I had to keep an eye on the clock; still restricted to daytime flight I intended to fly back home after our chat with Ken and arrive back in Merimbula well before dark.
I explained to Ken that an American, Barrington Irving, had broken the world record in 2008. Barrington had flown around the world at the age of twenty-three; before that the youngest round-the-world flyer had been thirty-seven years old. I was seventeen, and I had six years to complete the journey and still break the record myself. My rough plan was to take on the flight in mid 2014 when I would be twenty. Ken saw no issue with the time frame. He pointed out that we would need to take the weather and route into account before finalising a date, but we ticked the ‘When’ box and moved on.
There were so many questions. What would I fly? Would I fly east or west? What route would I fly? And, for a start, how was I going to get an aeroplane? It was evident I would need to raise the funds through sponsorship, but how? How much flying experience did I need? How do you deal with different languages? How does Customs work in each country? How do you stay awake? What do you eat? What do you wear? How do you fly for so long in a light aircraft? Where do you put all the fuel?
Ken spoke a mile a minute, I listened with eyes wide and ears open while Mum sat furiously writing notes. (She knew she had to do that: after all, I was the kid who couldn’t remember four things to buy without a list.) Not only did Ken answer my marathon list of questions but he told many stories of his own around-the-world flight, and I began to realise what I was getting myself into. Ken had no hesitation about my ability to fly safely around the world but he was also very frank about the dangers of such a trip.
He set out the risks of the journey in a very long list. Some would not be understood and overcome until much closer to the departure date but Ken gave us an overall view. The greatest danger most people mentioned was flying a single-engine aircraft over water, where engine failure could mean ditching into the ocean over a thousand nautical miles from dry land, in the freezing waters of the North Atlantic or within reach of the pirates in the ocean close to India. There was the danger of flying a small ill-equipped aircraft over nearly every kind of terrain in any kind of weather. There were on-the-ground issues too, apart from dealing with different cultural differences and living standards: the legalities and logistics of landing in various countries, not to mention a young pilot’s vulnerability to being ripped off in various ways. It was an eye-opening conversation.
With the time zipping away we scribbled a quick timeline, including rough estimates of the major elements of the flight, from planning to finding an aircraft. With a rough idea of the big picture we then put together a job list, things to get done as soon as possible.
Ken and I decided to meet again, next time with Dad, once these jobs were behind us and we could set out our next goals.
That afternoon Mum and I flew home again, this time with even more to chat about. I was relieved and excited, just beginning to understand what I was in for. At the same time I was so happy to have Ken on board. He was beyond supportive, his positive attitude was all the inspiration I needed.
Over the next month, while I continued to fly with Merimbula Air Services, I began work on the job list. First things first, Ken had said. Before we could venture out and approach sponsors or aircraft manufacturers we needed an image, something material that would represent everything in my goal, from a world record to supporting youth in aviation.
We brainstormed a name for the adventure, discussed logos and began calling potential website designers. I would trundle to work daily with a laptop computer in the back seat of the car, working on my plans in between flying tourists up and down the Sapphire Coast.
Using Google as my friend I found a long list of web designers, and with nothing to lose I began to call. Minutes in I came up against the sort of reality that was to become all too familiar. A young guy who lived not too far from my home town was very interested in the flight and offered a discounted rate as partial sponsorship. $9000. Sweet. I could sell my car and carry the computer to work.
I declined his offer and tried someone else. But every call ended up the same way. With my phone in hand I wandered around the airport car park chatting with Ken about my frustrations. It was so hard it was to find someone to sponsor the website, maybe this was something I could somehow pay for.
‘If I can get a cheap site up and running, maybe potential sponsors could be directed to it,’ I said.
‘No way,’ said Ken. ‘You have to present this in a way that’s going to make companies and organisations want to support you, okay? You need proper sponsorship. Getting a good website, a properly designed one, is critical – it’s not a question of money at all. It’s the first step.’ He meant, of course, that I shouldn’t pay for the website, even though I could; convincing a company to sponsor the website would show other, potential sponsors that this was a good idea with serious possibilities.
After I had agreed to try and find someone professional to support the website, no matter what it took, Ken told me he had another idea. ‘You’ve been saying you want to fly round the world at twenty,’ he said. ‘But why not aim to complete the flight in 2013, when you’ll be nineteen, and become the first teenager to fly solo around the world?’
This was something I hadn’t even considered. The more Ken expanded on this idea, the clearer it was that he had put an immense amount of thought into it, and the more I thought about it, the better it seemed. Of course it meant an accelerated timetable, but I was prepared to consider that.
Two years before, as a budding schoolboy aviator boasting a full seven hours of flying time, I had attended the 2009 Australian International Air Show with my family. This is held every two years at Avalon outside Melbourne and regularly features planes from the RAAF, the US Navy and the US Air Force. For most of that weekend I had gazed skyward, dreaming of throwing an aircraft around the sky with the same precision as every air show performer. Between performances we had escaped the sun and strolled through the exhibition pavilions, trying to show some kind of genuine interest in purchasing the state-of-the-art missile on display while we filled our bags with free stuff.
