HINKLER’S STORY.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 20384, 16 April 1928, Page 8

HINKLER’S STORY.

THE LAST HOPS.

MISTOOK WELCOMING CROWD FOR A PICNIC.

Rights of Publication Secured by the Otago Daily Times

-< When I left Singapore I thought I ehouia meet a lot of rain. 1 especed it because I had been told I should leave it all behind me. My weather bulletins ' were never very reliable, possibly owing to the fact that the weather itself is so obstinately contrary. Anyway, 1 got the rain, skies full of it. My impression 'of the Singapore-Java flight is one of , constant storms. As far as Banka, an. island oS the coast " of Sumatra, I flew high above the clouds. I could see them-dropping rain beneath me. I was 7000 ft up. The clouds hid the earth and sea, and Ig; c v lonely. I saw a hole in the cloud ahead of me, and through it I dived, to find myself above Banka. Beneath me steamers were making for Singapore. • From Banka to Java the weather was clear. One of the most -interesting sights ■of the air voyage was one which only an airman can appreciate in its fullness. This was “The Thousand Islands,” a group north of Batavia. I began to count them so as to be able to correct the map, which has so named them. When I got as far as 100 I gave up bothering about whether there were 1000 or not. 1 was willing to take it for granted that, the chap who made the map had more time than I had, and that he was probably correct. ■

, Some of the islands were only 300 to 400. yards across,, covered with trees, and possessing lovely sandy beaches. They looked like jewels in that sapphire sea.

SIDE-STEPPING THE STORM CLOUDS.

. Arriving in Batavia,, over the land, 1 found it capped by heavy clouds. I had learnt to know that clouds were not disassociated with rain, and I;was-not. surprised to find them discharging 'heavy tropical rain. Sometimes you can fly around these storms, but in this case the cloud-banks stretched for many miles. 1 made for. a thinner patch, through which the rain beat pitilessly, whipping me like small twigs. I arrived over Batavia about 12.45 p.m. There is an aerodrome at which I would have landed in ordinary circumstances without trouble, but I had to cruise back and forth for nearly two hours before 1 could slip down. Storms in those latitudes travel quickly. At a height, of, say, 1500 ft you can see which way they are making, and act accordingly. I got round at the back of the storm as if to drive the clouds to market. In front of me they scudded every way, but I rounded Up the mob without losing a single cloud. I can tell you that, even to a pilot who knows the way, it is a matter of tremendous difficulty to fly through a storm. The best way is to beat it by cunning. The aerodrome is situated at Kalidjati, 50 miles south of Batavia. The official aerodrome is at Bandoeng, and, as my cable announcing my arrival was forwarded from there, it was thought that I had actually landed at that spot. Kalidjati is a very .good ground. I landed at 2.22 p.m. From this ground the Dutch Flying School operates. A very nice chap, the Dutch commandant, received me with great kindness. He spoke a' little English, as did his charming wife. They afforded me facilities to attend to the nachine and made me a welcome guest. Java, I thought, was the. most beautifully fertile country I had ever seen. I had little time to make myself acquainted with it, as I hopped off at 6 a.m. next day for Bima. I took a straight line to Samarang, cutting off a corner of Java. From Kalidjati the chief part of the flying to Australia is over water. STIRRED BY THOUGHTS OF DARWIN.

I was getting a bit excited by then. A couple of days, if the luck held, would see me in Darwin with a few fractured records. By breakfast time I had reached Samarang and went humming on through heavy clouds. Down the edge of the coast I skimmed, the engine as regular and as faithful as the day I started. I- thought back over those last 14 days, and found it hard to realise that I had come so far and so fast.

From my airy perch 10,000 ft up, I could see high' volcanoes, not five miles from the sea. It was an extraordinary sight to see so many, a number of them in operation.

