Never want to come down. An exerpt from Christine's travel journal.
"She's looking for a young, rich man," Frank jokes.
"In New Zealand!?!" James asks incredulously.
"How about that helicopter pilot?"
"Pshh. Is he young??"
"Well. Young-ish."
----------
I woke up to a partly cloudy sky and butterflies in my stomach. I don't hear anything, and wonder if they've decided to go through with flying. A few minutes before 8 I hear the familiar drone of a helicopter. With growing excitement I step out onto the porch, looking up at the sky while brushing my teeth. After a few moments it appears, with a large cable and bag dangling beneath, just over the trees. The heli pad is just down the hill from my house. I watch the helicopter as it hovers there, and I can see the pilot leaning out his window. Within moments it sweeps around and heads out over the hill again, carrying a new bag of firewood.
I get my stuff together and head out to the work yard. Suddenly it seemed very important to not miss this opportunity. But there was no hurry - Frank and I had to go pick up a couple of shit tanks, and bring them along with the wood to the nearest road access to Whanganui Hut - about a half hour drive away. At the discounted rate of $1350 per hour for the helicopter, everyone was keen to get it done quickly.
And so we drove there in a huge truck and waited for the chopper to arrive, entertained by a herd of curious wild horses. Finally the chopper came into sight. It was carrying a huge chunk of a bridge that had been dismantled the day before. The pilot, who was named Blake, leaned out his window to carefully set it down next to the truck. I nervously stepped aside, watching the wavering helicopter above me, the sound of it roaring in my ears. He then landed to talk to Frank. When he got out of the chopper, I could see that he was a relatively short, slight guy wearing a comically oversized helmet. But definitely young-ish.
Each round, Blake would take a load of wood and return with a chunk of bridge. Each time, it looked like the bridge was flying directly at my face. It was surreal and dreamlike, watching these huge things coming at me so fast, then slowing to a stop just a few meters from me. I didn't like standing under the helicopter. One time, he landed because the clasp on the cable wouldn't release, and I momentarily panicked because I didn't know why he was coming down practically on top of us. Frank went and talked to him, and then informed me that I could come along with the shit tanks since they were light enough to accommodate my extra weight.
And so I was quickly ushered in, without any time to be nervous. Blake personally buckles me in and hands me a headset.
"Ah there ya go, all good then?" he says.
"Oh. I can hear you," I reply.
We're up in the air before I even have a chance to think about it. It's surprisingly smooth and not as scary as I expected. Blake's leaning out the window again as the tank gets loaded. I barely even feel us lift the 400+ kilogram tank, though we wobble in the air a bit. It's a small chopper, smaller than a car inside. You could squeeze four people in it, but it'd be cramped.
Once we're on our way, Blake looks over at me, and maybe it's the adrenaline in my veins but I am immediately smitten. Ruggedly handsome, blue eyes, dark blond-tending-to-ginger hair. I don't care a whit that his helmet gave something of an impression of Rick Moranis in Spaceballs.
"Ever been in a helicopter before?" he asks me.
"Nope, and I'm a nervous flyer. I'm just not talking because I'm paralyzed with terror."
"Aw naw, don't say that!"
"Actually it's way less scary than I expected."
And indeed it was, smoother than flying in an airplane, even. Blake explained how the weather affected flying - we were flying into the wind, which was good, and the light rain was okay, "as long as it's not hail."
It was a short flight to the hut, soaring over the rippling waters of the lake. We hovered over the heli pad. Blake leaned out again and I unexpectedly heard him giggling over the headset.
"The line picks up static electricity" he explained. "He just got a bit of a shock". I couldn't see what was going on from my vantage point but I gathered that Rob had just been mildly electrocuted by touching the metal tank.
We flew back for another round, making small talk. I was grateful because as long as he was making conversation I knew everything was okay. We hover to pick up the next tank and Blake's giggling again.
"He's just got a shock too"
When we got back to the hut, Rob must have looked reluctant because I hear Blake say on the radio that he'll drop the tank on the ground first. Then we land - usually the scariest part for me no matter what contraption I'm in - but it's totally fine and my feet are back on the ground. Although I would say that I wasn't scared, my legs were shaking. A lot.
I set to helping the crew unload firewood, and Blake comes to help too. He looks a good deal less silly without the helmet, and if there is any justice in this world I will marry that man.
(but we all know there is no justice in this world)
I get one more flight back to the truck before he picks up Rob and they fly up to Panekire and I am stuck helping Frank strap the bridge pieces on the truck and driving them back. I hear Blake on the radio. There's a nasty system coming up one of the arms of the lake... now it's hailing (UH OH)... he'll be picking up Ian and making a hasty trip down. I would not get a chance to fly up to the high bluffs of Panekire that day. Sadface. It would have been spectacular. And I'll never see that pilot again, perhaps unless I get "lost" and require a search and rescue...
