the outside world. A phenomenal
amount of rain can fall in the summer
months, flooding the salt plains and
cattle stations, utterly transforming
the landscape. And it’s on those
cattle stations that some of the most
important and daring flying occurs.
The beauty
of Fitzroy
Peter Mitchell is the chief pilot with
Fitzroy Helicopters, who provides
mustering services for cattle stations
all over the Kimberley. The operation
is based at Fitzroy Crossing, and
Mitchell guides the young pilots
who come through here on the art of
helicopter mustering.
“It’s vital that pilots learn how
to muster on the ground, before
they take to the skies,” Mitchell
says. “Everyone who comes through
here starts off working at a station,
learning the game and the lifestyle.
A lot of young pilots think, ‘I’ll go
and be a mustering pilot to get some
hours up and then go somewhere
else.’ Well, it doesn’t work like that.
You have to want to be a mustering
pilot. You have to have knowledge
of the industry and of the job you’re
doing, and of the way of life.”
Charlie is one of the new pilots,
but he’s not new to the way of life,
having grown up in Queensland on
the very station where the dig tree
is located. Charlie steps me through
Mustering 101.
“Basically the helicopters start
in a line, working up and down to
drive the cattle in the right direction.
Sometimes you need to get right
down to eye level with the cattle, only
a few feet off the ground. They’re
not dumb; they want to get a win
too. There are little tricks you learn
along the way, such as using the
downwash of the blades to flush them
out from under a tree. The whole
thing is such a delicate balance; we’re
constantly checking the fuel gauge,
communicating with the other pilots,
trying to predict what the cattle aregoing to do. Working on the ground
before becoming a pilot means you’re
much more likely to know what the
cattle are likely to do, and that’s going
to make your job much easier.”
The crew at Fitzroy Helicopters
live and work at the hanger, so
their daily life is spent running a
household as well as a helicopter
business. It’s sweltering in the hanger,
which doubles as a lounge room.
The dusty fan in the corner does its
bit to muster the super-heated air.
Chilled bottles of water take pride
of place in the fridge, and the crew
look forward to their 0500 starts,
when the temperature is cool and the
orange light is soft. Sunset at Fitzroy
Crossing is indescribably beautiful.
Likewise in Derby. Twilight sees the
crew throw open the hanger doors
to reveal a swath of orange, blue andpurple melting into the plains, while
the Boab trees blush all shades of
red and maroon as the sun dissolves
mercifully away for another day.
The BBQ is wheeled out and beers
cracked. Young helicopter engineers,
Andrew and Casey, look like the
happiest blokes in the world, living
on an airfield and practising their
craft in between frying eggs in the
sun and taking the ute for a spin on
the huge expansive salt plains at the
edge of town. It’s not a bad life; one
far removed from the myth of the
reluctant pilot forced to slum it in a
dusty hellhole to gain flying hours.
Pilots will sometimes do
anything for the chance to fly in the
Kimberley. I meet up with Jamie,
a young pilot fresh from finishing
his training in New Zealand and
desperate for a job. He’s hired a van“lightning stabbing through the
sky like a knife-welding mad man”australianflying.com.au 27
January - February 2015 AUSTRALIAN FLYINGThe end of another day’s heli-mustering
in the Kimberley. Do they ever get sick of
those sunsets?