Fighting fires from the air

Alan Beck

From the group of nine people Taranaki helicopter pilot Alan Beck trained with, he has been to seven of their funerals. The stark statistic trips off Beck’s tongue in a matter-of-fact way; there’s no sugar-coating it.

His calm, measured manner has come to the fore again in recent weeks, after being called on to help battle the Nelson forest fires, which broke out last month, from the air.

His voice, expressed through print and heard on radio, gave a unique insight into the effort and skill required to tackle the blazes, along with giving the nation an idea of the destruction wrought by the flames.

It seems Beck, now in his 70s, is a man built for action. When Stuff caught up with him after his return from Nelson in late February, he was on standby to make the 70-minute trip back again after news that another fire had started in the Redwood Valley.

And on Wednesday he flew down to relieve his son David, who also works for Elthambased Beck Helicopters, after he was urgently dispatched as part of the Redwood Valley emergency response.

During his down time, and decked out in his red overalls, the award-winning aviator, who was decorated in 1989 with a Queen’s Service Medal for services to search and rescue, explains that a pilot is only ever as good as their last flight.

‘‘You can’t bulls..t this type of work,’’ the 72-year-old says.

It was 50 years ago when Beck first got his private pilot’s licence, and in 1972 he started his own company. He employs about 19 staff and a handful of contractors and, while its bread-and-butter income comes from tasks like fertiliser spreading or engineering jobs, Beck also heads to the sky to help out when disaster strikes.

Countless rescues off Mt Taranaki have been coupled with his aerial firefighting efforts, which span decades. Along with overseas stints, he helped battle the 2017 Port Hills fires in Christchurch and, 36 years earlier, the 1981 Hira fire in Nelson.

But it was tackling a blaze on home soil, along Mo¯ kau’s Mohakatino Rd, where he came closest to meeting his maker.

Beck recalls how his helicopter almost got sucked sideways into the raging fire. As the wind roared in, the machine’s nose was pointed down to the ground while he managed to wrangle his way out of the situation.

‘‘That was a learning curve for me, and it quite easily could have been fatal.’’

That experience, along with the countless other pilot hours clocked up, has helped shape Beck’s instincts and define his limits in the sky.

For Beck, flying is the ‘‘easy bit’’ – the discipline is in having the mental fortitude to think and look ahead, while being able to respond quickly to assess the risks of any given situation. ‘‘Nothing fazes you because you’ve done it before, but you’re always aware of things like inattention or not being on top of your game.’’

It’s that body of knowledge, built up over years of flying, which he hopes to provide to the younger pilots. ‘‘I’m trying to pass it on while I can.’’

That camaraderie is one of the elements he enjoyed about his time in Nelson, and he is impressed by the calibre of the next generation chopper pilots. ‘‘These are the professionals, there are no cowboys there.’’

At one stage there were 22 helicopters in the air fighting the Nelson fire at different points.

While Beck says there was pride to be taken in conquering the flames in your assigned area, it was about achieving the greater good, rather than grabbing any glory.

As time goes on, Beck believes forestry companies, in particular, may contract helicopter pilots as a way to provide reassurance to investors and insurers around the growing fire threat. The loss for the forestry industry alone from the Nelson forest fires could easily sit between $30 million and $40m.

But the ability for fires to be tackled effectively from the air has been well and truly demonstrated, he says, making it a real possibility that helicopter crews will be stationed over the summer months at potential hotspots around the country in order to take quick action if a blaze begins, and stop the company in question’s investment from going up in smoke.

Beck says the Huey helicopter, which he pilots, is what garners the attention, rather than any heroics.

‘‘We tend to get noticed as we make the most noise,’’ he says of the ‘‘thump, thump, thump’’ the machine makes.

The helicopter’s ability to carry 1500 litres of foam and water in its monsoon bucket also adds to its reputation. ‘‘They call us the big hitters.’’

However, the efforts of those in the thick of it below is never lost on Beck, while he hovers hundreds of metres above. ‘‘We have the greatest respect for the grunts and the people on the ground.’’

He is also humbled by the appreciation shown by the locals – the food shouts, the barista who gave out free coffee to say thanks to the firefighters who saved his house, as well as the woman who spelt out ‘‘THX’’ on her front lawn as a sign of appreciation. ‘‘The generosity of the people in that part of the world is hard to explain,’’ Beck says.

Giving back to the industry which has given him so much is what drives his passion for the Down to the Wire campaign he launched in 2013.

Last year, he was one of three people who received a Director of Civil Aviation Award, a gong given out to recognise his leadership for the project.

The initiative aims to save pilots’ lives by alerting landowners to the risks that wires, such as disused telephone cables, pose to agricultural pilots.

Beck knows full well of the danger after he broke his back in 1992 when the helicopter he was flying struck wires on a Tarata farm near Inglewood. He says the safety initiative, which has the backing of the Civil Aviation Authority, has received a ‘‘great response’’ from farmers across the country. ‘‘I’m just blown away.’’

Time doesn’t stand still at the helicopter base either, which Beck says ‘‘runs itself’’ when he is called away.

The headquarters, beside State Highway 3, comes complete with its own workshop, spraypainting ‘‘oven’’, fuel station and landing pad. All the tools necessary for the trade are stored inside, including about $1m worth of parts.

The longevity of the business is the result of years of hard work, skills and expertise of his staff, Beck says. ‘‘I’m really proud of the team.’’

Thanks to its prosperity, the venture has outgrown its current buildings and plans are afoot to build a new complex, ‘‘which will leave this one for dead’’, he says.

As business booms, Beck has no intention of slowing down, and is always thankful he never pulled the pin on his flying career when he got to retirement age.

Every six months he has to pass his medical check, which he says mirrors the same requirements put on a 747 pilot. But it’s so far, so good. ‘‘I’m blessed with good health and eyesight.’’

He also comes in at the same weight he did when he first got his private pilot licence in 1968.

But he’s philosophical that his time in the sky will eventually come to an end. ‘‘One day it will be, ‘You don’t meet the standard, ta-ta, goodbye’.’’

But until then, he’s going to keep enjoying the ride.

‘‘Nothing fazes you because you’ve done it before, but you’re always aware of things like inattention or not being on top of your game.’’