The background to the
story ...
The Northern
Helicopter Modellers Club (N.Z.) held an annual
fun-fly meet at Taupo Airport each Easter weekend.
This has since been relocated to the flying field of
Taupo Model Aero Club.
Click on this 
thumbnail for the photo. (81K) The airport
authorities close off the cross (grass) runway for
us. The far side of the grass runway leads on to a
wilderness of VERY tall
blackberry bushes, which are absolutely impenetrable.
The blackberry is about 20 feet high and very dense.
A Concept 30 Bell 222 model suffered receiver
failure, and ended up in this jungle of thorns, out
of sight, and out of reach. We all tried for many
hours without progress, to hack a path into where we
"thought" the model was, but with light
failing, we were resolved to return the next day
armed with some serious scrub cutting equipment, the
word "bulldozer" springs to mind.
That's the background, here
is the story.....
"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday.
This is Bell 222 ZLHAK, lost control, going down,
lost control, going ....."
It's Thunderbirds are go! All
the grandchildren of the original Thunderbirds are at
a convention at Taupo. Nobody is manning the base,
and they don't have any rescue equipment with them,
so they will have to improvise.
There are Action Men, Trampers,
Assistant Trampers, Directors, Assistant Directors,
Searchers, Spotters, etc., and they all go into
action trying to get to the downed chopper, and are
buzzing about like bees round a honey pot.
For my part, I spy a full size
Hughes 300 flying around the airport and I think to
myself that it would be a great idea if we could
convince the pilot to become a volunteer. I run the
idea up the flagpole in front of Air Search Director
Tracy, Ground Search Director Bruce, and Spare Parts
Director Grant, and they all salute it, so I race off
across the airport with Grant in hot pursuit. Just as
we get to the other side of the runway, the Hughes
takes off again, flies off into the wild blue yonder,
and our hopes are sadly dashed.
Just as we are about to
regroup, I notice that he is actually doing a
circuit, so off I go trying to anticipate where he
will put down. There doesn't seem to be any logic to
the flight path as I dash madly from one area of the
airport to the other. I start to feel a bit self
conscious and stupid chasing a helicopter around the
field trying to attract the attention of the
pilot....
I finally rendezvous with the
Hughes outside the hanger (of all places) just as the
rotors are spinning down and decide that maybe the
trick is just to ask the pilot if he would mind
helping.
"Sure, no problem", he says.
"Will you help me put the chopper away
afterwards?" he asks.
Sounds like a good deal to me and I agree, so off we
go over to the Hughes and remove the doors.
Why remove the doors I wonder,
have I perspired heavily in the chase, or is this
going to be hard work for the pilot and he wants to
stay cool. Oh well, it's his helicopter. All aboard.
So with all the preflight
checks complete, both magnetos present and correct,
and the rotors up to speed, we are cool, calm,
collected, and off, gently rising into the air. Very
smooth. So where are we headed?... Oh, that tree over
there.
We arrive at the tree and as I
peer out the open door I don't see any sign of a
helicopter in distress, but there is a damsel in
distress. No time to deal with one of those, we're on
a more important mission. Wait a minute! It's not a
damsel in distress, it's Air Search Director Tracy
and her assistant Sandya pointing the way to the next
tree. We've been barking up, or should I say down,
the wrong tree.
There it is ... lying forlornly
on its side on top of the blackberry. As we approach
I can see that it is basically intact, except for the
undercarriage pod which has become detached and
fallen beyond reach.
Suddenly a voice from nowhere
says "What are the chances of climbing out on
the skids and getting it?" What! Whose going to
fly if he gets out? I look over and he's looking at
me like I'm a few planes short of a Air Force. Oh no!
He didn't say that, I did! Not a problem, he wont go
for the idea, and my pulse rate slows again.
"Yes, that will be alright, just move slowly,
one hand at a time."
Suddenly, being a Javelin
catcher at the Olympics is a very appealing idea, and
I break into a cold sweat. He's called my bluff. Now
its my turn. If I undo my seat belt, he'll say
"Don't be silly" and we can go home. I
reach down and undo the buckle. I can't hear him
saying anything, has my headset failed... Well
there's no way out now, I'll just have to do it!
The way I figure it, there are
three steps. The first onto the step above the skid.
The second onto the skid, and the third is down into
the blackberry. Cancel step three. We'll take the
mountain to Mohammed.
One hand to the door, one foot
on the step above the skid, the other hand to the
door, both feet onto the step. As I step down onto
the skid, my foot doesn't slip. I crouch down with
one arm hooked over the step and sit on the skid.
Wait a minute. I can't move my head! ... What a time
to find out I'm scared of heights, it's never
happened before. Hang on, what's that cable
disappearing into the cabin. Headset! I've still got
the headset on and I've run out of cable. What a
silly bunt. With the headset off I can look down. Now
where's that Bell 222? It's about six feet away, and
that's a bit of a problem because my arms aren't that
long, so I stick my free hand in the air and wave it
around just like a bull rider in a rodeo, and it
seems to do the trick because we move slowly closer
and closer until I can reach down and grab the tail
of the 222, the best bit of tail I grabbed all
weekend! I lift it up to skid height and my trusty
stick stirrer sitting comfortably and safely belted
in his seat can see that the mission has been
accomplished, and we move slowly off to the runway.
Apart from the missing pod,
there's very little damage for such a drama, so
should I drop it on the runway so Grant at least gets
a thrill out of the crash, or am I going to have to
fly back to the hanger holding this dead bird by its
tail feathers? My carefully laid plan went wrong ages
ago, so what happens now? We're going down.. is he
trying to land with me on the skids? If he does,
there's no way I want my leg under the skids, so I
stick it in the air like a dog standing beside a
tree, and the analogy ends there as we get closer to
the ground.
About a foot off the ground I
lay the 222 to rest on the runway, and climb back
into the cockpit. As I struggle to do up the belts,
which fitted before, I notice my hat is gyrating its
way under the pilots feet and between the tail rotor
pedals, so we have to land on the runway and
extricate it, then it's back to a landing in front of
the hanger.
"F.A.B. Thunderbirds.
Mission Accomplished."
We chat generally about
helicopters as the blades spin down, and he casually
mentions that this is the first time he has flown
with someone on the skids. Nice of him to mention
that I thought. As I had determined he was not a
commercial pilot, I offered a donation, which he
declined to accept. So I take this opportunity to
thank the anonymous half owner of ZLHOY and recommend
"Rotor and Wing" of Taupo anytime you need
a chopper in the central North Island.
And the moral of the story is
.... if you ever feel the urge to hitch-hike a ride
on a helicopter, and hang off the skids over dense
twenty foot high blackberry, DON'T!
You've been out in the sun too long and it's time to
go home.
Northern Helicopter Modellers Club N.Z
