Inspiration is from the little things:
A stolen look from a loved one, An unconscious giggle, A wind-wrapped ride In an open car. It comes from diferent perspectives: On the top of mountains, Under the shade of a tree, Or smiling out of the window From am aeroplane. It moves with the sun: In the shadows of elephants, The glow of dusk, And the enchantment Of a night sky. It comes with breath: And tired running muscles, Contented sweating smiles Or the halting skip Of a heartbeat summited. It comes with passion: Free-spirited in authentic moments, Uninhibited Resonating with every single moment.
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One of the pleasures of being a father is being able to create memories with my daughter. Yesterday was one of those memories which transformed itself into one of those perfect days. I decided to surprize Bella by taking her out of school and flying with her in our Cessna 140 to the Pilanesberg Nature Reserve where my parents had been staying for the week. So, we woke up early, piled into the car at sunrise and made our way to the airfield. It was freezing, so Bella wrapped up in her blanket and while I was refuelling and pre-flighting, she worked out where we were flying to on the map that I had drawn up for her. The flight was nothing short of spectacular with the creases of the Magaliesberg passing beneath our wingtips. Above the chiseled rock faces, we spotted spirals of vultures soaring on the early morning thermals and Bella peered out of the window with her eagre face trying to spot animals. She flew for a bit as well, her little fingers gripped tightly on the yoke and an expression of sheer concentration making her completely entranced in her task. We flew over Buffelspoort and Buffelshoek dam, all the while Bella singing "I'm flying in an aeroplane, looking out the window, watching the world go by!" I felt so lucky to have this little girl with whom I can share the things about which I am passionate. She had this gleeful smile and that innocent sparkle in her eyes was pure happiness. In what seemed like an incredibly short space of time, we arrived at the Pilanesberg Airport, cocked up and tied down the aeroplane, to be collected my Mum, Dad, Emily and Ashleigh (family from our Irish friends). They made a huge fuss of Bella, who was very proud at telling them how she had used her map to find our way, first over the mountains, then pass the dam and then to the game reserve. And then it was into the park. There is a sense of peace that I feel whenever I return to the bush. Somehow life seems to click together a bit more gently, I breathe a bit more deeply and I know that I am home. I'm not sure how I am going to survive when I am back at work without my weekly bushveld fix. As we meandered along the dirt roads, squashed together in Dad's 4x4, we were lucky enough to see so much game. Our first treat were some zebras cautiously drinking from the edge of a waterhole near Manyane Camp. The stripes from their faces pooled together in the ripples of their reflections as they drank deeply from the water. Behind them, pods of hippos lay in the sun, the frigid water clearly too cold even for them. Along the shoreline, energetic three-banded plovers rushed back and forth and a grey heron swaggered towards some likely prey. A lilac-breasted roller perched on the edge of a gnarled branch, its iridescent colours catching the morning sunlight. From there we heading off to one of my favorite places, Mankwe Dam. The affect of the drought and waterless winter was immediately apparent as the shores had receded well away from the foot of the hide, but nonetheless the bird and animal life was abundant. Bella and I spent some time watching a white-fronted bee-eater flit about in its erratic flight snatching insects in mid-air. The cormorants were noisily establishing their pecking order as usual and far away we watched impalas and wildebeest come down to drink. Pied Kingfishers hovered in line with the sun and fire-finches mucked about in muddy puddles. After we had finished our tea and rusks at Mankwe, we all piled back into the car to meander towards another watherhole via the Pilanesberg Centre. Bella was spoilt again and she polished off an ice-cream whilst watching some zebras around a salt lick. They were very possessive about who gained access to the lick when. We laughed at their 'sour worm' expressions as they curled their lips back after taking in too much of the salt, or their boisterous biting and kicking when they felt that it was their turn. It is amazing how human-like animals can be! In the process of all of this, a cheeky vervet monkey brazenly climbed onto one of the restaurant