Soaring Dreams, Grounded Reality: Captain Mum's Pilot Tale

Introducing Captain Mum, our new writer at Halldale Group. With a wealth of experience as both a pilot and a head of training in the aviation industry, Captain Mum brings a unique and invaluable perspective to our readers. In her upcoming articles, she will candidly share the realities of being a woman working in a male-dominated field, shedding light on the challenges faced when starting a family, navigating leave policies, confronting sexism, and dealing with recruitment and roster issues. Drawing from her own journey, Captain Mum's writing promises to be an insightful and thought-provoking exploration of the obstacles and triumphs encountered by women forging careers in aviation.

I belong to a generation that witnessed the dawn of a new era. The year I was born, the first CD player, the first emoticon, and the first artificial heart were introduced to the world. I grew up in a world of rapid change, innovation, and diversity. I witnessed the rise of the internet, the fall of the Berlin Wall, and the birth of new nations.

At 18, at the start of a new century, I was full of hope and optimism, with the world at my feet. I dreamed of flying aircraft and travelling the globe. I wanted to be a pilot, an adventurer, a woman who could soar above the clouds and see the world from a different perspective. It was a dream I had since I was a little girl. I was so fascinated by planes that I asked for a huge inflatable 747 for my 7th birthday.

I was fortunate to have a mother who chartered various large cargo aircraft and did self-handling, so I often got to visit the airport. Before the 2000s, security was not as tight as today, so I had my own airport pass and spent many hours on the aircraft while they were being loaded and offloaded. As I grew older, I would hang around hoping to be invited by bush pilots or charter operators on their "dead legs", and they would often let me fly during the cruise.

"I was hurt and angry, feeling she was trying to stop me."

I looked up to my mum, a single mother who overcame many obstacles and challenges in her career, turning a small loss-making company into a multi-million-dollar organisation. However, when I told her I wanted to be a pilot, she was unsupportive. She advised me to get a degree instead, saying flying was not a good job for a woman. I was hurt and angry, feeling she was trying to stop me from achieving my dream. It took me a long time to realize what she was really trying to say.

To satisfy my mum, I started a business science degree, which wasn't my second choice (I would have preferred something with my other passion, horses), but I decided on the sensible option. While studying, I took on multiple jobs to earn as much money as possible for flying. I exercised horses, worked as a waitress, and even helped in the campus library. My goal was to earn enough for flying lessons.

I was thrilled when I got accepted into the Air Force, and that finally helped my mum realise I was serious about pursuing this career path. So, she offered to pay for my flying lessons, but with conditions and targets to achieve. If I failed, I would have to repay her all the money spent on flying. But if I succeeded, it would be her gift.

Spurred on by the challenge, I worked really hard and loved every minute of it. I still remember my first solo flight and the sense of accomplishment when I completed that first circuit. I remember the adrenaline rush of the hour-building flights, alone in the sky for hours, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. I remember how special it was to take my family for a flight or the girls' weekend my mum and I had at the coast, battling headwinds. I sometimes thought the cars below were traveling faster than us.

At last, I found myself holding a newly minted Commercial Pilot's License – it was time to find a job. In contrast to Europe, most of the world adheres to an American system where you typically spend a decade or so flying for smaller companies until qualifying for an airline. Unfortunately, my timing was awful – a few months post-9/11, a time when the pilot shortage that existed at the start of my training had evaporated. Many pilots were out of work, and experienced aviators were accepting positions typically reserved for newcomers. The job hunt was a genuine struggle.

While some of my peers opted to become instructors, I was captivated by the allure of the wilderness. With my possessions packed into my car, I ventured into the tropics, aspiring to become a bush pilot. Fortune led me to a company that offered an unpaid role with the potential to pilot when necessary. This was my first step into the world of bush piloting, a path less trodden but one that promised adventure and unique experiences.

When the tourist season began, I started earning a wage. Flying was challenging – piloting a single-engine aircraft, dodging thunderstorms, and landing on small dirt runways. The experiences I had and the sights I saw were enviable, enough to fill a book.

At 20, I was responsible for an expensive aircraft and the lives of passengers, often finding myself in challenging situations. The lessons I learned, especially in decision-making, were invaluable. However, my salary barely covered rent. I lived in a wooden hut with basic amenities. The leftover money was barely enough for food, fuel, and socializing. We could only make ends meet with the help of lodges providing meals during night stops and tips from tourists.

This adventurous job was only feasible as a young, single person. Unable to live on adventure alone, I decided to move on. With an ATPL in hand and an improving industry, I found a job as a co-pilot, flying multi-engine turbines in war zones for humanitarian missions.

I had imagined flying to glamorous cities like London, Paris, and New York. Instead, I found myself in places like Lokichogio, Faizabad, and N'djamena. It was far from glamorous, often dirty and rain-soaked, with a constant fear of flying in volatile areas.

Despite the challenges, I got to see the world – flying over snow-covered Hindu Kush mountains, beautiful poppy fields, rain forests, and volcanoes. I witnessed sandstorms and flash floods. I saw the best and worst of humanity, met people from all walks of life, and made a difference every day.

"I thought I had proved that women could do this job as well as men."

I undertook some of the most rewarding and challenging flights of my career, delivering aid to remote areas, evacuating wounded civilians and aid workers, and transporting peacekeepers and diplomats. I experienced diverse cultures and learned a lot about the world and myself.

Up to this point in my mid-20s, I still didn't understand why my mum was reluctant to let me go down this road. I thought I had proved that women could do this job just as well as men. It would still take me a few more years to fully understand what she meant.

I was enjoying the humanitarian flying – by now, I had my command. I did, at times, find the living conditions challenging. Life became much harder when I got a serious boyfriend who was also a contract pilot. We had Skype, so we could talk daily as long as the time differences matched. But we rarely got to spend a month together in every three. It depended on whether our one month would overlap, whether the company would send us home on the promised date, and whether we were given a full month at home. We missed each other a lot and worried about each other's safety. We struggled to find a balance between our careers and our relationship.

This finally became too much, and I needed some normality. I was ready to move on, but the pay from regional airlines was so poor compared to our contract work. Having recently bought a house, I couldn't afford to sustain myself on such a salary. Consequently, I turned to freelance charter, often taking flights at a moment's notice for a relatively unknown period as the schedule changed constantly. The lifestyle varied drastically, from stays in 5-star hotels to makeshift accommodations in converted containers on dusty mines. Despite the decent pay, this lifestyle was far from ideal for a couple planning to start a family.

Then I hit what I thought was the holy grail of flying – a job on a medium-range single-aisle jet, a dream we all aspired to. However, this euphoria was short-lived. As a wife and mother of a beautiful daughter, the challenges of a two-pilot family were immense.

I finally understood my mother's words. She wasn't questioning my ability to do the job because of my gender but warning me that the world wasn't yet ready to allow women the freedom to balance a successful career with being present for their children's milestones. Something had to give.

Would I do it all again? My single, 20-year-old self would say most definitely. I had experiences that most people dream of, learned so much about myself and life, and saw the world. I think I would still have the blind optimism to believe in the glossy exterior of this life, the idea of 'living the dream'.

However, my 40-year-old self, now married with a family, hopes that either my daughter makes a very different choice, or that we can make enough changes in the industry so that my daughter's generation may finally be in a situation where they don't have to choose between a career and family.