A boat underneath me puzzled me a long time by its queer manoeuvres. It maintained a sort of' zigzag course. I finally placed it as a sort of revenue cutter, looking for smugglers. Visibility improved, though I soon plunged into more heavy clouds. I must have looked like a fly crawling into icing sugar. I flew underneath the cloud “ floor,” noting a queer effect. It was very cold underneath, and, owing to the warm air over the sea being drawn upwards my ’plane kept getting sucked into the clouds. When I shut the engine right off, I didn’t lose height for some time, even though I maintained the same forward speed. At Bima I arrived about 3 p.m. Bima possesses a big bay, on the side of which the aerodrome is situated.- I had travelled a good 900 miles. As formerly, the coolies collected as soon as 1 landed and made of themselves a nuisance. Picturesque they were, with their copper skips and their red and yellow clothes. The garments were scanty, but, in comparison with the Indian coolies at Dum-Dum, they looked overdressed. I had sent a wire to the Commissioner requesting him to meet me, but, after waiting naif an hour without seeing him, I thought I would telephone to him. I dared not leave the machine, over which the natives swarmed, whenever my eye was off them, so I asked a more intelligent fellow to go home and ’phone for me. He refused, to my surprise, though I found afterwards that he would have.been forbidden to use the ’phone even if he had gone. He told me he would guide me to the ’phone, but I wasn’t having any.

Shortly after a car came by, and every coolie on the ’drome shouted simultaneously the information that it was the Comraismioner. Ho was Dutch, but spoke English. He was a decent sort, and after arranging for my tanks to be refilled, he selected a sort cf super-policeman among the coolies and left him in charge. In his car I had an experience of a tropical rainstorm, so local that we ran through it and, looking back, could see its limited extent. It passed on like a cloudburst, leaving tho other side of the road dry. The town is 15 miles from the aerodrome. In my friend’* conorate Roman bath I did as the

In this instalment, the tenth, Bert Hinkler ends the story of his flight from England to Australia, by describing the last three hops—Singapore to Kalidjati (Java), Kalidjati to 'Bima, and thence across the Timor Sea to Darwin. The last hop, almost entirely over an unfrequented sea, was one of the most hazardous ,of the flight, but Hinkler makes light of what must have been an exceedingly trying experience, particularly when mosquitoes had robbed him of sleep, and his breakfast had consisted of two bananas.

Romans have often done, and felt a new man. MOSQUITOES BAM SLEEP BEFORE LAST HOP. The weather was as , hot as—well, it was exceedingly hot, 1--didn't relish the job of going back to valet the machine. By the time we finished overhauling it we were working by lamplight, which attracted every : mosquito in the islands. I was almost afraid they might start the engine; four hefty ones could have swung the propeller. I’ll swear one that feasted on me could have bitten through the tank and started the petrol leaking. About II p.m. all was clear, except for the mosquitoes, and I turned in, in a ■ native biit, on a bed furnished with mosquito curtains. Some of the mosquitoes, afraid of their larger brethren, crept in with me, and had supper. I didn’t sleep a wink all night. Neither did' the mosquitoes, so that was f&ir enough. I was glad to get up. I could fight better. For breakfast I had a couple of bananas. It was all the food available. I started out for my 000-mile run to Darwin without a bite of food in the thus. I had a long day ahead, but I was happy. I knew I was going to do it, and nothing could have put me out. 1 even forgave the mosquitoes. Heading seawards, I began that last day with a tricky climb, with a full loadi over the mountains. I took off in the half-light before daybreak, my exhaust pipe showing red hot and gleaming on the machine. Then, safely over, I made for the open sea—and Australia. Making Koepang, south of Timor, about 2.30 p.m., I felt I was practically homeThen came more sea, the emptiest sea I have ever seen. Not a ship marked, the blue.

My first" sight of was Bathurst Island. There was joy, in the cockpit of the good ship Avro-Avian, 16 days out of London. I saw Darwin before me about 4 p.m., and landed at 4.20, convinced that I had disturbed the town at a picnic. It ■jrasn’t till I had landed that I found the crowd was for me, and that the world had sat up and taken notice. I came down out of the heated sky, my heart as light as a feather. We made it, in spite of all the croakers. [Concluded.] The previous instalments of Mr Hinkler’s story were published in our issues of March 28, 29, 30, April 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, and 14.

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