Captain Michael Smith sets off in his Seabear seaplane to follow a historic trail blazed by his namesake 100 years earlier… in a Vickers Vimy
2 September 2020
In 1919 Australian Prime Minister Billy Hughes, sensing the important role aviation may one day have for his young nation, put up a challenge aimed squarely at the pilot service men waiting to return home from the Great War. A £10,000 prize was up for grabs for the first to fly from the UK to Australia. It was open to land and seaplanes, multiple parties set out and the Great Air Race turned out to be demanding, difficult and finished by few.
Ultimately, no seaplanes participated in 1919, yet having taken delivery in Russia of my new Southern Sun flying boat, a Seabear, the chance to retrace the historic 1919 Vickers Vimy flight lead by Captain Smith, winner of the Great Air Race from London to Darwin, was an exciting opportunity which fitted perfectly with my love of historic routes.
I had secured an original copy of the March 1921 National Geographic magazine, which covered the Smith flight in great detail, and which I could use as a guide to plan my retracing of their route. It featured many photos that had been taken by them, which I was keen to try and recreate. With time aplenty in Samara, we got the first one sorted. The original engineers, Shiers and Bennet, were replaced by my new Russian comrades, Dmitry and Slava. So, off to a good start indeed!
I had planned to leave London on November 12, 2019 – the same day the Vickers Vimy had done 100 years earlier. We would arrive in Darwin on 10 December, giving us the same 28 days the Vimy crew had, visiting most of the same cities – skipping only Syria, Iraq and Iran. Some paperwork delays leaving Russia meant I needed to leave the UK as soon as arriving on November 19, giving me three weeks to still reach Darwin exactly 100 years after Captain Ross Smith and his crew.
Even in a faster aircraft, it would make it a busy adventure with not much time for an important task I had given myself – not only visit the same cities, but try to take the same photos Capt Smith did in 1919, by, well, me, Capt Smith, in 2019 – and see how has the world changed over a century.
As the first flight also carried the first international airmail to Australia, I had a sack of commemorative airmail to carry, which would need various stamps and postmarks along the way. I had certainly made what started as ‘I need to fly from Russia to Australia’ about as complicated as it could be!
At the historic West London Aero Club White Waltham Airfield, there was a constant flow of people with various camera devices, and non-club members standing at the fence line with large cameras on tripods taking photos. The folks at the club were friendly and very helpful, it was a great place from which to start the journey – especially as it’s an all-grass airfield, much like Hounslow Heath field where the Vickers Vimy (VV) departed in 1919.
All was looking good until, just as I was ready to depart, there was a new ‘first’ in aviation for me – a flat tyre! With wonderful help from a local club member, we were fully pumped and off on the first leg. Flying over Tower Bridge wasn’t possible, immediately highlighting one of the changes in 100 years. However, I was able to find the buildings and foreshore at Folkestone in a photo taken by Ross Smith as they left England to cross the Channel.
I flew through France landing at Lyon, on a glorious day for flying, and it felt so good just to finally be underway. There was a light tailwind and scattered fluffy clouds. The French countryside was green and scattered with gorgeous little (and not so little) old houses.
Upon landing I discovered that all the hotels were booked. I felt pretty exhausted and so just walked to a café for a light meal and returned for an early night in the Southern Sun. Actually, I slept well, much better than on the last trip in the Searey, as this time around I have a bed! The advantage of staying in the aeroplane is you are immediately ready to go the next morning for some beautiful sunrise flying. I sadly had to accept not heading into Lyon as there was weather coming, and I could not risk being stuck for a couple of days.
Consequently, I spent the next few days flying and looking around in Pisa and Taranto in Italy and Crete in Greece before heading for something I was very excited about – my first flight to a new continent , Africa’s Egypt.
I had an image in my mind of swooping low between the pyramids to capture an incredible photo from the air… alas, it was a dream set a century ago. The minimum height allowed for flying in Egypt is 8,500ft – and with the permanent haze above the city, the pyramids were indistinguishable, I didn’t even get the camera out.
Ross Smith had great freedom wandering the pyramids, and was even able to get a photo with no one else in it! I made my best effort to take a shot just like his, and while I couldn’t get in the same position, my perspective was not too different to his…
With an early start the next day for Haifa in Israel, I needed to get some rest. But, all too easily a plan collapses. I had been advised that flying from Cairo to Israel (direct) was not possible, so had planned via Aqaba, adding about 200 miles to the direct route, for a quick pit stop then onwards departure.