-------
SPOILER ALERT:
I do see that pilot again and I do get my chance to fly up to Panekire bluffs. And I hope there is even more adventure in my future. :)
"In New Zealand!?!" James asks incredulously.
"How about that helicopter pilot?"
"Pshh. Is he young??"
"Well. Young-ish."
----------
I woke up to a partly cloudy sky and butterflies in my stomach. I don't hear anything, and wonder if they've decided to go through with flying. A few minutes before 8 I hear the familiar drone of a helicopter. With growing excitement I step out onto the porch, looking up at the sky while brushing my teeth. After a few moments it appears, with a large cable and bag dangling beneath, just over the trees. The heli pad is just down the hill from my house. I watch the helicopter as it hovers there, and I can see the pilot leaning out his window. Within moments it sweeps around and heads out over the hill again, carrying a new bag of firewood.
I get my stuff together and head out to the work yard. Suddenly it seemed very important to not miss this opportunity. But there was no hurry - Frank and I had to go pick up a couple of shit tanks, and bring them along with the wood to the nearest road access to Whanganui Hut - about a half hour drive away. At the discounted rate of $1350 per hour for the helicopter, everyone was keen to get it done quickly.
And so we drove there in a huge truck and waited for the chopper to arrive, entertained by a herd of curious wild horses. Finally the chopper came into sight. It was carrying a huge chunk of a bridge that had been dismantled the day before. The pilot, who was named Blake, leaned out his window to carefully set it down next to the truck. I nervously stepped aside, watching the wavering helicopter above me, the sound of it roaring in my ears. He then landed to talk to Frank. When he got out of the chopper, I could see that he was a relatively short, slight guy wearing a comically oversized helmet. But definitely young-ish.
Each round, Blake would take a load of wood and return with a chunk of bridge. Each time, it looked like the bridge was flying directly at my face. It was surreal and dreamlike, watching these huge things coming at me so fast, then slowing to a stop just a few meters from me. I didn't like standing under the helicopter. One time, he landed because the clasp on the cable wouldn't release, and I momentarily panicked because I didn't know why he was coming down practically on top of us. Frank went and talked to him, and then informed me that I could come along with the shit tanks since they were light enough to accommodate my extra weight.
And so I was quickly ushered in, without any time to be nervous. Blake personally buckles me in and hands me a headset.
"Ah there ya go, all good then?" he says.
"Oh. I can hear you," I reply.
We're up in the air before I even have a chance to think about it. It's surprisingly smooth and not as scary as I expected. Blake's leaning out the window again as the tank gets loaded. I barely even feel us lift the 400+ kilogram tank, though we wobble in the air a bit. It's a small chopper, smaller than a car inside. You could squeeze four people in it, but it'd be cramped.
Once we're on our way, Blake looks over at me, and maybe it's the adrenaline in my veins but I am immediately smitten. Ruggedly handsome, blue eyes, dark blond-tending-to-ginger hair. I don't care a whit that his helmet gave something of an impression of Rick Moranis in Spaceballs.
"Ever been in a helicopter before?" he asks me.
"Nope, and I'm a nervous flyer. I'm just not talking because I'm paralyzed with terror."
"Aw naw, don't say that!"
"Actually it's way less scary than I expected."
And indeed it was, smoother than flying in an airplane, even. Blake explained how the weather affected flying - we were flying into the wind, which was good, and the light rain was okay, "as long as it's not hail."
It was a short flight to the hut, soaring over the rippling waters of the lake. We hovered over the heli pad. Blake leaned out again and I unexpectedly heard him giggling over the headset.
"The line picks up static electricity" he explained. "He just got a bit of a shock". I couldn't see what was going on from my vantage point but I gathered that Rob had just been mildly electrocuted by touching the metal tank.
We flew back for another round, making small talk. I was grateful because as long as he was making conversation I knew everything was okay. We hover to pick up the next tank and Blake's giggling again.
"He's just got a shock too"
When we got back to the hut, Rob must have looked reluctant because I hear Blake say on the radio that he'll drop the tank on the ground first. Then we land - usually the scariest part for me no matter what contraption I'm in - but it's totally fine and my feet are back on the ground. Although I would say that I wasn't scared, my legs were shaking. A lot.
I set to helping the crew unload firewood, and Blake comes to help too. He looks a good deal less silly without the helmet, and if there is any justice in this world I will marry that man.
(but we all know there is no justice in this world)
I get one more flight back to the truck before he picks up Rob and they fly up to Panekire and I am stuck helping Frank strap the bridge pieces on the truck and driving them back. I hear Blake on the radio. There's a nasty system coming up one of the arms of the lake... now it's hailing (UH OH)... he'll be picking up Ian and making a hasty trip down. I would not get a chance to fly up to the high bluffs of Panekire that day. Sadface. It would have been spectacular. And I'll never see that pilot again, perhaps unless I get "lost" and require a search and rescue...
-------
SPOILER ALERT:
I do see that pilot again and I do get my chance to fly up to Panekire bluffs. And I hope there is even more adventure in my future. :)