SIlent Kiwi Knight

‘Silent Kiwi knight’ is a work of fiction. Any similarity to and person, living or dead, is a coincident.

Part one.

My job as a producer for CTV’s ‘Life at 6.30’ provides me with plenty of opportunities to express my own views about life changing events. I was very pleased when my boss gave me an afternoon off so I could work on ‘Here is your flight.’ My copy of this literary obscurity had sat on my desk for weeks because I felt old news would be of no interest to the citizens of Christchurch who had suffered a lot of heartache during the September 2010 earthquake. This is the text message I received from Hans. ‘I’m glad you are going to be the front man for this segment Jim. The day-to-day living experiences of the volunteer pilots who worked behind the scenes should have a place on the historical record. You just happened to be in the best place at the worst time.’
With that in mind my two typing fingers brought into existence a voice-over script that would support the superb camera work of his daughter, Phoenix Chantal Van Caff.

2011 February 21 6.30 PM.

“Thousands of flying enthusiasts from New Zealand’s North Cape to the little island named Stewart stood shoulder to shoulder with ten of thousands Rim of Fire children on the wind swept grass in front of Air Aotearoa’s Head Quarters at Christchurch International Airport. After the inaugural and fund raising airship race from Anchorage in Alaska to Christchurch hundreds of the earthquake volunteers and supporters of Earthquake Recovery captured an image of Dame Elizabeth Anne Walker on their smart phones.
The guest of honour and patron of this flying spectacular sat on the dais between the Prime Minister and the Minister of Human Resources David Fletcher Becker. Kiwiland’s illustrious Maori politician tried to control his northwest wind blown forelock but gave up on the effort. He called to mind his father’s timeless advice; “Son, we all find it hard to control the natural forces.” He bent just a millimetre or two away from the perpendicular and said to Elizabeth, “Granny, I think on this occasion, I can leave it messy.”
With the clear and friendly sky of Aotearoa, the land of the long white cloud, above her as a cloak Elizabeth accepted from him ‘Here is your flight.’ This beautifully bound volume is filled with beautiful photographs, kind-hearted comments and diary extracts. Her extended family of ‘chicks’ wear their Flying Kiwi cap badges with deep family pride.
As an American/Kiwi reporter, I am in awe of this remarkable midwife, wife, mother and aviatrix who will soon be celebrating her one-hundredth birthday. Recent natural life changing events affected but did not slow down this tireless worker.”

2011 February 22.

This has been the saddest working day of my life. An after shock from the September 2010 quake had its epicentre just east of the Canterbury Port Hills in Lyttleton’s deep-water harbour and my apartment danced in time with its rhythmic swaying. Across the hall in the guest bedroom Tui snuggled up real close to her husband, Sir Lucas Walker, to make room for my professional partner Phoenix Van Caff who ran from her bedroom because she doesn’t like to be alone when the earth rock and rolls. Twenty seconds after the china cabinet stopped rattling both women evacuated the king size bed as the paua fitters from last night’s supper generated a very potent gas cloud in my friend’s pyjama pants. From the safety of the kitchen Tui called out, “Louie, if someone bottled your gastric gases I’m sure they could make something that would power a Christchurch bus for a day!” Her Maori sense of humour sometimes makes fiction sound better than the truth so I quickly wrote her revelation into the reality of my bedside notepad.

During our lunch break at 12.52 PM a huge 6.3 quake let loose its fury and the death toll went into the hundreds. All Emergency Services were at full stretch and people from all walks of life volunteered to help the citizens of Christchurch. Tui phoned me straight after the quake and expressed her relief when I told her Phoenix and I were okay. She was also uninjured but her son Daniel and her business partner Dorothy Davidson were not so lucky. She said, “Lucas and I are at the hospital, Daniel is a little bruised and battered but Dot is in intensive care. Could CTV help by broadcasting important messages direct to the public, can that be done? Oh, I have just been told that it is happening and Lucas wants to go to Christchurch International to find out what has happened to our business. Could you please go with him under the pretext of filming the chaos at the airport terminal?”

2011 February 26.

Lucas rejoined the work force as a pilot when Dorothy Davidson asked him to fly her to RNZAF Station Heron at Catalina Bay where she would be meeting with the volunteer pilots from the Marlbough Sounds Aero Club. My friend agreed to my request to let Phoenix and I accompany him because we wanted to see how Kiwi Volunteer Pilots responded to a large-scale natural emergency. A day later Dot introduced herself to the pilots who looked so very young and full of life.
“Christchurch City is now the worst natural disaster area I have ever seen. Five months after last year’s September quake Christchurch has again been hit hard and thousands of people need urgent assistance to rebuild damaged homes, businesses and lives. We will be piloting the civil engineers who urgently need to get on with the task of accessing the damage. My office at Christchurch International Airport has been extensively damaged and our business has lost all its aeroplanes, helicopters and ground equipment so I am very grateful to our American friends at Operation Deep Freeze. They have offered me just about everything but pilots.”
Air Aotearoa’s chief fixed wing flying instructor shoulders ached and her heavily bandaged left arm was restrained in a sling. She was hurting but grateful to be alive. “My headquarters for Operation Rock and Rumble have been set up at Burnham Army Camp where Staff Sergeant Morrie Davidson will be taking care of our ground support people but you pilots and your immediate families will be accommodated in Ashburton. Sir Lucas Walker will post regular updates and bulletins on our website so please stay in touch. The world is watching via the CTV team of Jim Walker and Phoenix Van Caff so we don’t want any stuff ups. Do you have any questions? No, then let’s get on with what we do best.”