So many delays due to paperwork and weather meant that I was really up against it. I not only wanted to keep moving as my Darwin-bound date of 10 December loomed quickly but I was also to be a guest speaker at a dinner in Israel and I was determined not to let them down. And, I was also conscious of maintaining safe operations.
Finally, I reluctantly accepted the longer route, and with a requested 9,500ft I got away, and was immediately told to climb to 11,000ft, then 13,000ft, and soon after, an impossible 23,000ft. Then I was to track due south to a new waypoint – changing my route and adding another 150 miles – and I have to tell you, I really started to worry, and I had images of having to ditch in the sea. So I pleaded with the controllers, explaining that both height and route were precarious for me… After the intervention from a captain of another flight, they relented and let me return to the planned route and descend to 11,000ft. Here, despite advising my maximum operational height was 10,000ft without bottled oxygen, having flown a lot at this height I knew I would be OK.
As had happened on my round-the-world trip back in 2015, within 10 miles of the Israeli border, my GPS signals all died, and were erratic for the next 15 minutes. Luckily I anticipated it this time and was ready with good old magnetic bearings, stopwatch and my flight plan sectors – certainly reminiscent to navigating 100 years ago.
I landed in Haifa with an hour to spare before I was due to start my dinner talk. Alas, I was an hour late, due to a thorough search of the aeroplane, followed by my passport having some extreme scrutinising.
Local friend Amir drove me over to Ein Vered airfield (LLEV) where more than 100 well-fed light sport pilots and members of AOPA Israel were waiting in the clubhouse. With the iPad plugged in, I jumped into the presentation, frankly high on adrenaline and low on energy, but so pleased to be back in Israel. It is one of my favourite countries – the incredible history, sights and especially the people. We had a wonderful night with lots of chatting afterwards, and I found out that the guys had a surprise planned for me the next day.
“Lower and lower we descended, until we flew along the salt laden waters at -1,200ft, the water’s edge salt encrusted”
I wasn’t quite sure what was planned but in my talk I’d explained that I’d hoped to get an aerial photo of Jerusalem to match the one in the National Geographic magazine that I shared around the audience. They had so much more in store for me… A tour of Israel had been arranged, with special permission for me to fly an Australian registered aircraft VFR around the country at low levels for sightseeing.
We ventured north to the Sea of Galilee, and flew right along the shore of Tiberias, which is where Empire Airways used to land back in the 1930s to refuel, and where I hadn’t been allowed to fly to in 2015. It was the weirdest feeling as we descended through sea level on the altimeter, ultimately skimming just above the surface of the lake at minus 600ft!
That was seriously exciting and felt like unfinished business from my circumnavigation! Next we flew south over Jericho to the Dead Sea, down the valley of the Jordan River, which marks the boundary between Israel and Jordan. Lower and lower we descended, until we flew along the salt laden waters at minus 1,200ft, the water’s edge salt encrusted and many people in bathing. This was surreal. The water looked oily and heavy, the landscape stark but as we were cleared down to minimums we made the most of it.
At the end of the sea we climbed to fly over the Masada, the rock-top fortified Palace built by Herod the Great, accessed by a cable car today but back then it must have been quite a trek!
Overwhelmed by all that I’d seen in just a couple of hours of flying, we descended to land at the Masada Airfield – the lowest airfield on Earth at minus 1,240ft. We had a pitstop for coffee and a chat before heading north-west.
Our route home took us past Jerusalem, positioned with reference to the original photo. It is amazing how the old walled city looks pretty much the same as it would have done for Ross Smith and his Vickers Vimy crew – it’s been built up for centuries – and the surrounding area has filled out substantially over the last century!
It was simply one of the most memorable days ever. An incredible experience filled with so much history and striking scenery squeezed into such a compact country.
It was time to leave Haifa and head through some troubled lands of the Middle East.
I had tried to get permission to land in Syria, Iraq and Iran. I was keen to retrace the trip fully, and Damascus, Baghdad and Bandar Abbas were ancient cities I’d long wanted to visit. However, flight clearances for these three countries were only available through diplomatic channels and I didn’t even waste their time asking. In the end, when a drone was shot out of the sky in Iran, I figured it might not just be the best time to pop in anyway…
An early departure from Haifa sent me south of Syria and Iraq with an overnight tech stop in Bahrain, then over Dubai and along the edge of Iranian airspace for most of the day before picking up the Vickers Vimy route again in Pakistan, for a quick overnight stop, then on to wonderful India.
Landing in Delhi late afternoon, I got to know the dozen or so staff who came to greet the aeroplane and have their photos taken while we waited a couple of hours for fuel. It was an intriguing place to be parked, with more private jets than I’d ever seen.
