Seconds to Snap

by Tina McGuff

  After a few months of manual labour, John asked me if I would like to look after his baby boy, Brodie (his girlfriend, Devon, worked full-time so they needed a nanny to take care of their son). I jumped at the chance and, from the minute I met Brodie, I fell in love. He was the most adorable little boy – blond with large brown eyes and a cheeky smile; we immediately took to each other. I moved out of the rehabilitation unit and into their house as Brodie’s full-time nanny.

  Now Brodie and I went everywhere together. At Christmas, we would drive down to my mum’s house in England if his parents were away or working. Several nights a week, I would take him to my gran’s house, where he would play hide-and-seek under the dining table while she prepared him his favourite meal of mince and tatties.

  On Sundays, my day off, my sister Sophie and I would go hill walking in the glens with our cousins, Marco and Peter. We would climb from 7 a.m. until about 6 p.m., then go to St Andrews for dinner. It felt so good to build up my muscles again and use my body. Best of all, I was seeing the world, reconnecting with nature, learning to appreciate everything that life has to offer. It wasn’t just about getting fit and strong, it was about truly opening my eyes to the magic around me; I was alive and determined to make the most of it!

  The mountains and hills in Scotland are dramatic, beautiful and constantly changing, thanks to the unpredictable weather. I loved making the hard climb to the top of Munro in the Highlands – reaching the summit filled me with elation. Once there, we sat side by side, just soaking up the natural beauty of the landscape, enjoying the serenity. Looking down the magnificent valley, away from the hustle and bustle of the town, I felt calm. I had been cooped up in a sterile hospital ward for too long – now I needed to see the world, to breathe it in, let it soak into my skin.

  Every climb brought fresh smells, new, intoxicating sights and a firm appreciation of all that I’d missed during the past four years. The flowers, animals, birds, waterfalls and streams all took my breath away. Often, we sat at the side of a waterfall, watching how the glacial waters tumbled over the shiny pebbles and, when our feet ached, we’d peel off our socks and jump into the cool, refreshing streams.

  There was one particular place I loved to climb the most: Loch Brandy. It wasn’t the highest hill to climb, but to me it was definitely the most beautiful. The small loch up the hill is stone cold, but calm and ethereal. It draws you up to see her beauty and demands you give her the respect she craves. Occasionally, I asked my dad or Auntie Annette to join me on my walk there so I could share this special place with people I loved.

  We would usually climb a few thousand feet and then, after an hour or so relaxing at the top, taking in the breath-taking magnificence, run all the way back down again. It was often easier than trying to walk and much more fun and exhilarating.

  Celine now came up to visit us and it was lovely to share time with her. She told me that Mum was much more settled in England and, in fact, she’d met a man who seemed to make her happy. Dad, too, had moved on and, for the first time in ages, I could see we were building the foundations of a strong relationship. Day by day, my confidence was returning and the person I’d lost so many years ago was coming back to life.

  Chapter 16

  Reach for the Sky

  An almighty roar filled my ears as the Harrier Jump Jet engines started up and I was momentarily stunned. I had never heard anything like it in my life.

  ‘What do you think?’ my gran yelled at me over the colossal sound. She was shouting at the top of her voice but still her words were drowned out by the fearsome noise of the engine. I watched in fascination as the powerful machine lifted straight off the ground in a vertical take-off, a manoeuvre that seemed almost impossible for such a mighty craft.

  ‘WOW!’ was the only word I could get out. I was awestruck by the incredible jets, planes and helicopters all around. Gran had taken Brodie and me to the Navy Day at Rosyth Royal Dockyard in October 1991 and, from the moment I caught sight of the amazing aircraft, I was awestruck. As soon as the whine and whoosh of an engine started up, I could feel my heart begin to race, and then watching them lift off the ground to perform their aerobatic stunts was just thrilling. I couldn’t believe I’d never seen a plane up close like this before and I knew then and there I had found my vocation: I wanted to be a pilot.

  At twenty-two years old, I’d been looking after Brodie for nearly two years and life was settling down quite comfortably but, until that day, I had never felt a passion to achieve something. Now I was driven by a burning desire. The following Monday, I walked into the RAF careers office and told the middle-aged man behind the desk that I wanted to train to become a pilot. I might as well have told him I wanted to be a lion tamer.

  ‘Oh-kay,’ he said slowly. ‘Do you have maths or higher maths qualifications?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Do you have physics? Do you have higher chemistry?’

  ‘No,’ I replied.

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘I’m twenty-two,’ I replied, now bristling at this hostile interrogation.

  ‘I’m afraid you’ve got no chance, lassie,’ he said and smiled condescendingly. ‘And you being female – well, that won’t help the situation either. We’ve got guys coming in here – seventeen, eighteen years old – with all the right qualifications and even they struggle to get on the course.’

  Then he chuckled and shook his head, as if my dream of becoming a pilot had been the joke that made his day.

  I should have been mortified and left the office with my head down but, no, from somewhere deep inside, I found the confidence to tell this patronising man: ‘Well, you may not want to train me but I will be a pilot one day. And it’s a damn shame the RAF don’t do more to encourage women to join!’ And with that, I marched out.