table to steal some sweetner oblivious to the couple enjoying their meal on the same table! It could have been worse, I suppose, he could have taken some sugar! At the next waterhole, we had our own lunch. On the way we had a wonderful sighting of some giraffe that stopped a few feet from the side of the road. Bella was entranced at their long purple tongues that wound around thorny acacia branches and managed to de-stem a mouthful of leaves without receiving any pricks himself. They are prehistoric-looking animals, giraffe, but their is a real sense of nobility to their gait. And then it was onward to the waterhole where we had lunch. The serenity of the place and having it all to ourselves was so restful. The water was surrounded by various herds of waterbuck and it was clear that the area is a place for their gathering. A crocodile lazed in the sun close to the hide and a myriad of birds foraged at the water's edge. Geese, plovers, herons and cormorants each one sustaining their own place in the ecosystem. As the afternoon drew on, unfortunately it was time to wind our way back to the Bakubung gate and then the airfield. On the way, we came across numerous herds of elephants that plodded along the foothills of the distant mountains. I longed to see some close by before we left. I love watching elephants. they are my favorite animals and their mannerisms are always a source of inspiration for me. Luckily enough, as we got to the dam near the camp, we spotted a breeding herd at the water's edge close to the car. It was a picturesque scene and a fitting end to our adventure. Bella and I were enthralled by their antics as the younger eles wrestled with each other and the older ones lazily drank from the dam. There is a sense of tranquility that goes along with an elephant herd, and if we listed carefully, we could hear their rumblings as they communicated with each other. Abruptly, the sound of a fish eagle reverberated through the valley and I couldn't help but smile. In the distance, we could also hear the nattering of a wild dog pack, but caught barely a glimpse of one of them as we exited the park. Unfortunately time pressures meant that we had to leave the wild dog and the elephants behind if we were to land back at Krugersdorp in daylight. So, it was back to the airfield where we said our goodbyes and soon we were in the sky again. It had been a big day for Bella, so she fell asleep almost immediately, only waking up when we landed back home on the grass runway. The afternoon air was still, and I could see the mine dump at Krugersdorp almost from Pilanesberg, such was the clarity of visibility. The sun was getting ever closer to the horizon, and when we landed there were only a few minutes between daylight and night time. It was truly an epic day, and Bella's chattering on the drive home explored everything that had happened. She had had as much fun as me.
Last night Bob Hay passed away.
He was a figure that is synonymous with both my childhood memories at Baragwanath Aerodrome and my growth into becoming a pilot myself. Uncle Bob taught me so much about flying and about life. He had a spirit that was unquenchable and the lightest touch when he flew an aeroplane. Uncle Bob taught me how to do slow rolls in the Tiger Moth, about the intricacies of a Gypsy Major engine, how best to tame the Tiger and what good airmanship was all about. One of my earliest memories is flying with Uncle Bob in FZF back from an event in Rustenberg, when he passed me the map before we took off and said 'you take us home'. He nudged my young nerves along by pointing out various landmarks to help me match them to the map and offered words of encouragement to spur my triumph at getting us back to BaraG. There is an image of Uncle Bob that stays with me as the embodiment of a true aviator, standing next to his Tiger, holding his flying helmet with ski goggles and wearing thick World War 2 era flying boots. Uncle Bob always wanted to be involved in whatever was going on, even when his Parkinsons got bad. He was in our hangar offering advice, wielding a spanner and looking closely at whatever mechanical intricacies he was helping to solve through his thick glasses. Uncle Bob's stories are interwoven with the hangar talk that my father reminisces about, and he has made an indelible impression on my family and I. I am privileged to have known him and can only hope to be the sort of aviator that he was. Uncle Bob was a gentleman, a mentor and a friend. He will be sorely missed and his passing is a loss for all of us. As a teacher, I try to walk alongside each of the students that I teach, even if it only for a brief time in their pathway through life.
