Every leg of flying this day was beautiful and reminded us that since our first day in Egypt, the changes in terrain, flora and fauna along this incredible journey were subtle but dynamic. The thought occurred to me that if I had known something about geology, the lands we had been flying over would have told an intricate story. My dad who was an armchair enthusiast of geology, and our nephew, Winston Seiler, who is a geologist could have also fleshed out the story passing underneath us.
At Baragwanath, we were greeted by media people from various news agencies including one from China who interviewed me for several minutes wanting to get a woman's perspective on such an adventure. Again, the Puma people had prepared a wonderful spread of food and beverages for us and other aviation people who arrived to be part of the fun. Nick, Keith and Ingo took people up for rides, and then we all headed to our destination at Blue Mountain - a mere 22 minute flight away. Mr. Sayers's beautiful "spread" included two large hangars housing an amazing collection of aircraft. One of the hangars has a wooden parquet floor kept spotless by two employees who sweep and mop it regularly! John's collection included a Grumman Trojan T38, a Ziln 50 aerobatic plane, a Waco, T-6 Harvard, Stearman, Chipmunk, and a Piper Cub. He had others but can't remember them all!
Soon after our arrival, a few other pilots from the area showed up in their aircraft -- including a Waco --to entertain us with low fly-bys and some fancy aerial maneuvers. Pedro got back in his Travel Air and Johannes in his Waco to join them in the fun. The sounds of radial engines roaring past as they fun-strafed the field right before us was exhilarating.
Our planes were parked in a long, neat row along the groomed grass in front of the larger hangar. While the air show was going on, Estelle and Max came around to distribute new two-man tents, pillows, and foam mats to all of us as our accommodations here were in the spirit of the barnstormers of yore who slept under their aircrafts' wings. After weeks of staying mostly in 5 star hotels, this was a change welcomed by some and tolerated by others, and, though not accomplished at 'camping out', I thought really needed to be part of this adventure of vintage aircraft flying. After years of adapting to a variety of circumstances dictated by that old 'saw' attributed to John Lennon, "Life is what happens to you while you're making other plans", I have learned to extract humor and perspective (usually in hindsight) for adventures outside my comfort zone. After Ethiopia, what's a tent?!,
By early evening, the sky was still a warm-lit panorama of changing hues. It may have been December 12th, but it was summer here and the air felt great. We could hear the sounds of crickets greeting the approaching dusk as staff were preparing a large barbecue for all of us outside the hangar. After days that started at hours of the morning deemed "weird" by night owls like me, and then followed by hours of flying and sightseeing, I was really tired. It was coming up on 8 o'clock and the barbecue was not quite ready. I decided to crawl into our tent for a 'quick nap'. Our tent was pitched next to our plane in front of the main hangar which has a large covered lounge area with tables, sofas etc arranged comfortably around a long coffee table. A nearby room has an array of flying books, photographs, and recognition plaques. It's like a mini aviation museum. From the lounge, a door leads directly into the hangar with the parquet floor and a couple of bathrooms with showers that would be at our disposal.
Sizing up the location of our tent, I realized that this area would quickly become the "club" hangout for our large crowd and the sounds of revelry might go deep into the night. As tired as I was, I decide to move our tent further down the parking ramp near a small building that housed a sink and a couple of toilets. I crawled into the tent and the next thing I remembered was Nick waking me up to say I was missing the barbecue which was almost over. I had definitely moved us to a quiet area.
I joined a group that was finishing up on dinner and managed to get a plate going for myself. John Baxter and Sam where having an animated conversation about aviation; their wives, Janice and Beatrice, helped referee and temper the heat. When it comes to enthusiasm about airplanes, there are always differing points of view about one such aspect or another. This made me think of the pilots I remembered in King Salmon, Alaska -- where I grew up --bending each other's ears over the merits of this engine or that engine, this pair of floats over that pair of floats etc. It put a smile on my face and made me appreciate the charm of interesting people passionate about flying and the different ways to approach it.
Back at the tent later, I realized how tired I really was. All I could muster the energy to do was brush my teeth and take out my contact lenses. I wiggled into my sleeping bag fully dressed and prepared to conk out. Then the storm came..
First came the sudden onslaught of wind. It howled across the fields and buildings like a stampede of mustangs. Pilots double-checked tie-downs and Nick got back into the tent as lightning and thunder began its show. The thunder was so loud, I thought the Flying Dutchmen were making simultaneous bowling strikes one after the other. Every flash of lightning illuminated the interior of our tent. Rain came in relentless sheets and we huddled hoping our new tent had been treated with water repellent! Apparently, it was.
At 0545, Nick woke me up to share the news that a hot air balloon ride had been arranged for those of us who wanted to go. Somewhat cranky and slow-moving, I managed to embrace the idea and after a cup of coffee and a bite of pastry set out for us by our hosts, we headed for the group going on the ride. I had never been in a hot air balloon and as the storm had departed quickly during the night, the morning looked radiant.
