I was given the opportunity of a lifetime. To combine the flying world with the skydiving world was a dream I envisioned since my early teenage years.
Being offered to start my jump flying career in Byron Bay meant a few things: Flying my dream plane, in a dream place, with dream views. It came with its challenges, and I loved every moment of it.
I arrived in Byron Bay ready to do the business. I knew I couldn’t muck around as the initial stages of this job was to serve as a probation period. I could be sent packing within weeks in if I ended up a shocker (there have been pilots who haven’t made the cut when their opportunity was given). So having said that, I focused my entire energy on flying. I wasn’t going to be distracted by chicks or any other temporary temptations until I established myself. You see, the thing is, a thing like chicks come and go. However, this opportunity to live the dream and fly full-time in Byron – the best Dropzone in the country – only comes quite rarely. Everyone wants my position. It was up to me to make sure I operate to the point where I become irreplaceable.
If there was one thing I learnt very early on it was the fact that maintaining a high level standard in a company is just as challenging as developing the skills and competency to get up to that high standard in the first place. To remain at the top of my game every single day, a consistent professional standard had to be shown without a single bit of laziness or complacency. That didn't mean I was perfect. I did my best despite having my bad days.
Byron Bay is by far one of the most exotic places to fly and I’m grateful to have been given the privilege to operate there for two years. Tyagarah is a short 750m grass airstrip, situated 5 miles north of Byron Bay town and only a mile off the coastline. Kangaroos and Pythons were regulars around the airstrip as the runway is surrounded by bushland.
I was thrown straight into the deep end on my first official shift in Byron. It was on a Saturday and flew over 11 hours straight without getting off the seat once – not to drink, not to eat, not to stretch, not even to take a piss. I flew 21 straight loads and the following day backed it up with another 18 loads. I had to make an outstanding first impression to the whole Byron crew and company. I’m more than sure I had their trust and respect onwards from that weekend.
I was supervised by Nathan who was the current full-time pilot and an absolute legend to fly with. He showed me the ropes around the operation and I quickly adapted to the procedures. He was nearing his third year as a jump pilot at the Dropzone and my plan was to take over full-time once he left. The plan worked out as he moved on to the next phase of his flying career, 5 months after I started, and I moved in to take his spot.
When I first got to the Dropzone I was flying on the weekends, driving the bus 3 days a week, and jumping on my 2 days off. I was enjoying a beautiful mixture of work. The lifestyle was perfect. I was utilising a nice balance of skills that was keeping me happily engaged.
When I transitioned to full-time pilot my mission was simple: to rock up to work every single day and deliver the best service possible to whoever flew with me. I wanted the entire jumping crew to enjoy a service where the parachute loads were flown as efficiently as possible, with minimal holding time, backed up with a solid safety culture. I was there for the people who loved jumping and in return I was getting my experience up. It was a win/win philosophy.
I felt very close to the Byron Bay crew primarily because I was one of them – a skydiver. If you ever want to feel apart in the skydiving business than being a jumper is best way of doing it. There was a strong sense of comfort in the cockpit environment when for example, a spot (the point where the skydivers exit) needed to be determined in very challenging wind conditions. There were times I would even intervene and contribute to the decision because I carried knowledge from a skydiver’s perspective. The pilot who is also a skydiver has a ramped up situational awareness as he knows the skydiver’s language and also what they are thinking in various tough situations.
A pilot who doesn’t jump on the other hand is treated as just that – a pilot. Primarily due to the fact pilots come to get their flying hours up and leave without any interest in skydiving whatsoever. Some pilots who run off this narrative barely form an emotional connection with skydivers. It’s as if the pilot and skydiver are on different planets. I had a good advantage of being appreciated and respected for being an active skydiver myself which payed off when it came to the decision-making aspects of the job (as mentioned above). I felt I was treated more respectfully.
Skydivers come from different walks of life. Some of the jumpers I met in Byron Bay were police officers, paramedics and tradies. Many came from other countries to join in on big skydive camps, competitions, and break records that were held at the Byron Dropzone.
The Byron DZ had seen an exciting transformation in aircraft over the years I was present. We went from a standard short-version Caravan 600SHP, to a Blackhawk 850, then months later a Supervan 900SHP which seen a tremendous shift to our turnaround rate (going from flying 2 loads an hour to just over 3!). The question now is: who on earth wouldn't jump in Byron Bay? We had the best planes, best views, best service delivery, and friendliest people.
Not only did I love flying these superb machines around but due to the quick 20 minute turn-around times, we would sometimes have a day finished in just two hours. The hardest thing now was trying to find something to do for the rest of the day.
