ICARUS FLIES ON
Pg. 2

Story and photos by Michael Levy, aka Icarus
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SLOW FLIGHT TO CHINA
The next day, after performing the necessary maintenance, and replacing the fuel pump, I flew west into difficult weather.  I was fighting a 25+ knot headwind to make what should have been a ninety-minute flight to Yarram last just under 2.5 hours, creeping along at an agonizing 30 knots groundspeed.  On approach, the wind was blowing so strong down the strip I actually had to use power to force the plane down and stay on the runway centre line at the same time.  I got her comfortably tied up behind the rusting tin hanger with the assistance of a local pilot, just before the storm hit.  He kindly gave me a ride into town to get a hot meal at the Chinese.

RISKY HITCHIKER
Heading back to the aerodrome, I strolled to the outskirts of town and stuck out my thumb.  After watching cars pass me for an hour, I thought maybe I needed to tie up my long hair. Well, it's long in back, even though there's nothing left on top except peach fuzz.  Then I noticed the road sign at the junction that declared, "Her Majesties Prison - 6 km".  Not long afterward the local Surgeon picked me up, drove me to the field, and came out to inspect my plane.  That night, I had a great time watching the sunset and the TV, with the aeroclub bunkhouse all to myself, thanks to the lovely hospitality of the president and his sons.

RETRACING MY FLIGHT PLAN
I chose Phillip Island for a refueling stop the next day for sentimental reasons.  I had landed there a decade earlier with my new Aussie bride, in a Cessna 172, on Christmas Day.  I remember she had charmed me, wearing a party dress and celebrating with tinsel in her hair.  I was suitably impressed, never having seen that custom in the USA.

It was a short hop over water to Tyabb to visit a friend for the night.  He took me touring the Mornington Peninsula, with lunch at the new Hastings Pool Complex, including a stop at the exquisite Red Hill Estate wine tasting cellar to get some provisions.  My host concocted a tasty fresh seafood omelet for dinner at his place in my honour. I was regaining faith that it was possible to go barnstorming - and eat well too.

The next day, skirting Melbourne across the mouth of Port Phillip Bay, I crossed at Portsea-Queenscliff and landed in Geelong to have lunch and refuel.  The local Penrite distributor had kindly delivered the high performance 2-stroke synthetic engine oil I required to the airfield to meet my flight. Departing for the Surf Coast, I circled over my wife's old house in Torquay to take aerial photos, and then continued southwest over Anglesea and Apollo Bay, and past Cape Otway.  I was retracing my old Cessna 172 footsteps from ten years before.

PORT FAIRY REVISITED
I touched down in Port Campbell to tip in fuel, and then took off to do some low level aerial photography over the spectacular coastline of the Twelve Apostles.  My final destination was a paddock I remembered on the outskirts of Port Fairy.  No longer just a paddock, I found a well-maintained grass airstrip, twice as long, and furnished with a windsock and tie down area. My digs for the night were a room at the oldest pub hotel in Victoria, accompanied by some fresh seafood and local white wine.  I laid over a day and re-explored this charming coastal town, perusing the local collection of yachts and choosing one of the finer restaurants for dinner.  Yes, the roses were definitely in full bloom now.

A half day more heading west took me to my furthest destination, Mt. Gambier, over the state line into South Australia, where the old-timer at the fuel pump scraped together some lunch for me, told me about an airstrip at Coonawarra, and gifted me with a 1996 edition of the AOPA Airport Guide. This invaluable reference lists many unlicensed aerodromes, not included in the ERSA, conveniently indexed by their longitude and latitude.

THE WINE COUNTRY
Leaving the coast, I was swept along to Coonawarra in the second hour of headwinds I'd had on the entire trip so far.  The airstrip there is 10 km. from the nearest town of Penola, so I anticipated hitchhiking into town.  Just as I climbed over the airstrip boundary fence with my luggage, I saw a plume of dust billowing down the country road towards me.  I flagged down the dusty tractor and had a fun 10k. ride through the vineyards into town.  Luckily, my cushion and earplugs were next to me in my pack, so I could enjoy my perch on the front bonnet, alongside the diesel exhaust pipe.

I hired a mountain bike from a tourist shop named "It's On The Grapevine" and set out to tour the famous wineries.  The arduous 10 km. pedal back to Penola in the afternoon was against a 20-knot headwind, made much more steep by too many wine tastings.  For a while, I just walked the pushbike alongside the highway.  I found some excellent restaurants in the wine country, having admirable dinners at Pipers of Penola and the Upstairs restaurant at the Hollick Winery.  I convinced the proprietor of the bike shop to give me a ride to the airstrip the next morning, on the promise of a joy ride in the Drifter, not the first I had given on this trip.

