0615 hours, totally dark at airfield- Richard wheeling out microlight, me talking to Angie and other microlighters come to shepherd us down the coast in their machines; phone rings- interviews with media in New Zealand, Britain; me standing on own in darkness, connected to world- Britain still yesterday there, living 9 hours day before-NZ two hours later already in brilliant morning sunshine- surreal to stand there in pre-dawn darkness, sandwiched between the past and the future, like some sort of time traveller- surreal thoughts interrupted by  sound of thumping in night air in distance, getting louder- Dick Smith, Australian entrepreneur, likened to Richard Branson, heading up the coast to guide us in- I zip up my suit, go for quick pee behind hangar- my heart thumping, struggling to come to terms with reality that, after a very tiring, taxing yet wonderful 54 days, this is our LAST flight- Sydney, final destination, just 23 miles down coast; no time for more reflection; roaring, chattering sound of Jet Ranger overhead, navigation lights flashing against paling dawn sky above, landing lights on, settling down nearby; Richard warming up the microlight, yelling directions for me to get aboard; I pause a few moments on my own in comparative seclusion of hangar corner  surrounded by the anticipation and heightened awareness that this is another of those rare, rare days in my life, indelibly burned onto my memory forever- the completion of a mission, the fulfilment of a dream cherished and nurtured over many years- the fulfilment of all our planning and focus these last 54 days; we are here, on target, ready for our grand entrance into Sydney via the forbidden harbour route opened up so kindly by Dick Smith, an amazing, amazing, amazing man now hovering above us, settling down amongst the swirling of dust and the chattering of rotors and roar of jet turbine- smell of damp dust and aviation gas pungent in the air around me, mixing with the fragrance of dew-covered trampled weeds and grass and me, in the midst of it all, wanting to capture, to prolong the moment, to hold it and savour it and record it forever- the cold of the aluminium hangar side against me, cocooned in my private world, saying "thank you Lord, for protecting us through all those storms an turbulence and tropical storms… thank you for preserving me to savour and taste and record this moment of isolation alone, not wanting the moment to pass, revelling in the improbability of the moment- am I really just outsideSydney- have we almost done it…I learned, long, long ago, through Jon Cooks advice, that it is not over until we pass the finish line- until the fat lady sings- so I reluctantly shake my head in bemused wonder as I use my white cane to find my way back towards the small group of people talking animatedly as the whine of the Jet Ranger rotors and engine dies away.

A few moments later I am approached by an exuberant, Australian-accented man and I am grabbed in a strong handshake from Dick Smith- a 63 year young man with a heart of gold- one of the world's great visionaries and aviation adventurers who continues to live life to the full.

He made his fortune starting a small electrical company in Australia with his great wife Pip with some Australian $600, and a few years later sold the nation-wide business for $25 million (now turning over a billion a year), and has gone on, as all true entrepreneurs, to continue to found and brilliantly manage other innovative businesses, whilst also undertaking five of the most astounding flights around the world in a variety of aircraft, including becoming the first person to fly a helicopter around the world.

We confirm routes, radio frequencies, and again emphasise the importance of no helicopters getting in front of us- their downward, swirling turbulence one of the most deadly dangers for a small craft like microlight.  We learn that the TV channels, very sensibly, have agreed to share the footage from one chopper instead of four filling the sky, all wanting to be in the same position for those great shots of us flying past the Opera House and Harbour Bridge etc.

Dawn is lightening the sky, so we all head for our aircraft, with me still a bit detached, trying to capture the magic of the moment, that last flight, forever in my mind.

Air soon full of the sound of microlight motors starting up, drowned by the growing whine and then roar of Dick's Jet Ranger powering up nearby; he takes off first, allowing us some few minutes for the vortices in the air to settle before we take off…

Richard and I taxi to the top of the grass runway, with me suddenly realising that, in the emotions of the moment, that I have not yet put on my gloves, secured my helmet or even powered up my navigation system, which I do hurriedly, reminding myself once again that check-lists are what keep pilots alive…

Within moments we are roaring down the runway, with me listening to my ground speed build up before take-off, with my headphones also full of chatter from Dick soaring away and the other microlights radioing their respective positions and take-off sequences.

Within moments I am surrounded by that all too-familiar sound and feel of the wind rushing past us, with dawn breaking all around us as we follow a local river down to the sea, then turn right to follow the coast the last 23 miles to the Heads, entrance to the world famous Sydney Harbour.

Now my heart is thumping a bit, full of anticipation, marvelling at the fact we have been given permission through Dick Smith's influence from the civil aviation authorities to fly into Sydney Harbour- totally out of bounds for all but helicopters usually, who have strict instructions to stay within helicopter air lanes.

We agreed before take-off that we would NOT fly under the Harbour Bridge, as, whilst we would probably get away with it, it would not be fair on Dick, who had vouched for our integrity during the flight.

Within about 20 minutes we are close to the entrance to the Harbour, with the accompanying microlights in formation around us reluctantly peeling off and returning to the airfield.

We bank to the right, now at just 1,000 feet, with my altimeter reminding me of our low altitude.

Increasing engine revs. And pulling the bar hard back we literally plummet down to the requested 500 feet altitude in this area, leaving the TV chopper complaining good-naturedly that they cannot dive at that rate.

We start the magical flight towards the Harbour Bridge in the distance, with Richard describing it to me over our comms. what a wonderful sight it is, now with the sun in the sky producing a glowing, shining radiance on the Opera House and the Bridge through a hole in the clouds, almost like  a spotlight from heaven especially switched on after poor weather, lightening the arena for our final act and flight, all being recorded by the TV chopper above and behind us.

We clear our intention to spend about five/ten minutes flying within the magical arena bordered by the Bridge and the Opera House and the ferry terminals across the harbour, and confirm all helicopters on station and aware of our impending movements.

Then we put our little craft into some of the most intense extreme manoeuvres since the start of the flight, banking at some unbelievable angles according to my instrumentation, as we bank and weave in figure of eights around this breath-taking arena lit up for us in glorious radiant sunshine, with the G-forces forcing us down into our seats.

I just wanted to shout T-I-G-E-R! "over and over again, but this would both deafen Richard and drown out my essential information rushing through my earphones, confirming altitude, compass heading and angle of bank in a maelstrom of platted verbiage, weaving their own magic to swirl around in my mind, somehow detached, yet at the same time appearing totally orderly and normal, harmonising in clear logic and form, singing their own audio picture in vibrant colours, like a harpist playing beautiful music that was emitting and vibrating in visual mathematical harmonies of the laws of physics- airflow, lift, gravity, freedom and joy expressed with pure abandon within the secure embrace of the Opera House and the Sydney Harbour Bridge- rare and precious playground, loaned to us for a few precious minutes whilst the world passes us by, oblivious that for us it has temporarily stopped…

Probably the above doesn't make much sense to you, but it is an attempt to express the inexpressible- like trying to describe the grandeur and magnificence of a glowing sunset to someone who was not there…

I felt like a dolphin, frolicking and exuberantly expressing it's freedom and joy after the restraints of the preceeding eight weeks.  I was so happy, so intensely happy at that moment, yet knowing how fleeting the moment was, praying that our wing-mounted video camera was working to record the moment for all time.

