I learnt to fly at Wilson Airport in Nairobi, earning my commercial licence in 1968. The airfield was dusty, alive with the hum of piston engines, and full of young men chasing the dream of flight. For me, it was more than a dream — it was a calling. Soon after, I became an instructor with Wilken Flying School, teaching others to master the skies before joining Air Kenya as a bush pilot. Those years in Piper singles and twins were raw, exhilarating, and unforgiving. Flying businessmen and tourists into remote strips demanded resilience, improvisation, and a steady hand.

In 1970, I took a Piper Aztec from Nairobi all the way to New Zealand — a journey that stitched together oceans and continents in a single cockpit. Afterwards, I spent time as a simulator instructor on the VC10 at East African Airways, before heading to the UK to obtain my British Airline licence. But Britain offered no vacancies, so I returned to Kenya, flying for Boskys’ on Cessnas and Beechcraft aircraft. It was a life of dust, heat, and adventure — until fate intervened in the form of a Greek family with shares in a Citation jet company at Heathrow. They cultivated me from “bush status,” introducing me to fine French restaurants and the opera, until I relented and joined their company. Suddenly, I was flying across Europe, the Middle East, and the USA, trading bush strips for cosmopolitan skies.

After a decade, Shell beckoned. I joined their Executive Fleet at Heathrow, flying Gulfstreams and HS125s for the top seven executives worldwide. We flew early missions into Russia, where a navigator was required to ensure we weren’t spying. Later, I was dispatched to Colombia to raise standards in their Citation fleet — a beautiful country, but fraught with danger. Security was tight, hotel rooms were tripled, and every night carried a sense of unease. Yet Shell was a marvellous company, and leaving after ten years was difficult.

Geneva was next, with a VVIP operator flying Gulfstreams and the first three Boeing BBJs. Catering was exquisite, passengers were the good and famous, and we pioneered Lufthansa’s first all-business-class flights. But management squandered money, and the company collapsed. With my mother ill, I retired early to South Africa, buying a feng shui house in Wilderness near George. Retirement lasted six months. Calls came: one from a US Gulfstream operator at Luton, another from Leeds offering the Chief Pilot role on a BBJ2 with bedrooms and a million-dollar entertainment system. I agreed to a rolling contract and stayed until the aircraft was sold to a Russian. I remained with it for continuity, though the owner and I never saw eye to eye.

Along the way, I also served as Chief Pilot for a Malaysian Falcon 900 operation, and flew US-registered Gulfstreams out of Bridgeport, Connecticut. My licences span EAA, British, Swiss, USA, Colombian, Bermuda, Aruba, and Malaysian authorities. I am typed on 39 aircraft and have flown into more than 600 airports. My passengers have included five Kings, countless Princes, the Stones, Beatles, U2, politicians, patriarchs, and even Harvey Weinstein. I was hijacked in Sudan, roughed up in Uganda during Idi Amin’s coup, and survived thanks to the Prince of Wales schooling motto: to the uttermost. It was tough at the time, but it forged resilience that carried me through a lifetime in aviation.

Ah, forgot to mention three engine failures & a cracked windscreen at 41,000 feet.

(Registered - 19th Jan 2026)