“You don't mind flying in any weather?” inquired Captain Findlay, officer in charge of the Defence Aerodrome, Sockburn. “It's all the same to us!”

And it was the ready assent given which led to my standing alongside a Moth plane, looking up at the most dismal prospect in the way of weather. Solid masses of clouds floated slowly over the plains at a height of a couple of thousand feet, and Christchurch people were carrying their umbrellas, hoping that the weather would clear up.

In five minutes we were above these dismal clouds, in a perfect summer sky, clear blue to the horizon, with a widespread and glorious rolling panorama beneath us. A trip by aeroplane to-day is quite commonplace, and the preparations were no more elaborate than getting a motor car out of its garage, and “warming up” the engine. With this simple preliminary we were off, aiming at a steep angle so that Sockburn quickly disappeared and we bumped our first cloud.

And it was a definite bump too. The machine went straight into an immense white mass, and as the vapour curled around us, so that only the edges of the wings could be glimpsed, there were three or four little reminders that we had struck something more solid than clear atmosphere. The sensation was that of motoring over a few minor potholes, in a well-sprung car. After this experience, we sped around looking for holes in the dense carpet of cloud beneath.

“Perfect bombing weather” declared the Captain, as he sighted a rift through which could be seen a train speeding towards Christchurch. The carriages at this height appeared to be the size of petrol cases, and the speed about the same as that estimated by some suburban growler who writes to the papers about his local train which stops every mile. But this happened to be an express, though we easily beat it into Christchurch, having no crossing-places to consider and no

New Zealand Defence Department's (Air Force) Moth plane, at Sockburn Aerodrome, Christchurch.

page 35 opposing traffic. We had the air to ourselves—and the clouds.

From this viewpoint, a few thousand feet aloft, one could easily follow the logic of the aviator, who explained that if he was on a bombing excursion he could find a small hole in the clouds, through which he could pass in a few seconds, yet with sufficient time to glimpse a large area of the land surface, drop his explosive “message” and disappear into another cloud before the alarmed inhabitants below could even find out where to look for him. Our cities would be very helpless on such a day in time of war unless we, too, had our friendly aeroplanes capable of taking the same point of vantage.

New Safety Factor in Modern Flying.
View shewing the closed position of the slotted wing lying snugly on top of the plane.

Travelling in a Moth is devoid of thrills unless there are clouds to “bump” or lively air currents which give the impression of falling into a hole. A New Zealander who has done a fair amount of air travelling over his own country found that on crossing a river, even at a good height, there was an inevitable downward dip into which the plane swoops, giving its occupants the sensation of travelling down in a fast lift.

The Cathedral Spins Around.

We guessed that the plane must be right over the centre of Christchurch by this time, and the clouds were eagerly scanned for a hole into which we could dive, to get a view of the landscape. The moment came, and the sudden banking of the plane for a sharp turn showed that the pilot had seen the opportunity. A thrilling spiral with the plane mostly on its side, and we were over Cathedral Square, with trams, pedestrians, and the solid mass of episcopal masonry apparently spinning around—an optical illusion of course, due to the fact that we were spinning, and not the Cathedral. Drivers of our trains are familiar with this optical effect, for the Limited Express, as it speeds along the Main Trunk, does not, to the view of the engineer, run around the curve. The driver will tell you that, to his eye, the curve straightens out—swings into line straight ahead—as the engine approaches it.

“Stalled” in the Air.

During the last year or so, the invention of the Handley-Page slotted wing has provided aviators with a safety device which, it is estimated, removes page 36 the cause of 75 per cent. of former aeroplane accidents. The greatest risk in the past was that of getting into a dangerous angle through stalling. Following many experiments with the slotted wing, English inventors evolved what seems to be so simple a device in its action that it can be regarded as one of the epoch-making inventions.

What is evident to the unsophisticated is a metal flap about four feet long, and about nine inches wide, on either side of the top of the upper wing of the biplane. When the plane is moving forward at a rate which enables the pilot to maintain a safe angle, these flaps lie snugly in line with the general curvature of the wing-top, but once the plane loses speed, and the air currents change, up goes the flaps, and any tendency to the assumption of a dangerous angle is at once corrected. We had a splendid demonstration of the efficiency of this device, which is fitted to every Defence plane in use in the Dominion. Climbing to a good height above Sockburn Aerodrome, which could be seen through a thinning out of the cloud-banks, Captain Findlay shut off the engine. The silence was intense. We tried to watch two things at once—the Handley-Page slots, and the ground beneath. It was evident the plane was moving forward, and tilting down, but at a certain moment of combination on angle and lowered speed, the slots stood up straight, and the plane appeared to almost hover over the aerodrome. Having ample room for the experiment, we were able to watch it in a leisurely way, reflecting what an advantage this will be to those thousands of people who in future will take to the air with heightened confidence, knowing that most of the risk has gone. The pilot, having switched on the ignition, the engine, spun by the downward rush, was at work again, and we enjoyed another “spiral” which sent Sockburn spinning wildly around (though we knew better) until a few mild bumps indicated an easy landing.

But for the cloud-bumping and the wing device, one would not venture into print on so everyday a topic as an aeroplane trip, but the experience suggests that this form of transport is going to make rapid headway in practicability and in public confidence. The time is not far distant when we may expect the New Zealand Railways (which is in business to give the most efficient form of transport available) will be running the “Super Limited Slotted Plane Express” for the benefit of those hurried people who wish to reach distant places without the bother of waiting at stations en route, or giving way to other traffic.

In the air: The safety wing automatically rises, almost vertically, to check dangerous angles.