  For the first time, I had an ambition and I was not going to take no for an answer. Somehow, I was going to fly planes. I had no idea how, when or where, I just knew it was going to happen. Back at home that evening, I started researching how to become a commercial pilot. And with Dad’s help, I got a loan to start training for my private pilot’s licence (PPL). Within the month, I had begun flying lessons at Dundee Airport.

  From the very moment I stepped inside a cockpit, I knew this was what I was meant to do. Up there, in the sky, released from the physical limitations of gravity, I felt free. Truly free! It was exhilarating beyond belief and yet, at the same time, so calm and serene. Soon afterwards, I joined the flying club and every day after work I’d rush down there for my lessons or to talk shop with the other trainee pilots and instructors. I threw myself into flying, heart, body and soul, and when I wasn’t in the air, I was studying for my meteorology and navigation exams.

  Nobody was going to tell me I couldn’t do it. I knew I wanted it so badly, nothing could stand in my way. Suddenly, all that stubbornness and determination I had used to destroy my body in my teens was redirected to achieve a positive goal. And every day that I flew, I gained a little more confidence and skill.

  I seized every opportunity to fly or to sit in with some of the more experienced pilots. I loved going up with the ones who were qualified to do the aerobatics or holding the satnav for night flying. My favourite was learning to recover from a spin. The first time I did it, I thought I was going to crash at high speed. I could not focus on anything as we spun towards the ground, but then the instructor showed me how to control the spin and pull it back into straight and level flight. I did it myself and was terrified but learned the technique very quickly, wresting back control from the spinning craft.

  Over the next few months, I took my meteorology exams and, though I failed on my first two attempts, I passed third time. Navigation wasn’t as hard for me and I sailed through this exam. There were a few others too that I passed without a problem. The most challenging element was landings but I pushed myself harder than anybody else and, over time, I came to learn how to bring the plane in at just the right altitude – not too high, not too
low.

  Finally, in the spring of 1992, my examiner passed me to go out on my own – my first solo flight. It was a huge day for me – so nerve-wracking but, at the same time, incredibly exciting. I took off in a Cessna 152 – a two-seater training aircraft – without any problems, climbed steadily, and was happy and confident that I was in control at all times.

  It was only when I had reached 1,500 feet that it suddenly hit me – I was on my own! Now I had to land the plane with no one else there and, for a brief second, my confidence waivered. Oh, God, what if I crash? What if I forget some of the crucial checks? At that moment, I heard a little voice inside: You can do this, Tina! You can do it. Just sit tight, relax and remember you’ve come back from the brink of death. You’ve beaten anorexia. If you can do that, you can do anything!

  All those hours in therapy learning positive reinforcement now gave me the courage I needed at this crucial moment in my life. Yes, I said to myself, you CAN do this. You KNOW you can! And so, sat there, on my own, at 1,500 feet, I started singing James Brown’s ‘I Feel Good’ at the top of my voice and did a little seat dance! To be up there, flying on my own, was exhilarating beyond belief and I felt like I was on another plane of reality. Another 20 minutes and then it was time to bring her in; now I focused hard on the job in hand.

  Landings are described as controlled crashes and, it has to be said, my landing was almost a crash! I was so nervous as I brought her in, and, for a moment, I saw I was low, very low! Terror, excitement, panic and determination all combined in those final few seconds as I checked and rechecked all the instruments. Keep the power high, come in low; look at the nose attitude towards the runway. Keep the power high …

  My brain now was completely and fully engaged with the job in hand. It was as if my mind was a laser beam, focusing sharply on all the elements of the landing. I was in the zone! The touchdown was smooth and I smiled to myself as I felt the solid ground zoom beneath me; it had been a good landing. At that moment, I heard cheers from the control tower.

  ‘Well done, great job!’ the radio controller said through my earpiece. ‘Your Dad is here – he says he’s very proud of you.’

  I had no idea he was in the air-traffic tower watching me the whole time. It was one of the best moments of my life. I was so proud right then. I had only learned to drive a car a year before and yet here I was, flying a plane on my own! For the first time in my life, I felt I had achieved something great and I was worthy of the praise. No one could have done that for me – it was all my own work.

  As I taxied in I was so excited and overwhelmed, I forgot all my checks! I heard my instructor reminding me over my earpiece and, finally, when I got out of the plane, I could hardly stand as my legs had turned to jelly. But I wanted more: this was what I wanted to do more than anything else in my life.

  Now, with my newfound vocation, my confidence grew and I started working with my dad, whose pub business was doing great trade. He decided to open up a new bar in the crypt of an old church in town, which I helped to refurbish and launch. With the help of some of my friends at the flying club, I managed to get hold of some World War II spitfire pilot maps, which we used as wallpaper, and some rare photos of jets in action. Almost overnight, the bar was a success. Now I worked there when Brodie was in nursery and, during the quiet times, when I was in the office working on the admin, he sat in with me. In my spare time, I flew.