AERIAL CHEMICAL PALETTE
Drawing my route for the next day on my chart, I discovered it passed directly over Swan Hill, Victoria, where a couple who had attended several of our workshops lived on a farm.  I called my wife for their phone number, and then called them for directions to their property.  Enroute to Swan Hill, I crossed the Little Desert; made a hard landing in Nhill under difficult, gusty conditions; flew over dry Lake Hindmarsh; and discovered some strikingly beautiful chemical ponds with stunning palette combinations of purple and violet mixed with a variety of cream tones.  I never knew pollution could be so photogenic.  My digital camera was firing away rapidly.

FRIENDLY FARM WELCOME
I found my friend's farm easily from their instructions and as I circled lower, they guided me in their Ute to the smoothest paddock as we had arranged.  It was wheat harvest season, and I got there in time to take a fun ride in the giant header harvesting machine with the farmer's daughter as my guide. Boy, I used to pity farmers out there all day riding around in circles in hot, dusty, noisy machines.  Not so this one, it had computerized controls, CB radio, air conditioning and a mellow CD player.  I was honoured that evening by my dear friends with BBQ'd steaks, good wine and great conversation.

After a hearty country breakfast, I parted company and headed out into the great Aussie breadbasket.  From 2500 ft. I could see nothing but wheat fields for 360-degrees, all the way to the horizon.  On a clear day you can see forever.  I touched down at Ravensworth Cattle Station to tip in fuel, and was greeted by an excited young farm family who said I was the first plane to land there in 12 months.  Northeast bound headwinds kept me to an overnight stay in Condobolin, a rather unfriendly town 100 km. west of Dubbo, short of my goal to make it to Narromine that day.

HOT SPRINGS TONIGHT
Arriving at Narromine near midday, a friendly Barry Hanchard helped me to refuel and brought me a sandwich for lunch from town.  Then I was off, skirting the Warrumbungles Range, with a refueling stop at Baradine.  This turned out to be an erroneous shortcut.  North of Baradine it was solid Tiger Country with no emergency landing possibilities.  I had to divert back southeast toward Coonabarabran until I intersected the Newell Highway, and then follow it, with teeth gritted, and plenty of altitude, northward to Narrabri and eventually Moree.

I laid over a day in Moree, basking in the mineral pools and enjoying a massage.  My plan for the final day, which involved crossing the Great Dividing Range, was to get off early before it got too hot, refuel at Ashcroft, a 1000 ft. long grass strip at 1500 ft. altitude, and then have just enough fuel onboard to make it to Casino on the other side of the range.  I was anticipating the usual headwinds I'd had every single day of the trip.

LIGHTENING THE LOAD
Next morning - bad luck, I had difficulty starting the engine.  So, out came the spark plugs for a cleaning and gap resetting. By the time I got off, the heat was building up.  A good landing at Ashcroft didn't discourage me from off-loading all excess baggage.  Out went the magazine I had been reading, my toothpaste and bar of soap.  I even emptied my water bottle down to just two drinks left to make it to Casino.  And I was glad I did.  I learned to fly in the Rocky Mountains, so I had a healthy respect for the limitations of physics.

Pushing the tail right back to the barbed wire fence at the end of the strip, I put on the brake and gave it full throttle, then let her rip when she started to roar.  I used up half of those 1000 feet just to get the rubber off the grass.  She climbed out slowly but surely, and soon I was facing the Great Dividing Range.

SOARING HOME TO BYRON BAY
Climbing patiently up to 7300 feet to cross the range, I finally had a tailwind pushing me across the mountains and toward the coast.  I made such good time I didn't need to stop in Casino, flying direct back to Byron Bay.  My spirits were high on this beautiful day of mountain flying, and I was homeward bound.

When I saw the coastline stretching out in front of me on the distant horizon, I had mixed feelings.  It felt good, like seeing an old friend I hadn't seen in a long time.  And yet, at the same time, I had this feeling that I didn't want to stop flying.  I just wanted to head right out across the Pacific Ocean and on around the world.  I didn't want it to end with my touchdown back at Tyagarah.  I still wanted to get closer to the sun.

My trip took two weeks, with 11 days of flying, ten of them against headwinds.  I had traveled about 2000 Nautical Miles or 3750 kilometers on 50 hours of engine time, averaging about 40 knots ground speed.

Answer: Because he was the first pilot, who inspired the Western psyche with the idea that it was possible for humans to fly.

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