KILIMANJARO

Auckland Star, Volume LXXIII, Issue 255, 28 October 1942, Page 2

KILIMANJARO

"GRANDFATHER"PEAK

FLEET FLYER'S PICTURE

(By J.C.)

This description of the famous peak Kilimanjaro is contained in a letter to his parents by a young New Zealand officer in the Fleet Air Arm, stationed a few degrees south of the Equator.

Once more we face the monster into the wind, push the lever, and rush forward and up, then reduce the power and watch the countryside slide below, but this time there are no ordered fields and smoothly rounded hills Instead, below a plain of waving palm tree tops broken by occasional lakes, pools and rivers. To one side the jungle ends in wide beaches leading in to lagoons and spits, on the other it stretches for miles to ranges of peaks These, save for a few outliers, rise beyond the horizon, but being tall come far above it, and although they are far away, the jagged shapes and dark forest covering can be seen. Behind them and above rises the grandfather peak, Kilimanjaro.

It is a monster peak, the highest and most wonderful I have ever seen; a great national big game sanctuary. Its height is 19,700 feet. It is more outrageous in shape than any elsewhere. Authorised tg fly, I nearly always rise high enough to see the lot. On coming down there is sketching to be done.

Life here is, on the whole, good. Advantages are comfortable ..quarters and food—the junior flying officers live together in an hotel—bright hot sun, clear blue skies, very photographic clouds, trees, birds and butterflies in a thousand new shapes and colours; gnat-like flying insects humming like aircraft which cause you to take refuge under the nearest table. Disadvantages—well, it is hot, and will be more so. Seventy degrees is quite cool. Mosquitoes by the million, of the venomous kind.

What an interesting country to fly over! At low altitude one can see plainly the various strange shaped trees, the trails in the forest, and the little groups of mud huts and maize crops. On the rivers, large animals go floundering in as you fly over. On the coast, one looks down far through the clear water to see the ripples and waves the current makes in the sea bed. In some quiet lagoons lie submerged rusty steamers, relics of the last war. Inland the country twists more, ridges of green rise among the trees, and then in the distance go skywards until the rocks show.

Daily we fly about all over this, with an eye on the radiator temperature. It is usual to fly in very little clothing—certainly no extra is necessary; at low altitude or on the ground the heat is enormous, and care is necessary to avoid boiling the engine. Oil and sweat fly liberally. Then home to a cup of tea and a swim or bath, and to pass the late afternoon reading or writing or in my case, compounding pictures as well, and raking in the world on the radio until bed time. Bed, I might say, is entirely surrounded by antimosquito netting, and a covering of one sheet is provided, with an optional blanket. I still hide under the blanket, even here. And so soundly to sleep.