I went to church on Sunday as planned, it was a bit of a struggle after our evening out the night before but I was glad I made the effort. The rain and wind had finally calmed down and it was a lovely warm morning with a bright blue cloudless sky. The church is quite old and in the most beautiful setting on a hill overlooking the ocean. In the front garden a huge red bottle brush tree in full flower and a purple Bougainvillea tumbled over the wooden arched entrance gate.














Some pictures I took on saturday of our windswept beach

The service reminded me of my school days, we sang lots of hymns and read the psalms. People were very friendly and were pleased that I had come all the way from England to visit their little church. While I was there I did mention to God that we only had four weeks to go, and some nice weather would be appreciated. Thank goodness he was listening and the most beautiful flying weather appeared on Monday morning. Although I wasn’t able to fly at 07.00 as planned, because the runways still needed time dry out, I was able to witness the most stunning sunrise.

With the beautiful weather came the bad news that I had failed my South African medical and would not be getting my student licence. This meant that I will not be able to fly solo while I’m here. I thought I took the news quite well from Buck, the College Registrar but when he left, in the privacy of my own room, I must admit I was extremely disappointed. I could of course understand their point of view, my condition isn’t stable and even I have begun to question whether I have stamina needed to fly an aircraft on my own. I still felt sorry for myself for about 10 mins –

Then I realised that the experience of flying was much more than a piece of paper, and if an instructure had to sit with me and read a book while I flew, so be it. Many FSD scholars have experienced similar medical problems. They were able to finish their PPL in England quite easily so I made a new plan, took a deep breath and went out into the sunshine.

The positive thing about the news was that I could now concentrate on learning to fly without the pressure of getting in the allotted hours needed for my licence, or passing all the exams. In a way it was a relief, the bad weather has meant that I have only 8 hours flying time so far and need to get another 32 within the next 4 weeks. With the changeable nature of the weather systems, even with help from above, it would probably mean taking 2 flights a day for most of the time we have left. Quite honestly that workload, together with the ground school is probably beyond me.

Once I had given myself a good talking to, I began to feel as though a big weight had been lifted of my shoulders, and I don’t think is was a co-incidence that my afternoon lesson went really well. For the first time I managed to co-ordinate all the controls, took off (mostly) by myself and had a wonderful flight over the most amazing coastline. I think my instructor was as surprised as I was at the improvement, and I think it was entirely due to the fact that I had relaxed.


The experience of being able to fly an aircraft is quite unique, couple that with flying over the most incredible countryside, sandy beaches and unspoilt coastline – I’m going to savour every minute, a piece of paper is not going to stop me getting the most out of my time here – or completing the challenge in my own time.


A birds eye view of Port Alfred in the early evening

Two weeks gone already!!

I’ve managed to get a few hours flying this week, but the weather has been terrible. There are Herons and ducks on the lakes that used to be the grass runways. Last night it rained so hard that I had to move to the other bed in my room in the middle of the night because the roof was leaking! This morning the canteen was totally flooded. We went into breakfast to find all the staff in bare feet trying to sweep away the water!


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I had a few hours flying this week and learnt how to stall the plane (deliberately) and how to recover, which is quite an important thing in the air! It’s not half as scary as the book makes out and I managed it without too many butterflies in my tummy. I’m quite good at turning and flying straight and I’ve started to learn how to take off and land but am not entirely convinced I’ll ever be able to do it by myself. There are so many things to think of and they all have to be in order. Still I’ve only had about 7 hours flying - by the time I’ve had 40, I might feel differently. My instructor plans to increase my lessons to two a day from next week – so thing should be getting a bit easier.

Ground school is going well too. We have finished ‘the principles of flight’ and ‘flight planning’, now are learning about aircraft mechanics. I went to bed last night totally exhausted, after a long day of studying, ground school and flying. I began to think that I had ‘bitten of more than I could chew’, but soon gave myself a good talking to – challenges are meant to be hard, that’s what makes them so fulfilling when they are accomplished.

Today we had a real treat – no flying because of the water-logged runways meant we were able to have our two hours of ground school early, that left us the whole afternoon to ourselves. One of the Cadets took us to a local cheese factory where we bought tourist stuff. I managed to find some marmalade – another thing I’ve been missing terribly. Taking us out is not easy, three wheelchairs and assorted crutches only just fit in the mini bus. Mine of course is the heaviest and as they don’t have any ramps, it needs two people to lift it in. The people watched in amazement as he unpacked all our stuff and we trooped into the shop. The rain stopped and the sun shone of long enough for us to sit outside for tea. I had a wonderful Cappuccino that could have come from Starbucks.