There are, however, some boys whose footprints leave a more permanent imprint, and I was lucky enough to catch up with one of them today. Sometimes it is a common interest that lays the foundation for meaningful discussions in the corridors before class that develops into a more substantial connection. And this is where the difficult part comes in because as a teacher and an adult, my charge is to inspire and mentor, when often the opposite is in fact true. As is the case with the young man that I met today. I might have more life experience that the students in my care, but sometimes that pales in comparison with their youthful energy, and their insight for endless possibilities. Their idealism resonates with me the most and it is quenching in a pessimistic adult world. I feel that I learn as much, if not more, from them, than they do from me. I learn about the power of positivity, about imagination, endless possibilities, solutions instead of problems and their zest for life. I have learnt the value of ‘just chilling’, the importance of friendships and the joy in the little things. I hope that somehow I have inspired the values that will help these boys to become authentic gentlemen but I am privileged that teaching inspires me as well. Teaching is a profession that can be challenging in that often the lessons we try to impart are only fully fledged some time after the students have left school. But there are chance meetings with Old Boys and their families where we can exchange our thanks. And that is one of the most uplifting elements of being in a classroom. These young men are the reason that I teach, as they inspire me with hope for all of the possibilities that their future has for all of us. Happy Places
The wilderness haunts my dreams And berates my city dwelling For all its selfish trappings And narrow perspectives. The call of cicadas beckon me And fish eagles sound like home As the eloquent bushveld Quenches my imagination. The smell of rain Like dark chocolate turning sweet Melts into peaceful simplicity And pitter-pats dusty trails. There is a butterfly balance Of ecological threads And every life plays their part Selflessly and courageously. Every niche is accounted for With balanced intimacy Precise in their construction Without winners and losers. Time has no meaning Except for the stretching sun That rules over life With crimson beginnings and ends. Nature’s voices Breathes God’s breathe With artistry and poetry, Wonder and enchantment. And here I find my purpose. There are two types of pilots, those who are on training wheels and those who fly proper aeroplanes. And of course, I am referring to Taildraggers.
This year was my fifth patronage to Nylstroom for Richard Nicholson's event that celebrates these aircraft types. It promised to be a spectacular weekend, beginning with a five ship formation which I led from Krugersdorp. Bradlee and Michael Crause joined us in a sling, Ryan Beckley was in the Chipmunk, my brother Pat was in the newly acquired Flybaby, Dad flew the Tiger and I was in the C140. Later on, at Nylstroom, Brian Davidson joined us in a J3, so we have a veritable squadron in attendance for the entire weekend. As we were heading off to the bush, our proud name became 'Boskak Squadron'. And fun label set the tone for the weekend. Time was spent flying in formation, wandering around aeroplanes, talking about aeroplanes, and in the evening nursing cold beers around a blazing fire. Some highlights included flying a three-ship formation with Patrick leading in the Flybaby, Dad on his left wing in the Tiger and my position as number two in the 140. Not many people can claim to fly in a family formation with three different aircraft. It was absolute bliss! I have just spent a weekend at Kwa Madwala Game Reserve exploring the possibilities of Outdoor Education and I am feeling so inspired.