John, Janice, Mark, Bob, Ingo, Fabian, Dale (a young man who joined the rally mid way to fly with Mark), Norman, Nick and I piled into the basket. Our Captain gave us our safety briefing. With roaring blasts of flame intruding its heat into the bulb of the balloon, we floated up into the air. Fantastic! I did wonder at one point if we had enough "juice" to make it back to Kansas then realized I had no desire to be in Kansas! I was perfectly happy right where I was --South Africa! Our ride was planned around wind velocity and direction. It lasted 40 minutes and we so enjoyed seeing the landscape of fields and estates, grazing cows, country roads passing silently beneath us. We began our descent to a field up ahead and passed low over a small village of rundown dwellings made of worn wood and tin sidings and roofs. The houses were crammed between muddy, narrow roads and footpaths. Men, women, and children looked up at us and waved. Some dogs and cows quizzically cocked their heads upwards trying to make sense of the bird calls Fabian made at them.
Some children from the village made a beeline for the field where it was obvious we would be landing. They shyly gawked at us as we crawled out of the basket. Two of them got up the courage to come up to one of the support vehicles, hiding behind them and giggling as they peered around at us. "Adorableness" all around! The inquisitive and curious mind in action is a joy to see.
Back at the field, I began the process of drying out our black rally book which got soaked in a corner of our tent during the night. Somehow, water did get in though we were spared a deluge right on top of us. In the club house/lounge, muffins, fresh fruit, and coffee were put out for us. Soon planes from the local area including some new ones we hadn't seen the previous day showed up for another air show. They parked in front of our tent and it was immediately clear we would have to move. Never a good idea to have a tent behind a fleet of aircraft about to start up their engines! I moved us to a spot closer to the outdoor kitchen tent and near a grove of shade trees. Very nice. Soon a large crowd of people showed up with kids and dogs. Some Puma people arrived as well to start preparations for another barbecue later in the day. People wanted to take photos of us and to ask many questions about the rally. Nick was looking pretty tired and I wondered when another nap might be possible, but we put on our game faces and yielded to the media event this had become which was really fun in that we met such interesting people with amazing aviation stories of their own.
After dinner, Nick took our friend from Zimbabwe, Mina (Hermien Ferreira) who followed the rally to Cape Town, for a ride in "Smuggler". She had a great time and I loved so much how Nick enjoyed sharing the flying experience with others. It's a trait he has that I've been aware of for 40 years! When we first met, he made it clear that though I was a licensed pilot, I did learn in a "milkstool" (Cessna 150) and that I would "better appreciate the joys of flying" (i.e. "be a REAL pilot) once I got checked out in a tail dragger. It took me 12 years before I finally got checked out in a Taylor Craft L2. On this rally, I had opportunities to fly "Smuggler" up at cruise, but definitely appreciated the fact that I was no longer a proficient tail dragger pilot and was happy to say to Nick, "You've got it!" upon approach to landing.
Before retiring for the evening, we became aware of a problem with our radio. It seemed to have suffered some water damage after the big storm the night before. Nick worked on it for some time without success, and then Colin stepped up to the plate. He had considerable experience with radios after special training in communications with the army. He took the radio out of the plane, took it all apart and wiped clean and dry all its contacts. It did the trick and we had our radio back. Thank you, Colin! We did have a backup hand held radio, but our first choice was always the radio in the plane.
I moved our tent again. This time into the large hangar where it was quieter and definitely dryer. Also, close to the showers. Very important! We conked out after a long day and slumbered under the wing of John's Waco.
Enroute to Lanseria, South Africa to clear Customs.
Passing over a large hydro dam.
At Baragwanath Field. Wind sock in background shows a pretty stiff wind.
Puma sponsored event with local and some international media.
Our friends, Cedric and Alexandra landing their Stampe at Blue Mountain Field
and taxiing to a good parking spot .
A few of our host John Sayer's collection of airplanes: Chipmunk up top, a white Waco similar to Fabian's red one, and a Stearman.
A small kitchen set-up on large veranda of one of the hangars.
Lounge/clubhouse area to left of kitchen.
Happy 'ralliers' relaxing at Blue Mountain Airfield. Pedro's Travel Air looks spic and span.
Our first tent site next to Smuggler right in front of the clubhouse hangar.
Keith and Colin's camp site under the wing. Looks great, but coming storm prompted a quick change of sleeping venue!
Fabian setting up his campsite next to his Waco. John Sayer's second hangar is in background.
Norman setting up his tent. He forgot there was a cover for that top vent panel and the poor guy got soaked during the night!
John's Grumman Trojan T28
Early morning and getting settled in the basket for our hot air balloon ride. Ingo is taking photos and Mark is smiling in the background.
Lift off. Nice view of John Sayer's place and his grass strip.
Casting a giant shadow.
Our "gang" lined up in front of hangar/clubhouse.
Looking back at our starting point.
We drifted over Cedric and Alexandra's plane. We all hollered down to them, but at that early hour they were not about to emerge from their tent.
Some great views along the way. So much fun!
Approaching rural village of wooden and tin houses. We would end up landing in the field just beyond it.
Some village sites as we flew over. The woman outside stretching in the early morning wasn't aware of us until we greeted her from above. A nice way to start the day, I suppose. Bottom photo contrasts with the earlier country estate.
Children venturing over to see us.
Nick having fun with these children. Wherever he goes in the world, he bonds amazingly with children and they take to him with great enthusiasm. He has that "way". Can't describe it any better than that. He says kids take to him because they know that inside "I'm just a little boy eight years old."
"Roughing" it at our third tent site.
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