ON S.A. TIME…
As I sit, slightly dishevelled, on the public bench at the front of the Palace Hotel, my squinty eyes pick out a rogue pink feather that’s loosened itself from someone’s boa and come to rest against a supporting post holding up the famous pub’s verandah, which extends above my head to the edge of the deserted main street, just like all the buildings along it.
Flashbacks of a Saturday midnight spent at the Night Train, Broken Hill’s premier (only) nightclub, haunt me, and my head is throbbing more than a little, but that’s not why a solitary tear slips down my cheek as I wait for the shuttle bus. Aside from the fact that I’ve teared up almost every day since we arrived (of happiness and the beauty of it… it’s what happens to me at women pilot conferences, apparently), now it’s Sunday morning – ANZAC Day – the last day. How will I recover from a conference that will no doubt work its way into Australian Women Pilots’ Association folklore and become the stuff of legends?
So worth waiting an extra year for. So worth the pain and heartache of a panicked deferral by the noble NSW branch. And so, for those who could not attend, here I will try my best to make it feel like you did.
UPON ARRIVAL…
… there were a plethora of pink feathers and prickles. Everyone was helping everyone tie down in the red dirt – some struggling as they’d not had to do it before. Shelley and Catherine and their menagerie of student pilots (including five new members?) had landed just then, too, the conference forming a leg of another of their popular outback safaris. And then – the thrilling appearance of Aimee Heal’s PC 21 in the circuit: we hardly knew what had happened before she was climbing out of the aircraft.
At 959ft elevation and on the area frequency, Broken Hill is pretty standard as far as outback strips go – it’s long and wide and easy to find, so as to be functional when frequented by the Royal Flying Doctors and a moderate number of RPT operations. Check the ERSA and NOTAMs, of course, but generally, Avgas and Jet A1 are readily available, and you’ll need your ASIC as it’s security-controlled. There is an Aero Club rich with history (you’ll have to drop in for those stories another time), and car hire is organised through the terminal, where you’ll also find the bathrooms and a mural dedicated to Stuart’s ‘first desert pee’.
On this occasion, however, we were lucky to find Jen Kinsella and her husband making a roaring trade, dropping people into town in the conference shuttle. It’s a short drive, but a long walk, into town and after weaving streets named after things on the Periodic Table of Elements, we were deposited on the main drag of Broken Hill (Argyle St), which looks precisely as described above. Here, we settled into our room at the Palace Hotel (formerly Mario’s), made famous by the film The Adventures of Priscilla: Queen of the Desert, and made infamous by the crowd of rowdy women pilots who stormed its corridors from the 21–25th of April 2021.
The customary welcome drinks event kicked off at the official conference venue – the Broken Hill Musicians Club, and we were addressed by the first lady Mayor of Broken Hill, Darrier Turley, who let us know on no uncertain terms that the region was very excited to host our group of Australian lady pilots. Housekeeping and general notices were covered by NSW President Judy Shaw, and there was much chatter and laughter as we sipped sparkling wine and caught up with what felt like long-lost friends. Not long after, it was time to break off for dinner, though many of us, having flown or driven so far that day, were so deliriously tired by this point it was all we could do to stagger back to our hotels.
Tucked up in bed in our twin room (with French doors onto the verandah and a tiny washbasin of its own), I drifted off to the rise and fall of Wednesday night karaoke beneath me, and what I now know were Peta Denham Harvey and Kristen Lowe’s best singing voices. I felt like I was home.
EDUCATION DAY…
… dawned bright with an early start. I walked my friend, Luca, to the first-timers breakfast up the street at Alfresco’s, which was very well-attended. I had mine with Aminta Hennesey and Ray Clamback, who happened to choose the same venue, and there was much animated conversation until I really had to take off – because I love Education Day.
First up, facilitated by the fabulous Shelley Ross and Catherine Fitzsimons, our buzzing room of lady pilots set off on a virtual outback safari – an exercise in the challenges of flying in remote areas. Using sets of maps and tools found on each of our tables, we traversed Australia’s top end, doing our very best to entertain some rather demanding characters (fictional, of course) and squeeze in some unforgettable, imaginary sights at the same time!
Helpful takeaways included the importance of the pitot cover, talking to ATC (they love it when GA drop by out there, Shelley says) and factoring in end-of-daylight when crossing multiple time zones, particularly from west to east. We also discussed wet season strip conditions and getting fuel in the outback; all-in-all, a very insightful session, and – thanks to the foresight and planning of the NSW conference team – live-streamed for those who had signed up to attend ‘long-distance’ from home.
After a delightful lunch, we dived back in for the afternoon session, which included compelling interviews with Georgia Maxwell, the accomplished ag pilot from Kathy Mexted’s Australian Women Pilots, and Ameliah Scott, The Flying Vet, whose story was recently highlighted on the ABC News. We also sat up for a fascinating presentation by Aimee ‘Roulette 7’ Heal of the RAAF, who, in fact, kept our mouths rather agape all week –from her high speed, military initial and pitch arrival on Wednesday afternoon to her equally impressive departure on Sunday.