On the way we saw a family of monkeys playing by the side of the road and made the usual cooing noises – the cadet who is a local lad was very unimpressed; they are considered vermin here because if they get into a house they open all the cupboards and wreck everything. Apparently Baboons have the same fate because they eat all the fruit crops. He was totally bemused when we told him that we pay money to drive through open zoos to allow monkeys to sit on our cars and pull at our car aerials.

After our tea we went to the supermarket and bought yet more stuff – The shopping centre is a curious mix of old and new. There is a tiny shopping mall of about 20 shops, it has a very modern glass lift and elevator and several small shops outside. Ladies balancing bags of potatoes on their heads mix with business people and a large smattering of people from the air-school in their blue and white military style uniforms. No flying seems to mean that everyone leaves the base to go into town.

I finally found some postcards and some warm socks! I mistakenly thought that Africa would be hot and I wouldn’t get cold feet at night!! Martine and I went window shopping and were approached by a man wanting us to go into his shoe shop. She lifted up her trousers to show him her shinny metal legs and said – ‘no thanks mate – I don’t need any of those’ you should have seen his face!

All the shops closed dead on five ( or 17.00 as we pilots say) The mass exodus of people quickly divided into the ‘haves’ and ‘have-not’s’ As the cars owned by the more affluent people drove off, they were replaced by open backed pickup type trucks, everyone who could climbed aboard and clung on for dear life as the sped away. The remaining people, including the ladies with the bags of potatoes on their heads, were left to walk home, we saw them disappearing into the wilderness to goodness knows where, as we took our comfortable minibus back to the school

It’s going to be a busy weekend. Paul, our ground school teacher is taking us to a local pub and then out for dinner and I’ve arranged to go to the local Anglican Church on Sunday morning – We aim to enjoy our freedom while the ground dries out, because the really hard work starts on Monday. Two hours ground-school and four hours flying instruction each day (weather permitting) won’t leave much room for anything except studying and sleep.

Some pictures of the airfield The administration buildings


The first thatched cottage you can see in the front of this picture is our ground school The area is very flat which makes for easier take off and landings. We are also at sea level which, as I have just learnt at school. makes everything work better. It also makes for some beautiful evening skys

Some pictures of the airschool.


The canteen where we eat our meals


A view from the door of my room and our gardeners

Kath Maritne and Paul

Ice Cream and Chocolate sauce for Pudding.

The end of week one.

There’s nothing so depressing as an airfield in bad weather. The planes are all on the ground, the runways are all muddy and everything is strangely quiet. It’s so too cold and wet to be outside, everyone is shivering and has locked themselves in their rooms. Even the little yellow weaver birds who build their nests in the tree outside my room have taken shelter from the wind somewhere. Weather.com estimates the wind to be 22mph with gusts up to 33 and it certainly feels like it in my room. Apparently central heating is uncommon in South Africa, so are glass and doors that fit – the draft in my room lifts the curtains with long graceful waves of cold air.

We were hoping to go out today but in true 1950’s British culture – everything is closed and anyway its too wet to ride around in wheelchairs. The highlight of the day has been the three trips to the canteen for meals, and – Ice cream with chocolate sauce for pudding at lunch, what bliss, and just when I had completely give up hope of having anything sweet for the next six weeks!

Bad weather of course means no flying, I don’t think I have ever spent a day when I had nothing - but nothing to do. Thank goodness for my ipod and radio. I have spent the day studying, and I was just getting the hang of the flying thing too. There’s such a lot to remember – but it’s quite easy really, or so everyone keeps telling me.

I think it’s like driving a car with extras! Point it where you want to go and accelerate, or decelerate, but being in the air you have to think about going up and down at the same time - up makes it go slower, down makes it go faster, and of course there’s the wings to think about as well. There’s a thing called a ‘trim’ which is like setting cruse control, you have to do it together with all the rest. Its like patting your head and rubbing your tummy at the same time, and I was never very good at that!.

I had a bad day on Friday and was ready to come back to my room and cry, I was convinced I had made a terrible mistake – and was not strong enough to handle the controls. Luckily the rest of the group gave me a good takling too and I soon got over feeling sorry for myself. I think we were all feeling pretty low that day, the consequence of a mammoth journey and sheer exhaustion. Two days later we are all feeling much more rested and optimistic, and utterly frustrated that we can’t do anything because of this horrible rain.

