For grounded pilot Ashok ‘Bones’ Kulandaisamy, returning to Tocumwal is like coming ‘‘full circle’’.
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Before the COVID-19 pandemic he was flying Boeing 747s — colloquially known as The Jumbo Jet, The Whale and ‘The Queen of the Skies’ — from Anchorage, Alaska, where he lived and worked.
Not wanting to be caught up in America’s public health crisis, he chose to return to his roots, a tiny airstrip in regional Tocumwal where he had first learned to fly.
Mr Kulandaisamy first came to Australia in 1996 from Chennai, India.
The then high school graduate was facing a near universal dilemma; he had no idea what he wanted to be.
‘‘I heard that being a pilot you were paid good money and you got to travel the world,’’ he said.
‘‘At the time there were plenty of exchange programs for international students, so I packed my bags and came to Australia.’’
It was his first time in an aeroplane, coincidentally a Boeing 747 he would later become all too familiar with.
‘‘It’s like I say, it’s the circle of life,’’ he said.
Under the tutelage of veteran pilot Eddie Madden, Mr Kulandaisamy began flying gliders.
He was nicknamed ‘Bones’ for his lanky South Indian physique, a call-sign he’s flown under ever since.
He worked with Mr Madden at SportAviation, where he had been training, for three years as a tour pilot and glider instructor, while studying a masters degree in Albury.
It was during these humble beginnings that he first learned to fly the Albatross, a one-of-a-kind ‘boat plane’.
Built during World War II, there are only 30 still flying today.
Unlike seaplanes, the Albatross has no pontoons, and its entire fuselage is designed to float on water.
‘‘It looks just like it sounds, a boat with a pair of wings,’’ Mr Kulandaisamy said.
Trained once again in Tocumwal — this time by the Australian Maritime Safety Authority — he was one of only a handful capable of flying the World War II relic.
At the time it was used by AMSA for search and rescue operations, as it could travel further than any helicopter.
It was this experience that scored him a job at the revered Paspaley Pearling Company.
Paspaley was looking for a pilot who could fly supplies to its pearl miners on the open ocean — one who could fly an Albatross.
‘‘I flew air support to the pearl farmers,’’ he said.
‘‘They needed all sorts of supplies, including toilet paper, food, entertainment, that kind of stuff.’’
Once again, the Albatross provided a unique solution. It could service greater distances, and had a larger capacity for cargo.
‘‘I also carted harvest products (pearls) and chaperoned the odd VIP passenger for scenic flights.’’
Often — with only a few hours notice — a hurricane or typhoon brewing to the north swept towards prone pearl divers.
Sitting ducks atop the Indian Ocean, they needed to evacuate, and fast.
‘‘It’s a tricky thing, landing an entire plane on the ocean,’’ said Mr Kulandaisamy.
‘‘And it’s even trickier when there’s gale force winds and a choppy ocean as your runway.’’
Unfazed by the ‘‘occasional sticky situation’’, no man was stranded on Kulandaisamy’s watch.
‘‘We were told the first priority was our own safety, even still, we never missed an evac during my time’’.
But it was during 2015 that he received his most challenging mission.
‘‘I got called up to do an evacuation mission from Ashmore reef.
‘‘There was a medivac emergency on a navy vessel, too far out for a helicopter to reach’’.
The man was critically ill, and needed urgent care.
Evacuation by sea would take too long, even with the high-speed boats of the Australian Navy.
And even for the Albatross the distance would be a challenge.
The range limits were a concern for Mr Kulandaisamy’s supervisors, who questioned the possibility of such a flight.
‘‘They asked me, ‘how are you going to do this without something happening?’.’’
But it was life and death, and Kulandaisamy and his Albatross were the last resort.
After a flurried back-and-forth he was in the sky, with one concession.
‘‘They got the search and rescue plane to tail me all the way there and back.
‘‘So I was on a rescue mission being tailed by search and rescue in case I was the one that needed saving!’’
The patient also survived the flight, and was then flown to a military ICU on the mainland.
‘‘They survived, only barely, but we managed to keep him alive.’’
Despite the excitement, some birds aren’t meant to be caged and in 2017 Mr Kulandaisamy took advantage of a lucrative pilot’s visa and set off for the United States of America.
‘‘I flew company airlines including Delta, Alaskan and United’’.
And it was in 2020 that he joined Atlas Air, a freight company operating out of Anchorage Alaska, and the world's largest operator of the very Boeing 747 he had first flown 25 years ago.
Mr Kulandaisamy hauled freight globally, frequenting China, South Korea and Japan during his tenure with Atlas.
All whilst being trained on a new plane, one of four Boeing ‘Dreamlifters’ in the world.
‘‘The 747s are being decommissioned and replaced with the new Boeing Dreamliners’’.
But supply chains have globalised since 1969, when the first 747 took to the skies, which presented a unique challenge for Boeing — how do you put together a plane from pieces scattered across the globe?
‘‘You build a bigger plane,’’ explained Kulandaisamy.
Enter the Boeing ‘Dreamlifter’; a plane specifically designed to carry pieces of other, smaller aircraft.
‘‘There’s only four of them in the world,’’ he said gleefully.
‘‘And I’m one of only a handful of people who know how to fly them.’’
Mr Kulandaisamy loved his job, but faced with the growing COVID-19 pandemic he made the difficult decision to step down and return home.
He had only been with Atlas less than 12 months.
Back in Tocumwal he has been passing the time helping life-long friend Eddie Madden tend to the grounds at Tocumwal Aerodrome, and sitting in on the odd hobby flight.
‘‘We were looking through the flight logs just the other day, Eddie and I,’’ he said.
‘‘We reckon that there’s gotta be about 30 or 40 pilots that have made the big time after training in Toc’’.
enting China, South Korea and Japan during his tenure with Atlas.
All whilst being trained on a new plane, one of only four in the world.
‘‘The 747’s are being decommissioned and replaced with the new Boeing Dreamliners’’.
But supply chains have globalised since 1969, when the first 747 took to the skies, which presented a unique challenge for Boeing:
How do you put together a plane from pieces scattered across the globe?
‘‘You build a bigger plane,’’ explained Kulandaisamy.
Enter the Boeing ‘Dreamlifter’ a plane specifically designed to carry pieces of other, smaller aircraft.
‘‘There’s only four of them in the world,’’ he said gleefully.
‘‘And I’m one of only a handful of people who know how to fly them.’’
But it wouldn’t be long before, faced with the growing Covid Pandemic, Mr Kulandaisamy would make the difficult decision to step down and return home, after less than 12 months with Atlas.
Since then he has been living in Tocumwal, passing the time helping out life-long friend Eddie Madden tend to the grounds at Tocumwal Aerodrome, and sitting in on the odd hobby flight.
‘‘We were looking through the flight logs just the other day, Eddie and I,’’ he said.
‘‘We reckon that there’s gotta be about thirty or forty pilots that have made the big time after training in Toc’’.
Earlier this month marked 25 years since Ashok ‘Bones’ Kulandaisamy boarded his first flight and touched down in Australia.