58 MAY 2020 ÇPlane&Pilot
I slowly merged with the Great Barrier Reef and
the Aussie coast. I flew the final 300 miles at 500 feet,
enjoying the spectacular views below and wishing
I could’ve dropped in for some quick scuba time. I
traversed the Great Barrier Reef and began to merge
with the land that is northeastern Australia. The reef
led me straight toward the city of Cairns.
In keeping with Cairns’ position well below the
equator, the city truly is a tropical paradise, more remi-
niscent of Samoa than traditional equatorial vacation
spots. Cairns is right on the country’s east coast, and
with the mountain backdrop, you might think you’re
back in Honolulu rather than 4,000 miles farther south.
As mentioned above, my final destination was Perth,
perched diagonally across the world’s largest island
on the far southwest corner. Regardless
of whether you define Australia as an
island or a continent, it’s a big one.
Technically, it’s a land mass about the
size of the U.S., with the population of
New York City.
A day later, I decided to fly the entire
final leg at low level, with overflights of
Alice Springs, Ayers Rock and a brief
stop at Mount Magnet before going
on to Perth.
It’s about 2,000 miles by Great Circle
across the island continent, but Australia is so far off
the beaten path that I figured I’d best take advantage
of the opportunity to see as much as possible in case I
never got another chance to return. (As it turned out, I
delivered another 15 airplanes—mostly new Mooneys
and Caravans, plus a Shrike Commander, a 421 and a
handful of Bonanzas—to points all across the country
during the next 15 years.)
After I crossed the coastal mountains west of Cairns
and descended back down to my 500-foot AGL cruise
altitude, there wasn’t much to see, as the outback of
Australia is mostly arid desert.
This is a desert unlike most that you may have seen,
however. There was little sign of human habitation.
There were plenty of termite mounds and scrub brush,
plus a seemingly unending supply of kangaroos bob-
bing across the desert.
After watching the outback track backward for two
hours, I suddenly realized that I hadn’t seen a road, a
car or truck, a power line, a building of any kind or
anything else that might suggest I wasn’t alone in this
huge, dry wasteland.
I knew Australia was famous for raising sheep and
that there were huge “stations,” ranches often measured
in millions of acres, where major investors raised
thousands of sheep to feed the burgeoning market for
wool to produce sweaters, jackets, gloves and other
cold-weather outerwear sold around the world. A
little irony there—cold-weather products producedin a desert for use in cold climates.
Later, I learned that the stations are so large that
helicopters are the only viable method of patrolling
the sheep population. Choppers are used extensively
for herding sheep, and station owners aren’t so pos-
sessive of their land, so there are rarely any disputes
about whose sheep are grazing on someone else’s land.
Alice Springs is roughly halfway across the country
in the middle of the desert. It’s sometimes referred to
as the “Gateway to Uluru,” and there’s not much reason
to stop unless you need to refuel. I didn’t, so I didn’t.
It’s only 300 miles from Alice Springs down to Ayers
Rock, also known by its aborigine name of Uluru. The
giant Ayers is a huge sandstone hill that interrupts the
desert to a height of 800 feet. All other terrain in the
area is so flat that you can see Uluru
from 50 miles away. That doesn’t sound
too impressive, but the rock rises from
such a consistently level plane that
it attracts thousands of tourists as
well as Aussies. The ground level at
the base is about 2,000 feet, and the
flat terrain and the lack of any other
geologic interruption of the desert
makes the sandstone mountain all the
more interesting.
Uluru was practically on my flight
plan, so I dialed it up on the GPS and chased the needle
toward the coordinates. I had no way of knowing I’d
see Uluru again many times in the next decade.
Fortunately, that first flight was in November, the
beginning of Australia’s summer, so the temperature
was semi-civilized. I wouldn’t dare to fly low over the
Australian desert in January, when temperatures can
reach 50°C, or 122°F.
I began to circle the rock at 1,000 feet AGL, but there
was no traffic in sight and no comm on the radio. I got
a shock coming around the backside of Uluru, however.
There was a Qantas 737 coming the opposite direc-
tion about 500 feet above me. You have no idea how
large those jets look from that perspective. There
was no risk of collision, and no need for an evasive
maneuver, but it was still a surprise.
It seems Qantas made frequent charter trips to
Uluru from Sydney and other major cities. They circle
the rock in both directions, so passengers can photo-
graph this unusual landmark standing alone in the
middle of the country.
Almost before I was ready, I landed at Mount
Magnet and turned the keys and logbooks over to
Blair Howe’s young, enthusiastic pilot. He flew me
down to Perth the next day, I commuted to Sydney
and was home the following day...or was it two days
later? I can never remember whether it’s a day ahead
or a day behind.
When can I go back? PP❯ ❯ “Regardless of
whether you define
Australia as an island or
a continent, it’s a big one.
Technically, it’s a land
mass about the size of the
U.S., with the population
of New York City. ”