Cook Rob - RCWhen the Dust Settles

Im swooping just metres above the ground. The bullock gives up the fight as it darts back towards the main mob. I pull back hard on the stick as I feel the hundred-horsepower engine roar behind me. The sound brings with it only momentary relief, as the ground rushes even faster beneath my feet. I watch the gauge tick over to fifty knots. Then sixty, seventy, seventy-five, but still there is no lift. Theres a shudder as I suddenly feel the back wheels hit the ground and spin madly along the open grazing country, peppered with scrub and small trees.

Its OK, I think to myself. I just need to get some air under these blades. No need to panic.

Then there is relief, as the machine begins to lift centimetres from the ground. I had been in pickles like this before, but little did I know there was no escaping this one. A massive ant bed rises out of the landscape before me and slams into the front wheel. The huge impact mickey-flips the gyrocopter back into the sky, with the 7.5 metres of spinning blades then taking the rest of the hundred-kilogram machine on a ride of its own, cartwheeling along the ground. I am in there somewhere, helplessly strapped to the small seat, spinning around, hoping not to be struck by the shrapnel hurtling in all directions. Finally, I feel the seat underneath me slam into the ground, my helmet hitting the dirt. But the engine keeps running like a lawnmower on its side trying to weave its way across the paddock. I hold my breath as the visor fills with dirt and grass. There, through the dust and carnage, is an image of St Christopher, waiting to take me away from this hell.

This must be it, I say to myself.

I had done enough flying to know that this crash, which took place in 2007, was my fault. In the 1970s my grandfather, Bob Savage, brought the first aeroplane to Suplejack Downs Station to help with mustering the vast open plains of this part of the Northern Territory. During the thirty years since, aerial mustering became more and more popular on large cattle stations around Australia. Worker shortages and an increased use of motorbikes led many to adopt new mustering strategies, with the hard work being done by helicopters or planes. The pilots cover the many kilometres from the watering points out to where the cattle are grazing, and the dispersed stock are then moved into one main mob headed towards the yards. Ringers on horses and motorbikes then follow along with the stock, surrounding the herd from the lead to the tail to keep them at a steady walking pace. Although my grandfather eventually sold his plane, he continued to hire helicopters to help during the mustering season in the years that followed. The huge outlay in purchasing a helicopter and the high running costs make it prohibitive for most family-owned stations to operate their own machine. But this did not stop me dreaming of the prospect and even attempting the theory course for a commercial helicopter licence in the hope of one day owning my own.

The idea of buying a gyrocopter (also called an autogyro) as an alternative to a helicopter first came to mind in 2006, while I was awaiting the birth of my first son, Braxton. I was helping Gary Dann muster cattle on Amburla Station near Alice Springs, when local cattleman Neil Bowman flew in with his gyro. While I had seen photos before, this was the first time I had observed one in person. I was amazed at just how versatile the aircraft was, considering it looked like a motor had been tied to a pushbike with a set of rotor blades expanding out overhead. It looked unsafe and dangerous for the pilot, who sat exposed on a small seat, out in the open air. While I was initially taken aback by the simplicity, I was soon looking into its potential as a mustering machine.

Of course, being in the air, off the ground and out of the timber, makes the job of finding cattle so much easier, without having to worry about negotiating creeks and gullies on a horse or motorbike. A gyrocopter, unlike a helicopter, uses an unpowered overhead rotor and relies on thrust from an engine-powered propeller at the rear. The main rotor must have air pushing through the blades to keep it spinning; this will eventually create lift. It made sense to me, and while I didnt need much more convincing, I started researching gyrocopters. And that led me to another Territory cattleman, David Birdy Bird from Indiana Station, who was known as a gyro guru. Operating on just ten litres of fuel an hour, the gyro was certainly economical, and David would not only use his aircraft for mustering but also for checking roads, fences, flood gates and bores. However, even with those frugal running costs, $42,000 was a big outlay for my young family. Only after many a long conversation was it decided that I would travel to Broken Hill in far western New South Wales with my wife, Sarah, and toddler Braxton, to buy my first gyro. Aviation engineer Ross Symes owned a workshop there, and was known for designing and building the best frames for mustering. I was to stay there for the next month to build my new toy, while also working off some of the huge debt.

It was like piecing together a Meccano set, except for the fact that every part of the gyrocopter, including the washers and bushes, tail rudder and control panel, was painstakingly handcrafted in Rosss workshop. Even the joystick was built out of fibreglass and aluminium by hand. To the frame we mounted the Rotax 912 ULS engine with a three-blade prop intact. Next came the horizontal stabiliser, tail rudder and control panel. The job was finished with the attachment of the fuel tank/seat and main rotor blades. Once the final wiring was completed and I had helped Ross manufacture some other aviation parts in his work shed, I began spending time in the South Australian town of Lameroo with pilot and trainer Kevin Traeger. During the training we were using a tandem gyro with dual controls. With someone like Kevin in the seat next to me, my confidence soared; the problem, however, was that I often couldnt tell when hed switched the controls over to me. Sometimes I would think I was in control, when in fact it was Kevin making the seamless turn in the sky. Still, Kevin was a great teacher and after a few days I thought I had all the skills to take on the flying world until, that is, my first solo flight back at Broken Hill.