2011 February 27.

All the motels in Ashburton were filled to capacity and that delighted a NZ Womans Weekly’s gossip writer and flamboyant divorcee Dawn Van Caff.
I have always enjoyed her company because Bigbeam is constantly on the go and she shines like a beacon even when dark clouds gather on the horizon. Dawn gave me a strong handshake. “Greetings Yankee doodle dandy, I’m overjoyed with the expectation of meeting New Zealand’s best and brightest pilots. Hi Phoenix, I’m sure are you looking forward to doing a story about the flying few. How are you Hans, may I occasionally fly with you?” Hans Van Caff chuckled and gave her a pat on the bottom. “Of course you can love, isn’t it ironic that it took a devastating earthquake to bring us back together?”
A pleasant evening gave us an opportunity to unwind and review the major events of the recent past. Dawn made two nightcap cups of hot chocolate, raided the biscuit box and brought the tray onto the veranda.
As he usually does, Hans spent his free time with Phoenix because he wanted to hear more about the new man in her life.
My phone vibrated against my hip. Dame Elizabeth Anne Walker yelled at her mobile, “Greeting Jim, Sorry about the late timing of this call but I’m volunteering to be your pilot as you journey around Canterbury and North Canterbury. I’m staying with Daniel. Bye love.”

Dawn takes great delight in talking about the lives of famous families and she pulled her chair a little bit closer and changed mental gears, “Tell me, Sir Lucas and that young flying lass Dot Davidson are they an item? Good grieve she is thirty-two years younger than him!”
I had been in a relationship with Dot for several months but it was not public knowledge at that time. “You are jumping to a down right wrong and silly conclusion old girl and I hate to disappoint you. Lucas is happily married and Dot is by nature a loner. They are just a couple of friends who want to help those in need.” Dawn smiled as if she might know something I didn’t want to talk about and standing on her tiptoes she kissed my cheek. “Okay Westward I shall let you off the hook for now. Thank you for allowing me to pry.”
Our conversation had been light-hearted and I thoroughly enjoyed the unplanned chat.

Saturday rolled around and as we didn’t have any scheduled commitments Dot took us to meet her youngest brother Brenton who had teamed up with Daniel Walker to design a HAHA (HOT AIR HOVER AIRSHIP).
One hundred metres above Brenton’s head Danny stood in the basket of a hot air dirigible with a strengthened sub chassis and added lifting lines that supported the ground hugging hovercraft. A communication umbilical cord allowed the driver and the pilot to share the manoeuvring and flying of their unique transport vehicle.
Phoenix joined me at the refreshment tent.
“Hi, did today go well with you?”
“Oh yes. It’s just the kind of thing dad wants in the doco but…” As she paused to collect her thoughts I asked, “Would you enjoy another of whatever you are drinking?” She shot back with, “Only if I can get away from her!”
“I think the her you are referring might be your mum. How about tomorrow we take a break from all this, would you like to fly up to Lady Manor with Elizabeth and I?”
Phoenix agreed but only on one condition, I should write an email to Hans informing him about our reason for wanting to spend some professional time alone.

The Walker’s family home has always captivated the heart of Dawn’s second child. When she joined us on the east wing patio she mused, “I love this place, it’s so far away from the agro that is the annoying aspect of our work.” She asked the Lord of the manor, “Sir Lucas may I change into something a little less formal?” He shrugged his shoulders and replied, “You seem to be close to Tui in dress size. Perhaps you could ask her about borrowing something from her wardrobe.”
We sipped our whiskeys as we enjoyed the vista of the Marlborough Sounds spectacular beauty. A half hour passed before I went looking for her and it didn’t surprise me when I found her swimming with only the Catalina Bay under water landing lights on. I called from a respectable distance, “Just what your mum would had done, enjoy yourself while I get unpacked and hit the sack.” She waved and smiled, “Thank you for your consideration and understanding Oldie, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Next morning my own invigorating swim gave me time to think about one of my other projects. I asked my researcher and ghostwriter. “How is the Sir Lucas biography coming along?”
Phoenix had built a nest of pillows on the floor and with her titanium-framed glasses pushed up among her lovely blonde curls and she looked absolutely stunning as she sat comfortably with her left knee drawn up and under her Dresden doll like chin.
I was looking forward to a book review session so I pressed the intercom button set into the Kauri wall panelling and said to Dame Elizabeth’s daughter, “Good morning Morag. Please put a line through the rest of my appointments for an unspecified time. Okay Grumpy don’t keep on about it. Yes Phoenix does respect your feelings about us being alone together unchaperoned.”
Phoenix called out, “I certainly do!” When I sat down beside her she said, “Now where were we? Oh yes, I love this part about the boyhood days of the Walker brothers when open cockpit flying meant everything to the older half brother. Here is my first draught.”

Extracts from the Sir Lucas Walker biography.

The 1945 school year at Nelson Presbyterian College had ended and my carsickness did not dampen my enthusiasm as I listened to the rhythmic swishing of the windscreen wipers. A clap of thunder startled my half brother Anthony and he uttered a mild profanity. After chastising him mother smiled and waved excitedly as father dropped his old kit bag and ran toward his loved ones. He shared a kiss with Morag and ruffled our hair as mother shook hands with many of the pilots from a Hurricane fighter squadron that had been attached to the National Chinese Air Force.

Our journey home was suddenly interrupted when father swerved the car to the other side of the street. Ten minutes later he emerged from the fish and chips shop with arms full of newspaper wrapped delights. His sales receipt went something like this. Four pieces of fish with two scoops of chips, four bottles of soft drink, a crayfish and two-dozen oysters!
I was looking forward to listening to him playing the piano with mother at his side singing their favourite songs as I played with the Box Brownie camera Glen Davidson gave me for my birthday. Mother came and sat with me and asked, “Would you like me to sing something especially for you little one?” I shouted, “Oh yes please!” Mother then sang her own composition,
“My two little boys make my heart rejoice. They always engage the brain before they use the voice.”

My half brother Anthony is eleven years my senior and I envied his apparent freedom when he did not return to school. He danced a jig when mother asked, “Tonks darling, would you like me to teach you how to fly an aeroplane?” The best flying instructor anyone ‘Kiwi’ could ask for had trained as a flying country nurse and her independent spirit propelled her toward her goal to become a well-respected Aviatrix. Mother used her own saving to purchase a redundant Air Force Tiger Moth and made it available to Tonks and she encouraged him to fly as an eye in the sky for our shepherds and cattle drovers.
Before he was legally allowed to drive a car he qualified for his private pilot’s licence and he helped father with the construction of island landing strips. The short wind blown island tussock grass would submit to a controlled burn off and the prevailing wind determined the landing direction for the aeroplanes.

