Chapter 2

Rustenburg, located in the North West Province of South Africa, offers a vibrant night-life with a mix of local and more cosmopolitan experiences. The city was in full swing tonight. Everywhere I looked, people were either heading to or coming from different venues, and laughter and chatter filled the air.

I wandered past a variety of bars and pubs where locals and visitors alike were enjoying a night out. These venues often feature live music, DJ sets, and a range of beverages. Popular spots like Chillas Lounge and Legends Sports Bar were buzzing with energy. The lively beats and melodies from within were almost tempting enough to pull me inside.

Rustenburg’s culinary scene is diverse, with restaurants that stay open late and offer everything from traditional South African dishes to international cuisine. Dining spots like The Rustenburg Grill and The Rooftop BBQ & Grill are particularly well-regarded. As I walked by, the aroma of grilling meat and the sizzle of cooking filled my senses, making my stomach grumble in response. But I resisted the temptation of the prospect of a 1.2 kilogram eisbein with a side of chips and a free Amstel lager, and went on to the guest house where I knew a full supper was awaiting me.

The 500 gram T-bone with chips and a free brandy and Coke was also tempting. Nope! Eight hours from the bottle to the throttle.

But the main place of entertainment, either before or after dark, was undoubtedly the Sun City Resort. Located just a short drive from Rustenburg, it’s a major attraction that offers not only gaming but also a range of nighttime entertainment options, including shows, concerts, and fine dining. I had visited there before, and the sheer variety and excitement never failed to impress. The themed casinos at Sun City and Lost City in the Pilanesberg had a magical allure, with their elaborate decorations and vibrant atmospheres.

Overall, Rustenburg’s night-life caters to a wide range of preferences, making it a lively and diverse place to explore after dark. But tonight, it wasn’t for me. I headed back to the guest house, leaving behind the lively streets and the beckoning lights. The cab ride back was a brief respite from the energy of the city, the neon lights reflecting in the windows as we drove through the bustling streets.

Arriving at the guest house, I felt the welcoming calm of the well-kept grounds and the soft glow of the porch light. I thanked the cab driver and stepped out, my footsteps crunching softly on the gravel path as I made my way to my room. The key turned smoothly in the lock, and I entered, greeted by the inviting warmth and familiar scent of the cozy space that had become my temporary home. I dropped my bag by the door and took a moment to unwind, shedding the layers of the day. Then I went to the dining room where the meal they served was superb. After, I returned to my room with its view out on a lush garden.

The hot shower was a soothing cascade that washed away the fatigue and tension, leaving me feeling rejuvenated. The steam filled the bathroom and created a cocoon of comfort. I wrapped myself in a plush towel and enjoyed the soft embrace as I stepped out and made my way to the bed.

The bed was a haven of cosiness, with fresh, crisp sheets and a perfectly fluffed pillow that beckoned invitingly. I slipped under the covers and felt the gentle pressure of the blanket settling over me. The distant hum of Rustenburg’s night-life faded into a faint, comforting background noise.

I closed my eyes, letting the events of the day drift away, replaced by thoughts of tomorrow’s display. The anticipation of the thrill of flight filled my mind as I sank deeper into the mattress, my body relaxing completely. As sleep overtook me, I felt a sense of readiness and excitement for the solo performance that awaited, confident that a good night’s rest would leave me fully aware and on top of my game.

The next day, Rustenburg Airport, Rustenburg, North West Province.

I walked into the hangar refreshed and ready for an action-packed day. The three L-39 jets stood gleaming under the bright overhead lights, their polished surfaces reflecting the meticulous care of the ground crew. This hangar was far from gloomy, and Leon had done an excellent job securing such a nice place as our headquarters for the weekend of the air show. Come Monday, we’d head off to Wonderboom for a week before packing up for the next stop on the circuit.

“Coffee, Alex?” Leon called out as he saw me walk in.

The ground crew was busy getting the aircraft ready, an ant’s nest of figures swarming over and around the jets.

“Hi, Leon! Yes, four sugars in that tank of a mug you gave me yesterday,” I responded, making my way over.

“You’re going to turn into a sugar plantation one of these days,” he laughed.

“Nah ... I just enjoy the finer things in life. Besides, coffee should be as dark as the devil, as strong as hell, and as sweet as a kiss.”

“So, no milk?”

“Only a cat spit of milk, please.”

“Right on! One coffee coming up!”

I dropped my flight bag on the table and walked up to Leon, who was busy with his own preparations.

“So, what misery are you planning for us for today?”

“I’ll be taking Brian with me out over Pilanesberg to work on his close-in skills. You can wander off to Morningside farm to the west and polish up your solo act,” Leon replied, handing me the massive mug of coffee.