We wrapped up with a spirited communications session, a quick Nav Trial brief and a chicken schnitty with mushroom gravy in the bistro with a couple of flying mates. All those at our table admitted to finding themselves mysteriously close to tears at various points throughout the day and agreed it was lovely that one event could hold so much meaning and fuel so much passion.
How were we going to continue at this pace?
NAV TRIAL DAY…
… meant a quick breakfast on the run – back to the hotel because I had forgotten my flight bag. On the way, I noticed a little shiny thing resting in a crack in the pavement: a tiny, silver aeroplane earring. Without skipping a beat – that’s to be expected in an outback town overrun by women pilots during Conference week, of course – I scooped it up, pocketed it and kept running; it would not do to miss the shuttle bus out to the airport.
And what a sight greeted us; what a melee sauntered up for departure to the Nav Trial, too! You guessed it – it was those crazy Mitchell girls (and Lyn Gallacher), among others, and they had GOTTEN THE MEMO.
This year’s Nav Trial theme was ‘Find Your Wild Side – Fly the Outback’, which was the gist of this conference, in general. I mean – we’d delayed gratification a whole year at the last minute due to that pesky pandemic. Tensions were high, and we’d let 133 women pilots, friends and partners loose for a week in Broken Hill – arguably the ‘fancy-dress’ capital of Australia. No one was missing the chance to compete for the best-dressed team that day.
YBHI was bustling – there were teams hurriedly putting the finishing touches to their outfits in the aero club bathrooms, loud arguments about who would take out the Gertie, and, all over the place, estranged feathers that had fled their owners’ boas were casting themselves willy-nilly across the tarmac. It was a veritable drag queen’s chicken coop, I tell you!
But hark! The Nav Trial controller, Tammy Camilleri, is preparing to speak – shhh – somebody tap a glass!
The rules adhered to and departure slots determined, the event is underway. The giant hangar (its use kindly donated by owner Steve Radford) finally descends into some kind of order – though fuel truck operations were not so lucky, I hear! Things proceed with nervous concentration until, at long last, around midday, most have completed their hour-long competition flight and are enjoying hearty boxed lunches and a cold drink. Oh – and by word of mouth, I found the owner of the earring!
Kathy Mexted pulls me aside. She is determined to buy silver today, would I like to come? ‘What better way to spend an afternoon of sightseeing in Australia’s Silver City,’ I think to myself and readily agree. We soon pull up outside the aptly-named Silver City Mint & Art Centre, by which time she’s bloody talked me into it, and I want to buy a bar of silver, too. Well, surely a slab of Broken Hill metal would be the ultimate souvenir, wouldn’t it!?
Much to Kath’s disappointment, there are no silver bars here. “Na, they’re not sold anywhere but the Perth Mint these days,” we’re told. Feeling a little deflated, we pay a small entry fee and are suitably impressed by the ‘Big Picture’, which – without giving too much away – is precisely what it says. Instead, I strike gold a little later in the afternoon in a secondhand shop on the edge of town: four Biggles books from various publishing houses and eras – a couple of them quite rare! I’m rapt and spend the rest of my afternoon with my nose buried in one out on the Palace’s sprawling verandah.
SILVERTON…
25 km northwest of Broken Hill is Silverton, a place which somehow feels even further ‘out back’. When you stand still and hold your breath to listen, it is so silent that the air feels heavy. If you go to Broken Hill, you must also see Silverton and the Mundi Mundi lookout, which is where we spent civil twilight on Friday, witnessing the sun slip over the horizon a thousand kilometres away. After that somewhat ethereal experience, it was back on the bus to the famed Silverton Hotel for a boisterous evening of dinner, dancing and aviation conversation. It truly was a heartwarming night.
As time tends to do when you’re having fun, it was well and truly flying by Saturday. The National AGM came and passed in a flurry of business and celebration – we thanked our outgoing National Committee members and welcomed new ones, awarding the customary badges to those who’d served the Association. My heart swelled with pride as Deb, the National President, presented a three-year service pin for my ongoing contributions as Editor of Airnews magazine.
Saturday afternoon was spent catching up with friends, drinking pink gin or seeing the sights, and sooner than you could’ve thought possible, we found ourselves assembling in the large hall of the Musicians Club for the crescendo of the proceedings – the Awards Dinner. My team, Jess and the Wild Wests, cleaned the floor, taking out the Nav Trial in not one but two categories (for a team under 500 hours, and the total comp). This meant I was awarded the Harold Gatty Navigator’s trophy, which holds a special place in my heart as his is one of my favourite stories in Australian Nautical and Aviation lore. Then, to my greatest astonishment, I was presented one of the top four scholarships of the year – the Airservices + AWPA Flight Training Scholarship, worth $8000 towards training at a Commercial level. They had my photo taken then I unceremoniously cried out all the gin I’d had thus far. I couldn’t believe it.
It was all over in a blur – a wonderful one. Thanks to the Broken Hill Musicians Club for so graciously hosting and feeding us, the NSW branch of the AWPA, for all their incredible hard work, our esteemed guests, speakers and educators, and the members themselves, for participating and contributing to another unforgettable AWPA Annual Conference. Rumour has it they’re still collecting the feathers.
Bronni Bowen 