Flying was awesome and there was never a dull day. The weather was different every time and the scenery varied as a result. There were some days the weather was clear and other days we flew in rain and cloud. It was interesting and kept me on my toes (kept the hair on my arms upright too!).
Everyone has a favourite part of their job. My favourite phase was definitely on the top of descent. Right when the last of 10 tandems exit, I immediately bank hard left and witness a perfect line of parachute drogues extending from nearest to me, right down toward the airfield. It’s a spectacular sight to see. There was this one afternoon where storms were brewing up and I dropped a load of tandem jumpers right down the wall of a Towering Cumulus cloud which had a base of 3,000ft and topped off at around 18,000ft – Insane. To see my mates charging back down toward the deck all whilst running down the sidewall of this soon-to-be thunderstorm cell was something that had adrenaline charging through me for the rest of the day. In the moment, it was so tempting to unbuckle my seat belt and run toward the back door, jump out and join in on the fun. I did well to restrain myself.
In the summer times, high speed descending was fun. While on the jump run, as the guys were jumping out, I would be scoping for tall cells that I can use to toy around with while I descent back toward the airfield. The descent from 14,000ft down to the deck took 4 minutes exactly which meant 4 minutes of playtime. Adhering to the aircrafts envelope limits – I would charge down some of the darkest and meanest looking cells. As I would carve around the cell in a steep turn, the tip of my inner-turning wing would be slicing through the edge of the cell, teasing it till I ran out of height.
On some occasions I would find multiple cells within close range of each other and would blaze down the side of the first one, then transition to the next cell, then the one after that – if any. It was a serious buzz. Something that the Qantas and Jetstar pilots couldn’t do.
The reason for the play time was simple. One, it was fun. The second reason was a psychological factor: to avoid boredom. When a pilot fly’s up and down more than 20 times a day, it can turn into a chore and a set routine. The whole playtime during the descent is a way to avoid boredom all together giving me something to look forward and think about. Boredom commonly leads to complacency. A complacent attitude combined with an aircraft of which 21 passengers are sitting behind me is a mentality I steered away from at all times. Safety for me was steering away from boredom, and seeing the fun in the job, no matter how routine it ended up being.
The workload on a jump pilot is colossal! It is insane how hard we need to concentrate in order to get through one parachute load. Firstly, the Grand Caravan can fit a total of 21 jumpers – 22 passengers on board including the pilot. The pilot is hence responsible for everyone on board. The workload is usually highest from taxi till about 3 minutes after departure, easing up for most of the climb-out until 4 minutes from the drop where we are required to fire out 4 radio calls – one to the ground crew, another on the CTAF alerting anyone in the area, followed by a third on the area frequency, then a clearance to drop request from the Approach controller for the fourth. All that while precisely navigating the aircraft toward the “spot” as it continues its climb at over 1000ft per minute.
Prioritising and putting important things first should be the pilot’s priority. There have been many times where the load master (the parachutist sitting closest to the pilot) has tried to talk to me or get my attention at critical stages, such as entering a runway, during the takeoff roll, and times where I'll be engaged talking to ATC or other traffic due to conflicting situations. I never hesitated to put my hand up as a gesture for "not now mate, too busy". I'll usually come back to the load master when the workload reduces to address their requests. I encourage all load masters to develop the situational awareness and courtesy not to engage in talks with the pilot in critical stages, especially if it's a small thing like changing the run-in direction, or a yarn about the chick he was kissing the night before! Save it till the pilot's chill-out phase (3 mins after departure).
By the end of the day my brain is fried up. Sometimes I'll have a few skydivers come up to me wanting to chat which is fine. The thing is, some of these fellas don't understand that I’ve been talking sh*t on the radio and concentrating on not crashing the plane for the past 10 hours. The last thing I want to do is have a discussion. I want to go home and sleep! I don’t think jumpers have any idea on how mentally burnt out our minds are when we finish up a long day. Nothing personal. It was just the nature of the job.
Jumping is easy compared to flying the aircraft. I know because I jump on my days off. Nothing beats the feeling of gearing up for a jump, sitting in the back of the plane, and going for a joyride up to 14,000ft, without any responsibility or care about anything but protecting the parachutes cutaway handles, and trying hard not to fart when you feel the urge to.
