13/10/2026
Brian Goodwin of Wanganui Aerowork in the JetRanger, dropping us into Wakelings Hut in the Ruahine for a 10-day stint. Blackie and Matty Scott pictured. This was my first trip with Brian, and it would be the first of many.
Matty Scott was a mountain of a man, about 6'5", strong as an ox and a great packhorse when there was a deer to carry out. He’d been at school with me, a year or two behind, and years later we ended up working together in the Ruahine.
After that we lost touch.
Then, completely by chance, we ran into each other again one night at Waipoua Hut on Lake Waikaremoana in Te Urewera National Park. I’d been walking around the lake with my family, and Matty came across in a jet boat with his wife to stay the night.
It was one of those wonderfully random meetings. After all those years, there we were in the middle of nowhere, sharing a hut again. We had a great catch-up that night.
I haven’t seen or heard from him since.
Brian was one of those pilots you trusted in any conditions. In country like that, it meant something.
I remember another trip when we’d been at Ikawatea Forks Hut for a week, maybe 10 days. I don’t remember exactly, but we had a day and time arranged for Brian to pick us up.
He was late.
Maybe an hour. Maybe two or three. It was a long time ago, so I can’t remember how long, only that it was long enough for us to start wondering if we were going to get picked up that day.
Down in the Ikawatea Valley the weather was actually fine, but fast-moving clouds were skudding across the tops and you just knew the weather up there wasn’t good.
Then we heard it.
The rotor chop of the Hughes 500D coming in over the ridge.
After all that waiting, it was a bloody satisfying sound. Mind you, let’s be honest, rotor chop is always a satisfying sound.
A few moments later Brian dropped onto the helipad outside the hut, jumped out of the chopper and came over to us.
“F**k, I got lost up there,” he said, indicating the Ruahine tops.
“It’s blizzard conditions.”
Then he just said, “Righto, let’s go.”
The trip out was rough. I distinctly remember the chopper swaying hard from side to side in the wind, feeling at times as though we were banking 45 degrees each way. I’m probably exaggerating with the benefit of 35 years’ memory, but that’s how it felt.
At one point Brian dropped us down low across the Makirikiri to try and get out of the wind. It worked for a while, but eventually we had to climb back into it to get over a high ridgeline before we could land.
It was rough.
Brian dropped us near the old Springvale Suspension Bridge on the Napier-Taihape Road. By then the weather was closing in fast and getting worse by the minute.
We’d barely finished unloading our gear when he looked at the sky and said, “Got to go. I’ve got a party to pick up up the Rangitikei before it really turns to sh*t.”
And that was Brian.
No fuss, no drama. He knew the country, he knew the weather, and he knew his machine. He was one of those pilots you trusted completely when the conditions were anything but.