Father retired from the RNZAF after the Korean War ended in 1953 and he began a new career in civil aviation. By necessity he moved to Wellington and it was only at the end of the working week he flew home to be with his family. Sadly for us he soon stopped doing this. Glen and Morag married and built their home on land given to them as a wedding present. Their house, right at the waters edge of Catalina Bay, quickly filled with the sound of little feet and the twins put a financial burden on Glen’s shoulders. Elizabeth rose to the challenge and with fathers approval she opened the doors of Lady Manor as a bed and breakfast mini hotel. This meant Tonks and I had to adjust to the change of only having the rooms in the east wing as our home and we had to learn new social skills under the gaze of housekeeper Morag and head chef Glen.
This was too much a change for Anthony so he accepted employment with the rabbit board. He was their youngest ever hunter and the only one who used a crossbow.

Tonks often flew to Blenheim to sell his rabbit skins and fly his Tiger Moth as a tow plane for the Woodbourne gliding club. Best of all he loved to spend an afternoon and a good time at the local dance hall with the sparkle in his life, the very beautiful Dawn Hendrickson.
The staff at Blenheim’s St. Andrews boarding school for girls arranged a weekend holiday for twenty students at our family home, Lady Manor. With her knockout good looks and natural talent Dawn could have qualified for many national diving awards if she had knuckled down and finished the required hard training.

All the Catalina Flying Boat crews adored her and she nearly drove a tall blonde pilot, Hans Van Caff, crazy when she invited herself down to the flying boat ramp. Hans built her a diving board platform over the semi-submerged fuselage of a crashed Catalina and the young bloods whooped with excitement when Dawn and her little Bikini top accidentally parted company. When she announced she was pregnant and married Hans, Anthony said he would not be at the wedding.
I soon reached the required enlistment age and father helped me with my entrance examinations. My career in the RNZAF combined my love of flying and my new interest in aerial photography. My participation in two regional wars gave me the right to wear two rows of shiny medals. I still believe I should never have received them because my view of the Malaysian and Vietnam conflicts were only seen through the viewfinder of my camera as I flew a few hundreds metres above the brave lads, who are now just shadows, on the battlefield.
Ten years later mental health problems forced me into an early retirement and when my Air Force flying days ended I put away my medals and like many of my flying friends I now had to consider my options.

Part two.

“That’s coming along nicely Phoenix. You deserve a well-earned break, what would you like to do now?”
“Well Oldie if you don’t mind I intend to do absolutely nothing. I’m going to have a shower, drink some freshly juiced oranges and talk to my man in Christchurch.”
We shared the happy moment and agreed not to write anything untoward about either one of our loved ones. “I’m going to find Lucas, have fun little one.”

I found Lucas in the dining room and he directed me to a chair as he continued his phone call.
“Dot this is quite sudden and really difficult for me to ask but Tui and I would like you to consider moving up to Lady Manor and start work as my personal assistant. Tui is very busy with her work as a flying instructor training pilots to work in the aftermath and chaos of the Christchurch disaster. We want to give you the use of a few rooms, you could give them a make-over for your own private apartment.” He tapped the table about ten times. “Are you still there Dot?” He put the phone in its cradle and pressed the speaker button. I stood up to leave but he shook his finger and then I heard this most wonderful news.
“Darling Louie I’m on cloud nine. Of course I would love to share the rest of my life up there with you and Tui in your utopian existence but I’ll stay here for a few more weeks until I am back to full strength. Please give my love to you know who.”
After he said goodbye to the cloud nine dweller Lucas and I walked to the airstrip.

“That walk took the smile off my face and I probably look older than my seventy-three years.” He stood beside the old tattered wing sock pole and put his hands in the back pockets of his favour jeans. His right flying boot was braced against the rusting engine block he had removed from his Holden Ute after he had rolled it when he was chasing wild pigs away from the airstrip. The crash gave him the blackest right eye Morag and Anthony had ever seen. The peace and quiet of the Wahine Valley had a wonderful calming effect on him and he took the opportunity to share with me the reason for the reunion between his brother and ‘that’ woman, the title he bestowed on Dawn Van Caff.

We now know that Bigbeam thanked her pilot quite profusely when she disembarked from the Alpine Taxi helicopter. She entered the island’s always-unlocked rabbit board hut and she enjoyed reading old newspaper clippings that doubled as wallpaper and then thumbed through one of the Becker family’s photo albums.
”Long time no see big man.” She said as she approached the tiger moth. With a piece of cloth torn from the back of an old blue shirt in his hand he seemed distracted as he lovingly wiped away a spot of oil that had blown back onto the wing. Dawn decided to break the uneasy silence. “Why is it named Kylie?”
“She is a bit like the old fellow who she is named after, the Australian boomerang. She is a magnificent flying machine and she is almost as good looking as this little Aussie Battler.” He leaned against Kylie as he pulled out a half handful of sunflower seed from a small pocket inside his flying jacket and fed it to his pet Rainbow Lorikeet.
“Thank you, I’ll try to remember that rather long description. So Tonks I’m curious, why are you and your little bird living on this little god forsaken island?”
“I well remember your inquisitive nature lass. Would you like a complimentary glass of Blenheim’s best wine?” She was impressed with his double question answer and acknowledged this by saying, “That’s very sweet of you to remember my secret indulgence. Yes thank you Anthony just a small one, but you should abstain as you will be driving when we fly to Lady Manor.”
“No worries Big Beam, shall we sit on this carved long seat of the east wind children for a moment so you can learn more about the other half of mother’s family, my little bird and I?” The savvy columnist has always been completely at ease in the company of the father of her son. “ I understand Amiri means of the east wind in the Maori language. Please tell me more about your Aotearoa ancestors and if you want to, your mum’s first marriage.” Tonks had held back from talking about his biological father for so long it hurt and he quietly wept. He then ignored her previous advice and swallowed a good measure of another Walker family’s best twelve-year-old whiskey.