Farting. Another problem – especially for the pilot. Not that the pilot is the culprit. He is the victim! When the jumpers in the back open the parachute door to get ready for their jump, some jumper feels that it’s perfectly safe to let one rip due to the fact that there is more air coming through the cabin – hence the fart will easily dissipate with the wind without much of a chance of it spreading inside the aircraft. They may also think that the foul smell will make its way out the back door into the free airstream and no one will even notice. What they fail to realise is the fresh airflow coming through the back of the aircraft and inside the cabin makes its way toward the front, where the pilot sits concentrating on flying the aircraft straight. The person in the back who now rips one out, thinks it’s all safe to do so. What now happens is that airflow carries it all the way to the front, so the pilot ends up with a mouthful! The pilot in this case isn’t only annoyed and distracted. Sometimes the smell is severely toxic giving the pilot just enough consciousness to descend the plane and land safely – just!
This problem is most common among fun jumpers rather than tandems. In my opinion, the pilot should introduce a penalty with 1,000ft taken off the target altitude for every person who fails to handle himself (if two different smells are detected, that’s 2000ft off!). It should be implemented in parachuting ops regulations worldwide to combat the "negative energy perpetrators". If a chick is found guilty then 2 years imprisonment shall be issued with no appeal or parole. There’s no reason women should be getting into such funky business!
Jokes aside, fatigue management was a major safety issue I had to also contend with. Since parachuting ops is under the private sector there is no rule on any maximum duty or hour requirements. Managing fatigue in this case all comes down to my judgement based on self-awareness. Before a big day, I couldn’t function properly if my sleep levels were less than 8 hours. If I slept 7 hours I would feel the aftermath of cutting out the 8th hour of sleep, some time just after midday. Since I’m the only rostered pilot to fly at that Dropzone during the weekends, it forced me to rest up well. This meant I couldn’t have late night parties or a blender since I was going to be waking up early the next morning.
The summer weekends were indeed challenging. I’d wake up at 5am, prepare for the day, then be at the Dropzone by 6am – ready for a 7am startup. I’d fly all day till sunset, sometimes not having any time to eat, then shut down with 20 minutes of daylight remaining to get the paperwork and plane cleaning done. By the time I get back home it’ll be around 8-8:30pm which gives me enough time to shower, get a quick meal in, then go to sleep ready for the next early morning wakeup. No social life whatsoever! Fly, eat, sleep.
Rocking up to work with the right mental space before a long day was one of the most important things I considered and planned for. It’s daunting knowing that I have a 20+ parachute load day ahead of me, especially after flying 20+ loads the day before. Rocking up to work and crossing fingers, hoping the day goes well is naïve and unrealistic. I wanted to function at peak performance, and so that starts with giving my body what it needs – sleep, good nutrition, plenty of water, no alcohol, no smoking, no medications.
The pilot in a "hot load" operation is the beat of the drum. Everyone, in every department of the operation was important, but not more than the pilot. The pilot sets the tune. The faster the parachute loads are flown, the faster everyone else had to work to remain in sync (manifest, packers, gearing up of the next batch of tandem clients etc). This was required in order to efficiently turn the aircraft around for the next load, with minimal delay on the ground. Time is fuel, fuel is money.
I'd actually get a bit annoyed sometimes when the management on the ground wasn't keeping up because it disturbed my momentum. Here I was on a roll and now I'm sitting on this seat in idle. The problem here is when I stop, I can feel the fatigue of the previous loads done. However, when I'm on a roll I'm a machine - I can keep on going. It's similar to riding a bicycle. When you ride sometimes for hours you can't feel the pain because your body is in a state of a stable flow. It's not until you get off the bike, that's when you feel the tension, especially in your legs. Not to mention my nuts are in pain too, from that damn bicycle seat! (That's why I try not to stop until I get home!).
That was my philosophy with flying. I didn’t care how many loads I had that day, the rule is: never shut down that engine or get off the seat until the work is done for the day. No stepping out to urinate allowed! Hold it in, till all the hard work is done god damn it!
Air Traffic Control putting me on long holds was another thing that hurt me mentally. I got to a point where I formed good trust with the controllers in Brisbane which encouraged me to "sweet-talk" and negotiate a deal with them in order to avoid any delay whatsoever. There were many times they would assist and advise me on what time the next jet would be inbound for the Gold Coast (the jets descent path took them right over our Dropzone), and so I had two choices in this situation – either find a way to get the drop done before the jet comes in or suffer a hold and wait for the jet to clear out of the parachuting region. I hated holding. The 2 minute holds were fine however the 10 minute one's were hell. In a fast-paced operation, 10 minutes felt like an hour! Stuff that.
