UNKNOWN

Press, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22430, 17 June 1938, Page 20

UNKNOWN

Jean Batten’s Journey

WILD AND BARREN COUNTRY Prelude to Atlantic Flight (Published by "The Press” under special arrangement.) IX (Continued) mssing over Mogador, and e the rocky peaks of the itains as the range terminly at the coast. The towerlooked like great giants ress farther westward had ft.ed by the mightly Atlantic. ,iuge range it was too, for even , oy the coast where the mountains .re lower they rose to a height of <ver 2000 feet, while about 100 miles inland some of them reached a height of over 12,000 feet. The mountains rose in some places almost sheer from the sea. and I decided to fly some little distance from the coast so that I should be sheltered for the next 60 miles or so from the piercing heat of the sun, which was now burning down with . fierce intensity. It was time for breakfast; so absorbed had I been in watching the sunrise and sighting Mogador that hunger had been forgotten. I now thought longingly of bacon and eggs, crisp toast, and a cup of hot tea. This being out of the question, I surveyed the contents of the larder. On the floor of the cockpit was a box I named the tucker-box. It was well within my reach,-but unfortunately near enough to the auxiliary tanks to allow all the ,, food to be permeated by the unappetizing odour of petrol and oil. The contents of the box formed the daily rations, which consisted of ham sandwiches, ordered overnight, chocolate which was now in a state of liquid, milk tablets, apples, dates, barleysugar, raisins, cereals, cheese, one thermos flask of black coffee and one of water. Not a very long list for breakfast, lunch, and tea in the air. The other things would keep, I thought, selecting a ham sandwich. Holding the control column in my left hand I managed to sip some coffee from the flask without spilling a drop on my white suit. Fortunately the air was calm here in the shelter of the mountains, for this was an extremely difficult feat to perform. To hoW the control column in the left hand, keep one eye on the instrument board and the other on the compass, and while keeping the aeroplane flying straight and level attempt to pour out a cup of coffee from the thermos flask is no easy task. More than once in the past when trying to perform this feat in bumpy weather a shower of hot coffee had been precipitated over me, so nowadays I usually drank out of the thermos itself after leaving the cap off for some time previously to cool the liquid. No Stop Made at Agadir After finishing my breakfast with an apple I felt decidedly refreshed, and was now flying over a rocky promontory and rounding the curve of the mountains to Agadir. Should I land at Agadir and obtain a weather . report for Villa Cisneros, for the report given to me at Casablanca only covered the route as far as this French military outpost? It was already 7.30 G.M.T., and if I were to make Thies before sundown, allowing for one hour on the ground at Villa Cisneros, there was no time to be wasted. In any case, I thought, if the sand were blowing there would be a sufficient margin of petrol left for me to turn back to Cape Juby, which would be the next landing ground I should pass over about 300 miles farther on. The farther southward I flew the more wild and barren became the country, until it was so featureless that there was nothing to look at but mile after mile of sandy coastline. It was easy to realise now why I had been ordered to carry all the additional equipment. There was no sign of civilisation to be seen: no living thing apparently existed on this forsakenlooking country. Even a stray herd of camels would at least have relieved the. monotony of the yellow sandy expanse. Opening both windows that I might gain some respite from the close, suffocating heat inside the cabin, I struggled to remove my heavy coat. The monotony was not to last long, however, for soon a series of bumps which seemed to shake the whole structure of the aircraft roused me from my lethargy. The sky was partially covered with fluffy cumulus clouds, above which I climbed in an endeavour to reach calmer atmosphere. Almost two hours out from Agadir I caught sight of a small encampment through a gap in the clouds, and shutting off the engine glided down that I might make sure I had not passed over Cape Juby without checking it. There it was, a group of square white houses and a landing ground marked with a circle—a welcome sight to a lonely pilot. Setting a direct course for Villa Cisneros I climbed once more above the clouds, which were assuming a yellowish tinge with the dust which a fresh wind was whirling up from the desert. It looked rather like a storm blowing up, and I hoped the weather would hold at least long enough for me to get through to Villa Cisneros, another 350 miles farther on. Land of the Biffs An. hour later I decided it was a case. of jumping from the frying-pan into the fire. Up here I certainly avoided the bumps and bad visibility, but the sun was scorching, and looking down on to clouds was even more monotonous than the barren desert. Gliding down through a gap I found the clouds offered a certain amount of shelter from the sun, and although it was bumpy visibility had improved a great deal. I strained my eyes for some sign of an Arab encampment, remembering all the tales I had heard about the Riffs, who apparently lived in this part of the world. Years ago when the French were surveying a route over the Sahara desert, and across which they now operate two motor-car services and a regular air service, they experienced a great deal of trouble with the natives. On this west coast route, however, the natives had been the most troublesome, for they seemed particularly cruel and warlike. During those pioneering days aeroplanes had frequently been forced down on this territory, and some of the men captured by the Riffs had been cruelly tortured. Eventually the French Government had made the Riffs understand that an aviator was worth money to them if delivered safe and sound. Nowadays the worst that could happen to any aviator who made a forced, landing on this desolate stretch would be that if captured by the Riffs he would be held to ransom. That may have had something to do with that 100,000-franc guarantee that i had to arrange, I thought, wishing the time would pass more quickly, so that I could once more reach civilisation. All the same, my curiosity prompted me to wish for one peep at .ill'll..lift*- Not a horde of them such as assa c£agd.,seen in foreign Legion pjctqres, jsre thof across the-

screen, but just one or two viewed from 1000 ft couldn’t be very daefißP* ■ tous. However, they were either vaT r elusive or encamped in the santftii» farther inland, for I failed to see M?. sign of life whatever, although I ku** from past experience how natives cww ■ apparently spring from nowhere wh** , a stranger landed on their territory- - . 3000-Mile Flight to West Africa To the west stretched the Atlantic, with its blue expanse seem* ‘ ing to stretch into infinity. Althoag it provided a certain relief fromwji intense glare of the desert, I view* it with a certain uneasiness. It W*, a constant reminder of the 108 * | cent, efficiency that would hejjgfeijj. manded of the trusty engine w*; purred so happily hour after hfljgI wished that the taking-off point a*, the South Atlantic crossing were ■* so far from England. The 3000 rang to West Africa seemed a long, groewafi - flight in itself rather than a prebw* to an Atlantic flight. Neither®* engine nor myself could be expected to be quite as fresh as when we k* at the commencement of the flight. A severe test was in store for the aircraft, too, and for the big auxflhET 80-gallon petrol-tank, which air*® completely filled the cabin, leairag me only just sufficient room to effijjjj in front of it to take my place at the controls. For the flight across to* Atlantic Ocean it would be necessaCT to fill all five petrol-tanks to capioft so that the aircraft would be "***£ heavily laden for the take-off- r» the flight to the military aerodrome of Thies, from where I proposed crossing to Brazil, it was not necessary *° fill all the tanks, for there were aerodromes at reasonable intervals wi**® it was possible to refuel. For m* 1907-mile flight from Thies to it would be of the utmost imparts** 6 to have a safety margin of petrdL The horizon was blurred by a yeiwf dust-haze, and visibility became steadily worse, until at last 1 *** forced to fly very low over the cosw* line so that I might not lose sigh** it altogether and perhaps miss va»» Cisneros. After flying so low at times I was obliged to hurdle U* machine over rocky boulders on ■ shore, at last the air became cle**J» and running parallel with the coas®* I noticed a line of fairy high sag* hills. These hills were of pecttO* undulating formation. and wdS 1 marked on my map as “Las Almeosaterminating about 25 miles of Villa Cisneros. ♦ , - (To be ContinuedD