Chambers

It is now the second week of the new year.

 

Leading up to Christmas, I was placed on a rush order of training programmes, starting with the AW139 Simulator training at PWNE Subang, followed by the type technical examination, then my recurrent aircrew medical check at Twin Towers and ending with the BOSET which entailed of course, HUET. Altogether, not accounting for ground school, that was two-and-a-half weeks in the city.

XL Xmas tree at the Holiday Villa's lobby

It was back to Subang Jaya's Holiday Villa for my 8 days of simulator training at PWN Excellence. I'm sorry. I cannot unearth the meaning of that baffling acronym and I am certain it is in Italian. I heard the W is for Westland, as in Agusta-Westland 139.

 

Having spent two weeks in the Villa earlier during ground school at Agusta Westland Academy at Sapura Kencana's Hangar, I was quite at home and looking forward to the makcik's nasi lemak just across the junction from the villa. I must admit that this was the beginning of my winter weight gain, and my later return to Kerteh during the worst of the monsoon did not spell a rapid return to my pre-Christmas mass. Being surrounded by all the delights of the Klang Valley's delicacies, I made it a very festive Yuletide indeed.

 

But now, it was time to take a mighty leap into the dark of the simulator cockpit and see who would emerge victorious, moi or the nasty computer-aided aircraft simile.

 

I was at the gate of the simulator premises, within the perimeter fence of RMAF Subang, at 0500H. It was beginning to look like a parade joke. I was alone there, at the dead end of the road, face illuminated by the lights of my Elantra's instrument cluster, but no sign of anyone who would show up to open the gate. I was to learn over the next number of days, that the provost only opened up between 0530H and 0600H. To be fair, the provost changeover meant handing-over/taking-over briefs and guard dismounts. But the arrangement of my simulator slots by PWNE vis-à-vis gate opening times and the terse instructor assigned to me set the stage for pre-flight tension in my mind, which, as it was, already lumbered under performance anxiety over flying the new bird.

This is what pilots call the torture chamber. Pic from PWNE's website

My first three days in this beast tore my self esteem to shreds. I could barely hover, and my over-corrections were so laboured that I longed for an hour's Thai massage every day to assuage my sore muscles from my neck down to my feet arches. My 68-year old Italian instructor mocked my agonised grimaces and body posture in twisted struggle against the controls on all three axes, dragging my self-esteem to the basement of utter remorse.

 

I returned home to the villa at the end of the third day in no mood for a conversation with anyone. I was crushed by mental fatigue over summoning all I had gained over 21 years of helicopter flying seemingly gone to dust.

 

The fourth day, and my session started at 1200H to 1400H. I woke up at late morning and went deliberately early to the simulator centre. I was delighted to find that at 1100H, lunch was served for an eighteen ringgit fee, so I sat in the crew room slowly stuffing my face whilst watching a mindless documentary on the telly. My instructor turned up at 1130H for our pre-flight brief and we stepped into the torture chamber.

 

I was surprised to find the cursed contraption somewhat compliant to my control inputs this time around. My instructor began progressing me rapidly through the exercises, throwing tail rotor control failures and instrument approaches at me, and the two-hour session was concluded before I knew it. I suppose it wasn't just the simulator that had mellowed towards me. My instructor too, took on a change in personality. The post-flight brief this time shifted away from announcing the next sortie's schedule and ridding himself of me, to explaining the differences in go-around criteria between a precision approach and non-precision approach. I decided not to rock the boat by over-thinking this one. The remaining 5 days in the simulator were more enjoyable, with me looking forward to the next session and ultimately, the end of the course, with my instructor cheerfully saying, "Captain Jeffrey. You are still with us at the end of this course. Congratulations!!"

I'll just take it that it was a good thing.

Much relieved, I headed back to the villa to ponder the upcoming events. I was even feeling like my personal storm clouds were dissipating. My buoyant attitude was just my way of psyching up for the Type Technical exam coming up in haste at 1400H. I hit the showers and headed for the Malaysian Aviation Academy, confident that Garmin would get me there well before time.

There was a festive air at the examinations hall, as there were many acquaintances and friends taking DCA exams that were lined up for the day. The aviation community, it ironically appeared, was growing ever smaller even as it expanded. I made some new friends, and even discovered that my reputation had preceded me, undisputedly manifest when, after I introduced myself to a private pilot, he remarked, "So you're the one the other guys were talking about...." Thanks Colonel Fajim!

This is Christmas?

I endured the examination by sheer relief of discovering my preparations were adequate in averting blanking out when looking at the exam paper. Everything looked like I had read about it somewhere, and in due time I handed over my papers, knowing I could do no more about the inevitable outcome two weeks down the line.

A room, and a view!

I had three more days at the villa before having to pack up and move over to The Concorde, sitting in the heart of the city, and closer to my next training centre, Consist College, Ampang for Basic Offshore Safety Induction and Emergency Training. It was time to face my demons awaiting me in the form of another torture chamber: the helicopter simulator meant for HUET. I was in for a surprise after the first few lectures, because the instructors inspired such confidence in me that I was no longer morbidly afraid of underwater escape. Once they showed me that I could breathe using the apparatus, I was no longer frantic. I realised that apart from my perennial fear of water, my last HUET in 2011 saw me panic when my Emergency Breathing System failed and I took water into my lungs, leading to this sense of dread I felt when faced with HUET. Now that it was somewhat rationalised, I think that demon has been rebuked.

A Helicopter Underwater Escape Training simulator. Pic courtesy of TSTC's website.

The sea survival module ended on 24 Dec 2014. My arms were worn from the furious rowing during the human raft training. Being the only pilot in the course, whenever the instructors asked, "Who will jump into the pool first for winching?" or "Who wants to try this first?", there was this unanimous chant and turning of eyes and index fingers towards me phrased with "The captain will jump first!"

High waters

My return home was virtually uneventful, save for a hint of the horror of what hit Kuala Krai and Gua Musang reflected in the streams that had long burst their banks making the new highway home from Jabor look like a causeway.

Curtains drew to a dismal close on 2014.