It’s been 39 hours since that 11pm phone call last Sunday evening from Miles Hilton-Barber, asking if I would drop everything and fly a microlight to Australia with him. Storm Smith, he told me, to terrific shock, had dropped out with less than 12 hours to go. Miles would not have made such a request had he not been blind. He had been let down before by Storm, but not by me, yet he chose to go with Storm when the money was found.
Miles Hilton-Barber (left) & Storm Smith (right) prepare
for the Australia flight. Photo - Jon Cook Ironically, Storm had phoned me that Saturday to thank me for sending him copies of ‘Global Flyer’ about my microlight flight around the world, the first man to make such a flight. He told me he had personally been instrumental in getting the sponsorship money from Standard Chartered Bank – and that the adventure fitted five words that summed up the ban’s mission – International, Courageous, Trustworthy, Responsive and Creative – all qualities I admire. Storm gave no indication that he did not also admire them, and seemed keen to make the flight. I had no indication then that he was going to abandon Miles. I have subsequently come to think the qualities are the opposite of what Storm is.
When the offer to be Miles Hilton-Barber’s sighted pilot was made, it was tempting. I thought, am I grown so old – at 64 – that I turn then down adventures instinctively? But I reserved the right to think things through, put down the phone, thought only half a bit – had I thought the whole way through I would have considered the current World Champion, Rob Grimwood, who has one eye – and then phoned the best and most trustworthy pilot I knew, RMH. He wasn’t there. I got his answer-phone, left a message and was thinking when he phoned back.
I told RMH that I reserved the flight for myself while I thought it through, but if I didn’t go, would he? He said he was interested. I said I’d talk Monday morning, put the phone down, and immediately called MHB to tell him that it was either me or RMH, so I could guarantee that he had a pilot, we just needed to know what was happening.
Biggin Hill 6 March 2007 Two thoughtful men, Richard Mededith-Hardy and Jon Cook (Flight Organiser). ‘What the devil have we got involved with? I phoned RMH yesterday morning, he said he was still interested, he took a delayed train here and we both drove down to Biggin Hill to meet the shattered team. MHB was there, still whispering on the phone as he does, and two girls.
Joanna Conlon and Sophie Consett, PR ladies from SCB. There were in a state of shock, but not hysterics. Storm was also there and he knew as soon as he saw my face that I really hated what was happening. We said hello but didn’t shake hands – I hadn’t realised I was so transparent – and we looked the aircraft over. It was a mess of wires and unfinished business. RMH snorted.
Sophie Consett and Joanna Conlon He was looking particularly scruffy, having spilled coffee down his T-shirt on the way down, so we found him a sponsor’s shirt and went to meet the girls. He still looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards.
Joanna emerged as boss, and it was obvious we had to make a case to keep the project alive. Storm didn’t join us, but hung around on the fringes. The girls had mind problems dropping him, wanting to include him still. At one time Joanna wondered whether Storm could fly a stage. I vetoed that.
‘What if he said yes?’ I asked.
Who knew what he would do?
Between us, RMH and I set about reassuring the girls, and gradually, boasting as little as we could get away with, we convinced them to consider us.
At the time, RMH was going to make the whole flight, but when he said he had delays – his daughter was sitting 0-levels and needed some support – Joanna asked me if I would fly to, say, Jordan. I found myself saying yes, but quickly amended it to Cyprus, the stage ahead of Jordan. I don’t think, after my world flight, the Syrians would look happily at me flying through again without a bit of the 3rd degree.
MHB being settled into the Flyer by RMH, prior to aborted test flight RMH was then sent out to fly with MHB and see what the gear was like but by the time they’d got in and settled, it blew up a gale, 14-26 knots, gusting, and lashed rain, so we came back in and continued talking.
A case was made to the girls.
Meanwhile, I saw Storm at the edges still, but wasn’t inclined to speak to him, and he knew this. He then left, and some time later I found he had taken the aircraft’s radio with him. MHB phoned him and I took the phone and Storm’s first words were, ‘so you’re talking to me now?’
‘Why did you take the radio?’ I asked.
‘It’s my radio.’
‘What did you think we would use?’
‘Haven’t you got a radio?’
‘Not configured to this aircraft. Mine’s the old A-20, which I like and prefer, but it’s not set up for this aircraft.’
He felt no guilt at what he had done, there was some vague message that he would get the radio back down, but I understand today his radio hasn’t re-appeared. Instead, Jay Madhvani has lent me an A-22 – I gave my own A-22 to Senga Bradie for her rhino quest – and I am bringing my A-20. It’s extraordinary that he cannot see how dreadful his behaviour is.
RMH spent the afternoon tidying up the microlight, which now looks a working proposition. He came back with me last night, and then went on home. Jay Madhvani and his girlfriend Kay turned up with bits we need – tools, flares, locat beacons, and so on – Anna Dickerson arrived and jumped around with excitement. Helen Dudley called to say goodbye but didn’t come in – we chatted by phone later – there’s no reason she should have any idea of the risks – and I went to bed at midnight.
Cockpit of ‘Seeing is Believing’ Flyer when we first saw it,
cluttered with wires and other bits I have spent today renewing batteries, collecting together gear, making sure the cameras work, and writing, and cancelling dates.
The fact is, I have 10 minutes on this type of aircraft. I have flown similar aircraft, but it will be my maiden flight on a GT450. I have never flown with Miles, and believe he has had only 4 hours with Storm anyway, for which I blame Storm. I have no intention of letting Miles touch the controls until the bottom of Italy, when he will have demonstrated to me that he can fly, in which case he can do the 100 mile water crossing without hitting anything. Will I have to test a theory I have thought about that he’s better at cloud flying than I am, because he can’t see it? Probably.
I hope I’ve got enough to go with. It’s only six days. I will take the wimp’s route over the Alps, rather than go into them in the middle of the day, that is, down the Rhone Valley, under the airspace around Cannes, and over the 4,000 feet north of Genoa. I hope the Italians are reasonably hospitable.
Must go, must go.
Copyright: Brian Milton |