Few people have ever, ever been given permission to fly in that hallowed and protected air space between the Bridge and the Opera House, and here we were, with the freedom to express the joy and celebration of completing our epic flight…

We reluctantly checked our time, knowing we were scheduled to land at Banks Town airport at 0800 hours, so radio to the hovering helicopters our decision to head towards the airfield, and, with the encouragement from the TV chopper, do a couple of tight, tight turns and diving banks over the magic Olympic Stadium, before finally changing radio frequency from the choppers to the airport frequency, and are given permission to land.

A good landing, no doubt, and then we taxi towards the designated stand on the apron, and Richard informs me there is a large crowd of people there, with big TV cameras standing out amongst the forest of microphones and digital cameras.

As we finally stop and switch off for the last time in 55 days, I take off my helmet with very mixed emotions; we have arrived, and I don't want it to be over!

Within moments we are surrounded by cameramen and reporters shouting for us to look this way and that, and firing a barrage of questions and cameras at us, and we spend the next hour and a half being interviewed and filmed and photographed, in the microlight, in front of the machine, next to it, with Dick Smith congratulating us amidst reporters from all over the world wanting to know all about us and our flight- I am struck that there are at least two Japanese reporters there, requesting meticulous information from us- age not sufficient- full date of birth
required- I add the time of day I was born, but this additional bit of hitherto unknown fact about my life appears unimportant to them.

Interview follows interview, with Catherine Crawford, the PR lady who has coordinated all this so well continually weaving her way between Richard and myself, thrusting her hot mobile phone at us every few minutes for another radio interview.

Finally, after some two hours, the Grand Central Station atmosphere dies down, and I realise it is time to go.

I unzip my flying suit, with it's long zips flowing down each side from neck to ankle, and, balancing against the side of the microlight for support as usual, start pulling my flying boot clear, then suddenly stop, realising it is over, not just another day- the LAST day- we are there!

Joy, exhaustion, jubilation, all temporarily smothered in a blanket of strange regret, so often felt by Jon and I at the end of different expeditions; life is all about the journey, not the destination. We have
arrived- a dream fulfilled, yet I am feeling momentarily almost cheated- no onward microlight flight South tomorrow, but instead a commercial flight North to Manila in the Philippines…

Richard taxi's the microlight to her hangar for the night, to be flown by him tomorrow to Newcastle where it will be packed into a container cocooned, like a chrysalis for her return to England, where, no doubt, she will once again emerge, like a beautiful butterfly, to colour the skies with her magic, enabling thousands of blind children to marvel at her beauty in the process…

Richard returns to where I am standing alone on the empty tarmac, and we pick up all our flying gear, saddle-bags and helmets for the last time together, and head off to speak at a luncheon function arranged by the Standard Chartered Bank in Sydney.

Hectic on arrival, with Jon downloading some latest pictures to use when I speak, with Richard enjoying a much-deserved beer next to us!

David Stileman, Head of Business Development back in Britain has flown up especially from Melbourne to be wth us- thank you so much David, Mervin, Peter, Richard, Joanna, Sophie for your wonderful support throughout…

After speaking there we head off to the TV studios for an interview, followed by numerous radio interviews before being invited to a local English pub nearby for several interviews with BBC TV and radio, enjoying a cold beer and then fielding some five other interviews courtesy of the pub's phone.

Dick Smith and his wife Pip then phoned to invite us for dinner, so, now early evening, with us still not even been to our hotel to dump our kit, tired as zombies but at the same time elated by the completion of our flight, we bundle ourselves into a taxi for the one hour drive to Dick's fabulous home set in isolation outside Sydney, so he doesn't disturb any neighbours taking off and landing his two personal helicopters- his daily transport is his Bell Jet Ranger, hangared under his bedroom, and his bigger Italian twin-jet turbine Augusta Power, the fastest of it's kind in the world  in the nearby hangar.

His other aircraft, ranging from little microlights to a Cessna Citation
CJ3 business jet a bit further afield…

Amidst numerous phone interviews from all over the world we watched the summary of the TV news of us being broadcast around the world by the major channels, and Dick showing us his amazing little moon-buggy looking six-wheel craft he plans to drive to the South Pole, powered by huge solar panels on it's roof that would track the sun.

A great Chinese meal at a nearby restaurant followed, with us being approached and congratulated by people around us whilst I continued to field international interviews.

The day finally ends with a great mug of English tea back at Dicks, whilst he talked over his five major flights around the world, depicted on a massive map of the world in his office.

Finally reach our hotel at around 2300 hours for the first time, very, very tired yet still feeling like I had champagne fizzing through my veins, after our adrenalin-saturated day of 18 hours- one of the longest and shortest in my life, and easily one of the most memorable forever afterwards.

Richard headed off to prepare microlight; myself and Jon walking into town for light breakfast, haircut for me, getting my wrist-watch battery changed etc.
Lady outside jewellery shop stops me; “Are you that blind pilot man we saw on the TV?” When I admitted this, she laughed delightedly, telling me “I was a bloody stupid blind man, and we are really proud of you!”.

This in the middle of the crowded pavement; it appears her brother is blind, and he is struggling to come to terms with it; not using any speech-output for a computer etc; Everywhere we go, people recognise and congratulate us; man at jewellery shop refuses to take payment for watch for same reason; simply wonderful, humbling hospitality from these great Aussies.

Had a swim in the hotel pool with Jon in the afternoon, after long radio interview being recorded live by a reporter.
Should be writing up my Blogs, not relaxing by pool with a cool beer, but a little voice inside me agreeing with Jon telling me I need a break; thank you little voice- I still feel guilty, falling behind with my  Blogs over last few days, not having my computer with me for weight reduction.This evening taken by |Peter to Tim’s, Darwin’s best steak house, sitting outside with loads of locals around us, verifying Tim’s claim!

Huge steaks here, weighing a kilogram, with accompanying huge salads and bowls of French-fries. Tim says anybody who is unable to finish their steaks have to saddle them up and ride them home!A wonderful, wonderful evening, enjoying more protected ice-cold bottles of beer, great company, and that joi de vivre! Peter explaining that Darwin is like the Northern frontier, with most people coming here either running away from the law or their wives!