It was then explained to me that these are the small jets, the big private jets are on the other side. It makes sense. India is a big country with many large companies dominating nationwide in an enormous economy. With so many city centres it would be a great way to get a lot of work done efficiently. (Note: Interesting just how I so easily justified private aeroplane ownership!)
There were some predictable delays on the tarmac throughout India, which was reminiscent of trying to go from Egypt to Israel. While I remained in the aircraft ‘cooking’, a steady flow of cars and people came to take their photos with the aeroplane, all seemingly oblivious to the fact that I just wanted to get going!
From Kolkata the flight to Yangon was only five hours, and fairly easy, and we landed right at the end of the day. I was directed to Stand One, alongside all the Airbuses and Boeings, which I thought was pretty cool.
I stopped for a day in Myanmar, as it was my first visit and was unlikely to return anytime soon, with temples and river boat fun to be had! It was a day of much walking and wandering, in a city I hadn’t visited before, with some lovely discoveries along the way.
These are quick visits and I am aware that I’m not allowing enough time to really get into a place. But the way people take time to proudly show their city or share their time to make the most of the opportunity is constantly rewarding and reinforces the inherent good in people across this world. Just when I thought there was no chance of me finding a Thai cultural event to recreate Smith’s photo of three Thai women in cultural outfits, along came a wonderful modern incarnation – the same outfits, and all of the women using their mobile phones! What a great way to finish Bangkok.
Singapore was going to be about an eight-hour flight. I was lucky the weather was going to be a clear run. The Gulf of Thailand can be a tough place when the CBs decide it’s time to dance.
But in fact the flight was pretty dull, uneventful, and I was looking forward to two nights staying with a pilot mate, Brad Smith, and a day in Singapore. That was, until on landing, I took another look at the weather modelling for the next few days when it became clear that there was bad weather coming. If I didn’t leave really early in the morning, I’d be in Singapore for days and almost certainly not make it to Darwin on time.
The following morning brought the toughest few hours I think I’ve had. I was determined to remain visual, I flew by hand and flew around many, many clouds, CBs and rain.
I only got rained on a few times. It was demanding and taxing but I realised I’d matured a lot as a pilot since 2015 when I headed out from Australia in the Searey. I was incredibly focused, managing from a great platform and remained calm but not over confident.
Having said that, boy, was I glad when I was clear of it, which took about four hours.
I crossed into the Surabaya airspace 100 miles out, and experienced something I hadn’t had on the whole trip up until now. Something I had dealt with so often on my circumnavigation but by some freak of good luck on this trip had been foreign to me – a headwind.
Yes, I hadn’t wanted to say it out loud along the way, but I had enjoyed a tailwind on EVERY flight since leaving London. A five knot headwind for the last four hours just didn’t seem so bad…
I took a day off for exploring in Surabaya, Indonesia where one of my favourite stories from the trip took place. In the second half of the original trip many of the runways were hacked from farm fields, and upon landing the Vickers Vimy became bogged in.
They dug it out, moved it, only to become bogged down again. So, as they dug it out again, they put the wheels on some grass mats – and it worked. Consequently, they called on the entire village to bring their mats from home, and so many turned up overnight that they were able to lay a grass mat runway! What an incredible story of
mass human kindness and the entire community coming together.
The Vickers Vimy landed on 9 December at Atambua on the island of Timor, at the time part of the Dutch East Indies. Ross Smith wrote that they barely slept as they were so anxious and excited that the following day they would arrive in Darwin, and a return to Australian shores. And there would be success in their incredible endeavour, not to mention winning the Great Air Race and netting a tidy purse of £10,000 – around $1,000,000 in today’s money.
Atambua is now part of Indonesia and a domestic airport only so while still of the island of Timor, my final stop before crossing the Timor Sea was scheduled to be Dili, just over the border in Timor-Leste. The planned 3.45pm landing time in Darwin had been chosen, as there was debate as some records suggested the Vickers Vimy landed at 3.40pm, others 3.50pm…
In an old film posted at some point, which I had watched, I averaged it to 3.45pm and it stuck. I was determined to touch the runway at the exact minute. The good news, with a generous flight time of around four hours, was that there was no need for a crazy early start.
The usual flight plan fiascos – sorry, erm, entertainment – continued, but soon enough we were away. There were headwinds above 3,000ft so I crossed the sea at 1,500ft where I was surprised to find a small tailwind all the way!
