Christchurch pastors on a wing and a prayer

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by JENNY McPHEE
In a mind-wandering moment, it is easy to believe there is a link between God and flying. The apostles left everything behind “to follow him”. Or maybe flying through the air at 3000 feet, with a single engine, no radio, a smattering of navigation, black, towering Cumulus
clouds, and dodgy visibility, brings a pilot to a special place . . . close to God. 

Perhaps God is also found on a beautiful day, with the exhilarating feel of lift-off, the altimeter climbing, radio crackling, compass heading on track, a winding river far below, or a snow covered Southern Alps crossing at 10,000ft.

Fr Paul Shannahan 

Akaroa parish priest, Fr Paul Shannahan, SM, flew with the Omaka Aero Club, Blenheim in 1955. With a shortage of top-dressing pilots and pilots in general, combined with the fear of war reigniting, the Government of the day paid a 50 per cent rebate on flying lessons,
once a licence was gained.

Fr Shannahan’s Treasury cheque bought him a second-hand Ford Prefect, and he had  the budgeting skills required to pay for petrol on a wage of ten pounds a week. Flying lessons cost four guineas an hour (Four pounds four shillings).

Flying mates “chipped in” on plane hire for air pageants in Timaru, where tall stories were higher than the distance sandbag “bombs” were dropped and where precise landings were applauded.

One sortie to the Grand National races in Christchurch began with lift-off, from a paddock in Seddon in Marlborough. A stop at Kaikoura emergency strip required a double fly over. The first, a low run to clear the sheep, a powerful steep turn, followed by a bumpy landing on the makeshift track, flanked by Matagouri and gorse.

Fr Shannahan recalled with some amusement that one racegoer found alternative transport home after they landed in Christchurch in a howling southerly wind. The sight of firemen running towards the plane, grabbing the wings to prevent the wind tipping the high-winged Cessna upside down on the tarmac was too much for him. The practice of “wing tip assistance” was a new experience for Father.  Having flown a Tiger Moth, Auster, Piper Cub and Cessna 172, and gained 100 flying hours, the challenge of glider flying loomed. To stretch the flying pound, the glider could be winched airborne from a truck instead of the tow plane. The vehicle began slowly taking up the slack, then reached break neck speeds by disengagement time. If the glider became forward of the truck, the lift-off reversed and pulled the glider towards the ground. The time, place, and height of the separation was controlled by the pilot, as he was catapulted into the air. With stick back, and release, the silent freedom which followed was short lived. Next came the need to find an uplifting thermal, or safe place to land. On glider approach, the land appeared to rise up and down. With one small wheel underneath, it felt like your behind was about to hit the ground.

Fr John Adams

Fr John Adams gained his pilot’s licence with the Air NZ Flying Club in Christchurch. He used a Cessna 150 Aerobat. A two seater, single engine, high winged plane.

Rumour has it that a past absence of Fr Adams from parish duties coincided with a helicopter flight into the Edison Valley, inland from Whataroa on the West Coast.

There, bush-clad mountains tower over ferns and punga trees. Clearings carpeted with snow tussocks hide deer grazing at dawn. Silence is only broken by the distant call of a morepork or a waterfall cascading down steep ravines, to the nesting places of the kotuku. God’s special wilderness. It is not surprising that Jesus sought such places out, to pray.

Once, on a tramping trip in the Craigieburn Range, Fr Adams and his tramping companion glanced down, to see the heart-stopping sight of the wreckage of a plane, at the bottom of a steep gully. It was the plane of two pilots from Mexico, who had crashed the day before. Fr Adams, who was then assistant priest at Christ the King in Burnside and university chaplain, prayed for them out on the hill. That evening he received a phone call from the funeral directors, Lamb and Hayward. Would  he come now and pray? Unprepared, he lead the young people in prayer, including the pilots from the aero club, who just turned up. Graeme Blackburn, a flying instructor, was among them. Their meeting and prayers were part of the latter’s journey to the priesthood. He was ordained a deacon on September 23. God has added to his log book – “Come fly with me”.

Fr Dan Doyle 

Fr Dan Doyle had no idea that flying would be a feature in his future or where that future would take him, when he gained his private pilot’s licence in Canterbury in 1964. At 16 years of age, a week’s wages was needed to fly the Cherokee 1140 for an hour. The memory of his first solo flight was marred by the loss of his instructor doing a cross-country flight in the Lees Valley, later that day. On his arrival as a lay missionary in Papua Guinea to help build a catechist school in the highlands, Fr Doyle was pleased to see a Cessna 206. The Erave Mission Station required three day’s drive and walk, and more walk to reach. The plane flight in took 45 minutes. No prizes for guessing how Fr Doyle made the trip or whether the resident pilot did all the flying. The Cessna’s 8- foot cargo hold was loaded with timber from the highlands timber mill for the return trip. Precise flying was required to land on the bush strip. In bad weather the plane flew low over the strip, dropping the supplies, and the pillow case full of mail out the door, into the toi-tois, leaving the ground recipients to gather up the broken crates, jam honey and letters from home.

After four years, Fr Dan returned to New Zealand and was ordained in October, 1981. As coordinator of the Antarctic Catholic Programme, he flew to the Antarctic fourteen times. With an eight-and-a-half hour flight and quickly changing weather conditions on the ice, pilots had serious decisions to make at the “boomerang” point. A point of no return. A decision to go on meant flying and landing in whatever conditions were encountered. One priest endured six boomerang flights. People flying to the South Pole usually stayed at McMurdo for two or three days to acclimatise. At the pole temperatures can drop to minus 56 degrees. The plane engine is left running until lift-off for the return flight. Fr Dan’s recent appointment to the Chatham Islands sees him airborne again.

flying-priests

Left: Fr Dan Doyle in front of an Antarctic control tower. Right: A young Brian Fennessy with a Cherokee 140.

Fr Brian Fennessy 

Fr Brian Fennessy’s flying heritage came from his father who flew in the 1930’s. Flying an Airtourer from a quiet strip in Timaru led to flying a Cherokee 140, and a Cessna 172 at Harewood, Christchurch, where air traffic controllers supervised the sequence of take offs and landings, warning light aircraft of the large jets approaching. Permission to take off, land and cross the main runway were needed. Aircraft without radio were given a green light from the tower.

The study of meteorology, navigation, and principles of flight finally made sense of maths, tangents and aspects of geometry learned in college. The move from Holy Name Seminary to Holy Cross College in  Mosgiel was like a step back in time. Students needed a dispensation to have a car. An antiquated rule which was abolished soon after the future Fr Brian arrived. With transport to the airport, helped by an approved car student, Fr Fennessy flew several happy student trips across country. One was from Invercargill to Timaru.

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