By Christine Lindorff  

Christine Lindorff has been mesmerised by flight since she flew in the cockpit of a Qantas jetliner when she was just six years old with her dad Neil at the controls and Christine strapped into the jumpseat. The experience captivated the wee girl and instilled in her a lifelong dream to be an airline pilot. In the second feature of a series documenting her flying journey, 22-year-old Christine takes us through her flying adventures step-by-step and not only describes the challenge of training to be a professional pilot, but also explains why emulating her dad is such a driving force in her life.

As my alarm sounds at 6am, it’s a freezing 3°C outside and an hour away from first light. Usually there’s no way I’d get out of bed at such an ungodly hour but this morning I arise full of excitement: I have a flying lesson at Moorabbin at 8.30am. The weather forecast predicted a low cloud base and I’m worried that my chances of practising steep turns will be dashed. But I needn’t have worried.  

As I get closer to Moorabbin Flying Services (MFS), the cloud base looks good. Admittedly, it’s super cold and I can’t feel my fingers, but getting to the training area is all I care about. As I walk into the MFS office, I greet my instructor, ex-AFL footballer Leigh Colbert, and turn on the radio to listen to the ATIS. I like what I hear and despite waking up at such an ungodly hour, I’m thankful I’ll get to do what I’d hoped to do – steep turns.

Leigh hands me the maintenance release and keys for Piper Warrior “Tango Yankee Delta”, and tells me to do my pre-flight check, untie the aeroplane and get everything ready to go. Leigh will meet me at the aircraft when it’s time to leave.

After untying the aircraft, removing the chock, taking off the cover and moving other hangared aircraft out of the way, I’m ready to do my pre-flight inspection. Since the first day of my flight training I’ve always taken this part of the flying process seriously. Many plane crashes have been the result of pilot error, with slack preparation and disrespect for the pre-flight inspection key contributors to several fatalities.

As a pilot, my late father Neil was meticulous with everything he did. I want to be just like him and have from the beginning sought to treat the pre-flight inspection with the respect it deserves. A former RAAF test pilot who graduated from the Empire Test Pilots’ School (ETPS) at Boscomble Down in England, Dad was one of the best of the best – a real Top Gun-type hero. To avoid a desk job, he left the RAAF and joined Qantas. While working for Qantas, he flew the 747, was a 737 captain and was flying the A330 Airbus when he fell ill with pancreatic cancer. He passed away two years ago, aged just 49.

I remember him telling many flying stories when I was little and he’d always say: “When you’re about to fly a plane thousands of feet in the air and have hundreds of lives in your hands, you want to make sure you’re happy with everything. Do all the necessary checks yourself, even if it’s not your job or the task has already been done. You want to be 100 per cent sure before you even get into the pilot’s seat, and never be afraid to speak up.” This is one of the many lessons that Dad passed on and every time I pre-flight my aircraft I think of his words. It’s a state of mind that has come in handy in my day-to-day life as well.

I run my hands over all the Warrior’s surfaces, including the prop, checking for any dints or cracks. I check the fuel quantity, and perform a fuel drain, checking the oil and engine bay, all the electrics and stall warning. I check the static and pitot tube to make sure it’s free from obstruction, and make sure all the pins are in place on the control surfaces. Within no time I’ve completed all my checks and as soon as Leigh arrives at the plane, I’m ready to go. 

Leigh and I jump into the aircraft and before I know it, we’re lined up on Moorabbin’s Runway 35 Right. I’m cleared to take off and ease the throttle forward with excitement as we roar down the runway. Fifty knots, oil temperatures and pressures in the green. Sixty knots ... 62 knots ... we hit 65 knots and I gently pull back on the control column and trim for a climb. We’re off. I can feel the wind pushing my aircraft towards the west, and quickly change my heading to compensate for the drift. So far so good, I think to myself. We reach 500 feet: fuel pump off, oil temperatures and pressures are in the green, time for a 15 degree climbing turn towards the training area. I’m going well and the adrenaline’s pumping more than ever. Yee-haa, this is fun.

Within minutes we’re in the training area and my lesson on steep turns begins. A steep turn is a 45° banked turn from a given heading back to the same heading (360° turn) without losing or gaining much altitude. I climb up to 2000 feet as this is a nice even number for me at which to keep my height during the turn. I look over at Leigh and he passes on some words of wisdom. “Okay CL, I am just here for the ride,” he says. “Show me a steep turn to the left.” He smiles and crosses his arms to emphasise his point.

Gazing outside, I check for any other traffic in the vicinity. “All clear, and here we go,” I say out loud. Leigh looks straight ahead. Then I start reassuring myself with some positive self-talk. “Okay, Christine, keep the aircraft at 2000 feet and make sure you roll out of the turn and back onto the same heading of 180,” I tell myself. Step one is to bank the aircraft and apply some more power. I roll the plane to the left and watch as the ground suddenly appears to be closer and takes up most of my outside visual. This is a little unnatural and an uneasy feeling. “Trust your aircraft,” I say to myself before watching the needle on my AH (artificial horizon) approach the 45° mark.

