FROM LONDON TO AUSTRALIA BY AEROPLANE 



253 



literally "losing our hair,'' my indispen- 

 sable Bennett and Shiers had filled sev- 

 eral petrol tins with water and had bor- 

 rowed a large blow-lamp. Thus was the 

 water heated and our tempers cooled. 



II. From Lyons — Across the Mediter- 

 ranean — to Cairo 



We had planned overnight to leave 

 Lyons immediately after an early break- 

 fast, and we hoped to land at Rome well 

 before the day closed. The delay in 

 securing warm water for our radiators, 

 however, meant that we were not in the 

 air till 10 o'clock. 



It was a frosty daybreak, and for a 

 short time we encountered some clouds ; 

 but as we progressed these drifted away, 

 clearing the atmosphere and unfolding a 

 scene of bewildering beauty. Eastward 

 the Alps reared up, serrating the horizon 

 with a maze of glistening snow-peaks. 

 Seas of cloud rilled the valleys, with in- 

 numerable dark, rocky pinnacles piercing 

 through and giving the whole scene the 

 appearance of a rock-torn surf. Charm- 

 ing villas, set amidst lawns and gardens, 

 lay tucked away over the hillsides. 

 White roadways streaked the landscape, 

 and close by the coast ran the thin lines 

 of steel along which a toylike train was 

 passing with its burden of sightseers to 

 Monte Carlo and the playground of 

 Europe. 



ACROSS THE RIVIERA 



The air was keen-edged and the cold 

 was still severe, but after the icy blasts 

 and the spear-pointed showers of the 

 previous day, the going was excellent. 

 We were freed, too. from the anxiety of 

 shaping our course by sheer navigation. 

 Nature's great map was no longer ob- 

 scured. It lay unrolled below, an en- 

 larged edition of our own tiny charts, on 

 which we checked its features. Picking 

 up the River Durance quite easily, we 

 crossed it and passed above the city of 

 Aix; then swung east, heading for the 

 coast and Cannes — across the famous 

 Riviera. 



Soon we caught sight of the sea. Five 

 thousand feet below us the Mediter- 

 ranean was laving the cliffs of innumer- 

 able little bays and inlets, embroidering 

 a thin white edging of surf round their 



rugged bases — a narrow, white boundary- 

 line separating green-topped cliffs from 

 deep-blue waters. 



Nice soon lay below us. The city, 

 with its fine buildings and avenues of 

 palms, encircled by high hills, rests on 

 the shores of a sea of wondrous blue. 

 It is a place of ineffable charm and peace. 



A large crowd had collected on the 

 Promenade des Anglais to witness our 

 flight and cheer us up. We flew low 

 enough to distinguish the doll-like figures, 

 and though we could not return their 

 greetings we appreciated them none the 

 less. Then onward again with a follow- 

 ing breeze, white-cresting the blue sea 

 that stretched away from beneath us to 

 the southern horizon. We circled above 

 Monte Carlo and the famous Casino, 

 admiring the wonderful terraces and gar- 

 dens, which looked like a skillfully carved 

 and colored model rather than a real 

 palace and its gardens. 



We swept round, looking for a landing- 

 place, for I was inclined to test Dame 

 Fortune and see if she would be as kind 

 to us at the tables as she had been to us 

 in the air. There seemed to be no suit- 

 able spot on which to land, however, so 

 we headed on to our course again, and 

 soon our regrets faded in admiration of 

 the glorious coast-line • over which we 

 were speeding. Suddenly I remembered 

 it was the 13th; Fortune had been kind 

 to us after all. 



earewele to france at mentone ; 

 Italy's border crossed 



Mentone, nestling in its bay. was the 

 last glimpse we had of France ; then, still 

 following the railway line that runs along 

 the coast, we crossed the border into 

 Italy without trouble from the customs 

 officials. Less than half an hour later 

 we passed San Remo. and, instead of 

 following the coast-line north, I kept the 

 Vimy headed almost due east, and, cross- 

 ing the Gulf of Genoa, picked up the 

 coast again at Spezia and turned south 

 once more. Here we met a strong head 

 wind, and this, added to the handicap of 

 our delayed start, made it evident that 

 we could not reach Rome before dark. 



I knew that there was an aerodrome at 

 Pisa, since it was one of the stations on 