Into bed around midnight, still very, very tired, but so, so happy, despite knowing that tomorrow we fly at dawn, with a responsibility to fly some 2,000 miles plus from one end of Australia to the other, so we can be in Sydney in time for the business luncheon organised to welcome us there!

What a wonderful life, hey?!

Took about 2.15 hours to get here; uneventful, apart from Richard often looking down at swampy conditions along coast, identifying lots of huge logs of sea crocodiles; must be crocodiles he assures me; I think I have discovered his greatest unhappiness; ending up in the water, not with sharks, as he always has his trusty container of shard repellent around his neck, but CROCODILES- big, salt-water beasts that cannot be deterred, once on a collision course with our soft, yielding pink flesh!

Hot on the ground as always, but very welcomed by Shelley and Ken, arranging refuelling for us after a quick and very welcome pee. Whilst waiting in heat for fuel truck, feeling thirsty and hot, Shelley comes across tarmac with can of ice-cold Coke for me; huge, huge temptation, only overcome by quickly putting it on floor of microlight for when we reach Darwin, still some five hours flying away.Richard took off one of our extra fuel tanks; now only 3, but plenty fuel for remainder of flight to Darwin; better air flow to oil-cooling radiator with one tank removed.

Spoke to Jon on mobile; him being pressured by Darwin gang of press/media/TV crews, all wanting to get images of us landing in time for evening TV news across Australia; explain will not be easy!

Faker 100 flees in from Perth, just three flying hours away; makes me realise how far we still have to fly to get to Sydney!

Flight to Darwin long, but didn’t seem like five hours, I guess after relief of long sea-crossing just yesterday, and relief of knowing broken back of flight now; lumpy, turbulent conditions most of time; difficult for me keeping on track; Richard doing much of leg. Great reception when touched down at Darwin Airport; ATCA guided us toward-standing by fence, with loads of media excitedly waving and yelling at us, cameras rolling, but Immigration officials escort us to clear formalities before they interview us, with me shouting “TIGER” as we go past them, embarrassing Richard as always!

Once inside cool, air conditioned \immigration/customs area, being interviewed by very nice Australian woman and ever-polite Immigration man, we joined by Quarantine man, with all three hinting that, whilst great flight undertaken by us, not exactly correct procedure followed regarding route into Australia, then flight to Darwin.We explain flight plans submitted and cleared, and talking to Melbourne, Perth and Brisbane officials by phone yesterday; quarantine man worried we may have brought in insects or disease into country from Indonesia; looks at tiny microlight, totally open, and realises no fly could have survived the 70-mph wind scouring every crevice of body during flight, recognising probably superfluous to spray aerosol insecticide “inside” aircraft.

Takes a while for officials to clarify “procedures” we followed flying into the country, and why we didn’t fly direct to Darwin from Truscott without refuelling; finally, all sorted, and we go back out for long TV interviews with media people, representing all major news networks from around world, and we realise the media see it as a major milestone for us to have reached the Australian continent; we start to think so as well!

Great to see Jon Cook again and soon microlight safely hangared in Canadian Helicopter Company hangar, just as it gets dark.

We bump into Magda Buchholz, representing Guide Dogs in Northern Territory, who has been looking for us since mid-afternoon, refusing to leave without her wonderful, heart-felt welcome. We both get a wonderful hug, and are presented with little crocodile souvenirs, much to Richard’s relieved laugh- the only one that got near to him, with me explaining his allergy to her!

We are soon being driven to our hotel by the great CHC manager here, Peter Lymn, explaining it is now the largest helicopter company in the world, with some US$1 million in contracts a month being generated just in this region!

Darwin we realise is small, about 120,000 inhabitants, mad on fishing, with only about four main streets to the town.Peter drops off Richard, Jon and I at our hotel, and we twist his arm to have a couple of beers with us- my introduction to Coopers Pale Ale, one of Australia’s best kept secret from us Pomms, and, even before we dump our gear in our rooms we have several ice-cold bottles together, served in the bottle surrounded by Styrofoam insulators, keeping the beer ice-cold, not warming up on our hands- those Aussies really know how to focus on the important things in life, hey?!The evening finishes with |Peter heading home, refusing our offer for a steak, and us eating great steaks at an outside restaurant down the road- man, it is SO GOOD to be in Australia- we ARE on the home straight now!!!

Sleep quite late, but a very contented little boy!

Put waterproof safety bag around neck, with our mobile phones inside, in case of ditching; Richard similar bag with emergency beacon, sat. nav. and satellite phone.
My batteries in blue-tooth keyboard to input waypoints on my GPS dead, so Baggus buys more; me inputting different map references dictated by Richard; fuel truck arrives; fill up, with us now surrounded by local people eager to see microlight after media coverage; lots of not just men but women and children; lots of requests for us to pose with then/children for photos- our last perhaps? Me crouching, with little 3-year old Henry on my knee, father Johannes airport employee taking picture- great little guy!

Fuel truck man overfills tank; difficult communications; fuel truck nearby, with engine running to provide pumping; man by microlight, filling each of four tanks in turn; difficult to control flow of fuel, being governed by man at fuel truck; lots of shouting between Richard, me and fuel men either side, attempting to limit spillage- evaporates quickly fortunately; fuel everywhere; strong stench of raw av. gas; nobody smoke please!

Finally getting into flying suit; no fleece underneath, due to misunderstanding; hot on ground, now around 0900 hours, so sweating, but knowing may be very cold at altitude; as always, locals loudly commenting to each other about us putting on thick thermal flying suits whilst sweat running down faces; Richard little subdued, keen to get away with no further time delay, as winds increasing all time. Wave at well wishers, shake hands all around, then helmet on, visor down, gloves on, harness secure, boot up, pre-flight checks, then taxiing down towards runway, waiting ATC clearance.  Take off into increasing winds, circling to gain altitude before setting course towards Australia, a continent away… Soon over sea, West Timor and Indonesia fading behind us, with nothing but empty expanse of sea ahead of us. Climbed to 7,500 feet, temperature dropping to 11 Centigrade; me soon feeling cold as sweat stops evaporating, with me trying to zip up suit more tightly.Little conversation between Richard and I, realising head-winds good 30 knots, with ground speed well below our air speed; glad we are not attempting Darwin- would have been a good swim at least!