“Grandad Owen Becker did not fight for king and country in WW1 because he had nine children to support. The Maori elders in Ruatahuna gave him financial and moral support when he and grandma Tara moved to the Rainbow Valley. The Rainbow River is a tributary for the Awatere catchment and its crystal clear waters have a Mt Travers glacier at its headwaters. He built their Hill Crest home near the thermal springs that are quite small when compared to the nearby Hammer springs but they are just as good. My father, Billie Becker, helped grandad when he built the original camper’s cabins there. Many years later children from both sides of mother’s family tree helped build the Owen Becker earth dam, the weir and sluice gate that allows the river down stream from our manmade lake to receive bank-to-bank water throughout the year.

The year he won the Australian sheep shearing competition dad received twelve Rainbow Lorikeet breeding pairs from the Queensland wildlife protection people who were keen to help him fill his bird sanctuary. He planted a grove of Pohutukawa trees close to his Manuka forest and the Lorikeets were very grateful and although they fly free not one has flown far from Hill Crest. Every few years I fly to Queensland and I bring more breeding pairs home. This little miss has always looked me straight in the eye and she has never been one to hang out with the locals.
Mother never regretted flying away from her home in Napier to come down here and continue her career as a midwife. Tara introduced her children to newcomer and after a weekend ruby game the tall full back asked the Pakeha girl, “Would you do me the honour of being my partner at tonight’s dance?” Elizabeth was hesitant about accepting a Maori as a partner but the Becker children had accepted her as a sister and she knew she loved Billie.

Their marriage was full of joy and happiness until June 17 1929 when the Rabbit Board lost a trusted and respected employee when the Murchison earthquake caused Billie to stumble and fall against a rocky outcrop. The muzzles of his double-barrelled shotgun dug into the loosened earth and he died instantly when the two breaches exploded. Mother buried him beside the lake and she slept near him until I was born. She wrapped my placenta in flax leaves and put it deep in the ground under the Manaka that now shields Billie’s grave from the hot sunshine. Mother has never allowed anyone on either side of her family tree to use a shotgun or rifle when we go hunting for rabbits or wild boar. The crossbow is our family’s weapon of choice.”

Many hours later and after some wonderful reminiscing about their time together as teenagers Anthony and Dawn matched across the grass with their drinking glasses held high. He completed all the pre-flight checks and strapped her in the front cockpit. Tonks then used the brightest of all the star constellations, the Southern Cross, to guide him safely in the night sky above the top end of the South Island.
By the light of the full moon Dawn wound her white silk scarf around her tired neck and reached her right hand back to shake the hand of her long time friend. “May I fly her for a few minutes? I could fly this night sky with you forever and then some.”
“My, my Bigbeam, nobody told me you had learnt to fly an aeroplane.” Anthony did not feel the time was right for him to let Dawn know his decision not to marry her or to talk about his wonderful relationship with their love child son, Jonathan Fetcher Becker.

Kylie appeared over the hill behind Lady Manor fully inverted and she quickly disappeared down the valley. The morning sunlight glinted on her little windscreen as Tonks flipped her right side up, landed safely and taxied toward us. He shouted, “Stuff me sparrow legs, you still haven’t shifted that bloody thing.” The brothers hugged like a couple of bears as Lucas said, “It’s not breakfast time yet and we won’t have better time than now, come on give me hand with it.” Tonks laughed and retorted with, “Right mate, you take the heavy end! When the job is finished I’ll race you to the billiard room, and the winner gets the opening break.” He laughed like Mr Joe Bangles and then darted away as best he could before stumbling when Lucas crash-tackled him rugby style. Two great men then hobbled all the way home with rather sore knees. Doesn’t time fly when you are having fun?

A year quickly passed and our friends were baffled when Dot and I flew down to Mount Cook National Park where Lucas and Tui had recently opened their first getaway hotel at Lake Matheson. We married quietly but sadly our honeymoon was over before it had hardly begun. The Easter gathering of all and sundry at our belated wedding celebration back at Lady Manor was in full swing when Morag’s husband approached me and nodded toward his kitchen. What Glen Davidson told me, with tears steaming down his cheeks, was both sad and shattering. Tui had been badly injured in a flying accident when a student pilot overshot the runway during her first landing attempt. After our brief discussion I returned ashen-faced to our guests and tapped my wine glass. “Friends, Glen has given me a real surprise. Dot and I are going on a holiday to Hamilton Island in Queensland, isn’t that good news?”
I didn’t tell them that I had previously arranged to meet an Australian Natural Coal Seam Gas entrepreneur. Wikiwok Chang wanted more information about Daniel’s gas-fuelled turboprop aero engine that powers his dirigible. Lucas went into a tailspin of disbelief and retreated to Rainbow Lake to comfort Tui. His son then stepped up to the batter’s plate.

Daniel offered to fly Dot and I to the Becker’s family home at Rainbow Lake and we gratefully accepted. We sat quietly and enjoyed the ride as we flew up, up and away. He fired a long burst of flame into Whoops a Daisy’s helium bagged and hot air lifting envelope and she leapt toward the sun. I marvelled as I watched him deftly balance fire against breeze.
This flying young gun has put himself at the helm of Air Aotearoa, the flying training school for girls who are keen to test themselves in the sky.
My wife patted my knee and said, “penny for your thoughts Yank.” They were too many and varied so I replied, “That will be five cents love, the penny is an old fashioned Kiwi relic.” We were surprised but happy when Lucas asked us to represent him in China, as Tui would be needing his full attention for quite awhile.

