How an airline pilot became an environmentalist, and the death threats that followed

There and back again: I was born in Plymouth, in the south of England, in 1955. My father was a primary-school teacher. He was in the air force during the war – as ground crew – and ran an air cadet organisation. From the age of five, I used to tag along and knew I wanted to be a pilot.

When I was 10, we emigrated to Sydney, Australia, under the £10 migrant scheme. It was a five-week journey by sea through the Mediterranean and the Suez Canal, stopping in Sri Lanka. My father was appalled by the education system in Sydney, which was very regimented. So, after a year we returned to the UK and he got a job teaching in Exeter. My brother and I went to a grammar school, Hele’s School, and I joined the Air Cadets.

Sky high: I was 13 when I first got airborne on a primary glider – a simple A-frame with an open seat and a Y-shaped bungee cord and hook on the back. Half a dozen guys heaved on the cords and you were shot into the air. Not long after that, I got flying experience at a local airport, in the back of a Chipmunk, a two-seater, single-engine plane with a propeller.

When I was 16, I was able to do a gliding course and got solo on that. All these experiences were free through the cadet course. When I was 17, I applied through the Royal Air Force (RAF) for a flying scholarship. It allowed me to go to a civilian flying school and they took you up to a pilot’s licence. I learned to fly before I could drive.

Ups and downs: After my A-levels, I applied to the RAF for a university cadetship. I studied environmental sciences at the University of East Anglia, which in 1973 was ground­-breaking stuff. In my spare time, I was a member of the Cambridge University Air Squadron and ran the hot air balloon club. On my last landing, I accidentally landed in an industrial greenhouse – it made the noise you’d expect – but the farmer was quite nice about us landing among his tomato plants.