My navigational kit operating well, with me able to keep on track towards Truscott with little deviation.
Being over the deep blue sea, with no land in sight for some 5 hours, thermals are absent, and relatively smooth flying, as always the case over the sea.  Funny feeling, knowing that, even at this altitude, will be many hours before Richard gets first glimpse of land. Any engine problems means some smart radio work advising ATC, them getting wet! Local ATC advise us to transfer to Brisbane, Australia’s controller of airspace here, but no joy, so we go back to Indonesian Cupang ATC for a while.  Then, wow, Aussie voices as we again tune into Darwin channel; good old Aussie twangs, and European sounding accents for the first time in weeks and weeks!As my headphones only channelled ATC through a single headphone (my guidance kit in the other), I often struggled to interpret their instructions!I was visualising where we were, slowing heading from South-east Asia over the Timor Sea into Australia, understanding how insignificant our little microlight was compared to the vast ocean far below, whilst, at the same time, starting to get more and more excited as I listened to the Aussie voices, realising we were soon to reach our 21st and final country of our flight across the world.

Richard told me we were now flying over a tiny island below, still far off the Australian Coast, where Brian Milton had landed to refuel during his epic flight to Australia many years ago.  He did not have the luxury of a GPS system to pinpoint his destination, but had to rely on fine navigation, with no room for error.  He was guided in by a helicopter crew in the area, and we reflected on that pioneering spirit Brian had, attempting such a massive flight with limited navigational equipment- well done Brian!

We sighted land around 1440 hours, with Richard describing the arid, deserted landscape of Western Australia below us. No joy attempting to raise Truscott on their frequency; sounded like someone had left their channel open. Circled the small airfield, originally a WWII airfield for American bombers fighting the Japanese in nearby Indonesia. Landed 1515 hours on a blazing hot Sunday afternoon, with me stopping shivering at about 2,000 feet as the heat soaked into my cold bones. Nobody around, it appeared; we taxied to outside some hangars and switched off; several Aussie guys sauntered out from nearby buildings, and good-naturedly gathered around us, asking us who we were, and where had we come from!

I was all for a cold Australian beer to welcome us, but I was told in typical Aussie straight-faced/promise on my mothers heart that the placed was dry, with no beer anywhere.
Soon realised they were all highly trained helicopter pilots and technicians, flying huge 18-man Super Puma’s out to the nearby oilrigs under contract. Great to get out of flying suit and stretch legs after 6 hours 15 minutes flying time; no desire to have a pee- not had a drink since 2300 hours the night before- it pays off hey?!

Tim Medhurst, extremely hospitable Station manager saunters over and suggests we phone ATC in Melbourne/Brisbane/Darwin to register our unofficial “illegal” entry into Australia via this airport; we explain all already in our flight plan, with Richard heading off to confirm our safe arrival.

We are offered wonderful accommodation for the night in air-conditioned rooms and offered that magical Aussie can of ice-cold beer- a wonderful welcome, made even more special by meeting a fellow Zimbabwean technician, with us talking our local Shona lingo to each other, swatting buzzing flys from settling around our eyes, nose and mouth, all agreeing it is great it is not yet the fly season!

After a very welcome shower, another beer and some really excellent food, meeting other pilots and crew at the same time, we were given a demonstration of how the Super Puma flys, with Greg, their senior instructor, sitting me in the pilots seat and him behind me, going through the start sequence of the huge Puma, cancelling the whining jet turbines above me before they had reached sufficient revs. To start engaging the massive 35-foot rotor blades above, with one of the slightly anxious technicians looking up at the clearance between the blades and other choppers parked alongside in the huge hangar! Helicopters are definitely still outside my ability to fly, but I think I have got the start sequence memorised now…
By 2200 hours Greg was helping Richard find some maps of Australia and giving us our heading and distances (nearly 300 miles) from there to Darwin tomorrow, with ongoing headwinds to contend with.

Into bed and sleep before 2300 hours; very, very tired, but extremely happy to realise we have done it- now on the home run, so to speak, with the most difficult leg of the flight behind us.

Journalist asking Richard via interpreter my date and time of birth- year or basic age not sufficient- Richard pointing at me, saying, “ask him- you can ask him- he can speak”; journalist staring at me, wondering if true- me saying new skill recently developed, after learning how to fly… Jon drinking his beer contentedly, appearing oblivious to repeat of scenario seen so often before!

Richard now passionate, passionate advocate for blind children of the world, quoting figures with conviction; journalist writing, nodding head, then picking up non-digital SLR huge 35mm camera, taking flash pictures of me doing strange things, like sucking my finger after topping up my beer glass from bottle, finger in glass to register when full; another classic shot of me, mouth open, blinking, as about to yawn expansively with exhaustion- surely he will not print these?! Waiter returns, takes my hand, places it around glass of water, explaining quite loudly “this is your glass of water”.  I hold it up in surprise, examining it with both hands, delicately exploring it’s stem and shape before carefully sniffing then sipping the water, then nodding contentedly and thanking him; he strides away importantly, with me quickly gulping down some more beer before he returns again. Another flash picture of me, hand over eyes, rubbing face with tiredness; Richard explaining hand over face not a problem, as I’m blind anyway.Dinner followed later, with journalist declining to eat with us.

Around 0900 hours we all headed out to the airport, after me stripping every ounce of extra weight from my guidance kit/external container etc; Richard adamant only essential weight for long ocean flight to Australia tomorrow. Spent some time in the old converted badminton court where microlight housed by airport boundary, Richard showing me extra fuel tanks and their operation.Left Richard completing flight clearance documentation, took Jon to airport to get his flight to Darwin, weighed down with all our spare kit from the microlight.
; Bit strange shaking his hand and saying cheerio, both of us being somewhat over-casual about parting, yet realising faint chance we would never meet again if things go wrong tomorrow; leaves me quiet and reflective during taxi ride back to hotel.

Early afternoon Richard returns from airport with met. Forecast; not good; strong winds at low levels- slight possibility of slight tail winds over 10,000 feet; looking at likelihood of needing to head for Truscott in Western Australia if conditions bad. Not official entry for international flights, but acceptable if fuel shortages due to strong headwinds force us to divert… We estimate we are about 100 kg overweight- 25% extra nothing to sniff at, but confident microlight rated high above this.Richard phones Darwin for weather forecast for tomorrow; still strong head winds up to 7,000 feet; will try very early departure to make most of dawn lighter conditions…

Richard and I decide to relax by pool and view of rough coastline below; suddenly realise no costumes, as only clothing we stand in for flight tomorrow!  Order couple of beers, spend afternoon quietly talking between pool and rocky beach, discussing Leonardo Da Vinci’s incredible insight into principles of flight. Gets hot, so I strip to underpants by deserted pool and dive in; Richard decides to decline following my example, sitting sipping beer and directing me when disorientated in big pool.Sudden arrival of hoards of school children to swim forces to make hurried exit, with Richard meeting me by poolside with big towel and my T-shirt!

