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NOUMEA - NOUVELLE CALEDONIE
The next day Fred told us that we would make an excursion to New Caledonia, to Noumea, where he wanted to show us his charter business. NOUMEA that was the capital of New Caledonia (Nouvelle-Calédonie) a special collectivity of France located in the Southwest Pacific Ocean, Lat:-22.2667, Long: 166.451, 1.666 miles east of Melbourne.
The Aborigines there are called "Kanaks" - a derogative word in some other languages associated with an affinity with crime and a status as an outcast from society. To give the thing a bit of spice Fred had chartered a flying boat from a friend. We looked at each other. New Caledonia was 750 miles from Melbourne, a French territory in the Pacific, an archipelago belonging to the Polynesian world of islands. Departure was to be next day 05.00 am precisely.
"Has your flying boat got the range to go so far?”
Asked John hesitantly; he was anything but enthusiastic about the idea.
“Sure,” said Fred, with no sign of doubt. The range is over 2.000 miles and we
have taken fuel for 1.900 miles on-board.
We were anything but calmed down by that. What about bad weather or extreme
headwinds? In any case it was a flying boat, which meant it could land on water so long as the sea was not too rough. Terry Wilcox, that was the pilot’s name, a friend of Fred’s, was an experienced pilot with a tanned face and short-cut hair. During WWII he had been a fighter pilot flying a P-51Mustang, later he had become a postal pilot - he knew his stuff. He instilled trust. So with mixed feelings we climbed into the mighty Grumman HU–16B Albatross, seaplane that was at least thirty years old, but otherwise made a well-cared-for impression. The proud wingspan stretched over twenty-nine metres. Wilcox had bought it as a decommissioned model of the US navy and restored it. He did not want to tell us the year of its construction. We went over to the monster in a dinghy with mixed feelings. With its declared maximum speed of 290 mph we were facing a flight of more than six hours. Despite its size the inner room was cramped and uncomfortable, and damp as well. I noticed the life jackets; should I put one on straight away? I asked John, but his sense of humor had evaporated. We belted ourselves in and the plane „swam“ with little use of the motor to the take-off. The pilot went through a motor „run up“ and then the machine took flight. Spray lashed the window and every wave put pressure on our backs, then suddenly we were in the air and only the loud roar of the engine could be heard. I looked out of the window and threw a glance at the swimmers. Everything seemed to be okay. John passed me a bottle of whisky, which he had brought along as a precaution: you could never know.
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