful meal allowance.

Then came the dedicated flying schools, and particularly the live-in ones, which dealt a massive blow to the humble flying clubs. I have to confess to being the leader in this movement. When my little flying school in George needed more pupils, I attracted them by advertising pilot training courses which included accommodation in a seaside cottage. It worked like a strap and eventually I moved to Port Alfred and started 43.

However, I can’t accept all the blame for the demise of flying clubs - at 43 we went out of our way to create a club atmosphere. We opened the pub every evening around sunset and the instructors mixed with the pupes for a couple of beers before everyone went off for dinner. Once a month we had a braai and solo party complete with the traditional tiecutting followed by all manner of pub games which were often injury free. Pupes would be required to push each other round an imaginary circuit in a