In the excitement of seeing John it took me a couple of minutes to ask the obvious question.

“John, I spoke to you at home last night, and yet here you are in Sydney. How did you get here so fast?”

John grinned “I've got a surprise for you. You know our neighbour Steve Renshaw flies a light plane, a Piper Aztec?” I had some vague recollection of this so I nodded.

“I ran into him at a cattle sale last week. He enquired after you and when I told him you were in Sydney and had an operation, he said he had to fly down here on business this week, so why didn't he try to make it coincide with the day you were due to return and then we could all fly back. Six or seven hours in a plane sounded a lot better to me than two days on a train so I said 'Yes'”.

“John, that's wonderful news. How kind of him. I confess I wasn't really looking forward to that long trip back.”

Then I turned to Jenny, “You knew about it didn't you? I wondered why you weren't very enthusiastic about taking a commercial flight to Brisbane!”

Jenny blushed “I was sworn to silence in case the arrangement didn't come off. I hope you'll forgive me.”

“Of course I will,” I replied.

John said that Steve had meetings all that day and the following morning, so we could fly home in the afternoon. He suggested that Jenny and I stay in our hotel room for one more night, he would get a single room, and tomorrow we could set out just after lunch for Bankstown Airport where Steve's plane had landed. We went out for lunch at Circular Quay and watched the ferries load and unload their passengers and generally had a very pleasant day. I was still getting tired by early evening, so we spent it at the hotel, dining in the restaurant and watching some television which was quite a novelty for us.

Around lunchtime the following day, we took a taxi to Bankstown Airport and waited in the terminal building until Steve arrived back from his meeting. I had met him briefly once before as I now remembered, and I thanked him sincerely for his kindness in offering to fly us back. He, of course, did not know what surgery I had had, but any major surgery takes time to recover from, and cutting the long trip home was going to be such a bonus for me.

The Piper Aztec was a six-seater with twin engines and looked very small and neat. Steve suggested that since it was my first time in a light plane that I might like to sit up the front in the co-pilot's seat, and after urging from John, this is what I did. I watched fascinated as Steve went through all the pre-flight checks and was given permission from the tower to take off. Soon we were rolling down the runway and were airborne. Light planes don't fly at the height of commercial airliners, so we had a wonderful view of the countryside below us. Steve told me we would be cruising at about 150 knots or 170 mph and could go as high as 10,000 feet, but today he had asked permission to fly lower so that I could enjoy the view of the countryside from the air, and what a magnificent sight it was too.

After a while, Steve asked if I would like to fly the aircraft for a while. I had been watching him closely and of course was thrilled at the idea. I rested my hands and feet on the controls just as he said and for a while just 'felt' the aircraft through the faint vibrations. I wasn't really aware of it at the time, but Steve could see me making minute adjustments to keep the craft level and on course. Then Steve suggested I try a few manoeuvres, so I gently banked to port and then starboard, climbed a little and levelled out again. At one point Steve asked me to make a ten degree turn to starboard and level out on a new course. He didn't bombard me with information as he might have done, just let me and the aircraft 'get to know each other'.

Because of the distance we had to travel, it was necessary to stop to refuel at Charleville, so naturally Steve took over at this point. After we landed it was good to get out and stretch our legs. It took the best part of an hour before we were in the air again, and much to my delight, Steve again asked if I would like to take the controls. What did surprise me was that each day since my surgery I had been overcome by a sense of fatigue by late afternoon, but it didn't happen on this day. The time passed so quickly I could hardly believe it when Steve pointed out our homestead in its ring of hills in the distance and said he had better take over again because we would soon be landing.

Again, I closely followed all his moves as the aircraft descended and he lined up on the dirt runway. Then I felt the wheels touch the ground and strangely it felt as though we were going faster as we headed down the runway towards the large metal hanger built off to one side. When the aircraft rolled to a halt and Steve shut of the engines, he turned to John and Jenny and asked if they realised that his co-pilot Lesley had flown the plane almost the entire distance back from Sydney. They probably knew, but their expressions of surprise and compliments on the smoothness of the flight were music to my ears. Steve then said that I was a 'natural', and why didn't he train me to qualify as a pilot since he, Steve, was a qualified instructor?

“John, you should think about getting a plane of your own,” he said “Just think of all the time you'd save in train trips.”

