A QUARTER OF a century ago a young student, fresh with scientific knowledge and a love for the mighty, rugged mountains of South Westland and northern Fiordland, waited in anticipation for the helicopter from Queenstown to arrive to take a party of mates into the Dart for a hunting trip. Who was to know then that Dr Dave and I were to form a lifelong association with hunting, aviation and medicine, and to become great friends.
In his youth, Daves outstanding athletic ability was clearly evident, and showed in his great strength and energy toward one of his loves playing rugby. One of Daves only failings was in the area of women, where he wasnt too sure of things. But despite being very shy and bashful, his great intelligence gave him enough insight to recognise the love of his life, Sandi. Sandi is a main player and a tower of strength to Dave and his vision.
Many years ago, sitting around the campfire after a days great hunting, we discussed Daves dream of combining medicine and aviation. It would take him and his family decades of hard work, perseverance and financial struggle to achieve that dream. At the time he was running a medical practice in Bulls, and his young wife was teaching full-time.
But with Daves energy, and his characteristic smile, the Flying Doctor Service was born. It was first formed in South Westland, at Haast, a tiny settlement near to where the road ends at Jackson Bay (theres no more road for 300-odd kilometres, until Milford Sound, in Fiordland). Haast being the closest point in the South Island to Australia, in World War II the New Zealand government spent 600,000 on an airstrip for the air force. Fortunately, it was only used a couple of times, by Lancaster bombers. But it was very fortuitous for an isolated community whose life evolved around aviation. It was a place where planes were the only way to get in supplies like bread, milk and mail, and were commonly used to fly out pregnant women, or injured forestry workers or fishermen. Mussel Point in Jackson Bay is also where the venison recovery era was born. Haast is an aviation paradise.
So, still living in Bulls, with a plane based at nearby Ohakea airfield, Dave would fly down and literally bounce into the airstrip at Haast. There was only enough room in the plane a De Havilland Chipmunk for his smile and a packet of matches, so the rest of his gear would be sent down on a courier truck. Over the years Dave has made numerous trips and been part of an aviation era that involved many outstanding pilots, and he has also been heavily involved in the development of the next generation of young aviators.
The success of the Flying Doctor Service came slowly, and with it the ability to upgrade to a Cessna, with the registration RJG (Really Jolly Good Daves code!). Daves plane is now based at Palmerston North Airport, in a brand new hangar identifiable by its Maori artwork and his abounding humour. With Daves natural affinity for people, he has become part of the airbases large extended family.
When youre involved in medicine, you are constantly having to keep up to date with information for your clients. Daves chief delight is in handing out condoms with one hand and Viagra with the other but only to patients with those (twinkle in his eyes) symptoms. The requirements of medical training, however, obviously dont extend to cooking; Dave has been known to attempt to cook poached eggs in cold water.
The Baldwin family are an inspiration. Daves mum, Olive, was involved in bush cooking for all their annual trips into South Westland. Daves son, Marc, arrived no bigger than a grasshopper, and I had the delight of helping him shoot his first chamois. With Marc gaining his commercial helicopter licence, elder daughter Niki studying finance, and Anna, the younger daughter, studying art, the Baldwin legacy is set strongly for the next era.
Now, Healthy Bastards I reckon Barry Crump, who spent a bit of time down our way, would be proud of it. And I reckon hed agree this is a great way to try and get the health message across to people who dont care to see the doc much. Enjoy!
Dave Saxton
Co-founder Bulls Flying Doctor Service
THANK YOU VERY much for at least attempting to read this book, which has been written in a way that is aimed at making the understanding of medicine, traditionally a terribly boring subject, more palatable to the average Homosapiens real bloke with at least a low to normal IQ. I dont believe I could write anything for any person more gifted in the brain-box department than low to medium IQ, owing to my own personal deficiencies, which makes me totally unappealing to what the famous Barry Crump referred to as brainy bastards. But I believe this has created a style of writing that real blokes will enjoy and rave about with their lumberjack mates. Its full of humour and some anecdotes that will hopefully make a few of you chuckle in fact, if you dont chuckle at least once, then this book definitely wasnt designed for your type maybe you need to see a psychologist, win Lotto or do something to loosen up.
I would like to emphasise, though, putting all humour aside for a minute, that there is a very serious point to the book. Somehow important health messages have to be drilled into the scones of real blokes, because the statistics show that they are dying much earlier than everyone else.
A few times in this book youll meet a character called Gav McAvedy, who is a wonderful example of the bush pilot most of us combined aviators and mountain-lovers would like to be especially those of us who have experienced the wonderful Southern Alps of New Zealand. Gav is a figment of my imagination, of course, so dont sue me if you think youre him youre not.
Anyway, Gav is a pro chopper pilot who flies a Hughes 500D in South Westland, where his curly red hair and knobbly knees are one of the highlights of the local scenery. When he is not flying hunters, hikers and associated tree-huggers around Fiordland and South Westland, he can either be found doing his own hunting or attempting to make repairs to his long-drop dunny (visitors to his rather run-down home, take note: do not mistake the long-drop for Gavs pigsty, even though they are both built out of rusty corrugated iron and reinforced with bits of driftwood). On his hunting trips, Gav is accompanied by Red, a mongrel as stringy and scrawny as his owner; the resemblance between the two, right down to their hair colour, is uncanny. Red is, as far as the vet and Gavs Nana can tell, a cross between Nanas wire-haired fox terrier and a stray Irish setter, which makes Red a good keen gundog. Despite Gavs rough appearance, inside he has a heart of gold, and he is a true free spirit who lives a life that 90% of this countrys inhabitants can only envy as they head off every Monday morning to their dreary offices, shops and factories.
Gav usually sports a red Swannie bush-shirt (doesnt show the bloodstains) and frayed khaki shorts. However, when he hits town after a game of rugby (he plays second five-eight or centre) he scrubs up pretty well, and hes popular with the local lasses and the occasional Swedish tourist (one propositioned him in mid-air once, but there are some things you just cant do while piloting a chopper). He has been known to drink Southern mans nectar Speights, of course but prefers the home brew made by the local vicar, which he gets by swapping a bit of venison or home-cured bacon.