When our departure date drew near I received an email that was astonishing in it’s simplicity. ‘We are paying for the round trip to China. Please fill our plane with Kiwis who want to fly away with you. Have fun.’ Air NZ. I don’t mind admitting I had to go for another long walk to take in the magnitude of what was taking place. I put a few golf balls in a supermarket plastic bag and headed to the Walker’s nine-hole recreation course. I was a bit annoyed when a shocking pink helicopter ruined my chance of an eagle at the first but all was forgiven when I saw Dawn and I could not take my eyes of her best but outrageous hat.
“Well, well, whose a lucky boy then. Only a pair of concrete boots and a deep river will stop me crawling and begging you to take me with you on that slow ‘plane to China. The young Kiwis will need a mother’s care and comfort giving wings so they might as well be mine!”
Dawn picked out an eight iron, walked to the next tee, cocked her hat and whacked the ball. It fell in the hole! With her left fist punching the air and with feet well astride she yelled, “There’s the shot of the day I stole from you. Up yours you old duffer!”

Our approach to Brisbane International was in progress when a Jet Ranger helicopter flew close to our port wing and the Chinese billionaire radioed us. “Greeting Mr Walker. Permission to fly as your wing man when you fly to my homeland at the other end of the rainbow would be an honour for me.” Daniel was called to the cockpit and offered the pilot’s seat. He waved to my friend and said, “Will you help me with my Mandarin speech Wikiwok?”
“You have a deal young sky walker.” WW radioed back. A faultless touch down confirmed the passenger’s trust in Daniel’s fixed wing flying ability but the captain suggested he should park at the end of the runway so he could regain his seat. They didn’t want to upset the control tower guys who are far too young to understand how clever pilots get around a tricky situation.

A day and night later we landed in Mainland China and experienced a welcome that was wonderful right from the beginning. I told the millions of the TV watching public about the purpose of our visit but my choice of words in the Chinese language was not always the best. For example I said Upyou when I was actually referring to FUZHOU! Five cadet pilots in their Cosmos aircraft flew past in a star formation and their arrival saved my day.
After the formalities on the tarmac, a fleet of buses whisked three hundred and forty six playful Kiwis away from the republican citizens. These adorable people warmed to Daniel and Brenton whenever they offered free rides in their gas fuelled HAHA.
While trying to look as small as our lanky bodies would allow, Daniel and I ambled over to a group of people about my age but half my size and we moved with them in graceful unison. I can happily recommend Tai Chi in the morning.

Kim Awah Chang graduated from QIT University as a Doctor of chemistry. Her thesis on the use of the natural fibre RAMIE and pine gum to make a lightweight laminate earned her many accolades and the appointment as chief chemical engineer at the Walker Academy of Applied Natural Science. Naturally enough her father invited her to fly with him, as he wanted her to visit their ancestral homeland.
Dressed in simple working day Chinese clothing and standing tall at just one point five metres this charming China maiden’s conical sun hat hid her beautiful almond shaped eyes as she intently studied the HAHA.
Brenton entered the old WW2 blimp hangar though the side door and went to his temporary office where he answered the persistent ringing of a telephone that nobody would pick up due to the Chinese New Year holiday break. “Hi this Brenton. How may I assist you?”
“Good morning Mr Brenton, my daddy gave me this number to call. I could not find anyone and the huge main doors of this little thing’s home were open so, here I am.” The dirigible pulled gently at her tether lines just as a filly would test her hitching rope. “May I ask, where are you?” Kim was suddenly uneasy so she crouched down behind the ground rig to hide herself from the man she did not know.
“Listen lady, please trust me and come to the front office, that’s where I am, okay?”
His calm voice won her confidence and two very clever design engineers made first contact.

The Chinese New Year’s Eve night took on a spectacular brilliance as the holiday fire works hissed and drowned in the river. Kim explained to Brenton the joy she had experienced every Gold Coast Chinese New Year and her childhood love affair with an invisible dragon that would only become visible to people who were pure in heart.
“Oh that is so sad!” Brenton whined like a little boy lost.
“May I ask why?” she asked as she clasped her hands in the small of her back.
“Because I have never seen him. Oh I am a lost soul!” Brenton replied as he crumpled at her feet in pretence of finality.
“The Helensvale Chinese Opera Company in Queensland would surely love you tall person.” She whispered in perfect Mandarin.

The following Easter all the Rainbow Lake family and those from Catalina Bay flew down to Lake Matheson for the combined weddings of Mr Daniel Walker and Miss Phoenix Chantal Van Caff with Mr Brenton Davidson and Miss Kim Awah Chang. I sat with the Chinese bride’s family and translated for them. “She China maiden, him made in New Zealand!”
The new Mrs Davidson said to me, “Well done Jim, that sank like a lead balloon.”
Elizabeth stood and said to the family, “Children if you will, please follow me.” She flicked her Shanghai fan shut and used it to direct her entourage to her private dinning room.
I was pleased everyone was sitting down when I dropped my bombshell. “You young knights of this round table must fight dullness and sloth with a team spirit and mutual trust. I have been advised to tell you the baby boomers are now passing all their business interests over to you. Please open the sky blue folders but don’t say anything until you have finished reading the memo.”
Daniel spoke first, “What will we do without guidance from all you oldies?” Dot whispered to me, “oldies, I like that,” and then she spoke to the next generation. “Just for starters you can all stand tall and think for yourselves.”
“That’s okay for them but what about me?” Kim said softly.” That did a lot better than my China maiden effort but it was Elizabeth who had the final say.
“Oh la dee da, spit and bulldust. If you kids can swallow that sloppy bibful, the world is truly your oyster!” She then called to all the guests, “Tea and scones are now being served on the patio.”

Life at Lady Manor took a different turn when Hans phoned me. “Dawn and I have decided to remarry and we intend moving up to Catalina bay where we will retire and build a small chalet so we can be closer to Daniel and Phoenix. See you in an hour.”
Sunday mornings have always been set aside for golf and Lucas went from a game to the airstrip but there was no sign of Hans, his micro lite or ‘that’ lady.
“Where’s Hans?” he asked after a quick tour of the house and gardens. As an answer I handed him an email from the Emergency Services branch in Kaikoura. ‘We are concerned about the disappearance of Hans and his passenger after he visited Rangi and Maria Becker. His flight plan shows that he would fly from Hillcrest to Lady Manor.’

