POST # 335
For as long as I continue to be alive, today's date will automatically cause my mind to think back in time, to this date in 1978. It has been forty years now, since I had the wonderful opportunity to be a passenger aboard Air New Zealand flight number 901, on a journey to Antarctica.
The day before the flight was spent with my new friend Ted, and a few other travellers over in Devonport, just across the harbour from downtown Auckland. Without going into all the details, let's just say that the day involved plenty of frisbee throwing, some beer drinking, and a crazy idea that night, after the pub had closed, to attempt to start up a ferry boat, and transit the Auckland harbour in order to get all of us back to the youth hostel. Thankfully, that last part wasn't successful, and we managed to catch a cab.
I didn't sleep very well, because I was concerned that I would miss my flight. But that didn't happen and early on the morning of November 21st, 1978, I arrived at Auckland airport, and along with another couple of hundred or so people, boarded flight 901, bound for the continent of Antarctica.
Air New Zealand made sure to only fill the aircraft to about 85% capacity, to encourage the passengers to move around the cabin in order to have a variety of viewing locations during the flight. On the initial phase, we flew down along the length of the country, prior to continuing the track south over open ocean. As breakfast was being served, we watched a movie about the story of Scott's fateful trek to the south pole which had taken place back in 1911. This helped to get us "in the mood" for our visit to the continent.
Eventually, we were flying down McMurdo Sound, and Antarctica came into view. Of course, I can't remember all of the details, but there were a few highlights. We flew over the dry valleys, and Mount Erebus, and plenty of other locations as well. Because we were allowed to move freely around the cabin, we were also allowed to spend time up on the flight deck with the pilots. (Those days are well and truly gone.) When it was my turn, I happened to be on the flight deck with a woman who had a daughter working at Scott Base, located on Ross Island, and she had the opportunity to chat with her daughter from the aircraft. It was quite an emotional experience for the two of them, and I was glad that I happened to be there during their conversation.
We managed to fly to about 80 degrees south latitude, and then it was time to turn around and head back to New Zealand. Once the last of the ice bergs had faded from view, it was party time for the passengers, and seeing as we didn't have to focus on what was below at this point, the drinks flowed freely from the cabin crew. It really was like a big party in the sky.
We landed at Christchurch on the south island, prior to our final destination, in order to top up the fuel tanks. The DC-10 was parked away from the terminal, and some of the passengers, including this one, had some time to spend inside the building. I called up a girl I had met back in Brisbane, Australia, one Jenny Long who lived near by. She drove out to the airport for a quick visit. At some point, a flight attendant was tapping me on the shoulder, to tell me that the plane was ready to go, and that the only reason that they were still waiting, was because I was still inside the terminal building. I said a quick good-bye to Jenny, and then walked across the tarmac, a little embarrassed to have been the one to hold up our departure.
The last leg of the flight was the relatively short one back to our starting point at Auckland. I think I slept most of the way, and when I returned to the youth hostel, it was time to crash. There would be plenty of time in the subsequent days, to tell my story to my fellow travellers, including Ted, and the rest of the frisbee throwing, beer drinking, and
almost ferry operating crazy group of young men, I had spent the previous day with in Devonport.
This story wouldn't be complete without a couple of additional stories. In November of the following year, I was in Singapore. I picked up the morning newspaper. On the front page were images of what was left of flight 901. This flight which had taken place on November 28th, 1979, had crashed into the side of Mount Erebus with a total loss of life on board.
http://www.erebus.co.nz/background/thestory.aspx
Then many years later, in 1996 when I was doing research for a planned year long solo expedition to Antarctica,
https://antarcticsociety.org.nz/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/Antarctic.V16.2.1998.pdf
I had flown to Christchurch to meet with a man named David Harrowfield. He happened to be an expert on Cape Adare, my proposed location, and the purpose of my trip to visit David, was to learn as much as I could about the place. In conversation, I happened to mention to him how my interest in Antarctica had come about as a result of the flight back in 1978. He ended up showing me the airline ticket that he had kept as a souvenir, from the November, 28, 1979 flight which he had been scheduled to be on, but had to cancel due to other commitments. I guess we were both lucky, especially David.
So now it's forty years later (and counting), and somehow I still happen to be roaming around the planet. I had a chat today with Murphy the bonehead about all of these adventures, and this was his reaction.
There's nothing like a faithful bonehead to put things into perspective. Thanks Murphy for bringing me back to the present moment.
happy, accepting & grateful,
Paul
The Thoughtful Wanderer