I was thinking the same myself, but I was too smart to put John on the spot. We got into the Landrover and drove Jenny home to Heyward's Crossing first where I thanked her yet again for the tremendous support she had given me throughout the whole transitioning process. Then we drove back to the homestead, and to my surprise there was quite a reception committee of the stockmen and other staff who raised a cheer and said, “Welcome back Missus.” I felt quite overwhelmed, but it did feel so good to be home again.

It was a few weeks later when John said “I've been thinking about what Steve said. Most of the properties around here have their own aircraft, and there's no doubt it would save a lot of time when going to Brisbane or further afield. How would you feel about taking flying lessons?”

I hugged him. “You know I'd love to, but it costs money to run a plane.”

“Well time is money too. Why not take flying lessons and see how you go? We can think further about a plane then.”

Steve wasn't in the least surprised when I phoned him and asked about taking lessons.

“That day we flew back from Sydney, I asked if you'd like to try flying the plane mainly as a courtesy and to take your mind off your operation. When most people take the controls for the first time, the plane is soon bouncing all over the sky and I have to take back control pretty quickly, but that didn't happen with you. You're a natural. I didn't tell you at the time in case you started thinking too much instead of just reacting the way you were doing.”

Of course, there was a lot to learn even if I was a 'natural' as Steve put it, but when you really love doing something, you want to learn, and it comes much more easily. Besides the practical lessons with Steve there was the bookwork too. When I commit to something I want to do it well, and so I really applied myself. Finally, I did what was effectively a solo flight, since although Steve sat beside me, he didn't touch the controls from take-off to landing. Steve pointed out a few minor things, and a couple of weeks later I took my first 'real' solo flight, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, but all went well. After a few more solo flights, I now had my private pilot's license.

Steve was a great help to us in selecting a suitable aircraft to buy, and we settled on a Cessna 310, a twin-engine six-seater. For safely, John insisted on a twin-engine plane. The land around the homestead was quite flat, and it did not take a lot of work to clear a runway, and also to erect a hanger. As the first and only female pilot in that part of the country, I became quite well known, and even featured in an article in the local paper. While I had deliberately kept a very low profile until now, following my operations, I felt quite confident and was not concerned at getting some publicity.

One thing I carried with me at all times was my hand-written copy of that wonderful poem by nineteen-year-old Pilot Officer John Magee in 1941, written not long before he died in a mid-air collision during training. In only fourteen lines he draws together the very essence of how it feels to fly:

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds,—and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air ....

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark nor ever eagle flew—
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

I kept up all my post-surgery procedures, and after two months or more had elapsed, I felt that physically at least with my wounds totally healed I should be exploring using my new female organs in the way they were intended. Physically I was ready, but mentally, I was not so sure. John was marvellous. He did not urge me in any way, although he must have wondered just how long it would take me. Finally, I took myself over to Jenny's house and had a girl-to-girl talk with her about my fears.

“What is really troubling you?” she asked.

“I know this sounds silly, but John is not a virgin. Suppose I disappoint him physically?”

Jenny smiled gently. “Humans are all built to a basic template, but we are all slightly different you know? To John, I'm sure you will feel exactly like a woman, and don't forget he's been a widower now for about three years. If you are afraid that he will hurt you, then tell him your fears, and I'm sure he will be gentle.”

When put like that it did seem that I was being much too anxious. I took Jenny's advice and a couple of evenings later, with a very flushed face, I explained to John how I felt, and he in turn assured me that he wanted nothing but a pleasurable experience for us both. That evening, I wore a pale pink satin nightdress, and snuggled up to John in bed, letting him know with my hands and lips that I was ready to explore the next stage in our relationship. He responded as I had hoped, and I felt my increasing desire to join my body to his, so that when he finally entered me, I gasped with pleasure as I arched my body under his.

True to his word, John was very gentle at first, but I realised that in fact I wanted him to take command, and urged him on to greater efforts. How can I describe the feelings I had in giving my body to him? It was like riding a great wave which carried us higher and higher, until eventually it crashed over us, leaving us gasping and drowning in feelings of acute pleasure impossible to describe. Afterwards, when we lay side by side on the bed, and our breathing and heart rates gradually returned to normal, I told him how sorry I as that I had been so silly and wasted time when we might have already been exploring those special delights we had just experienced. At that moment I decided that we should make up for lost time, and this we certainly did.

To be continued