Rangi and Maria Becker had raised their only adopted daughter in almost ideal circumstances that were so different from city life and a home with a mother who was unable to accept the rigors of life in the great depression of the 1930s. What Tui knew about her real parents was never shared with her new family.
When she was asked about her early childhood she answered in a written statement. ‘One day mother walked out of our lives and father could not cope on his own. It was the last in a long line of set backs.’
Today this wonderful person is very good at bringing out the hidden strengths in those around her when the going gets tough. She phoned her parents to advice them that she would fly to Kaikoura to help with the coordination of the people and resources needed in a rescue attempt.

Dean Thomas is one of the mountain rescue helicopter pilots who fly over and around the peaks and valleys of the Southern Alps. He smiled and Lucas actually laughed when they sighted the downed micro light sitting on a high attitude glacier plateau. The fluky wind gusts prevented a safe landing so Dean forced the right skid into the permafrost. Lucas grabbed a pair of crampons and gingerly walked over to the Dragonfly and read the hastily scribbled message on the nose of the micro lite’s crumpled cockpit. ‘Radio smashed no broken bones walking out.’
Brief and to point but very much a worry as the unusually high air temperature was turning millenniums of glacier ice into water. Flying too close to the new phenomenon caused a very experienced micro lite pilot to make his one and only crash landing.

The muscles in Dawn’s legs were unnaturally cold and almost numb. Hans shook her and slapped her wet jump suit to force her to wake up from what could become an endless sleep. They were resting on a ledge above the fast flowing water at the entrance of an ice tunnel. The water was eighty centimetres deep and the bottom of the tunnel was smooth, just like a slippery slide at a Water World fun park.
“We cannot use this tunnel as an escape route because there is no way of knowing its length. I suggest we traverse to the north side of the glacier and descend from there. Our packed lunches have more than enough calories for three days of hard slog.” Hans was very matter of fact and Dawn took strength from his words. He raised his arm to look at his chronometer and the flash of mirrored sunlight was the best light Lucas had ever seen.
Dean radioed the search coordinator and asked for two winch equipped helicopters, one for the rescue mission and one to salvage the micro lite. Tui responded, “rescue one is on its way Deano but your request for a second is denied.” To the man sitting beside her she said, “thank you Jonathan for manning the computers, we make a good team.” Jono just smiled and said, “Just another ‘great job Maori’ story for the history books eh Auntie?”

When Jonathan Fletcher Becker isn’t taking a bunch of tourists out to watch the whales he can be found doing a shift with Alpine Search and Rescue or working on a batch of his replica New Zealand Railway mugs. His pottery factory with its huge stone tower, Netherlands sails and waterwheel has helped put Blue Duck Creek on the must see list of North Canterbury. His six children call the old wooden factory building their cubby house and tell their friends that a nasty old giant lives on the roof and he only eats crayfish and onions. This is partly true because the old wooden ladder and Manuka trap door with its hot poker drawn boar’s skull and crossbow does keep the flies and other pests away from Jono’s hideaway.

His wife June walked briskly along the side of the millstream, past the pond and called out, “Are you in your office RB?”
“Yes sweetheart please come into the basement, I have just finished putting the finishing touch to something really exciting.”
After lowering his set of dinner plates that will soon grace the tables of the Alaskan flagship down in a flax basket he used the staircase at the rear of the building to go down into the cave that doubles as the factory warehouse.
June was tapping her foot and that could mean trouble was brewing. “There is someone who looks rather weird in his huge jet black sunnies and safari kit down at the house and he claims to know you. Will you come and check him out or shall I send him packing?” June put her hands on her fabulous hips and Jono scratched his bald spot.
“You know I don’t like meeting people who just roll up without a phone call or nothing. Did he give you a name, is it Sir Richard?”
“In you’re your dreams Rat Bum. After introducing himself and shaking my hand for at least a day he asked to see you. Does the name Lindsey, native Indian of Alaska ring any bells?”

Jono raced up the creek to his patch of puha, Maori watercress to you white blokes, then down the hill and across the north south highway to his boat on the stony beach. Thankfully his pot was full of crays and he still had a few bottles of home brew beer in June’s fancy wine cellar. The famous Maori Ice Hocky goalie then nearly knocked his Mrs flying when he shot into her kitchen to swoop on a loaf of her home baked bread, a tub of her creamy butter and a jar of his home bottled pickled onions.

“What’s up with dad?” Wahine whined to her mum as a whirling mass of tattoos and long black dreads grabbed his old, huge stereo portable cassette player from her shoulder and then searched frantically for Sir H. Morrison’s ‘Favourite Blasts’.
“I’m sure I don’t know love, I haven’t seen him this busy since our wedding night. Come on, let’s go to down to Kaikoura and do some girl shopping. I promise I’ll buy you your own ghetto blaster.”

When we entered his cave cum shed Jono’s hair looked a little bit messy and his too short Barry Crump shirt wasn’t tucked in. His son David Fletcher off handily asked, “No Sunday best rags to wear dad? What do you think Admiral is this a sight for sore eyes or what?” Lindsey smiled and said to Tui with a twinkle in his good eye. “If my visit to Kiwiland can do that to a Maori brother I’ll have to come here more often!”
After lunch Jonathan drove Lindsey to the hospital where Hans and Dawn were having their mandatary post accident check-ups.

Part three.

Extracts from Lady Tui Walker’s diary.

The lights in the large television studio gave off a soft peach light that helped my mother in law to relax her facial muscles and the air conditioner held the temperature at a comfortable twenty-four degrees. Her flying helmet and goggles were on her lap and her ankle length sheepskin-flying coat was arranged to hide her bare feet and carefully painted toenails. Jim waited for the floor manager to do the count down with his index finger before saying, “Good evening Alaska! The remarkable woman sitting here with me has just piloted a 747 from Hawaii. Quite an achievement when you know this aviatrix is in her ninety-ninth year of a very full life. Now it’s over to you Dame Elizabeth Anne Walker, you have control.”