“Oh, that sounds like fun,” I smirked, and took a deep sip. “I’ll just go burn some expensive A1-Jet fuel, as I’ve got the solo act down pat.”

“Yeah, you do. But see that little terrorist over by my plane?”

“Oh, little Ally came to visit you,” I remarked, noticing the fourteen-year-old blonde teen climbing out of the open cockpit of the L-39. Ally was Leon’s daughter, a bundle of energy and mischief. “Ain’t she supposed to be in school?”

“In school? I think the school is sighing a sigh of relief with her out! Anyway the school holidays start today, so she’s missing nothing.”

“I forgot the little rascal has been moved up a grade. Damn! One year in both grade seven and grade eight!”

“She came in with the rest of the tech crew this morning and I have to work with Brian today, so you’ve won the honour of babysitting her.”

“Oh, come on, Leo! You’re joking, right?”

“Nope. I want her to be safe and in good company. I don’t want to risk taking her with me if Brian does something stupid. I must be able to speak proper ‘Afrikaans’ to him without risking the little blonde picking up words that are not for her tender ears. Besides, I need to focus on Brian, and Ally can sometimes be a distraction.”

“Okay! If you put it like that ... I’ll comply with your wishes,” I replied, and took another sip of my coffee. “Leo, do you have a G-suit and a helmet that fits that little girl?” Then added as an afterthought, “You know, if she misbehaves, I can’t spank her, but I might just do a lomcovák to set her straight.”

(A Lomcovák is an extreme aerobatic manoeuvre where the aircraft, with almost no forward speed, rotates on chosen axes due to the gyroscopic precession and torque of the engine.)

“I’m afraid she will then keep on misbehaving ... She just loves lomcováks and snap rolls!”

“Oh brother!” I sighed.

“And, do you think you can make her go to school if papa takes out the jet?”

“I suppose not ... Is she staying the weekend?”

“Yeah, you know she’s my shadow. But I’ll keep her out of your hair and far away from Brian.”

“She’s no bother, Leo. I like the little bundle of energy.”

“If she talks too much or asks too many questions ... just shut her up.”

“I’ll switch off the intercom to the back seater,” I snipped, then drained my coffee.

“As if that would help!” he chuckled.

“I’ll see you around, Leo. It’s time I go do some pre-flight checks and give a safety brief to the little scamp. So, let me go rescue the ground crew from little Miss Muffet.”

“She knows the safety brief by heart! Go and have fun!”

I collected my flying gear and walked over to the L-39 standing parked between ZU-MIF, Leon’s bird and ZU-MIH, Brian’s bird.

“Hey! Ally! Let’s go flying!” I called out to the little rascal harassing the ground crew with her never ending stream of questions.

What I got in response was a thirty-five-kilogram bundle of blonde energy racing up to me, then jumping up, wrapping her jeans-clad legs around my waist and her arms around my neck, shouting, “Weeeeee!!! Alex! You’re here! Let’s go, let’s go!”

“Hello, Firefly. Go get dressed in your G-suit while I look the bird over.”

“Daddy’s letting me fly with you today? Okay, Alex, see you just now...”

She untangled herself from me and raced off to get dressed in her super-small, handcrafted, special G-suit that had cost Leon more than three normal G-suits. Her blonde ponytail swung wildly as she went, a testament to her boundless enthusiasm and energy.

I busied myself with looking over ZS-MIG. The ground crew has done a perfect job of keeping her in a tip-top shape.

ZS-MIG was an L-39ZO. On request of some foreign clients, the L-39C was developed into the ZO version and was given four underwing pylons with a strengthened structure and landing gear. In 1994 Hungary received twenty-four of these aircraft from Germany for the symbolic price of one Deutsche Mark.

The last of these Albatros aircraft were retired in 2009. During 2007, under the guidance of Crew Chief Master Sergeant Lajos Molnar, serial number 831135 acquired the attractive shark mouth design and the vertical tail surfaces received the Hungarian national colours. Leon’s bird, ZU-MIF, being the sister ship to ZU-MIG, got only the shark mouth design.

After the retirement of these aircraft, 831135, or 135 for short, went to the International Test Pilots School at London Metropolitan Airport (CYXU) in London, Ontario, Canada. How Leon laid his hands on her and ZU-MIF, I don’t want to know. All I know is, Leon kept the original Hungarian colour schemes, and they are fun to fly!

Just then “Typhoon Ally” came skipping out of the dressing room and I nearly flipped as I realised that getting her long blond hair into a helmet was going to cause some trouble.

“How am I going to get all that hair into a helmet?” I asked, more to myself than to Ally.

“Easy peasy, just do like daddy does! Just bundle it up inside my G-suit,” she replied with this silly grin on her face and naughty devils dancing in her blue eyes.

“Oh brother...” I sighed. “I’ll be busy the whole day.”