The problem with much of what happens in schools is that the students benefit from their knowledge and it allows them to qualify with a Matric Certificate, but that is where their education stops. With the individual. What I have been working on, though, is more than just exam results. It is the chance to make a real difference. Our environment is under constant pressure, and with a population that is nearing eight billion, we continue to encroach on our wild spaces and unfortunately, everything that lives in them. Educated decisions are made in managing these wild areas, and those soldiers who try to preserve our natural heritage do it with the best intentions and should be lauded. However, they cannot do it on their own. This is where my embryonic idea of an Outdoor Education programme comes into it, and it differs slightly to what we do at the moment in schools when it comes to immersing students in the environment. The current trend in providing experiences outside the classroom for students is predominantly founded on the principles of resilience. We send boys in particular out on camps where they are able to test themselves and find their limitations. They might experience discomfort, but the trade-off is self discovery. And this premise is vitally important. Particularly for boys. The problem, though, is that some students begin to associate the outdoors with hardship, and in later life, a hike as a way to escape, to rejuvenate or to enjoy, is probably not their first option. So, some schools bring an element of fun into their outdoor programme. They interweave challenges with activities like archery, rock climbing and river rafting. Hopefully these detours provide a break from the trials and testing and enable to students to realise that being outdoors is not just about testing yourself. There is a third tier, though, which few camps ever consider. It is seldom that Outdoor Programmes resonate with an underlying understanding of preservation, ecology and conservation. For students, most of these words are covered in the classroom and as such, are considered taboo. These words create screen-saver eyes and students add them to the list of all of the responsibilities that we as adults tend to give them to shoulder. But being outside, in a wilderness environment provides a scope for making a real difference, not just talking about it. And that is where my ideas come in. As I mentioned earlier, dedicated conservationists do their bit to sustain the environment, but imagine if they had help from school children. Imagine if we were able to take students who, by virtue of their subject choice, into an environment that has all the hallmarks of a threatened wild Africa. What difference could they make if they studied the ecology of a given area, in collaboration with students from other schools, building up a research base of information long term to aid conservation. The possibilities of studying ecosystems, micro and macro with relationships between species and individuals and the impact that they have on one another is an exciting prospect. Technology is at a place where camera traps, GoogleEarth and communal websites make achieving such goals more than 'pie in the sky'. Trophic balances reflect the quality of the environment, and studying something as small as a dung beetle, could have far reaching effects. And more than that, it is all do-able in something that has more scope that a single individual's efforts. If we deal in the practical ecology of an area in a manner that is hands on and experiential, the students will appreciate the affects that we have on nature. Obviously they will need to be guided by Game Rangers and Teachers, and in doing so, I think that the affects of their conclusions could be far-reaching. And we can also bring in the community. Because a project like this is not just about the students who can afford it making a small difference, it is about all of us. Understanding how to care for our natural world is about understanding how to empower people to realise that it is their own individual responsibility. Training locals on how to mark and recapture small insects and animals, for instance, might be a starting point, and if they are remunerated, we might find it the beginning of further involvement and collaborative ideas. This project is about every single one of us doing our bit, instead of expecting others to make a difference on our behalf. Humanity may have a right to clean water, for instance, but if we do not exercise accountability and responsibility in sustaining the water we have, that right would no longer be realistically achievable. Nature has a marvelous Godly ability to heal itself, as long as the onslaught that we produce is not continuous. If we are able to understand nature by inculcating an ethical responsibility towards it among our students and indeed the greater community, maybe the world will have a fighting chance. Take a look at the countries with the most developed education system, like Finland and Denmark. It is no coincidence that they have a steadily declining population growth. The reason is because the citizens of these nations have realised that more people require more resources and are therefore not sustainable. Much can be read into this, but maybe the most profound epiphany (which most of us already know) is that education done correctly promotes responsibility and maybe if we look at our environmental impact, education will have the power to create a global ethical consciousness towards our environment. Unfortunately there is a chasm between the impoverished who cannot afford this sparkling education and the affluent who can but often don't do the right thing. Maybe this project will bridge that gap within the parameters of understanding each other and the impact that we have on our world. Their is a poetry in nature that we need to preserve, and we can only make a difference by balancing self-discovery with enjoyment with environmentalism. The youth are able to produce inspiring solutions to problems, but we need to plant the seed within them in order to create teenage conservation soldiers. Maybe then our students will become something like Warrior Poets: boys and girls who are able to halt our wanton pressure on nature through their empathy and understanding of it. I set out on my deck and the valley plunges beneath my feet, interrupted in parts by huge rolling boulders and sprawling trees. I think about the day that I have experienced, which must rank among one of the best.