A dot on the large studio screen was slowly zoomed in and it became the Curtis Wright biplane that once again hangs in the new Aviation gallery in the Christchurch Museum and Elizabeth smiled.
“Thank you Mr Westward. That beautiful little aeroplane was given to me as a graduation gift when I finished my training as a staff nurse and I have never enjoyed anything more than the hours we spent together. My father flew her from America in secret circumstances using large buffalo hide drop tanks strapped under her belly as he island hopped across the Pacific. He was under contract to the RNZAF as ferry pilot long before aircraft carriers were used during WW2.
His Napier based flying school was the first outside Britain to purchase the wood and fabric Hurricane fighter aeroplane and he trained many New Zealand pilots who flew with the Royal Air Force during the Battle of Britain.
It was because of the February 3 1931 Napier earthquake that I reluctantly became known as the best ever Kiwi Aviatrix. My love of flying and local knowledge gave me the opportunity to fly a reporter from the Christchurch Press over the flattened city. It was his aerial photographs that filled the front pages of newspapers in every nation.
My son Lucas later followed in Glen Davidson’s footsteps and he perfected aerial photography during two region wars. I would appreciate it if he received your praise rather than I.

Airlines in both the north and south hemispheres are desperate in their quest to find an exist plan to the fuel crisis brought on by the rocketing cost of oil so Lucas, his son and Brenton Davidson have produced the HAHAs. These wonderful aerial platforms allow tourists to enjoy New Zealand alpine sightseeing, whale watching and sky viewing of the Canterbury Plains while their big cousins the Rainbow Hover Ships are at their best when they ply the long distant international routes.
Brenton’s company now manufactures the largest amphibious hover airships in the world. These gentle wood and fabric giants of sea and sky have a carrying capacity of eight hundred and forty passengers with a crew of one hundred and sixteen airmen and airwomen.
At last I am content and happy to say I have finally put aside my wool lined flying boots because I have put my trust in the twenty first century aviators and their airships with the wonderful Australian Nugas fuelled engines.”

For a moment the room was filled with silence but then it seems everyone rushed forward to shake the hands of the two famous earthquake survivors. The emotional strain was too heavy for my darling Louie to bear and he slipped quietly into a comma that peacefully ended a life filled with many years of self-doubt.

My husband’s nephew Jason Lucas Davidson spoke eloquently when he gave the eulogy. The Rainbow Lake family chapel had never been so full of believers and non-believers and I twisted the fingers of my white net gloves and tried to hide my tears of pride behind my old and battered fan. Rubin Luis, the younger twin brother of Jason Lucas remained outside beside the limos and he paced up and down scrunching the greywacke gravel much to the annoyance of his cousin the bubbly Wahine Becker as she tried to listen to her ghetto blaster. A few minutes later she beautifully sang in the dialect of the Amiri people her Great Grandmother’s Maori translation of ‘Time to say goodbye.’
Daniel tried to pretend he wasn’t crying as he adjusted and readjusted his gold watch and chain so many times his cousin Shari deftly lifted it from his shaking hand and dropped it into her clutch purse as they walked behind the coffin.

Many children of different skin tones and not really in touch with the moment raced over the lake and shore on their hovercraft jet skis as we tried to swallow Dame Elizabeth’s date scones. The sixth day of April closed with our resident Chinese friends dancing and singing in their beautiful homeland style. Kim and Brenton arrived on the beach dressed as friendly dragons that threw gifts of golden dragon eggs to all the friends and family.
Two weeks passed and everyone who is anyone arrived early for Elizabeth’s one-hundredth-birthday bash. After Jim Westward skimmed onto Catalina Bay in his beaver class floatplane he and I talked privately and he asked me if it would be possible for all our family to remain at Lady Manor as he had some exciting news.
“The Alaskan Virginia will be in Cook Strait tonight and Admiral Lindsey Taverner has asked your government for permission to anchor near the old RNZAF base across the bay. He avidly remembers the stories his father told him about the good times he had when he served here during the Korean War. He said he would especially like to meet Elizabeth.”

Daniel and Brenton were invited to sit at the captain’s table and the rest of the family were sitting with the pilots at nearby tables. Lindsey and his guest of honour sat off to the right of our table and I could not help but smile as Elizabeth was leaning quite close to the young man who reminded her of his father.
Jim Westward stood up and began speaking to the ship’s company.
“You young men and women are to be envied as you embark on a mission of goodwill and friendship. The two friends who designed this hover airship say that without the assistance of a very special Chinese maiden their project would still be on the drawing board. Ladies and gentleman please give your attention to Kim Awah Davidson.”
For the next half hour Kim spoke about RAMIE laminated airship design and how Sir Lucas Walker had a vision of a time when low cost Nugas would make land, sea and low altitude air travel a little bit slower but a really enjoyable experience. “It is my believe that before 2016 Kiwi laminate will replace steel and aluminium in almost all industrial applications. Thank you.” After a hectic question time two airwomen escorted her and Elizabeth to the closed red curtains. She asked, “Great grandmother would you please take one curtain cord in your hand while I take the other one?”
Everyone stood and clapped as a visual monitor gave an enlarged picture of the ship’s brass bell and its well-chosen name. Kim gave the ship a befitting blessing. “Godspeed great ship Dame Elizabeth may you and all who sail in you share in many new adventures on a calm sea and in a friendly sky.”

Much later Lindsey asked Daniel, “Would you please give consideration to my proposal for the ship’s company to have some well earned rest and recreation shore leave at Catalina Bay. All of us Alaskans agree the Catalina Bay amphibious aircraft facility is the best in the Southern Hemisphere.”
Phoenix, Kim, Dot and I went into a frenzy of arm waving, smiling and chatting as if it was already a done deal. Daniel was soon sound asleep and doing what he enjoys best with his old wide brim hunting hat resting on the tip of that adorable skis slope of a nose. After his afternoon tot of rum he woke the big man from his daydreaming and asked, “Care for a game of golf Lindsey, it looks like the girls have taken over.”
They were hitting off at the second when Lindsey asked, “Is this the famous hole where Dawn Van Caff holed in one?” Daniel handed him the famous gold plated eight iron and said, “Give it your best shot.” He has greatly enlarged the diameter of the hole and reshaped the green so almost everyone can score an ace. “That’s a very friendly golf hole mister. By the way what is my old Blue Duck Creek mate up these days?”
“Jonathan is doing just fine, in fact he wants you to go down to Kaikoura so both of you can go pig hunting. Do you reckon you can still use a crossbow?”
“If I can sink a hole in one with you as my caddie I’m sure with Jono’s assistance I can still hit a boar or two.”