Did two interviews over mobile phone with Australia Broadcasting Corporation (ABC) in Melbourne and Daily Mail in Britain by pool.Great evening meal in dining room, listening to music from traditional Indonesian instrument called a Sendando, consisting of metal strings surrounding metal down-pipe size of drain pipe, with something resembling palm leaves concertinaed around back to reflect sound; sounds like a Zither, or 12-stringed guitar when strings picked individually- playing unlikely yet lovely tunes like Tennessee Waltz and Country Road- beautiful!

Into bed by around 2300 hours; nothing in room besides clothes taken off and my flight computer; very aware big, big day tomorrow- longest flight of journey in far less than ideal weather conditions.

Spent all day working on my Blogs and e mails in motel room.

Richard went to airfield to service engine/change oil/fuel up; returned early afternoon with several microlighters; invited me to join for lunch, but declined to work.
Lots of media contacts; Reuters in Sydney, New Zealand equivalent of BBC, etc; all wanting info. of when arriving in Sydney.

Spoke to Catherine, PR lady in Australia for the SCB, who informed me now four helicopters standing by with all major television networks on board to film our arrival into Sydney Harbour…
Current plan is that Dick Smith, renowned Australian entrepreneur (bit like Richard Branson in UK), who, amongst many other achievements, has flown a helicopter around world, will be flying up to our airfield soon after dawn tomorrow to escort us down the coast 23 miles to The Heads, famous landmark at entrance to Sydney Harbour, where other three helicopters full of TV crew will be waiting to film us entering Harbour and flying past famous Opera House and the Sydney Harbour Bridge; trying to get Dick to sort out permission for us to fly under the bridge; some 200 feet clearance, so not a problem, but not allowed usually! Been given permission to fly along air routes over harbour area and city usually reserved for helicopters.

Landing at Banks Airport on edge of city where will be met by media, then off to hotel in the city where we are guests at big corporate luncheon arranged by Standard Chartered Bank, with me speaking for an hour; trying to persuade Richard to take big part; him sitting on veranda outside my room right now putting in GPS coordinates and enjoying a beer; very reluctant, as he says not his scene, but I am sure he will be a star tomorrow!

Afternoon more media stuff going into evening, then we guests early Tuesday morning at Sunrise Breakfast TV programme that goes out nationwide, then at 1100 hours off to the airport with Jon Cook to fly to Manila in the Philippines to speak at another SCB fund-raising event there the next day, before flying on to Hong Kong and South Korea for other fund-raising corporate events before returning to Britain on 8 May; I will probably bore you with Blogs until we return to the UK.

Richard staying in Australia for a few days, flying the machine up to Newcastle where it will be packed into a container to head back to Britain, maybe via the Hong Kong event first, then he's off to see his brother in Brisbane before returning to the UK for a few days before flying out to China, where he is the international judge for the forthcoming Para-Motor World Championships (kind of parachute/wing canopies with person suspended in harness seat below, with motor propulsion at back of harness; Richard also very good at this form of sport!

Now early evening, with me trying to sort out new PowerPoint presentation with Jon Cook in Sydney for me to use tomorrow; could be bit hectic, but great finale to the journey; tired, happy, at peace with the world, and hoping that I will be able tomorrow to take in all the wonder of the moment whilst flying, and that our temperamental wing-mounted video camera works OK to record it all for us!

Thought for the day:  Babe Ruth hit more home runs than anyone; he also struck out more often than anyone.

The greatest enemy of creativity is not the lack of talent but the fear of being criticized.

Don't be afraid of living those dreams of yours my friend- make a decision as you read this now to do something about it- it may take you a while, like my flight to Australia, but, with friends to encourage you and your own determination not to give up when things don't work out straight away, you will actually live them…

As the quote above says, don't be afraid of criticism- just do it…

Back in room grab quick shower, then dress whilst gobbling two jam sandwiches I made night before; I need carbohydrates to burn during long flights each day; Richard never worries about breakfast. Richard made me laugh last night; after dinner of peppercorn steak and salad (my record 10th night in row eating identical meal) with great tossed salad starter I asked Finnish temp. young lady in kitchen called Eve- studying for her finals in Pharmacology at Canberra university, if she could make me two sandwiches, explaining what we doing; senior kitchen lady told her just bring me 4 slices bread, with small portions of jam/butter, which she does.

Richard intrigued as I open each sandwich, then, just using fingers, extract cold butter onto bread, then, again with fingers, quickly scoop blobs of strawberry jam as well, then put other piece of bread on top, without spreading (butter too hard anyway!) Richard appalled at such primitive way of making sandwich, pointing out need to spread properly first.  I explain not on fancy picnic, and plan to just wolf them down at dawn- essential process for carbohydrates and energy to burn, and all will mix in stomach; just essential process each morning; me not worried how it tastes- just eat it quickly.

Richard insists on taking photo at table of me making caveman sandwiches- so
primitive- also roaring with deep laughter and unbelief at how blind people make sandwiches- I explain just me- not others!

He earlier saw me putting vine vinegar on my salad from little jug by pouring it down finger over salad- only way to know how much me putting on; then salt sprinkled by first starting to sprinkle on hand- again to judge how much coming out- Richard never seen before; also highly bemused and yet no better suggestion for me to use- me feeling need to educate him in these things!

Richard then insists on taking my finished sandwiches to kitchen nearby, calls Eve, then opens sandwiches, roaring with laughter, saying, "look at how a blind man makes sandwiches!"  Eve, coming from very PC country of Finland absolutely mortified that Richard so insensitive to me as poor blind
man- Richard roars with laughter more, explaining "O- he's my friend- he doesn't mind!

When Richard returns to tell me, I also laughed for ages, thinking about Eve's perfectly correct yet funny response in my eyes, as just me, and how I do my quick energy bundles for morning early starts. Ever wondered why funniest jokes/events in world usually those not politically correct? Because life not PC, and we just need to get on with it!
Only couple of days left to continue educating Richard; both of us find process extremely amusing.

Into taxi in pouring rain, getting wet, taxi driver Mark points out to Richard whilst driving down main street in town brown mark on telegraph poles some 7 feet above ground; mark from flood17 years ago, submerging town; then dropped at deserted little airport; security code on gate; Richard remembers from yesterday; eventually through gate, and leave kit in shelter nearby; go to open hangar to microlight; still pitch dark; both of us wet and cold, standing inside dripping hangar, rain roaring away on roof above us.

Need to push microlight outside into rain before Richard able to reassemble front windscreen taken off yesterday to enable wing to be slanted far back to get radio antennae above it under low clearance into hangar.

