Walking on clouds

Kester gives the thumbs up as he lands back from his wing walk on top of a boeing stearman bi-plane.

This story is written by Kester Woof, a regular Aerobility flyer and supporter of the charity. Read below Kester’s experience explaining what it was like Wing Walking for Aerobility:

“So Dylan,” I messaged my partner out of the blue on a quiet February afternoon, “What if I did a Wing Walk this year?”

And before I knew it I had signed up to take part in Aerobility’s 2026 Wing Walk. 

I had never really done fundraising events before. I’ll admit that part of me was concerned that I would feed into the stereotype of the inspirational disabled person. ‘If someone with a disability can do something, then surely an able-bodied person can do anything!’ On the other hand, as a white cane user I had recently been congratulated for successfully disembarking from a bus - so I figured if people were going to be impressed, it might as well be for something that was actually impressive. And I wanted to support Aerobility. Aerobility has been a haven for me, of support, normalcy, and a road into a world that I didn’t think would have space for me. Words cannot describe what that has meant.

I was originally scheduled to fly with the other Wing Walkers on the 17th of June. However, bad weather on the day and a poorly timed surgery pushed this date back considerably, and it was not until the 19th of September that I woke up early in the morning, and set off on a train to Rendcomb, running on little to no sleep.

To describe Rendcomb airfield as an air ’field’ is a particularly apt description. Rendcomb is a grass airfield, meaning there are no tarmac runways. Planes just line up into the wind and take off in whatever direction that happens to be. I arrived to an enormous grassy paddock, lined with a few picnic tables, and a small retro-themed reception office where Jet’s ‘Are You Gonna Be My Girl’ blared over the radio. Up above, behind the scattered cumulus clouds, the vivid blue sky was crystal clear. It was a perfect day for flying. 

After a short wait surrounded by racing flags and aerobatic memorabilia, I was ushered through with the other wing walkers to watch an informational video. Instructions were sleek and straight forwards. Don’t touch your harness; wave your arms for a wilder ride; arms by your side to take it easy; and, most important of all, thumbs down to land as soon as possible. “You never know what it’s like being up there until you’re up there,” The pilot shrugged, “It happens all the time. You won’t be the first or the last.”

Excellent life advice just in general, but my heart skipped a beat all the same. Because what if I did come all this way just to get up there and find out it wasn’t for me? What if I was making a terrible mistake? What if I flew into a bird? What if everyone was right, and I should have been more careful?

After filling in and signing the traditional liability forms and donning the bright orange jumpsuit, I waited restlessly for my turn, messaging friends and family, and chatting with one of the other wing walkers - a young Polish man called Adam, who very kindly took most of the photos you see of my experience. I’d better keep my mouth closed during takeoff, I thought to myself at one point, I don’t want to swallow a bug. Finally, the moment came, and I was strapped into the top wing of a beautiful Boeing Stearman, secured against the seat with little more than a harness and some cables. 

Put! Put! The splutter of the engine turned into a roar, and the plane set off at a confident trot towards the far corner of the airfield in preparation for departure. What if I was making a terrible mistake? What if I flew into a bird? Well, whatever happened next, I was going to make the most of it. And then we were going fast. And then we were going fast. And then we were going so fast I was pressed back into my seat, and then so fast the skin on my cheeks began to ripple. And that was about the point where I started laughing.

Shoving my arms out into the wind, and forgetting all caution of bugs in a moment, as that plane took off I opened my mouth and erupted into song. I’m about 85% sure it was Flying Without Wings. It might have been I Believe I Can Fly. Whatever it was, by the time I reached the end of the first chorus, the wind had rendered the insides of my mouth completely dry. Because those winds were fast, exceeding speeds of 100mph. I’d thought it might be cold, and I suppose technically it was, but up there, it was almost too windy to be cold. When I tried to readjust my footing I found my feet glued to the wing with the force. My ears ached. My shoulders ached. I waved as much as I could anyway, determined to keep waving until my arms went numb.

All of a sudden we dipped sideways. My stomach lurched, eyes widening a moment before I erupted into a fit of cackles, flailing my arms as the pilot dipped and weaved through the sky.

There came a moment when I realised that I had been looking down, and something made me lift my gaze to the skyline. That, more than anything, took my breath away. Even to my blurry vision, it felt as though I had never seen a horizon so clear. The point at which the emerald fields met the azure skies faded into a blue so pale it was almost white, rays of sunlight blooming through every detail. I fly planes - I’ve climbed mountains - and still, it felt like I’d never seen anything quite like this. 

I laughed until I had run out of breath, waved until I couldn’t wave anymore, and hit the ground with eardrums that felt as though they would burst, whooping for joy. I staggered away from the plane with my right side determined that we were tilted to the left, reassuring Adam as he climbed up behind me: “You’re going to have a great time.”

Twenty minutes later, I received a frantic phone call from my partner. “Did you do the wing walk?” They asked anxiously. “Did you have a fantastic time? And you’re not going up again today? You’re going to have your feet on the ground for the rest of the day?”

Yes, but it didn’t feel like it. For I was walking on clouds. 

Nothing could have prepared me for the support I would receive for my endeavours. In total, the generosity of my supporters raised a whopping £1,185 for Aerobility, a number that still flabbergasts me every time I look at it. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to the singers of Vocality’s Claygate choir; the staff at Martin Baker; the members of my mother’s book club; and the incredible friends and family who have donated and spread the word to make this possible. Special thanks to the phenomenal fundraising team at Aerobility for facilitating this event, and to the talented team at AeroSuperBatics for taking me on such a incredible adventure into the skies. 

Feeling inspired to walk amongst the clouds too? Check out this webpage to sign up to for your own Aerobility Wing Walk