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The day in the life of an Angel Flight pilot

As told by Derek Recsei- Angel Flight pilot

I wake at 4:30am at my little house in Long Jetty on the Central Coast, just north of Sydney. After the usual rituals including getting breakfast, checking the weather, submitting a flight plan, travelling to the airfield and getting the plane ready, my watch reads 6:40am by the time the Piper Arrow III lifts off from Warnervale and tucks away its wheels on climb to the southwest.

It is mid-winter. The horizon is golden with the promise of impending sunrise. My plane and I are heading for Albury where a 10-month old baby girl awaits medical attention.

Unfortunately, the weather at Albury is below minimums, with adverse IFR and a 400’ ceiling.

In my favour, however, are the following:
• The cloud is forecast to lift by 10am
• I am instrument-rated and flying an IFR certified plane
• The tanks are chock-full with more than 5 hours of fuel plus mandatory reserves

Fortunately, the freezing level is above the calculated lowest safe altitude. I level out at 6000’ feet where the air temperature is 2 degrees Celsius. I turn on the pitot heat as the aircraft ducks in and out of cloud. Even though I am dressed in multiple layers including a scarf around my neck, I turn up the cabin heating. The carbon monoxide monitor is already turned on. I reach waypoint KADOM overhead Katoomba and take a photo of the sandstone cliff edges illuminated by the rising sun.

I will surrender some time to 10-15 knot headwinds but, even so, the flight from Warnervale should leave me with 2.5 hours of additional flying time by the time I get to Albury. If my RNP instrument approach at Albury is unsuccessful, I reassure myself, I can go missed and circle and wait for the weather to improve – by 10am at the latest according to the forecast.

But what if the weather at Albury stays adverse IFR for longer? Another pre-flight planning option is Shepparton airport, located in neighbouring Victoria. Here the weather is clear and forecast to remain so. I could divert to Shepparton and make use of the time on the ground to refuel before returning to Albury once the clouds lift there.

An hour out from Albury, the controller advises me of a SPECI. The forecast has taken a bad turn. Now the weather is forecast to improve not by 10 am but between 12 noon and 1pm instead.

It looks like I will need my alternate. I advise the controller that I plan to shoot the Albury approach and if the cloud is below minimums, which seems very likely, I’ll go missed and proceed to Shepparton.

I text the family in Albury to let them know.

“Thank you, we will wait to hear from you” comes the reply.

I Bluetooth from my headset to my phone and leave a voice message with Angel Flight, since their offices are not yet open.

“No worries at all. Any issues please give Angel Flight a call” comes the text reply a few minutes later.

So now I can relax and focus on the approach.

I am in cloud the whole way down, except for a few seconds passing over Lake Hume when I see the water below. I level out at the minimum descent altitude, still immersed in cloud and fully expecting to go missed. Suddenly the yellow approach lights appear ahead, followed by the runway itself. I cut the power and apply full flaps. Quicker than I can comprehend, I am on the ground and taxying to the refueling bowser.

A manager of the Sureflight flight school is kind enough to come over and offer the use of their facilities to me. I text the Sureflight address to the family. From the warmth and comfort of their lounge, I plan the flight to Bankstown. The weather is good in Bankstown. Maybe the hardest part of the day’s flying is over?

The family arrive – baby girl with mother and father, as well as grandparents and great grandparents! I am touched by their gratitude and trust in me as their pilot, this being their first time with Angel Flight.

After their luggage is stowed, the baby girl in her booster and mother are secured in the back seats. I climb into the left seat and the father is last to climb aboard. The parents had the foresight to bring a cute pair of pink ear protectors for their baby daughter to wear during the flight.

After takeoff, the plane climbs to our cruising altitude of 7000’. The air is silky smooth and we seem to hang motionless in space between two cloud layers. The aircraft is travelling fast, however, propelled along by the tailwinds and we should arrive at Bankstown in good time.

I talk with the father and mother between the radio chatter. They have lived and worked in Albury for a long time. Economic conditions are tough right in Albury now plus they want to be close to the ocean and are planning to relocate to the Queensland coast. Apart from a couple of short bouts of crying, their baby daughter remains quiet and sleeping for most of the flight. This family are my ideal passengers!

The cloud clears as we reach the Blue Mountains. With mother and father taking photos of Warragamba Dam stretched out below us, I begin our descent. We reach the Sydney plains. I drop even further to minimise potential conflict with aircraft in the Bankstown training area.

I am transferred to Bankstown Tower and overfly at 1500’ before entering the traffic pattern for runway 29R. Touch down is uneventful but after stopping at the yellow line on taxiway A5 to change frequencies, I am reminded by the tower to fully clear the runway.

We taxi to the Sydney Flying Club and due to the congestion around the club building, I park on the grass across from their taxiway. I escort my passengers through the busy flying club to the waiting car. We look forward to meeting here again in two weeks for their return flight to Albury. I return to the Sydney Flying Club lounge and tuck into a sandwich while entering a VFR flight plan for the short 30-minute flight to back to my home base Warnervale.

Departing Bankstown at 1000’, I cross paths with two aircraft above me on approach. A graphic reminder of the critical importance of the mandatory altitude separation procedures.

After landing at Warnervale, I refuel and roll my faithful Piper Arrow III into the hangar.

I silently bless my plane, the maintenance crew that keep her flying without complaint through clouds and rain, over both land and water – and even at night below the stars and moon – and the controllers that each and every day help hundreds of aircraft navigate safely through the shared skies of this amazing country of ours.

It is mid-afternoon. Maybe I will stop at the beach on the way home for a jog on the sand and a quick dip in the ocean, looking up at the empty skies above.