Wait a bit, as still too dark to take off; I make MP3 recording on my digital recorder for website, with sound of rain on roof; I pull aircraft out of hangar backwards by pulling on hub of propeller; immediately get wet from water running off roof, right down neck; only wearing polo shirt, as flying suits not unpacked yet; miserable rain, but determined to make hay whilst the sun shines I think, wondering at inappropriateness of example, but both of us acutely aware we need to get as close to Sydney today, regardless of weather; rain not best for us, but great blessing to community, so don't complain!

Load up aircraft by 0630 hours, still dark, but hint of dawn coming; next to fuel area, with automatic 24-hour music playing country and western music from local station; bizarre mix of sound of rain and music, now joined by start of dawn chorus of tropical birds around us; soon lots of little parrots on corrugated tin roof over fuel pumps, continually moving backwards and forwards along front gutter, scratching tin with their feet, trying to get better look at us; chattering away, inquisitive with innocent curiosity about what we doing; soon joined by small sparrow sized birds chirping away on tarmac around us- lovely company!

When ready and about to get in Richard sees several kangaroos down by airfield fence nearby, also staring at unusual sight of mad Englishmen getting into flying suits in rain, going flying in pouring rain at dawn!
Makes me curious as well, wondering what I am doing in such conditions, then remember Seeing is Believing, and blind children around the world, relying on people like us so they can see- all simple and clear once again, despite shivering with rain running down back!

Take off as dawn lighting up wet panorama around us; low, scudding clouds all around; feel cosy and warm in flying suit now, but rain flying into face makes me hunch down for protection.

Climb to around 5,000 feet- extremely cold, wet conditions flying through unceasing rain; air temperature below 10 degrees; try doing some flying, but, with hands in slipstream and cold, cold rain my fingers, still very painful from cold conditions yesterday make flying almost too painful; Richard says better he flies for a while, and I take my hands off, very thankful, and wishing I still had the wiring for my heated gloves, recently taken out when flying in hot conditions.

Hear with my computer kit we flying with ground speed approaching 90 knots- huge, huge difference to two days ago, battling with head winds, averaging some 45 knots; twice the speed, so who cares about a little discomfort when we are rushing towards Sydney and the end of our journey!

In Northern Territory two days ago, looking at slow progress, Richard suggested I ask the Bank or somebody to stop the wind blowing; me now realising that somebody took our request seriously, but not for no wind, but for wind in opposite direction. Important to note here that everywhere we have landed today told by locals that this direction of wind highly, highly unusual, as ALWAYS blows opposite way this time of year…Maybe, just maybe the One who has power over the wind and the waves, the Creator of the universe actually cares about the blind children in the world, and just wants to ensure we get to Sydney in time to speak at the big corporate event on Monday?! I somehow think somebody has been praying for just these wonderful conditions for us!

We landed at Nyngan 4.75 hours later, after flying along averaging high 80's knots all way; perishing cold, but worth it- only 17 degrees on ground; me still shivering; keep on my flying suit and face sun breaking out. Need fuel but airfield deserted with no fuel, but enterprising Richard spies hotel across road has phone number and calls them and arranges for very kind manager Jamie for help; Jamie arrives 10 minutes later; takes Richard with detachable fuel tank to local garage; back in 15 minutes, complete with two sandwiches for me!Been feeling a bit tight-chested yesterday/today; decide just cramped flying conditions in rain; sandwich helps immensely, with sun warming me through now!

Just phoned Jon Cook for update on position; him delighted with progress- Sydney within striking distance at last; only about 5 flying hours away if wind continues!

Strange suddenly having to talk about Sydney, speaking at luncheon, and asking him to buy me suitcase (blissful, blissful luxury hey?!) to put clothes in with flying suit and guide computer for flights home via Philippines, Hong Kong and South Korea; Jon reminds me that, after hectic day in Sydney on Monday, us guests at Australian Sunrise breakfast TV early Tuesday morning- Australia's top morning show, then off to airport and Manila in Philippines; life changing so, so fast; suddenly realising we are almost there; unbelievable, leaving me very quiet and reflective, thinking that we have nearly finished our amazing flight, flying more than half-way around the world distance wise. Back into aircraft for short 1-hour flight to Dubbo for bigger refuelling for final flight of day, hopefully as close to Sydney as possible.At Dubbo airfield immediately meet John, another pilot working in hangar nearby who immediately arranges fuel for us, and refuses payment- donation to the cause- great, great open-hearted Aussie- thank you John.

Also meet Joshua and Robin Metcalf, originally from Yorkshire; get photos with them all, then pile into microlight again for final flight of day to Gosford microlight airfield, just 30 miles from Sydney…

Immediately after take off we both hear strange ticking sound from engine, like something catching propeller; immediately alert Dubbo radio we landing again; stay at end of runway, switch off; Richard checks engine/propeller; no sign of problem; take off again; fine this time; set course for Gosford. Whilst flying over "Tiger country" as described by locals when finally approaching Sydney area Richard describes totally inhospitable, rugged, wild forested country below; rugged mountainous area; later told several aircraft that crashed in that area as far back as 1940's still not found today.

I suddenly remember last time me in that area; just 20 years old, working as Jackaroo near Tamworth in NSW.
I travelled this exact route into Sydney at similar speed, then on 350cc Honda motorbike, lying over fuel tank, flying down motorway at 101 MPH; now 6,000 feet higher, but taking same route at similar speed 38 years later, but this time blind and flying a microlight; wonder how I would have reacted as young person being told my next time and condition doing same route- life full, full of surprises, not so?!

Very cold again, now cockpit temperatures only around 4 degrees, but somehow don't notice now, reflecting on the amazing flight we are about to complete.
Work out Biggen Hill at 51 degrees Latitude North; soon to fly into Sydney, 37 degrees South; total some 88 degrees Latitude; almost journey from Equator to either South or North Pole…Then consider Longitude; Biggen Hill virtually on 0 degrees by Greenwich Line, with Sydney 151 degrees Longitude. Total 55 days for journey through 21 countries, flying through sub-zero frozen conditions over Lebanese Mountains to heavy thermal turbulence over Saudi Arabian Desert shooting up and down at 25 feet a second and throwing us 30 degrees off course in process, to flying through waterfalls, it appeared, with our severe tropical downpour between Penang and Kuala Lumpur, to flying over massive open stretches of sea, out sight of land even at 10,000 feet for over five hours, to trying to nip through heavy air traffic at Dubai airport, landing amongst some of the biggest airliners in the world, to flying over the rain forests covered islands of Indonesia, to trackless, deserted areas of the Northern Territory and landing on the road outside a tiny habitation in the outback for fuel and a bed for the night…

Everywhere, literally everywhere (once outside Italy anyway!) welcomed with open arms, open hearts and a level of hospitality and kindness that has left Brian (for first leg of flight), Richard and myself both humbled and thoroughly revitalised with the wonderful fact that human nature, and the human spirit, when at it's best and highest is a wonder to experience and it leaves us better people for it all, and poorer for having to say good-bye to so many precious people we have met so briefly, yet never to be forgotten.

