It’s amazing how a little perspective can change everything. Get stuck in traffic and chances are you won’t be appreciating the bright colours people are wearing, the manic bustling of street vendors, the shape of the buildings or even how cute the cars look all lined up. But hover 500m above it all, in a helicopter, and it’s another story.
King Shaka Aviation in Durban – that’s hangar four at Virginia Airport – has been offering charter flights, among other helicopter services, for a while now, and one Saturday they offered me a test ride with some of my friends.
We had a narrow window of opportunity. We needed the wind to be gentle and the skies clear and, as luck would have it, the day dawned fresh, clear and blue. At 8am, my friends and I found ourselves watching a woman wash a helicopter with a bucket and rag.
“It’s kind of small,” noted a friend. “Can we really all fit in there?”
As we deliberated – these choppers really are smaller than they appear in TV shows – our pilot, Hylton Spencer, greeted us, pressed down the back of the chopper until the cockpit part lifted into the air. Then another man arrived with two fuel canisters, and started to siphon fuel out of the chopper.
“Why would he do that?” asked my friend, the first sign of what I later identified as fear beginning to show. “Ag, piloty stuff,” I said.
Indeed, Hylton was simply carrying out the usual pre-flight check ups. It took less than 10 minutes before we were seated, buckled in and adjusting our headsets. Hylton twisted and turned some knobs, said things like “Echo 1 clear for take-off over, November 1” and then the motor and blades started up. Even with the headset on, the sound of the blades spinning with increasing power was mighty and drowned everything out.
And, without so much as a bump, I realised we were about a foot off the ground. We seemed suspended in time, then suddenly, we started to rise. In seconds we reached an altitude of 500m, which came with an automatic view of what seemed like an unending shore stretching towards the city.
The chopper was a little wobbly, making me aware of the seeming impossibility of our situation. We were four grown men floating above the earth in a metal cocoon that was susceptible to wind.
My sense of adventure kicked in, though, and I started to look out of the windows.
We flew along the shore, past the Moses Mabhida Stadium, past surfers and early morning joggers, past empty pools and sandcastle builders, past the crayon-like Suncoast building and all the way to the harbour, where a tiny orange dot hovered like a mosquito over a ship. Hylton told us that captains are delivered to their ships by helicopter, which I think is pretty cool.
We flew over a high-rise block of flats, and were impressed by the number of rooftop pools it has.
We slowly turned – almost like a motorcycle taking a sharp curve, only in the air – and made our way back along the shore, this time turning towards the Umgeni River, following it as if it were a road.
Immediately, the bright blues and creamy whites of the beaches were replaced with the darker greens and browns of the vegetation and sand banks of the river, which twisted and turned almost endlessly around factories, car parks, shacks, suburbs and dirt roads.
We soared in silence, taking in as much as each eyeful would allow, savouring the details only this viewpoint could provide.
I noticed that satellite dishes peppered the roofs of so many homes that ones without them seemed incomplete. Pools sparkled in more backyards than I ever thought possible and cars moved soundlessly across busy roads.
We flew over New Germany and had a sneak peak at the construction of the new bridge that will link the area to Kwa Mashu. They’re almost done.
We were now in hillier terrain, and higher than we had yet been. Hylton pointed out a waterfall, but the moment was interrupted by a sheer cliff face which materialised in front of us.
As we neared it, we were leaned back by gravity, as Hylton raised the bird and we made a daring ascent.
It’s exhilarating – or terrifying – and when the chopper levelled off as it reached the top of the mountain ridge, the views were breathtaking.
We landed and waited a few minutes for the blades to stop whirring before stepping out. In front of us was the Inanda Dam spreading itself majestically across the valley.
We were treated to a bowl of berries, muffins and fruit juices, while Hylton told us that this particular spot had a lot of young men on their knees popping the question. I’m not surprised – it’s so romantic, I might even propose.
We took a few pictures, marvelled some more, and polished off the remaining berries before slipping on our seatbelts. In what seemed like seconds we were on our way back to the hangar. With just metres to go, Hilton pointed out a school of dolphin, which seemed to be jubilantly celebrating our return.
As I turned to see the dolphins, I noticed a friend had his fists gripped around the steel bar in front of his seat, his eyes half closed.
Did he at least enjoy some parts of it? “No yeah, absolutely,” he said, “but my favourite part was when we landed”.
Ah well, win some, terrify others.
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