It became clear I was going to be a good half-an-hour early, so with 150 miles remaining I started slowing down and made a plan with a nod to the past. I would fly the last hour at only 80kt, the speed taken by Ross Smith and his crew aboard the Vickers Vimy.
By coincidence it was the same speed that I went around the world in a Searey, so while it was familiar to me, it felt very slow and mushy in the new Southern Sun!
I was soon in contact with Darwin controllers, which is operated by the RAAF, and who I think are the calmest, clearest, politest and most helpful ATC in all of the lands, right up there with the teams in Israel and the UK – world class and made for the start of a very warm welcome. Well, except for the thunderstorm and lightning at the end!
The plan had been for me to land on Runway 29 where there was a convenient viewing area for the public but lightning saw me change to 36, which took me straight over Fannie Bay and Sir Ross Smith Avenue, the site of their original landing strip, before turning base. As I eagerly watched my GPS time, turning onto final, I saw 06:14 click around, 3.44pm local. With a few more knots than usual I focused on the runway, holding the wheels above it until I saw the four roll over to a five – and then touched down 100 years after Ross landed the Vimy. Hurrah!
As I took my taxi directions towards the main terminal building, I noticed something that made my heart skip – fire trucks. They were either side of the taxiway and all facing each other. The water cannons were aimed high and towards each other. I felt very proud, emotional and wished my family were here. I later found out that my flight had been put on the arrivals board. So now I felt spoilt indeed.
So it was that an arch of water welcomed my arrival into Darwin after 21 days of flying from London, and four weeks of waiting in Russia! As I passed under the watery arch, the spray-laden windscreen obscured my view, but thanks to Russian ingenuity, I flicked the switch on the yoke and the windscreen wiper cleared the view ahead!
I parked off to the side for quarantine and Border Force inspection and all was fine after spraying the cabin for critters. I then taxied in front of the terminal to Bay 4, between an Alliance Fokker 100 airliner and an Australia Post van – right in front of Dome Café and hundreds of people standing in the window waving and taking photos.
I clambered out to be met by Andrew and Greg from Australia Post, absolute legends who had made it their mission to be part of the commemorative mail journey, even arranging a special postmark rubber stamp for my flight with the day’s date on it! They took my Gladstone bag with 364 items in it, a mix of postcards and envelopes, the same number of items the Vimy had delivered a century earlier. Speeches ensued, a quick Q&A session with a local radio host, then we cut a magnificent cake.
When the dust settled, Southern Sun was put away for the night, and I arranged a quiet dinner with Stef (@stef747), who had flown up to meet me from Melbourne, retracing the Wrigley & Murphy flight, who crossed Australia conducting an aerial survey for the Vimy crew also 100 years ago the same week.
Stef posted a great series of videos on his YouTube channel which I highly recommend watching.
I stopped in Darwin for a couple of days, did some talks and rested – but, there was still a continent to be traversed and being Australia, it must not be taken lightly – the remotest lands of the journey lay ahead.
On leaving Darwin I still had a jolly long trip ahead but it was so much easier than the international legs of the last few weeks.
It was so nice not to have to deal with Customs and Immigration, then lobbying around what flight route would be accepted then waiting in the cockpit while they found the flight plan, then be constantly in contact with ATC, providing reports on positions, intentions, and estimates.
The Vickers Vimy crew removed their radio in London to save weight and didn’t communicate at all along the route!
I continued on to Melbourne via Mt Dare Station, a wonderful oasis at the southern reaches of the Simpson Desert.
The following day saw a stop in Wentworth and then finally arriving back at our home strip at Rothwell, at the northern tip of the You Yangs in Little River.
I had a plan to drop down and do a splash’n’go on Lake Boga on the way home, in honour of the secret Catalina base there during WWII, a place my grandfather had visited when serving on board the Cats.
Then I received a text from my wife Anne on my Flightcell sat device. ‘Be safe, don’t f* it up now’. She was right and I thought – don’t risk it!
The last day of the trip turned out to be lovely, a few Pt. Cook flying club members and a couple of other aircraft decided to fly in to my home strip at Rothwell to welcome me. Most fun of all was being accompanied for the last 10 miles by an awesome Vietnam era warbird Cessna Bird Dog, taking photos and footage along the way!
While it might have been a big trip completed, in many ways, it was just the beginning.
The new Southern Sun may just be the greatest aircraft an adventurer can buy today, and I think we have plenty of exploring to do. I look forward to doing so with family and friends now rather than solo. Southern Sun, standing by…
• The full journal for Michael’s trip, with many more photographs and numerous videos, can be found at www.southern sun.voyage/blog