Very reflective, realising our long, long flight across Europe, middle East, Far East, South East Asia and finally Australia almost over; my temporary lifestyle as microlight pilot flying across countries of world about to finish; remarkable, I keep on realising, that my dream to fly this route, born through meeting Storm Smith four years ago at a Rolls-Royce leadership development conference almost realised- yes, we CAN live our dreams, if we don't give up on them when the wheels fall off, that has happened several times over last years.

Richard not sure where Somersby Airfield for microlights is; not in his GPS system; we just have instructions if driving there by car; so, as sun dipping onto horizon, and long, long shadows covering jumbled Tiger  terrain far below, Richard mumbling to himself, trying to read scribbled instructions on road map on his knee, whilst looking with concern at disappearing sun, not wanting to become another aircraft lost forever in Tiger Country below.

Finally, and suddenly, he says he thinks he can see it, and we go into gut-swooping spiral descent and turn to line up on small runway in growing gloom; we land safely, but, when aapplying brakes on wet, slippery grass, we just keep on going… eventually stopping, and met by "HK" or Heavy Kevy, as Kevin is affectionately called, along with his wife Angie, who have been expecting us, through Rob, the owner of Australia's very successful microlight industry.Our longest flight of the journey is over- some 560 miles I think; we get out stiff, cold, yet so elated, realising we are within a stones' throw of attaining our grand goal!

Kevin sorts out a hangar for the microlight, and he and Angela take us to their nearby home for a couple of pints of Coopers Pale Ale, one of Australia's finest secrets kept from us Brits, before dropping us at a motel in nearby Gosford, with Jillie, their little Jack Russel, sitting next to me on the back seat, freshly returned, cold and wet, from her little walkabout in the nearby hills.  She was given her dinner of dried dog food topped with a chicken neck just before we left, with her drinking huge volumes of water in-between her meal, and being dried with a towel by Angie; I miss my Retriever guide dog Skipper so much, so take it out on Jillie, who loves the fuss, and sits there quietly, perfectly leaning into the corners whilst sitting on the seat, and I came away thinking I may have made a new friend, but in reality Jillie just took it as her right to be pampered, because of her high status in life…

Richard and I dump our gear in our rooms, discover the motels do not serve food, so head off a few blocks to a great pub, where I again order my favourite steak with peppercorn sauce.  Richard almost always takes ages choosing something on the menu, then invariably just asks for whatever I have ordered, resulting in two salads, followed by two steaks, but he has a different sauce like mushroom or \Dianne, just to maintain his individuality.

Tonight, Richard actually orders a mixed grill, complete with pork chop, lamb chop, steak, bacon, sausage and salad and fries; I decide it sounds delicious, and immediately choose the same.  Richard is highly indignant, telling me I can't order the same as him, but I say I want to, so he immediately changes to a steak, leaving me with the vision of that great peppercorn steak again, so swap back, resulting in Richard immediately changing back to the mixed grill, telling me he is NOT going to have the same as me tonight, so I reluctantly change back to the mixed grill, with him predictably choosing the steak, with the busy, slightly confused lady at the bar continually crossing out what we have been choosing.

I think Richard has a secret fear, just starting to surface now, that, after this trip together, he will end up being like me.

When our meals arrive, with both of us having great salad starters, my plate is actually a massive, oval platter, absolutely laden down with food, and Richard gets two lovely pieces of steak; we contemplate each others meal with a touch of jealousy, then get stuck into our respective choices, voicing loud praise and sumptuous sounds as we devour what we keep on telling each other was the best choice on the menu, whilst having a couple of beers.

Both of us defeated by the size of the helpings, and apologise to the waitress, who says it is why so few people ordered desserts there. I must admit that I ended up ordering a vanilla ice cream with caramel sauce just to help her out- a wonderful way to finish such an unusual day for me.We walk back to motel, buying some soft drinks at the garage, and I tumble into bed by 2300 hours, absolutely revelling fact I don’t need to set my alarm for 0500 hours- O bliss, bliss, bliss!!!

Thought for the day: again… "When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return."
Leonardo da Vinci

"Don't be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin."

Richard fires up machine and taxi's to me and taxi driver, then load up plane; still totally dark. Bill taxi driver amazed at tiny size of microlight for flight from London- Richard explains good thing- no jet lag for us as spread over 52 days so far!

Another rattle of chained gate- security after us?- no, just another helicopter pilot called Rick.  Big base for Robinson R22 tiny two-man helicopters; hardly bigger than our microlight; used to round up cattle; just $300 per hour costs to ranchers in area!

Fleet of these tiny machines here; very competitive business to round up cattle on huge ranches all over this part of Queensland; choppers go back and forth driving cattle; obstinate ones that just lie under tree ignoring chopper, knowing safe under tree get backside stung with rubber pellets from shotgun the pilots carry- different hey|?! Rick seems in early twenties; nice guy; excuses himself, then, with it still virtually dark- just hint of dawn on horizon, he boots up little chopper, warms up, then whirrs away into the sky and disappears over nearby hills, heading for just another days work rounding up cattle…

Richard and I pile into aircraft after putting on flying suits etc; totally silent around us; airfield deserted, just start of dawn chorus from beautiful Australian birds waking around us; boot up, warm up, then taxi to deserted runway.

This small airfield fitted with runway lights, able to be activated by pilots coming in at night by tuning into particular radio frequency and giving command- great hey?!

Just enough light to see dark runway now; open throttle- go soaring up into beautiful delicate dawn  touching silent world around us; hint of sun touching rim of horizon soon after take off- Richard exclaims, as his fancy Garmin GPS donated to us by Garmen (many, many thanks guys- amazing kit!) GPS screen, bright when switched on, intuitively knows exact moment of dawn in this part of the world, and, exactly as sun peeps over horizon, announces on screen "dawn at 0642 hours Queensland- switching to daylight mode" screen immediately brightens to daylight- same happened in reverse when flying into Karachi in Pakistan when sun set- screen immediately dimmed to prevent night blindness!

I took several digital photos in direction of sunrise, with Richard giving directions "9 O clock at 45 degrees"- at least one should have the sun in it!