It was at Avalon that I came upon the Swamp Comics character Ding the Duck and his creator Gary Clark. Ding, unlike his fellow duck companions, has yet to learn to become airborne, even though he has taken many, many flying lessons. Each attempt brings with it a laugh and almost every outcome possible. As I skimmed through the comic book on display I chuckled, knowing I needed to take this home. Gary said a quick hello and signed inside the cover before I ventured back outside to look skyward once again. That afternoon I sat in our holiday cabin with a pencil and paper and drew Ding, scribbling away to pass the time.
When I got home I started to draw Ding everywhere, at school, at home, on the bus. Ding became our Year 12 class mascot. We drew a six-foot-high version across the wall of the English classroom with chalk. (I recommend doing this when the teacher is not present.) On our ‘muck up’ day, just before graduation, my friend Izzy and I used pink line marking paint to draw Ding on our school oval, then flew over the school to admire the artistic ability that thirteen years of education had given us.
Now, two years later, I was mulling over a catchy title and logo. The name came first, and it was supplied by none other than my mum. ‘You want to do this round-the-world flight while you’re still a teenager,’ she said. ‘So why not call it Teen World Flight?’
Perfect, we thought; the name represented everything we stood for, including youth in aviation. Now we needed a logo – and almost immediately I thought of Ding. What better way to capture the interest of kids than with a bright cartoon duck? A phone call later and Ding’s creator Gary, a fellow pilot who was delighted to be part of the adventure, was at the drawing board. Gary and Ding were well on their way to joining the Teen World Flight team.
With a name and a logo in the making, we made countless calls to web designers across the countryside. Finally we scored
a meeting at Snap Franchising in Sydney. With my shirt tucked in and paperwork in hand I travelled to what would be the first of many meetings with potential sponsors. The team at Snap was fantastic. Their excitement about the flight was evident from the very beginning and they did even more than we expected of them. Lots of travelling, multiple meetings, phone calls and emails later I had my first corporate sponsor, not only for a website but for everything we needed in the way of web design and printing.
After one meeting with Snap I packed my paperwork and extra notes into the folder and headed through Sydney’s dense traffic towards North Sydney. I had a meeting with Dick Smith. As I parked in the driveway of his house then rang the doorbell, I realised how nervous I was. Corresponding with someone of Dick’s eminence and reputation was one thing: meeting and talking to him face to face might be quite another.
Dick opened the door and I was greeted with a ‘g’day’ and a handshake. We went inside and sat at the kitchen table while Dick peppered me with questions. We spoke about my plans and work completed so far, how I would raise the money required for the venture – at the time we estimated it would cost between $220,000 and $600,000 – and the planned outcomes of the flight. I sat and listened as Dick shared stories from his own flights. He felt very strongly that the trip should be planned so I could see and experience as much as possible. He said it should be an experience that stretched further than aviation and become an adventure in discovery and learning.
I began to realise that Dick Smith was just a normal Aussie bloke, though one with aspirations and clear goals he had worked very hard to achieve. He must have thought I was okay because he offered formal support then and there, not only in contributing to the safety of the flight but in formally joining my team as a safety advisor. To have Dick Smith acknowledge the dream, efforts and commitment alone was fantastic.
Just before I left Dick asked whether I had ever tried OzEmite, a spread for sandwiches or toast produced by his company Dick Smith Foods. On our way out, Dick grabbed an opened jar of OzEmite from a kitchen cupboard and invited me to try it. I couldn’t believe Dick was actually doing this, especially as this was the first time we had met. While I was licking the OzEmite from my finger I looked up to see Dick Smith, the entrepreneur, accomplished aviator and businessman, doing exactly the same thing. It was a ridiculous, surreal moment, and I couldn’t help inwardly smiling. After complimenting him on just how good his product was, I took the now gifted half full jar of OzEmite and hopped in the car.
It was now time to tell the rest of my family and my friends about the project. I had imagined doing this almost since detailed planning began. It wasn’t that I was being secretive, we just wanted the project to have a little more certainty before sending it through the grapevine. The last few months had been productive, jobs were being ticked off slowly and we knew what image we were projecting. We had set a date to announce the flight to the public, it was all happening.
My brother Adam’s twenty-first birthday party looked like the perfect opportunity to tell the family. And so I stood next to him as he gave his thank-you speech, turning over what I would say in my mind. We’re a large, close-knit bunch and twenty-firsts are really big deals. I was facing members of both sides of the family: grandparents, uncles, aunties, a small herd of cousins, Mum and Dad, brothers, a future sister-in-law and friends, all listening in.