There was countless occasions where I took off and passing a 1000ft I fired out a departure call with an actual estimate of when I'd have the chutes out of the door and on descent by. ATC loved this method because I provided them with information they can use to calculate if the drop will work out or not in reference to the next inbound jet. There were plenty of times I helped ATC out and they helped me out by hogging the airspace and diverting jets around our operation which was sweet. There would be times in the early morning, before peak time traffic, I would end up having a casual yarn with the ATC while on climb or descent. We’d be talking about the festivals down the road and about other random stuff. It was awesome.
There were many close calls. Situations where I would be on the jump run, jets are closing in, ATC get anxious, and start yelling out at me "are those chutes out yet?!" – Meanwhile I've got my mic boom flicked up on top of my head, looking back over my shoulder toward the doorway, yelling and ushering the guys to get the hell out – "there's jets coming in damn it! Get the fu*k out!!". Once they lobbed themselves out the door, I got a high speed descent going and charged my way out of the airspace ASAP, finally allowing ATC to step down the jet on top of me with a 1000ft vertical height clearance.
There came a beautiful point in time where I knew that Caravan inside and out. Every time I strapped myself into the seat we were a team. I was a part of the plane and the plane was a part of me. I can make it do what I wanted, when I wanted. I never abused it in any way however. I truly believe planes have a soul, and if I look after it, it will look after me and my passengers. I felt comfortable in any situation, whether normal or in an emergency. I was ready for anything to happen due to the confidence I had with the machine.
There came a sad point in time where my body and mind were not as engaged with parachuting operations anymore. This was my plateau and it was a sign that full-time jump flying had to end sometime soon. I had to find the next career path in order to grow and learn. Parachuting ops was no longer challenging me anymore, which was a sad feeling. I have mastered the major aspects of it. The only thing I haven’t done is drop parachutes in a formation load with other aircraft which is the only skill I never gained from the game. I asked myself one question: could I withstand one more summer? The answer was no. I had to listen to my mind and body and get out of there to seek the next big thing.
By the end of my jump pilot phase I was able to intercept and fly that jump run from all sorts of crazy angles. My timing was so impeccable I’d be reaching 14,000ft, powering off, and hitting that green light, all whilst acknowledging the drop clearance from the Air Traffic Controller as the first group of jumpers were stacking up on the door. I was flying that plane trying to shave off milliseconds off my already fast sortie times. That standard was the norm after 2 years of practice.
If there is something to wrap up this article with, it’s this. I've had many memories in this line of work. Many I remember, but the sunset loads I flew were hands-down the most memorable.
The last parachute loads of the day are so important to me and the jumpers. There's a great deal of ecstatic energy in the cockpit. This is the load I’ve been working hard all day to be a part of. The jumpers by this point are almost exhausted due to the fact they've been jumping all day. Last load is usually a sunset load which is expected in a Dropzone like Byron Bay as we make the best efforts to juice out every minute of play time the day offers.
4 minutes before the green light comes on, everyone is high-fiving each other wishing everyone a safe journey back down to earth. The jumpers start whistling and joking, smiling and cheering. When the door opens, a rush of crispy cold air fills up the cockpit indicating that reality is well on its way. After they all stack up and jump out – group by group – I transition the aircraft into a high-speed descent back down to the deck while taking in the most amazing moment of the entire day, all which lasts just under 4 minutes. In this one particular memorable descent, it was the sunset peering through the altostratus clouds that were settling over the mountain ranges. The haze visible, leaving its murky presence through the valleys. And the sign of dew and mist reappearing on my windscreen as the skin of the aircraft rapidly transitions from the cold upper level temperatures, back up to the warmer surface temperatures during the descent. When I land and shut down, the painful part of getting off the seat after long hours of sitting begins. My legs are screaming but I can't hear nothing due to the rewarding fact that I made this awesome day happen for all these jumpers. This plane and I – a dream team.
It's one of the best moments I can be proud of. To experience this very moment sometimes can take 10 hours of flying to witness it. But worth every minute. It's one of the best moments that will remain with me throughout my entire career.
I want to thank Bowie, Ryan Roche, Joe Stein, the whole Byron crew, all the pilots who I worked with during my 25 months in this amazing business. Plus, every fun jumper that I took up for a spin to height – whether I knew you well or not, and any other people who I met along the way. It was an honour.
Jump pilot career summary
25 months
1,778.7 parachute flying hours
4337 parachute loads
70,000+ passengers
DZ flown: Wollongong, Byron Bay, Redcliffe, Mission Beach.
Personal Best: Jan 2nd 2016 – 28 parachute loads in one sitting (sunrise to sunset) in VH-PTX.
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