Picton - Wellington

The pilot, I think, was probably young enough to be my grandson. His uniform is a white shirt with his rank flashes on his shoulder and a pair of khaki shorts. Once on board it is he who ensures that you are strapped in correctly and who gives you the safety briefing which includes the ominous words, “it is going to be a bit bumpy today over the Sound”.

Now I have, conservatively, flown 6000 hours and more probably over 10,000 on all types of aircraft, but not so much on small planes like the Cesna 208 we were now in and my recollection of “bumpy” in small aircraft is a whole different world. I was already a tad concerned because I omitted to tell you, in the Picton Airport Post, that Picton Airport nestled in the hills, or more properly mountains, between Blenheim and Picton town. In essence the plane took off directly towards mountains. I do not normally get my height thing when flying. Seems crazy really, totally illogical, but then the height thing itself is illogical. However, in this instance it was beginning to kick in and I do not know why.

Anyhow we rolled down the runway, turned round, reved up and charged down the runway and were off the ground in seconds. I knew we were off the ground when the plane suddenly lurched to right. My “grandson” in the front left hand seat corrected and kept the ascent going. Now bumps in a small aircraft going through the mountains are entirely different to those experienced in a 747. First you can really feel them and second you can really see them as the close by mountains give your view a point of reference. I, of course, gave the pilot every assistance by taking a firm grip on the seat in front and lifting, or was that just holding on.
The flight was only scheduled for 20-25 minutes so our trip through the mountains did not last that long and clearly my lifting had worked because we were soon over the Cook Straight which was much more pleasant and I could look around properly, as opposed to taking furtive glances as I did in the mountains, and I could see the fast approaching North Island and soon Wellington. The bumpiness subsided and we gradually approached Wellington descending on what I thought was a pretty steep glide path but my “grandson” in the front did a good job and brought us in very gently in spite of a cross wind and we kissed down right at the start of the runway and immediately turned right to get the Sounds Airways parking spot which of course was in a corner behind all the bigger aircraft.
I later reflected that none of the other passengers had been in the least concerned by the “bumpiness“. The young 12 year old lad in front, clearly a seasoned traveller on this route, was just deeply miffed that he had not been allowed to sit in his normal seat on the right at the front because it was too bumpy. Every one else looked out all the way or just continued their conversations. Ironic really because, when I thought about it, I had probably flown more hours than everybody else, including the pilot, put together.