  I also joined the Territorial Army, which helped build my strength, endurance and confidence. I loved going on exercise all weekend and prided myself on being the quickest person in my group at stripping and reassembling an SA80 rifle. Since I had studied navigation, I was already ahead of the pack and it wasn’t long before I was awarded the honour of Top Recruit. I was highly competitive and realised all those years of trying to make myself the best anorexic in the world had been wasted – but not any longer. Now I was grabbing life with both hands and putting all my strength and resilience to good use.

  In the process, I built a new and great relationship with my dad. Working together side by side, I realised how much time we had missed out on and, now, as an adult, I could appreciate all his wonderful qualities. Dad was terrific fun – he always had a joke up his sleeve and a kind word for all his customers. All those unhappy feelings from my childhood were gone, replaced by a newfound respect and love for my father and for the person he was. I forgave him all his failings because what else could I do? If I wanted to grow and become a strong individual, I had to take responsibility for my own life and not blame my problems on the past. I couldn’t change what happened but I could damn well change my future!

  My mum was now remarried to a wonderful man called Reg and they were very happy together. It was great to see her come alive again – to smile and laugh easily. Reg had a pigeon loft and wore a flat cap, cycled to work every day and drank pints of bitter – he was a salt-of-the-earth kind of guy and, best of all, he adored my mother. Mum became very involved in politics and retrained in order to get involved with equal-rights issues, school committees and domestic-abuse councils. A committed and tireless worker, she was a world away from the depressed woman I knew from my teens and I was so proud of her.

  Over the following months, I worked hard to pass my private pilot’s licence. The main part of this was the solo cross-country flight. First, my instructor took me on a 300-mile round trip cross-country and then, when he thought I was ready, it was time to do it on my own. For months, I was prevented from taking this test because I couldn’t get a break in the weather. Eventually, 18 months after I started flying, I was ready to go it alone.

  It was a thrilling day and one I felt more than ready for. My route took me first from Dundee to Aberdeen, which was easy enough, and, once I was within the right airspace, I was given instructions on my height and position by air-traffic to land. At this point, I started to panic. Where is the runway? Where is the damned runway? I couldn’t see it from my position. I knew I had followed the map correctly but I couldn’t get any visuals on the place where I was actually meant to land. Now my heart started to thump wildly and my hands trembled at the controls – over the radio, I heard there was a Boeing 737 full of holidaymakers in front of me, a Bond chopper carrying offshore workers behind, all trying to get home safely. And here I was, right in the middle, with no clue on how I was going to get down in one piece! My mind started to race – was I about to be responsible for a terrible mid-air collision?

  In my panic, I did a few steep turns to try to get some visual on the runway while maintaining height and position. For a few seconds, my brain froze – it felt like time had stood still as I desperately searched out the ground below for the place I was meant to bring her down. I was in the queue now and didn’t have any choice – I had to land. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, I spotted the familiar line of straight twinkling lights of the runway a few miles in front of me. Thank God! I could have cried with happiness at that moment but I couldn’t let my emotions take over; I had to bring the plane in safely.

  Oh, Christ! I knew at the moment of impact I had brought her in too hard. The plane hit the runway with a terrible thud and then went into a Pilot Induced Oscillation (PIO). It was every pilot’s nightmare. The plane bounces on every wheel one at a time like a steel ball in a pinball machine, rebounding wildly from one bumper to the next. My mouth clamped down hard as I got thrown and banged about. It felt like it went on for ever but, eventually, I managed to get the plane under control and taxied into the club. Amazingly, the air-traffic controllers told me my landing looked great and sent me on my way, to find Scone in Perth Aerodrome next.

  Needless to say, I was in no rush to get back up into the air. However, I didn’t have a choice, so off I went. Landing this time around turned out to be a much better experience, there being no one else in the airspace when I couldn’t find the notoriously difficult sloping grass runway. In fact, it was just the tonic I needed from my bruising landing in Aberdeen. Up there now, flying around and enjoying the ama
zing views, I was filled with a sense of calm. The landing was still a touch heavy but a million times better than Aberdeen. Finally, I headed back to Dundee – the total trip had only taken five hours and yet, in that time, I had learned so much. Landing at Dundee now seemed so easy.

  Two weeks later, my private pilot’s licence arrived in the post – I was so proud when I opened the envelope and saw the big brown leather book, which resembled a large passport, with my name inside. I had achieved something I never thought possible. The first thing I did was to train on another type of aircraft – a Warrior four-seater – so I could take up more passengers. My first passengers were my good friends, Shirley and Doug – they were regulars in the pub and were always really supportive of me. In fact, they’d come out with me in the car when I’d first passed my test, so I wanted them to be my first passengers in the air, too. I flew them all around Dundee and they loved it. I was so proud of myself. It was the most amazing feeling, having passengers who trusted me to take them up into the air and back down safely!

  That same month, I saw an advertisement for a brand-new course in Aviation and Avionics at Dundee Airport. And so I applied. It had never been held before and all the lengthy in-depth interviews were held at Perth Aerodrome. This was my chance to get my Commercial Pilot’s Licence (CPL). I was the only female to be accepted onto the course but, after a month of intense excitement, it was dropped due to lack of sponsorship by airlines. I was devastated but my determination was undimmed.