Transatlantic | England to Australia | London to Cape Town

England to Australia Articles Part I: The Vimy Flies Again Part II: Building an Authentic Vimy Part III: The Trip Begins Part IV: Weather Part V: Trouble in Egypt Part VI: The Desert Part VII: Problems and More Problems Part VIII: Crash Landing! Part IX: New Engine Part X: Australia

England to Australia Flight Part V: Trouble in Egypt by Peter McMillan The sky brightened before we left Italy, but we ran into a new challenge in Greece. We had to lose weight. Since the next two legs of the journey were over water, we didn't want to carry any unnecessary gear. We began unloading at Athens airport, shedding more than 600 pounds. Among other things, we decided to ship all our warm clothes back home, leaving me with my thin flight suit, a pair of pants, a pair of shorts, three shirts, and not enough underwear. We did not know that from this point forward we'd get hot and sweaty each morning preparing the plane for takeoff, then freeze for hours once we hit altitude. Lang took the wheel for the 200-mile crossing of the Mediterranean to Crete, which gave me a spectacular view of the Greek archipelago, with its azure waters, sculptured bays, and cliffs speckled with white stucco houses with blue roofs. During the same flight in 1919, the Vimy's two mechanics had engaged in a wrestling match with four tyre inner tubes, which they had inflated to serve as life preservers. When the plane ascended the tubes expanded, nearly crowding them out of the rear cockpit. As Wally Shiers told an interviewer years afterward: "I said to Benny: 'They're expanding, Benny! Blimey, what are we going to do?'" He said: 'Oh we can't put up with this, Wal, next thing they'll lift us out of the cockpit.'" And sure enough, one of them did bulge out that much that we had to get the jackknife and puncture it." As we made our descent into Cairo the next day, I was struck by the sour, dusty smell of animals, mixed with automobile exhaust. Flying as low as we did, we could not help noticing all the smells along our route. The French countryside had seemed almost floral compared with the smog of Athens, which reminded me of burning asphalt. Pungent woodsmoke would later fill the air as we pushed into Asia. We'd been looking forward to seeing the Pyramids from the cockpit of the Vimy. But a misunderstanding almost got the plane shot down over Giza. It happened on Day 9, when Mark Rebholz, whose regular job is to fly 737s for United Airlines, took the Vimy up with Mick Reynolds for a dawn tour of the ancient monuments. After our stressful week in Europe, Lang and I were taking a day off. The Geographic photo teams were following the Vimy in the chase planes. Awakened by the familiar note of the Vimy's V8s, an almost musical humming, I looked out of my hotel window to see her orbiting the Pyramids. When Mark landed later that morning, however, he was met at the airport by Paul Strickland from the Australian Embassy. "You really stirred up a hornet's nest around the Pyramids," Paul said. "Egyptian soldiers are on their way out here right now." "What do you mean?" Mark asked."Apparently gunners in the Air Defense Command had anti-aircraft weapons trained and ready to fire on all three of your planes." "You're joking. We had permission to make that flight. We were talking to the control tower at Cairo airport the whole time." "Maybe so, but nobody told the officer commanding the restricted military area beside the Pyramids. He was furious. He even asked his superiors for permission to shoot. You had better leave right away." Taking Paul's advice, Mark and the rest of the crew retreated to the hotel, where with more help from the Australian Embassy; we eventually defused the situation. Feelings were still tender about our brazen fly-by for the next two days, however, during which the fog and red tape kept us on the ground.

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