Step two, balance, step on the ball. I apply a little bit of right rudder and feel the plane move with me. Final step: back pressure. I pull back on the control column and feel a small amount of G’s kick in. I’m struggling to hold the control column back and think. “Oh no, my height!” I’ve already dropped 70 feet so I apply some trim to aid my turn. I’m chasing all my instruments inside the aeroplane and not looking out!

After getting back up to 2000 feet and finding a point on the cowl, I set the horizon to cut through at that exact spot. It’s so much easier looking outside the aircraft and paying attention to my horizon and attitude rather than chasing my instruments. I quickly glance inside and everything’s looking good. VSI displays zero, so I’m not climbing or descending. My height is 2050 feet, but that’s okay and I decide to keep that for the rest of the turn and try my best not screw it up. My AH displays an almost balanced turn right on 45° and I apply a little more rudder to balance it out.

I’m coming back around to 180° and think to myself: “If I don’t come out of my turn earlier than the compass displays, then my heading will be off”. As I roll the aircraft back to straight and level I feel the little Warrior pitch up. Oh, how stupid of me. My trim! I fix my trim tab back to straight and level and look over at Leigh. “Don’t say anything!” I plead. “I know what I did wrong. Let’s go again, and this time I’ll try 60 degrees.”

Here we go, bank, balance, back pressure, some trim and look outside. Much better. I hold my height and keep an eye on my horizon cutting through my allocated point. I can feel the 2 G’s pulling me down, which I love. It’s one of my favourite things about steep turns and flying. Perhaps I get that from my Dad! On approach to my initial heading I re-trim and then roll back out of my turn: perfect height and heading.

“How was that?” I ask Leigh, feeling pleased with myself. “Look at your RPM,” he replies. “What did you forget to do?” “Bummer! That was short lived,” I groan. I again start talking to myself: “Increase the power, Christine. C’mon, get with it.” And now I’ve lost a little bit of height ... just great. I can’t believe I did everything perfect, even remembered to re-trim, but then stuffed up the power!

After almost an hour in the air, we head back to Moorabbin and we’re lined up on short final. The approach is looking spot on; I’ve taken more flap and Leigh is happy with the approach profile. Here we go: down ... down ... down ... the Warrior’s nose is on the numbers, bring back the power to idle and give her some back pressure. “Easy, hold it back,” I say to myself, and surprise, surprise, we touch down without  a whimper.

Once we return to the office, Leigh sits me down to deliver his de-brief. “You did well up there CL,” he says. “Once you finish your last two exams and we’re flying on a regular basis you’ll pick it all up and power through all your lessons. You had a few errors here and there, but picked up on them. For example, you stopped chasing your instruments and did much better the second time around.”

I’m still gunning to be a professional pilot, just like my Dad and I know it’s going to take a lot of blood, sweat and tears to get there. I’ve always loved the idea of being a pilot but was never confident I had the smarts in physics or maths to pursue flying as a career. Dad’s sudden passing changed my life and my attitude completely. So overwhelmed was I by his loss that I decided I just had to give flying a go. The last thing I wanted was to look back on my life and wonder “what if?”

Dad is my inspiration, he always has been. In fact, I often think of him when I’m flying and doing my exams. He was an extremely intelligent man and when I think that there’s a little bit of him in me, it fortifies me with the belief that I can achieve my dream. When I’m flying and I find myself in an uncomfortable situation, I always think to myself: “what would Dad do?” So he’s always up there with me offering a guiding hand.

I’ve been in a position whereby I’ve needed to work several part-time jobs to afford one flying lesson a week. By the time rent and bills are deducted from my income, I don’t have much left for luxuries. But thankfully, I’ve received an amazing gift in the form of a scholarship from Airservices Australia and the Australian Women Pilots’ Association. The scholarship is worth $8,000 and believe me, that’s a lifeline that will enable me to pursue my flying dream. I’m incredibly grateful to the people who awarded me the scholarship because there are so many talented and ambitious young pilots out there. With the scholarship I can fly consistently without having the constant headache of not knowing where the next dollar will come from for my next lesson. It’s an awesome feeling.

Because it has been such a financial struggle to afford flying lessons, I’ve been focussing on knocking over my theory exams and so far so good. I’ve passed all my exams up to CPL Aviation general knowledge (AGK) and my next exam is Aerodynamics. Leigh and I have decided the best plan of attack is to finish the theory subjects and then rip into flying as often as I can. This is the most efficient way to progress as well as save money.

I probably should have completed all my ground school by now but I keep chickening out on sitting my exams, even when I know I’m ready for them. Why does this happen? Well, I want as good a mark as possible and I keep thinking that if I study more, my mark will be better. Makes sense, huh? But now I think I’m probably better off dropping the procrastination thing and just doing the exams. That way, I’ll be free to indulge in the fun part of this gig and do a heap of flying. My Dad would probably think exactly the same way.