Part four.

Extracts from Daniel Walker’s diary.

The Rim of Fire that encircles the Pacific Ocean has created a unique opportunity that has once again seen Alaska, China, Australia and New Zealand putting our best feet forward. Our extremely wealthy friends of the north are losing vast sections of their shores to ever increasing volcanic activity with far reaching consequences. Australian Natural Coal Seam Gas usually arrives via seaports but the drama of a rising ocean level has put them under enormous pressure.
A small team from Nugas visited Lady Manor to have face-to-face talks with Brenton and I about this humongous challenge and this very interesting time in human history.
Kim’s father is running for the office of Premier in Queensland and his No Worries Party is gaining public support because most Aussies are fed up with the broken promises that is are so prevalent across the whole political spectrum. The top end cattle breeders who share their land with Nugas are enjoying a tsunami like increase in demand for their rather smelly product and our Australian mates in the Sunshine State are receiving worldwide attention that is well deserved. Of course that is just the humble opinion of Wikiwok Chang. “Our ingeniously captured NCSG makes good cents and you Kiwis always seem to be needing plenty of our hard earned Aussie mullah. Go with our best wishes, go and show the world the ANZAC spirit is alive and well.”

The cost of maintaining a huge military strike force is now beyond the second largest economy in the world and the US is considering a fire sale of redundant old nuclear powered aircraft carriers. With Japan’s nightmare nuclear powered electricity generation problem still fresh in our minds we put in a bid for three of these great ships that have been decommissioned, mothballed and are now languishing on a river far, far away. It was our decision to convert these giants into gas transporters that helped sway the sellers but our bid finally won because we offered to safely remove and destroy the ships deadly fire demon hearts. Operation Dragon’s Breath was not without risk but wow it was a wonderful bang for us, the down under young guns.
Wikiwok insists that an ancient Chinese proverb says, “Fight fire with fire.” What better fire could we find than that of an active volcano to quell nuclear fire? That’s the burning question we asked ourselves.

Alaskan born North American Indian Tomahawk Eagle is a great guy to have on your side when there is a lot of red tape slowing things down. A do-gooder from Washington was quite full of herself until Tomahawk started to reach for the little girl pilgrim’s long blonde curls. “Brother I kid you not. No brave from my tribe has looked upon a scalp as cool as this one. Not even Custer’s head of hair would buy as many blankets as this prize piece of…” Before he had time to finish his sentence Goldie Locks was running home to Uncle Sam!

Thomo doesn’t like being coped up indoors and having to do office cores so his vocal out burst came as no surprise. “Well Daniel shall I cut this heap of the little lady’s crappy forms into neat little squares and string them up in my outhouse?”
“No mate we will have a few federal big wigs staying here for a few weeks. Stuff them all into the mattresses in the guest trailer and may they rest in peace.”
“Do I take it you mean the hundreds of triplicate forms go into the mattresses?”
“Move out Indian, I’ve got work piling up as we speak.”
“No worries Kiwi. Come down to moorings after work and check out three big arse reactors that I want removed away as far as possible from my river as soon as you can spare the time. Brenton’s team of grey haired sailors will start fitting the gas turbines tomorrow.” The hunting desire is strong in this red man’s chest and the reindeer are plentiful so he intoned, “Bring your crossbow.”
I saluted my friend as I opened my laptop. An email to Lindsey thanked him for the use his moorings and giving the coast guard retirees a once in lifetime fun job. The men who had served on the carriers during and after the cold war had given me little room to manoeuvre. Either they sail the three slow ships to China or a team of US Army engineers would have a devil of a time raising three valuable assets from the bottom of the Hawker river. I immediately put them on the payroll.
As the sun sank below the horizon two canoes were silently launched then two dedicated deer hunters paddled east in a search of some the world’s best venison.

After some great refitting and four months later two of our refurbished aircraft carriers departed from our anchorage just off the coast of mainland China near FUZHOU. Dot and Phoenix remained at the anchorage on board the John Walker and organised the ferrying of the shipload of gas transporting dirigibles to our airbase near Tui’s Dragon’s Nest hotel. This little gem is built on the land given to my grandfather, John Walker.
He spent several years there during his stay on the Chinese mainland. He always spoke Mandarin and he earned great respect for his humbleness when he gave down to earth talks about an undivided family of Pacific nations. Many hundreds of his old Chinese friends have signed on as cabin crew staff on the John Walker. I am sure the great man would be very happy with the increasing number of young people from many Pacific nations becoming career pilots.
Our flagship passengers have commented in our guest books how satisfied they are with her crew who speak five of the major languages.

Nucha, the little boy child volcano in the sea of China was in a dormant mood when Brenton sent this email to a very pregnant Kim back home in Christchurch. ‘The three nuke hearts are buried in the ash on Nucha’s eastern shore. Talk about simple yes but our Earthquake Survivors fund raising stunt may turn out to be very, very stupid. If I am blown to Tim Buck Two I want to go out in style!’ In keeping with his sense of always having fun he was wearing a pith hat, a kaki-hunting jacket and a large pair of knee length British Bombay shorts. Jim wore his ten-gallon hat, a pirate’s shirt, string tie and red bell-bottom trousers. I chose to wear the uniform and medals of a very dear and wonderful WW2 RNZAF squadron leader and fighter pilot. With the aid of our bullhorns we sang the chorus of the Walker family’s hymn written by Tui Moana Walker, a loving and devoted wife.

Silent Kiwi knight some day I shall fly,
To a brilliant light in the friendly sky.
At your golden wingtip I shall gladly stay,
Forever at your side love, come what may!

Copyright 2011. Brent Thomas.