SOME AERIAL REMINISCENCES

Written by Frank William Paltridge, March 21, 1960

The arrival of the modern pressurised turbo prop airliner at St. George on regular 75 minute schedule to the seaboard prompts some reminiscences on earlier aviation in these parts.

Few will remember that the first aeroplane to land at St George was piloted by an aviator with the very appropriate name of Bird. Poor Bird pranged in an orchard up Roma way when his rotary motor ceased to rote and he was seriously injured. One of the very earliest air pioneers of these parts was Jack Treacy who toured Queensland and New South Wales in 1922 seeking funds for an aircraft manufacturing company whose chief weakness lay in the fact that it was 20 years before its time.

I thumbed a ride with Jack – St. George to Sydney – in these days in what I believe was the first ever flight over this route. There was a spare seat and no takers. Here one realises that Cobb and Co.’s coaches and the aeroplane existed side-by-side for a time.

Jack was to pick me up at Talwood and I arranged to travel by coach and train to the rendezvous There I made the intimate acquaintance with the machine in which he had flown so many thousand miles. Jack was a vintage pilot of World War 1 but I never heard him speak of it.

Now pioneering civil engineering at a time when

there were probably not more than three aerodromes in Australia. There was no meticulously careful D.C.A., no radio, no landing grounds, no funds and no danger of collision with other aircraft. Jack wended his way through the country trying to sell flying. The machine was an Avro 504K looking like a larger version of a Tiger Moth. Top wing staggered at a rakish angle, no flaps, no brakes, and no gimmicks. A

Sunbeam engine of a stupendous 100 HP and a car type radiator with a hole in the centre for the prop to stick through.

After a pre-flight party (parties were a feature of the flight) I found myself next morning alongside G-AU blank space; perhaps somebody forgot to fill in the rest. It probably wasn’t registered, anyhow. who would care? Surprisingly enough I was to share the passenger seat

with a charming lady; at any rate I offered the charming lady the seat and contented myself with sitting on top of the suitcases between her and the pilot upfront. The ports may have been strapped in, I wasn’t. From the paddock two miles on the Nindigully side of Talwood alongside the main road we roared off into the blue. The weather was kind and not once during our trip did it threaten us seriously.

In what seemed a twinkling at our 80mph more or less, we were at Thallon. Where to land? Well that paddock near the road north of the railway looked good. We made it and spent some time selling flights to local residents. However those bluegrass tussocks got Jack a bit rattled after a time and he gave it away to the obvious disappointment of some visitors from the outlying stations.

An early start next day for Collarenebri with a landing at Goondibluie Station en route was the flight plan. There was said to be a fair claypan there. We made a very nice touchdown and after morning tea at the homestead Jack took some of the station people for a flip. There was no need to stop the motor. It got cranky to start when hot.

I hurried the charming lady aboard and the not so charming ports and off we went out over The Scrub and prickly pear. Before long I realised that Jack was returning towards some open claypans. Next, off goes the motor and down goes the nose in an obvious landing approach. I was terribly tempted to whack Jack in the shoulder and say “What’s wrong old boy” when I realised the situation was fairly grave and that he may not appreciate it. When we pulled up we realised a film of dirty castor oil covered everything including ourselves. The flared fitting on the oil pressure gauge had given out and all the oil had been pumped out of the tank. The ceasing of the motor was only a few revs away. “Well that mucks everything”.

The station car rescued us. They billeted our lady in the homestead and Jack and me in the jackaroo’s quarters. A piece of copper wire, a soldering iron and much enthusiasm in the station workshop and we were off again next day. The prickly pear didn’t claim us after all and we made Collie in good time.