RUSTIC: The view overhead Masterton from the cockpit, with pilot Darron Kyle (left) and Air Chathams owner Craig Emeny.
I'M IN the Wings Over Wairarapa media tent at Masterton's Hood Aerodrome, trying to look important, when a messenger comes in. Does any media want a ride in a Douglas DC3?
I'm media, I declare quickly. I'm the only newspaper journalist around, but within moments photographers and some freelancers from assorted magazines step forward. We're told to report to the far end of the field at 9.15am for a briefing.
I have enough time to inform my wife I'm about to go up in a DC3. This isn't a complete case of neglect while I do cool guy stuff; she's running a jewellery stall at the airshow. The husband of the neighbouring stallholder, an ex-RAF Tornado fighter pilot, looks happy for me, but my wife is torn between worry and envy. She points out we haven't discussed what happens to my worldly goods if I die in a vintage aircraft. How old is the plane, she asks. "Only about 70 years old," I reply, adding as next of kin she'd be sure to get everything I owned.
Air Chathams' DC3 "Powhaitere" is parked up near the Wairarapa & Ruahine Aero Club, decked out in classic art deco stripes and lettering. I've never been aboard a DC3 before, but they are easy to admire. All planes have curves, but DC3s are heavily into rounded corners and edges, giving them an almost cheerful and chubby anthropomorphism. Their label of "workhorse" does not compliment its pleasing profile, or the idea the plane is practically synonymous with the romance of 1930s air travel. It is, instead, a well-earned reference to the durability and longevity of the famous plane.
When it comes to the age of Powhaitere, I find I was about spot-on with guessing its age. ZK-AWP started life in 1945 as a RNZAF 41 squadron transport plane, before being used for domestic passenger travel in New Zealand and later companies in Tonga, as well as a long stint as a topdresser. Today it is a plane available for charter with Air Chathams Ltd.
There's a short delay while they find the right stepladder to climb in the rear door. The first thing I notice is the slope of the floor. It's my first experience of being in a plane with a rear wheel, which means everyone walks upwards at 11 degrees to reach their seat. It's two seats either side, with a 28-seat configuration. I've got a window, which suits me and my camera perfectly.
There's a surprising amount of leg room - or perhaps not so surprising, when you compare it with the virtual contempt modern airlines have for economy-class leg room.
The engines fire up just like in a Bogart or Indiana Jones movie. If I had a fedora hat I could easily imagine tilting it over my eyes and taking a nap. The slope somewhat lends itself to it, and being the husband of a stallholder, you endure early starts in the morning. But of course, everyone's glued to the windows as we taxi onto the scorched grass. I put my hand flat on the pane and planespotters wave back. Everyone loves DC3s. My wife hasn't appeared to have noticed me (she assures me later she waved furiously a bit later).
The preflight safety messages sound exactly like what you hear on a modern plane, and it spoils the atmosphere slightly to be told to switch your cellphones to flight mode. Seated beside me is an enthusiastic member of the aero club, eager for the moment when the plane fires up. The pilot releases the brakes, and the floor levels out swiftly, then tilts again as we become airborne.
At only 120 knots it seems to take an extraordinary long time to get overhead Martinborough, which gives us plenty of opportunity to photograph row after row of parched brown hills. Everyone's given an opportunity to head fo'ard and check out the cockpit. There's no computer screens; the pilot and co-pilot have clipboards and maps on their knees.
Turning north, the ride is a little smoother, as we avoid the thermals from the hills. The view is tremendous, a great deal more "scenic" at low altitude, thanks to the "Skyliner" windows which were installed in some DC3s in the 1960s. The taller and wider windows were fitted to make the viewing better for NAC passengers.
We circle Masterton and I sneak up to the front again for more pictures. There's a tap on my shoulder as we lose altitude. The cabin attendant Ashleigh Henwood, with the easy familiarity and authority that comes with being former cabin crew for Air New Zealand, directs me back to my seat. We touch back down at Hood Aerodrome, taxi-ing back to where we started. I get a chance to meet Craig Emeny, the owner of Air Chathams and co-pilot for the day, alongside pilot Darron Kyle in the left seat. What's she like to fly, I ask Mr Kyle.
"She's a lovely docile old girl," he says. "A lovely solid feel to it."
He had been charged with bringing the plane down from Auckland, and at an altitude of just over 1000 metres (3500 feet) "you really got to see New Zealand, the way you should see it".
Mr Emeny said they offer charter flights New Zealand-wide.
"Especially for corporate functions," he says.
"She carries 28 people. You want to go to a location with a good golf course, we'll go there."
The charter offers in-flight service, and being quiet and slow it is a pleasant way to travel with a drink or two, he says.
Coming up, Air Chathams are putting the plane up to transport people from Wellington to Omaka in Marlborough, for the classic fighters airshow in April.
-For more information see www.aircharternz.co.nz