Adam finally said, ‘I’ve only got one more thing to say, and I’m going to hand over to Ryan, who would like to say a few words.’ My carefully rehearsed speech lingered on the tip of my tongue and then disappeared completely, leaving me a blabbering mess. Now I think back on it, I could have started with a better choice of words than: ‘I have been wanting to tell everyone something for nine months…’
Then I lost it. No matter how hard I tried, I could not produce any kind of structured sentence. This was the first time I had announced my plans to a crowd, the fact that it was family made it even harder. Everyone sat nervously wanting to know what I had done nine months ago that was worth crying about and when I finally managed to say that I was planning to become the youngest pilot in history to fly an aircraft solo around the world, I think quite a few people were relieved. Everybody in the family was beyond supportive, and that was wonderful.
I now had to tell my mates, many of whom had flown with me at various times. This was a bit harder than I had thought. In fact, a couple took a while to understand just what it was I wanted to achieve. No cabin crew? So no peanuts, right? How long would it take? But basically everybody was cheering me on. Well, nearly everybody. There were a couple who said, ‘Oh yeah, mate, keep going, great idea,’ but I could tell that they thought I was a nutter. Two other blokes my age said pretty average things about the flight and I knew they were just talking out of jealousy. I had a bit of flak on social media, too. Only to be expected I guess.
Two mates of mine, both slightly older than myself, had found themselves in Merimbula in the pursuit of aviation. Matt was working for my uncle flying scenic flights while Jonno was finishing off his licence with Big Al, my flight instructor. We had all become good friends, spending way too much time at the airport, mostly on the ground unless funds permitted. We were aware of each other’s strengths and weaknesses and carefully studied each other’s landings; if there were the slightest bounce the one responsible wouldn’t stop hearing about that near crash landing for a week. I had learned a lot from Matt that helped when passing my commercial pilot’s licence.
I told both Jonno and Matt about my plans, a bit worried about they would say, being about my age, knowing my ability and with similar experience. At first they didn’t believe me but after I gave them some details, such as what Dick Smith had to say about the idea, they were convinced. Only days later Jonno, a musician, wrote about our chat in his blog:
I’ve never met someone so passionate and dedicated to flying. He is a thorough and confident pilot whom I have learned a lot from and have every confidence that he will achieve his goal and leave quite an impression in doing so. If there is any one nineteen-year-old on the planet who can put in all of the work and fly solo around the world, it’s Ryan Campbell. – Jonno Zilber
That meant a great deal to me.
CHAPTER
5
Starting to sharpen the axe
Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe – Abraham Lincoln
The local newspaper ran a story on the flight and the local radio station called for the first interview. AOPA, the Aircraft Owners’ and Pilots’ Association who had awarded me the aviation scholarship in 2010, ran a story in their national magazine. The word was now getting out there. This was no longer just my dream.
Mum, Dad and I packed our bags and took off for Narromine in central New South Wales, the location for the inaugural AusFly fly-in, a celebration that brought all areas of Australian aviation to one central hub. I had been invited to AusFly by its organiser, a guy who heard about my plans on the grapevine. It was a pretty small air show, but as a practice run for public speaking and a place to officially announce the flight to the public, there was nowhere better.
We arrived in Narromine in Dad’s tiny 1965 Cessna 172 on a Saturday morning, parked the plane and tied it down. That night well over two hundred people gathered in a hangar for dinner, the doors were open with two show-winning aircraft nosed in towards the stage. As the sun went down, the aircraft created silhouettes against the dusky sky while the hangar slowly filled with aviators of all kinds.
Public speaking was still not my strong point. I sat at our table eating dinner and feeling incredibly nervous as I looked forward to when this would all be over. The night went on with formalities and awards, then finally David from the Sports Aircraft Association of Australia stood up to introduce me.
I laid out the colour-coded speech on the lectern and began to speak, my voice shaking and my hands holding the wooden stand in a death grip. Slowly I told the story of the journey so far,
what had been achieved and what was in store for the future. David stood to the left of me with outstretched arms holding a humungous blow-up globe that Mum had found on Ebay, with the intended flight path joining thirty-odd destinations in a single line. The globe created significant interest as I used it to explain the flight path: departing the east coast of Australia, tracking through Norfolk Island, American Samoa, Kiribati, Hawaii and into mainland USA. Once across the USA the flight path headed north towards the top of the world, across the North Atlantic via Canada, Iceland and then into Scotland. The marker pen had divided Europe, a flight path from Scotland to England, France and Greece before Egypt, Oman, Sri Lanka and Indonesia. A fine line connected Indonesia to the west coast of Australia and across the continent, back to where I had started.
At the end, after asking for help in any form I thanked the crowd for listening. As I backed away, eager to find some form of strong alcoholic beverage, people started to stand up. ‘We will sponsor you,’ one said, ‘And so will we,’ said another. The representative at Bose, the electronics company who had a booth at the show, offered me a headset worth $1200. ‘Take it and see if you like it,’ he said, ‘and if you do I’ll give you a couple to use on your flight.’ The support, the belief and the encouragement were phenomenal. I stood by my table, hardly able to believe my eyes as dozens of people lined up to say hello and to ask about joining Teen World Flight as a sponsor. It was great.
Born To Fly Page 4
