Radials, rafts and Tim Tams

Our crew safety briefing at Gold Coast Airport this morning was listened to with considerably more attention than one usually sees aboard a routine trans-Tasman flight. This was not, after all, a routine trans-Tasman flight.

Fortunately, we now had Nige back on board with the team. Surely, with all his Antarctica knowledge and expedition experience, he would know what to do if ever we were forced to ditch in a hostile marine environment. He began by setting the tone, telling Tyler — the youngest member of the team — the comforting tale of the legal precedent established by the Lifeboat Case of 1884, involving shipwrecked sailors who adrift had eaten the cabin boy for sustenance, only to be sentenced to death for the crime later. Survival necessity, it turns out, was not considered a mitigating excuse.

Now that Nige had firmly established that under no circumstances would anyone on our team be eating our engineer, he then turned to the task of assigning responsibilities in the event of a ditching. Everyone mentally rehearsed which vital item they would grab in the precious seconds available before entering rough seas; if the occasion ever demanded. Some nominated water bottles, others warm clothing, the sat phone, knife, handheld GPS, etc.

Meanwhile, I watched Nige’s eyes scan the cabin in search of the one key emergency item to rule them all.

His gaze settled upon something in the galley.

A packet of Tim Tams.

I drew a quiet breath of awe as the genius of the man became clear. In any life raft, regardless of size, the one who controls the Tim Tam supply would surely own the raft.

Of course, Spirit flew reliably and beautifully. Her giant radial engines never missed a beat, and after a long stretch of spahire-blue ocean speckled with whitecaps, Norfolk Island came into view — isolated and dramatic.

One further notable event occurred around the midway point, when we were struggling to get improved reception on the sat phone (through the aircraft roof) to make a position report to Brisbane Oceanic. Craig recalled that the lavatory had a skylight window, and Morgan promptly disappeared aft to conduct international aviation business. This was recorded for posterity because, although not generally a frequenter of gentlemen’s bathrooms, Anouck will never back down in her effort to capture a cinematic moment. She burst into the lavatory just in time to catch Morgan.

Completing his position report.

Before landing, we made a low-level circuit of the island and were quite taken by its extraordinary beauty. Norfolk appeared below us as a vivid emerald jewel set in the deep blue of the sea; its cliffs, indigenous pines, and rolling green pastures seeming incredibly lush. Particularly striking was the sight of the old convict settlement ruins from above — a haunting reminder of the island’s layered and often severe history.

Our island orbit on arrival attracted a substantial portion of Norfolk’s population to line the airport fences. The landing was watched by cheerful onlookers gathered near the terminal, and it was a delight to see waving crowds as we taxied in. After shutdown, the Australian and New Zealand flags were raised proudly from Spirit’s cockpit windows and the crew spent a long time happily chatting with those who had come to welcome us. Stickers and patches were handed out, children’s excellent questions answered, and DC-3 stories involving the island exchanged.

Tomorrow we continue east for Auckland, the City of Sails.

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