Growing up with the adventures of Biggles and the legendary tales of the Red Baron, what kid wouldn't dream of soaring through the skies? My father was a proud member of the Royal Air Force, and his stories, combined with my membership in the Biggles Air Police, only fuelled my aspirations. The excitement of aviation was woven into the fabric of my childhood, and I often imagined myself as a daring Hurricane pilot, taking to the air in defence of my country. The thrill of flight captivated me, and I knew from a young age that I wanted to be part of that world.

From Biggles to Blue Yonder: My Aviation Adventure

As I grew older, my passion for aviation didn't wane. Determined to follow in my father's footsteps, I set my sights on joining the RAF. The idea of heading into the blue yonder, with the wind beneath my wings, was a dream I held close. However, my dreams were dashed when the RAF rejected my application without explanation. It wasn't until years later that I pieced together the likely reason—my limitations in colour vision. This realisation was a bitter pill to swallow, but my love for flying remained undiminished.

Undeterred, I thought the next best thing would be to join an airline as cabin crew. If I couldn't pilot the planes, at least I could still be part of the aviation world, traveling and experiencing the joy of flight. However, fate had other plans. My application to Qantas was also met with rejection. Once again, no reason was provided, leaving me to speculate. I consoled myself with the belief that perhaps it was because I didn't fit their psych profile, or maybe it was because I wasn't gay, a stereotype I later realised was unfounded. Regardless, it was another setback in my quest to find a place in the skies.

But I wasn't ready to give up on my dreams just yet. In a twist of fate, I found myself considering a private pilot's license (PPL). It all started when I wanted to take dance lessons at Arthur Murray's, but the $1600 price tag was prohibitive. At the same time, I discovered that a PPL course was $100 less. Weighing my options, I realised that obtaining a PPL would offer a much greater sense of personal satisfaction and achievement. It wasn't just about learning to fly; it was about reclaiming a piece of my childhood dream.

With determination and a touch of serendipity, I enrolled in the PPL course. The experience was everything I had hoped for and more. The sensation of taking off, the world shrinking beneath me, the freedom of navigating the open skies—all these elements combined to reignite my passion for aviation. Flying wasn't just an activity; it became a profound source of joy and fulfillment.

While pursuing my Private Pilot License (PPL) and working towards a Commercial License, I encountered a significant hurdle due to my colour blindness. However, I discovered a potential solution—a special contact lens developed in the USA designed to correct colour vision. Eager to overcome this challenge, I ordered one the old-fashioned way, through mail order, since the internet hadn't been invented yet. [Yes, Im THAT old]. When the lens arrived, it was red and intended for use in just one eye, which left me with an unusual appearance—one red eye and one blue eye. Despite this, the lens had a profound effect on my vision. I was thrilled when I took the Ishihara Colour Blindness Test and passed with a perfect score.

A far cry from a Hurricane or a 747, but we all have to start somewhere, don't we.

Unfortunately, the aviation authorities remained sceptical. They required that I undergo a 'lantern test,' a more stringent assessment that could only be administered in the Eastern States. Bearing the considerable expense, I travelled across the vast desolate expanse of Australia to take the test, only to fail it. It turned out that the eye perceives coloured light differently than it does painted or printed colours. This result was a severe blow; it meant my commercial flying aspirations were limited to daylight only, with no possibility of international routes.

Disheartened yet pragmatic, I toyed with the idea of relocating to South America or Africa, where regulations were less stringent and pilot jobs more plentiful. However, sensibility prevailed; the risks associated with potentially poorly maintained aircraft and less safe flying conditions deterred me. Reluctantly, I decided to set my commercial aviation dreams aside. I had given it my best effort, but it seemed the elements were simply against me. Despite the setback, this experience taught me to navigate life's turbulences with resilience and adaptability, grounding my ambitions while still cherishing my passion for flight.

Looking back, my journey to becoming a private pilot was marked by obstacles and disappointments. Yet, it was these very challenges that led me to a path where I could truly embrace my love for flying. The setbacks I faced with the RAF and Qantas were not the end of my aviation dreams but rather the beginning of a new chapter. Through perseverance and a willingness to seize unexpected opportunities, I found a way to fulfill my childhood aspirations in a manner that was uniquely my own.

In the end, the skies welcomed me, not as a military or commercial pilot, but as a private aviator who flew for the pure love of it. My story is a testament to the idea that dreams can be realised in ways we might never have originally envisioned, and that the journey itself can be as rewarding as the destination.

Epilogue: Reflections Above the Clouds

Growing up amidst the tales of aviation legends like Biggles and the Red Baron, my childhood was steeped in dreams of soaring the skies. My father's stories from his days in the Royal Air Force, coupled with my own fervent imagination, seemed to chart a clear course toward a life aloft. However, as I reflect on my journey, the path from aspiration to reality was fraught with unexpected turns, each shaping my perspective and my life in profound ways.

The crushing disappointment of being rejected by the RAF, a blow only deepened by later realisations of my colour vision limitations, was my first harsh encounter with the limits that life sometimes imposes. This initial setback marked a pivotal moment in my understanding of myself and my place in the world. It was a lesson in adapting dreams to reality, a theme that would recur throughout my life.

As I ventured further into the world of aviation, my aspirations shifted from the military to commercial aviation. Here too, I faced barriers, the most painful being the tragic loss of my cousin Terry, a pilot whose death in a plane crash served as a grim reminder of the pressures and dangers inherent in this field. His fate underscored the harsh realities of a pilot's life, reflecting the intense pressures that commercial pilots often endure, pressures that had become all too personal.

This reflection on the aviation path I once desired brings a mix of sorrow for what could have been and gratitude for the life I've lived instead. It’s sobering to acknowledge that had I pursued my initial dream, I might not have survived the industry's rigours and risks—either physically, as in Terry's tragic end, or emotionally, as the stress and disappointment might have overwhelmed my own battles with mental health.

Ultimately, my journey through the world of aviation—though not as a pilot—has taught me resilience and adaptability. It has shown me that dreams may not always take the form we initially envision but can be no less fulfilling. Aviation, once a symbol of freedom and adventure, has become a metaphor for my life's trajectory: a flight path marked by turbulent skies but also by breathtaking views and unexpected landings.

In this prologue, as I look back from the vantage point of a life well-lived yet differently lived, I see how each setback and adjustment has guided me to a deeper understanding of myself and my capabilities. Aviation did not define my destiny; rather, it enriched my journey, teaching me that the value of a dream lies not just in its realisation but in the lessons and growth it fosters along the way.