Everyone assures me that the experience of flying in worth just as much as achieving the licence, but I am really determined to do this – even if it means finishing it of in the UK when I get back.

So I’ve spent the days trying to get to grips with the books. Funnily enough I am really enjoying studying again, and learning something completely different. The mechanics of flying is very interesting; I have always wondered what made those huge aeroplanes stay up in the sky, all the way to America, now I know. I have just reached a rather lengthy explanation about ‘stall’, which frightened the life out of me, so I have closed the book and decided to write my diary. Tomorrow I have a flying lesson at 9am- and I am not going to worry about stalling yet – just trying to get the trim right.

Kath and her instructor Paul doing a ground check. You have to look at everything outside before you can get in.

Me at the airstrip

Me in my airschool uniform - can't eat anything more as its the biggest size. Susan says I should loose the hat!

Friday August 19th

Just had a wonderful dinner of tee-bone steak chips and beans and have decided to make an early night of it. There’s a Solo party in the bar, the tradition is that after their solo flight, each student gets thrown into the swimming pool! Once everyone in the group has flown solo they throw a party. It looked like a good one – lots of coloured balloons flashing lights and streamers and of course copious amounts of alcohol to liven things up a bit.

There are two groups of students, the largest contingent are very mainly young men, some from Kenya, the Seychelles, a few from South Africa Airways studying for their pilots licence and us. There are four FSD students, Martine lost her legs in the July bombings last year, Kate has a back problem , they are much younger than me. Paul is a road traffic accident victim and has a broken back he has some flying experience and is helping us cope with the complexities of ground school. Kate and I are lucky because we can walk, although Kate walks much more than me. Martine and Paul are confined to their wheelchairs. They need hand controls on their planes but we manage on regular ones. It must be an odd sight seeing the four of us making our way across the air field to our flying lessons.

The rest seem to be a bit older, some from Ireland and others from South Africa, they have their licences and are working towards more substantial licences for the bigger airlines. We have counted three girls, (other that us three) out of the 150 or so men. The commercial pilots have to have a huge amount of flying hours, and if they can’t get sponsored they live on campus for up to three years and become instructors. Each hour they teach goes towards their ultimate goals. Everyone is so pleasant and friendly and only to happy to help in anyway they can. Although I don’t think they know quite what to make of us. I sat on by the command centre this morning waiting for my lesson and I think every of the 150 students passed me by and said ‘good morning’ It was exhausting keeping a friendly smile on my face

As you can imagine feeding such a large group of men consists of large quantities of carbohydrates – three meals a day of what could be described as 1950’s British cooking, meat, over cooked vegetables and huge amounts of rice and potatoes. . I don’t think healthy eating is an issue here – with the clientele that frequent our canteen, calories are of paramount importance. High fat, sugar and salt is the order of the day, which of course makes everything tastes so good but is not very good four our waistlines! Curiously we don’t get any puddings. There is fruit available at lunchtime but nothing in the evenings. Except on Sundays when we will have roast dinner, followed by ice-cream with chocolate sauce.

The rooms are basic but very nice – there is one bathroom for every two bedrooms, we have long working desks with overhead lights, wardrobes and very comfortable beds. The bathrooms have good showers and plentiful very hot water. My room is very near the bar where the solo party will erupt any time now. The noise level doesn’t seem so bad, yet, I can hear speeches and the occasional laughter and clapping, I expect the music to start soon.

I caused a bit of a stir yesterday, we went into the local town (Port Alfred). Previous FSD students us that the video shop has a broadband internet connection and there is a local supermarket. I wanted to find some liquid hand soap for the bathroom, a smelly fresh air thing in the loo and some decent coffee. It’s funny what I miss already……….

Just heard a splash – several people have been thrown in the swimming pool. It must be freezing – the nights are still quite cold and the pool is outside and unheated!

……………..They gave us bar of Lux we arrived , but it is terrible stuff, dries up anything it touches and I’m not sure how hygienic it is, and I would kill for a decent cup of coffee. We can buy some in the canteen that’s quite good but it’s over the other side of the campus, and I’d love to be able to make some in my room. Martine another FSD student, has bought a travel kettle – so all we need is coffee.