Giggle. “Come on, Alex, let’s get flying! The sky’s waiting!” She beamed; her excitement contagious.

“Alright, Firefly. Let’s get you strapped in and make sure you’re ready for some high-flying fun,” I said, ruffling her hair and setting off to prep our bird for takeoff.

Just a short six-minute flight from Rustenburg to the south lies Morningside Farms Airport. After we took off from runway 34 at FARG, we turned west to follow the N4 highway towards Moedsville and Koster. At Moedsville, we made a southward turn towards the Koster Dam, where FAMS runway 03/21 is positioned on the north-east bank of the dam.

Morningside Farm Airport, known by the IATA code “MEZ” and the ICAO code “FAMS,” is a quaint airport in South Africa. Its precise GPS coordinates are Longitude: 26.909° and Latitude: -25.705°. Since it is owned by an American company, contacting them requires dialling an international number and working out the time zone differences.

Nestled in the picturesque Morningside Farm, this airport is a convenient gateway for travellers visiting the region. While it doesn’t serve as a major international hub, it provides the necessary facilities and services to ensure a comfortable journey. The airport features a single runway and a small terminal building, primarily accommodating domestic flights and private aircraft. Travellers can enjoy a hassle-free experience with minimal crowds and shorter queues compared to larger airports. Amenities include parking, car rental services, and a cozy café for refreshments.

Set in the beautiful South African countryside, Morningside Farm Airport offers stunning views of the surrounding landscapes, and travellers can relish the tranquillity and natural beauty of the area before continuing their journey. Whether exploring nearby game reserves or embarking on a scenic road trip, Morningside Farm Airport serves as an ideal starting point for a South African adventure.

I descended from 6000 feet MSL to 5000 feet MSL, giving me just over a thousand feet of clear margin above the ground.

“The dam looks so quiet and still,” Ally remarked, her voice faint in my headset, so I adjusted the volume to hear her better.

“Yeah, but there are some boats out on the water. Let’s keep our distance and avoid flying directly over the dam,” I replied.

“We might scare the fishes if we do...” Giggle.

While still ten nautical miles out from the strip, I did the customary traffic call to all who would care in the area.

“Morningside Traffic, Zulu Uniform Mike India Golf, type Aero L-39 Albatros, overflying the runway. We’ll be in the area for fifteen minutes.”

No answer.

As is customary when flying in Africa, I performed a flyover of the runway in the L-39 to check its condition and ensure there were no stray animals or obstacles. The area was quiet, and not a single aircraft was visible on the airfield.

“Time for some practice!” I declared, climbing the aircraft to 6500 feet MSL at the end of the runway.

“Are you going to do your solo sequence?” Ally asked.

“Yes. Are your harnesses tight?”

“Yes, and the G-suit is plugged in!”

“Good. Here we go. I’ll start at six thousand, dive in a shallow descent to three hundred feet above the ground, and then open the throttles for a high-speed, low-level flyby.”

“Do it!”

“Get ready for the last quarter of the runway. I’m going to pull up vertically and go over the top for a half loop before rolling wings level at six thousand five hundred.”

“Stop yacking and do it!”

“Big brave mouth!” I muttered, but she heard me.

“I heard ye!”

“Quiet in the peanut gallery! I need to concentrate now.”

“Oh sure! You can do this in your sleep!”

“If you don’t keep quiet now, I’m going to switch off the intercom,” I teased, focusing on the sequence ahead.

“If you do, how will I know when to eject if you fuck up?” Ally’s playful challenge came through loud and clear.

“ELIZABETH LOUISE LITTLE! I’m going to spank your round bottom for swearing and keeping on flapping your jaw!” I retorted.

“Promise...” Giggle.

“Promise. Besides, the ejection system works automatic. If I go, you go too.”

“Okay, I knew that. I was just saying that you don’t need to fu..., I mean muck up. But anything can happen that might not be your fault.”

The only way to shut her up was to engage the G-suit. Descending to three hundred feet above ground level, I accelerated the jet to four hundred KIAS. As we roared over the runway threshold, I began the count. One thousand and one, one thousand and two, one thousand and three.

I pulled the stick back into my stomach, and the L-39’s nose pointed skyward. We pulled 3.8 G, and I felt the G-suit inflate around my lower body, forcing blood to my brain to prevent blacking out. I imagined Ally experiencing the same in the back cockpit.

We climbed higher and higher until, at 4800 feet, I gently curved the jet over onto its back, keeping the wings level. I centred the stick, then quickly flipped it left. The jet rolled smoothly, nose on the horizon, and I caught the roll just as the wings came level again. Six thousand five hundred feet registered on the altimeter. Well, one thousand nine hundred and eighty odd meters. The L-39 was calibrated in metric.