You are fast asleep. It’s the only chance you’ve had all week for more than a quick nap.
But suddenly, the man next to you prods you awake. You’re in the middle of a storm. The engine is stuttering and you need to change the fuel line. If you don’t, you will drop into the ocean, 2?000km from inhabited land. You are flying a tiny plane that you built with your bare hands. It’s not just a daredevil adventure, it’s the perfect way to market your product.
“All you need is a credit card, an airplane and flight permission. Then you can fly around the world,” says Mike Blyth, the founder of South Africa’s latest success story: a small, home-grown company called the Airplane Factory. Blyth knows what he’s talking about, because he’s done it. Not just once, but twice. The Airplane Factory started as a dream six years ago. Blyth already held the world record for the longest flight in a microlight. But he wanted more, so he decided to design his own plane.
He met James Pitman, a lawyer who was looking for something a “bit more exciting” in his life. Together they put all their money into building a two-seater plane called the Sling. The duo embarked on their first circumnavigation of the globe in July 2009. The initial plan was to fly to Oshkosh, Wisconsin, to take part in the world’s largest air show. Then they realised that the trip would take them a third of the way around the world, so they decided they “might as well just keep going”.
Using Google Earth, Blyth found airports along their flight path. Then it was a race against time to finish the Sling before their departure date. Their premises were so small, they were “hanging bits off the roof and climbing over parts”, says Blyth. The team even slept at the factory as the deadline loomed. At that stage they had not even started to sell their product, but opted for adventure instead of Âbalancing the books.
“We took a whole bunch of credit cards and we would crash one before moving on to the other,” says Blyth, with a laugh. “But, what the hell, life is short.” Taking off from Springs, they spent the next 39 days flying 45?000km around the world. The Airplane Factory is next to a tiny airstrip south of Johannesburg that GPS thinks does not exist. It takes a few twists, turns and phone calls to find the place. The outside is not glamorous, just a few hangars baking in the sun. But inside there’s a high-energy production line riveting together South Africa’s newest two- and four-seater planes.
The company’s 2009 adventure spawned another round-the-world trip this year and business is buzzing. Forty-five-thousand people followed their August-September trip on the web. The huge distances they covered, combined with the lack of mechanical problems, gave the Sling a sense of pedigree, says Blyth. The trip broke the world record for the longest flight in an airplane of that size.
“By using the tailwinds that go around the tropics, we worked out we could fly 6?200km to Cape Town from Rio de Janeiro direct,” says Pitman. That leg lasted nearly 27 hours and took them over the islands off Tristan da Cunha, the most remote inhabited islands in the world. “There’s no runway, so we would have had to crash in a cabbage patch,” Pitman says.
Since its modest beginnings, the company’s workforce has grown from five to 45. So far, it has sold 50 planes, 80% of which are in kit form that buyers take home to assemble on their own — a process that requires 800 hours. But this shaves R200??000 off the cost and means you can buy a plane for about R500?000. For now, any profit is ploughed back into the factory. And it’s clear that the people who work there love their job.
Mandla Tshabalala is busy fitting the parts of a landing gear together. As a child, he used to stare into the sky at passing planes and dream of flying. He never expected that he would get to fly in a plane that he had helped to build. “When you are making something with passion, you are good,” he says.
Tshabalala describes the spins that Pitman pulls off when they go skimming above the clouds together. Such aerobatics just feed his hunger. “Anyone who doesn’t learn to fly is absolutely insane,” says the Airplane Factory’s newest partner, Jean d’Assonville. “It’s one of the biggest highs you can have, even when you’re gripped with terror.” D’Assonville’s dog — aptly named Flight — has racked up 400 hours in the air, although he hasn’t yet made it around the world. For humans, the cockpit of the Sling feels claustrophobic.
The seats are soft and relax your spine, but you are hemmed-in by controls and flying aids. The Sling has a wing span of 9.13m, a length of 6.6m and a cockpit width of just 1.12m. There’s not much room for manoeuvre.
Before their first long-distance flight, Pitman and Blyth were close friends. But they had never spent so much time in such close proximity. When they’re in the air, there’s not much chance to chat. One person pilots the plane, while the other tries to catch up on sleep. Most of the time they’re exhausted. It all takes a huge amount of mental fitness, says Blyth, who jokes that he is not very fit in other ways. Food is a challenge, too. “Once we ate sushi, followed by iced coffee as the sun rose,” says Blyth. More often, it’s “cold pizza and hamburgers”.
Back on the ground, Pitman says there’s a small but growing market in South Africa for the company’s products. “There are a bunch of people who want to fly for fun, or to commute,” he says. “A few customers have already embarked on flying holidays around the country in “squadrons”. The “patriotism” of these customers drives them to buy locally.
But the Airplane Factory is still struggling with South Africa’s strict regulatory framework. “Our regulations are not beautifully drafted, clear or helpful,” says Pitman. Although their second plane was launched by the acting head of civil aviation, the company has found it difficult and expensive to get their products approved.
Funding is also a problem. So far the company has financed the entire process out of its own pocket, without any venture capital. Pitman says they approached the department of trade and industry for help, but have been met with “quite substantial disappointment”. The administrative burden of making an application is “so onerous” and the rules are “so difficult to comply with” that it is difficult for a small company to succeed, he says.
But because the Airplane Factory fulfils the needs of the department’s manufacture and investment programme, Pitman is adamant that they will keep trying to access funding. Meanwhile, the excitement generated by the company’s flights is growing. “Our planes are cheaper and handle better” than similar products from overseas, says Blyth.
With two models already on sale, the company is now designing a five-seater and aims to produce a jet-powered plane. Variety will make the venture economically viable, Blyth says. It won’t be easy to crack the international market, but Blyth and his team are bullish about the future, especially now that they have a distributor in Los Angeles. They also have a buyer in Poland. They built his plane in a week and delivered it to him personally.
Now Blyth and his team are gearing up for their biggest challenge yet. They want to fly around the poles. Blyth is characteristically understated about the idea. “All we need is a bigger and faster plane,” he says.