Now yesterday was great and the day before even better when, with the exhausts going on in beautiful fashion, I had made a bee line for North Cape. As it was getting dark, I called up an old school friend whom I had not seen since his wedding some 27 years ago, he having taken to the Metropolitan Police for a career whilst I had, for the past 20 years been signing documents, when requested occupation? A chronic litigant. We had camped and mountaineered all over the British Isles together, whilst in the Taunton School scout troop, revered as the “Best in the West”.
Overhead Maganui Bay, where I believed he lived, I gave him a call and on reply, over the noise of the engine, I said I had fled the UK and was seeking police protection and could he help? It was not until I reminded him that he last saw me disappearing from his wedding reception with some 3 nubile young ladies adorning my 1936 PB MG, each with a bottle in their hand, did he remember my voice. Latitude and longitude, once given, I flew along a spectacular coast near Taupo bay to land in a sheep field just a few fields from his house, perched on a hill top with breath taking panoramic views. Next day, after much talking through the night, over a scrumptuous plate of snapper and the getting out of the old scout photos, we were invited by Ray to watch the shearing and him feed “gurt eels” in the stream, some weighing well over 4lbs.
I had to move on but not without the clear impression that, despite Richard’s total dedication to his job and despite the sinister Masonic environment of devil worship to which he had so nobly chosen to be within, he may have been side lined, yes, but had maintained sound principles of conduct, especially when dealing with the general public. Now was that due to genotypic traits or was there also phenotypic influence from a private education that both our parents had so sacrificed for, back in the 50s and 60s?
I flew up 90 Mile Beach, low level, not a soul in sight, on to North Cape and landed at a duster’s strip as part of my “pre-flight planning”......more on this, possibly, later.
Back at Kerikeri no one, but no one, had a chart of Norfolk nor the space between there and the North Cape. No one could even tell me distance or range and the commercial pilots backed it with, “don’t trust weather forecasts!” Now I had discovered yet another leak in yet another tank and now one of the fuel taps was dripping ever so slightly. Much work to do with no time and no tools. The weather window was now starting to close and I was tired.
Customs, thankfully (Maurice is bowing), allowed special dispensation to clear foreign via Kerikeri, rather than via Auckland, well over a hundred miles in the wrong direction. They had not been given sufficient warning of my exit, so could only clear me on the Friday, as late as 8am, which brought me far too close for comfort to incoming adverse weather forecast later that day. I needed a good clear 5 degrees between dew point and ambient temperatures to reduce the risk of sea fog, so notorious for blotting out Norfolk Island, even for the commercial boys.
My margins were being eroded by the hour and I still had to pack and post my worldly belongings, laptop and all, file a flight plan, get through 3 newspaper interviews and try and get some sleep. Sleep..... 3 years ago, after over 21 days of little of it and over 11 hours of flying low level over the Timor had led to the next day with my falling asleep “at the wheel”, the out of balance airframe only saving my life, as I hurtled to the ground some 200 miles south of Darwin. On becoming aware I was nodding off, I had realised that the rubber bungee that had been pulling the control column [joy stick] diagonally all the way from Biggin Hill, as the aircraft was so out of trim, needed to be released on the premise that I may fall asleep.
Upon recovery I promptly got lost, my mental state not even being able to remember which way the sun went round, south of the equator.
I am now 3 years older but, with severe bouts of cramp in the cockpit, together with all 7 broken joints now giving me periods of significant pain, it feels more like10 and yet with failing eyesight, hearing and what was it, I’ve forgotten again? Ah yes, memory, makes the future far more daunting for me than the last few days of the London to Sydney Air Race.
Happy Birthday to my brother and sister, Tim and Celia.....and may you both age gracefully and both succeed in passing on wisdom.
Terrible news just recieved late Jan 005 in that RAY WHITE has just been killed on his farm by electrocution while sorting out the water for his sheep....
.....In the very short time I knew him he had been a great inspiration jumping from his truck to quad to horse just to round up a few thousand sheep.......despite being busy he took me off to see the eels in the stream and showed me round the sheep shearing in full steam! A terrible loss for not just his family but a great inspiration for anyone who met him ,,,,,my movies of him will be on site once I have sorted the royal courts of justice farce.