It started off with a flight in our little two-seater Cessna that meandered from the Highveld to the Lowveld. I straddled the wind and climbed up over the ferocious Drakensburg mountains , bleached brown by the drought, but harbouring all sorts of life. The creased folds of the mountains and valleys were breathtakingly beautiful, and the dotted pods of hippos that sprawled along the banks of the Crocodile River are the visions that dreams are made of. I landed at Kwa Madwala runway, a dirt strip shaved out of the wooden canopy, to be collected by the owner and transported in his Land Rover to the lodge. There, we made our introductions and then clambered back into the open game vehicle to join up with two elephants. These two pachyderms were saved after a culling operation, rehabilitated, and then used to educate. I have never been that close to such a large animal. It was astonishing, being able to run my fingers along their wrinkled skin, to feel their easy breathe rumble from their stomach and to touch their worn ivory tusks. Both elephants had different personalities as well, the female being very docile but playful and the male being far more boisterous. We were shown the elephant's remarkable sense of smell which is far to superiour to that of a dog, never mind our own. With the elephant facing away from us, we each took off an item of clothing which was then placed in a random order in front of the ele. She then used her trunk to deftly lift each garment and hand it back to the person to whom it belonged...without any hesitation. Next, we each whispered our name to her and then stood back, shuffling ourselves into a randomly ordered line. We then gave a stick to the elephant and told her to to give it to by name. She got is absolutely right, and what is more, we were told that the elephant would commit that name to memory...forever. While this was going on the male peered at us through warm eyes, and began to break off various twigs and branches, presenting them to each of us as presents. Despite their size, there was such a sense of calmness that was associated with them, and their tranquility was something that I found very therapeutic. I was still reeling from the experience during supper, and my conversation was stilted as I kept on remembering all the sensations that I had felt with the elephants. The bush fire twisted and turned in undulating flames and I lost myself and my thoughts in its presence. Later that night, I was having a shower on the deck protruding from my accommodation, under the stars. I think the stars are something that I miss most about living in the city. It was a crisply clear night and the sky was definitely showing off. In the distance, I heard the call of a jackal, and in the higher reaches of one of the trees I glimpsed the jump of a wide-eyed bush baby. All of this affirmed my love of the bush. It is the place where I feel most at home, where life seems to find its own balance. I am at the Bush School, Kamoka, in the Waterberg, doing some research as part of my FGASA (Field Guides Association of South Africa) course. I spent a morning examining the impact that one space has on the environment around it. The little cluster of trees is no more that 20 square meters but so much life is sustained by it.
The Hot Spot It is incredible to wonder How much life is supported Above and Below The branches of a single Confluence of trees. Through accidental Combinations of geology And water Entwining branches From a dozen trees Create a lush canopy Jacket plum Velvet bushwillow Buffalo thorn Cabbage tree Large-fruit bushwillow Moepel Feed fruit and seed Eating birds that gorge Themselves high up In their branches Their chatter A bushveld soundtrack Crackling leaves Scatter the ground With evidence in footprints And scrapings And diggings And middens From wildebeest Procupine Zebra Hyena Kudu And Eland Tilling the soil Are grubby white termites And spookasem spiderwebs Sew stems together Catching bright Yellow butterflies. Ants are everywhere If you look carefully And irredescent Dung beetles Are colourful in Their dirty duty A lizard Flees upwards Tracing patterns Of bark Startling a camouflaged Owlet. A few square meters In the waterberg Abundant with life; An interlocking ecology From the ground Up. I am busy reading the autobiography of one of my role models, David Attenborough. Quite appropriately titled 'Life on Air', it is the story of his adventures throughout the world, documenting wildlife.
There is one passage in particular that piqued my attention, and it comes from a chapter where he embarks on a trip to Guiana in South America to film the second season of 'Zoo Quest'. So here goes (and you have to read this in his voice): "Today, anyone starting on such a trip would, of course, have carefully researched script, long lists of contacts and pages of detailed itineraries. There would be lengthy telephone conversations by satellite half way round the world and exchanges of emails with scientists defining exactly the optimum time to film a particular species. Chartered aircraft and ferries would have been booked, accommodation reserved, detailed costings approved, film editing suites and recording theaters allocated and completion dates agreed. In March 1955, it seemed sufficient for me to say airily that we would be back some time in June with, I hoped, enough material for six half-hour programmes; and for Cyril Jackson, on behalf of the Talks Department, to tell me not to spend more than a thousand pounds while I was away." |
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