I don’t think anyone had ever seen an electric wheelchair before – the parking attendants in their yellow waistcoats didn’t know whether to find me a place to park or guide me into the shops! I had lots of calls about how cool the chair was, the parking guys all called out ‘hello momma’ seems to be the term for big fat old lady. I think they were good natured, but I did begin to feel a bit uneasy by the end of the trip, and was very glad to see the cadets appear with the bus to collect us. I was pleased to find that the supermarket had everything we needed. It’s called ‘Pick and Pay’ and has blue striped bags just like Tescos.

The Cadets are another bunch of very young lads, the lowest in the pecking order of this patriarchal society, they work at anything they can to earn flying lessons. They sleep in a bunk house which seems to be just a thatched room divided into cubicles by wardrobes, they have to pay for their food – so they always look hungry.

Flight school isn’t run on Saturdays and Sundays- but we still fly. So we are hoping to catch up on some book work and perhaps on Sunday try to go out for lunch. We will have to persuade a couple of the cadets to take us, there are no taxis, or for that matter public transport of any kind, and the school do not have wheelchair ramps. So I need two strong young men to lift my 70kg electric chair in and out of the school mini bus, every time I go anywhere. I have a feeling that if we offer to pay for their lunch we won’t get much resistance.

It was a very long trip – very very long!

Irv and I left home at about 13.30 on Saturday (have to get in practice for my 24 hour clock test) and arrived at the airport at 15.00. There were people everywhere, and despite having our own ‘special needs’ check in area, we were still met with a sea of chaos. I had already been warned to only carry documents and money in a clear bag, and that our normal had luggage was to be put into the hold .

Thankfully, our check in was extraordinarily uneventful. One of the Charities Trustees – Captain Charles Everett came to see us off in his splendid Captain’s uniform. He managed to organise for us to use the first class check in, with the minimum of fuss. Poor Charles suffered the consequences of his uniform; he was constantly accosted by angry or lost passengers asking for help or information. Although unable to help he was the consummate professional and dealt with them in the most polite and curious way.

Putting everything in the hold caused me some anxiety because over the last few weeks my stash of technology had grown to an amazing amount. Despite my concerns about security and damage I waved good buy to my brand new laptop, phone, radio, ipod , wheelchair charger, travel iron , hairdryer, all the bits I normally remove from my chair and carry with me, and of course the chair itself.

The rest of the group were having similar problems, with their lack of hand luggage, and thank goodness for Kate’s Dad, who wins the prize for self sufficiency. He brought a role of brown parcel tape – predominantly to secure her wheelchair, and was soon pressed into action by the rest of us, to secure footplates, cushions etc, and, when we found out that our crutches had to be checked in as well, used copious amounts to fasten them together, heaven knows what would have happened if they all were checked in separately!

For the most able of us, the most difficult thing of all to cope with was the loss of our crutches because; once we were plonked in one of those terrible airport wheelchairs we had lost all independence. We were taken by porters to a very nice ‘special needs’ lounge and left till time for the plane to take off, so no chance of any shopping at all.

We were terribly lucky though because despite all the forebodings in the newspapers, the plane was only 30 mins leaving. The crew were extremely helpful and organised two seats for each of us, which meant that we had a very uneventful trip, and were even able to get a few hours sleep. When we arrived at Johannesburg, it was hard to believe that we had finally arrived – one airport lounge looks very much like another and we could have just as easily been in New York, Paris or London. We were met by a veritable army of porters who collected our luggage and took us to wait in the first class BA lounge to wait for our connecting flight to Port Elizabeth.

Following another uneventful trip we arrived almost 27 hours later at our final destination. After packing and repacking the luggage and waiting 30 mins for me to sort out yet more technology at the cell phone desk, our mini bus set off for the 43rd Air School in Port Alfred. Then it really began to sink in how far we had travelled and what we were about to do.

The trip took us through rolling dark satanic hills spotted with fields of bright red earth or rich green pasture. Some fields had cows of the same colour as the earth, most had huge cactus and large patches of wild red hot pokers. The most striking thing I noticed was the scattered groups of people walking along the roadside. Apparently miles away from any township, in the middle of dense countryside we would pass groups of people, walking purposely by the side of the road. Where they had come from – or were aiming for was a complete mystery to me.

Tired and hungry for anything except aeroplane food we arrived at the school almost 30 hours from when we started, and we were soon installed in clean spacious rooms. Our itinerary started the next day with a 8.30 briefing and an introductory flight. Now the adventure begins…………...

My First Flying Lessons

Little did I know that the first challenge was to get in the plane, let alone make the thing fly. I’m not the smallest of people, an under active thyroid and a year sitting around feeling sorry for myself doesn’t do much for the waist line – or hips for that matter. (I have never understood why some people when they get sick loose tonnes of weight and have to fight hard to put it back on. While I put on weight when I’m ill and it never seems to come off)

I know it sound silly, but just the fact that I could master getting in and out of the plane was in itself a huge confidence booster. Even if, getting out wasn’t quite as elegant as Princess Diana getting out of her limousine! The next lesson allowed me to overcome two more challenges, phew the seatbelt went round me, and I was actually able to fly the aeroplane.

It was a crisp, clear, sunny day and my teacher taught me how to ‘cloud bust’. Did you know that if you get your wing tip into a little patch of cloud – it disappears? I have no idea why, but flying about the sky aiming for unsuspecting clouds to destroy was thrilling, it’s the best-kept secret in the world, no wonder people take it up as a hobby, its pure pleasure.

By the end of the lesson I was exhausted and my arms hurt from using all the controls, but I had done it! The experience was even more exciting because I decided not to tell my family what I was doing. I didn’t want to put them through an more worry. (In retrospect it wasn’t the wisest decision), but at the time, having a secret was intoxicating. Driving along in the car with my husband, looking up at that blue sky and saying to myself – I’ve been up there - made me feel like a naughty schoolgirl. I’d never had a secret before, it was fun.

Those first few lessons literally turned my life around. I began yet another attempt to loose weight, and joined the gym to see if I could strengthen my arm muscles, but best of all, it gave me a sense of optimism, that I could pull myself out of the quicksand and begin living again.

Fight and Flight

When I decided to learn to fly, I wasn’t to know that things would never be quite the same again. I had been through a bad patch health wise. The cancer treatment was over, all bar the drugs, but I still was very unsteady on my feet, terribly tired and I hurt all over. I really couldn’t understand why I kept bumping into my friends!. I’m sure people at work thought I had a hidden stash of Gin in my office, as my speech slurred when I tried to talk to them and most days I could be seen staggering from side to side down our open plan office.

After numerous visits to specialists, I was diagnosed with Cerebella Ataxia. A neurological condition, which causes lack of coordination, and most likely I had the more nastier version of this called MSA. The consultant needed a refresher on his people skills, because after deciding on his diagnosis of MSA he sent us home with the webside written on a piece of paper. Leaving us to discover on our own, that the prognosis for this quite horrible condition was 3 to 5 years. Later that month yet another consultant diagnosed the pain I was experiencing, as another horrible condition – Fibromyalgia – a double whammy!! I must admit I felt so poorly that I put a call in to my Macmillan nurse and just sat down, took all the painkillers, and waited for the inevitable to happen …………. until I got bored!!

When I first had cancer, by chance, I heard a radio program where Libby Purvis interviewed a councillor who worked with cancer patients. Her mantra was

Find Out – Face it – and Fight it

It helped me then and was just as applicable now.

So I found out …..I read everything I could about MSA and decided that few of my present symptoms reflected MSA and became more certain that the lesser condition Cerebella Ataxia was more likely to be my problem. I sent my husband shopping on his next trip to the USA, for a book ‘Fibromyalgia for Dummies’ from the same publishers as ‘Windows for Dummies’ and all the other yellow and black self help books. When I read it, the last chapter recommended that readers get tested for an under-active thyroid because sometimes fibro’ can be misdiagnosed for hypothyroidism . Well of course, I did, and thankfully, my thyroid was misbehaving itself!

And I faced it ……….So by the spring of 2005, due mainly to large doses of thyroxin and a great deal of will power, I was back at work and feeling much more optimistic about life in general. Most of the pain was gone and I could stay awake for a whole day. Although the lack of co-ordination was affecting my eyesight, speech and mobility, all of these problems were just inconveniences that could be overcome with a little organisation. Life was beginning to look good again, I had a new Motabily car and thanks to a wonderful government scheme Access to Work we organised a wheelchair for work and an electric hoist to put it in my car, stair lift for home, some speech activated software and upgraded my PC.

And I fought it ….. Flying was a integral part of my fight back to ‘normal’ life When I found out about the Disabled Flying Scholarship (FSD) scheme from a work colleague, I called Sue Whitby at the FSD office to find out about it. She recommended that before I put the application in, I had a few lessons, just to see if it was something I wanted to do. So I organised a couple of sessions at my local flying school at Sibson near Peterborough and began my real road to recovery. So much so that when I wrote the application form for the scholarship, I started out with a big thank you, for inspiring me to look at the future and leave the past behind.