Hit much warmer air soon after take-off, but no turbulence for 4.45 hour flight to Barcaldine.
Flew for long period until sleep started trying to overpower me- asked Richard to take over; only flying at about 4.500 feet; lovely flight, despite my fuzziness due to lack of sleep!

Barcaldine small airfield; met several pilots refuelling at fuel bowser; apparently all work for big civil engineering company operating over vast area; all fly Beechcraft Bonanza's V-tailed aircraft, several wearing big typical Australian hats- great guys!

Told me alternative meaning of letters for most international airlines- very, very funny, but unfortunately not printable here- ask me privately sometime!

One useable different quote: Bad news travels around the world whilst good news is still getting out of bed!"

Having said that, literally everywhere Richard and I have landed throughout Australia's great Outback so far have heard of us and know what we are doing- right in the middle of nowhere, so good news is also definitely out of bed out here- top marks to SCB PR people!

After farewells to our new-found friends off again into the blue, this time into bad turbulence too, forcing us up to over 12,000 feet to avoid worst of it- still-air temperature up there dropped to just 3 degrees Centigrade, making my  frost-damaged hands ache fiercely, but we found the same following wind we had earlier in the day, giving us ground speeds of often up to the high 70 MPH's; compare this to just 43 MPH when we flew out of Darwin!

Took a few short video clips with my digital camera, trying to capture what it is like in bad turbulence at high altitude in a microlight- quite unnerving at times, as often it hits totally unexpectedly, and smoothes out a bit before I get my camera shooting!

Both Richard and I bitterly, bitterly cold for this flight, with ground speed also bleeding off, so decided to stop at Charleville, rather than another 70 minutes pushing for a further airfield.

A wonderful, wonderful joy to feel the air rushing around us starting to warm us; once down to 5,000 feet I took off both pairs of gloves and held my hands directly into the slipstream- painful bliss; my thumbs and finger-tips feeling cold as ice from previous Antarctic frost damage that limits blood circulation in the small capillaries there- told Richard wished I could sit on my hands in flight, but, even if him flying, no space to put them!

Charleville small but well laid out airfield virtually deserted when we landed, but, after taxiing and switching off near fuel, heard piped Country and Western music- just piped all over airfield, whether anybody there to listen to it or not!

Meet Mark, commercial pilot flying for DHL kind of company, doing some six flights away between here and Brisbane.

He flies a very smart twin-engined American Aero Commander with twin 295 HP engines- sleek and beautiful! He phones pharmacist friend in town who owns hangar nearby- clears us to stay there- great unstinting kindness everywhere we go! Mark showed us Met. chart for tomorrow; trough of dull, rainy weather coming through; will fly at dawn again, hoping to miss worst of it, but prepared to get wet and cold to get through!

Charleville was big shearing centre many years ago before wool price fell through; now cattle men mostly. Also famous place where QUANTAS started in 1922 with first flight from here to Cloncurry. Got taxi to Cattle Camp Motel; booked in at bar, then sunk two lovely ice-cold beers before going to our rooms- surrounded by Aussie cattle men, with their distinctive twangy accent all around us;  hard to beat a cold beer on a hot day, despite being half-frozen for much of it!This evening Richard and I looking at mileages covered, and remaining to Sydney; Darwin- Rimmers Spring (about 495 I think) Rimmers Spring to Cloncurry 413 miles Cloncurry to Charleville 498 miles. Tomorrow aiming for Dubbo (419)Sunday Dubbo to Newcastle, in preparation for grand finale flight into Sydney Monday morning early shorter flight.

Last few days very pressured for us, seeking to get to Sydney in time for SCB luncheon planned for Monday lunchtime, with Dick Smith, famous Australian with similar reputation to Richard Branson planning to meet us in his helicopter up the coast from Sydney on Monday morning with TV cameramen on board, to escort us down coast to The Heads and entrance into Sydney Harbour past Opera House, Harbour Bridge etc, following helicopter air lanes; God willing, with weather big factor; maybe somebody spoke to the wind the other day like Richard asked?!

Thought for the Day: I am only one; but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; I will not refuse to do the something I can do.– Helen Keller (1880-1968) American Writer

Funny to be able to just walk outsie our room straight to the microlight- no hassling wih taxi's to the airport, filing flight plans etc- just jump in, as soon as sun touching horizon, stuff jam sandwich into pocket (breakfast not had time to eat!), ask pub manager to go up the main road to stop any huge road trains come thundering over us as we take off, wave cheerio to a surprising number of the places inhabitants who came to see us off, then gun the throttle, go roaring off down the road, with Richard yelling a bit during our fast taxi past the pub about road signs that needed to be avoided by the wing, then up, up into the air, in our beautiful balloon- no, I mean microlight, with the magic of a beautiful sunrise just touching the horizon.
We did a sharp sweeping bank  around and down again over the little group of our new friends waving at us from the dark road, with camera flashes popping, then setting our compass towards Queensland, climbing away into the warm, Northern Territory air, already kicking mildly with thermal activity, like a frisky mare making mischief.

Almost immediately realised the aircraft was not pulling well, with the engine sounding, as Richard put it, " like a bag full of nails"! We talked through options, with Richard suggesing it was probably the quality of fuel, not being premium but low octane petrol.Decided to stop at Barclays Homestead, some 2.45 hours down the road to dump the rest of our fuel and take on board good quality.The landing was on conventional runway near the small settlement, then taxied the microlight up the road and parked outside the little shop and petrol station! Lady inside immediately recognised us as the pilots flying to Sydney, and someone organised some jerry cans to siphon out our bad fuel. Another lovely experience, meeting wonderful Australian country people, with all of their hospitality and friendship and kindness!

I got quite tired pushing the microlight around the petrol station and then away again, with Richard steering and calling out encouragement to go faster!

An hour later we were back in the microlight, after zipping up our thermal flying suits amongst the heat and the flies, before taxing away down the road back to the airfield and taking off again-what a joy not to file any flight plans!

We had already flown nearly 3 hours by then, and the weather had been fairly smooth. We almost immediately got into turbulent weather, and climbed steadily higher and higher, looking for calmer air-the air picks up all its energy from the heat radiating from the ground, and sometimes that energy dissipated and cools at 8-10,000 feet, so that is where we went, looking for a better ground speed and calmer air. We finally climbed to over 12,000 feet-temperature in the cockpit only 7°C, with the 70 mph wind chill factor roaring through us reducing it to just above freezing-I ended up shivering uncontrollably at times, with Richard grabbing my knees and legs and hugging me to try and warm me up, but determined to keep on climbing as our ground speed improved!

Why did we stay there?-good ground speed-about 65-68 kn-best we have had for ages!

Flew past Mount Isa, our original destination for the day, to a smaller town called Cloncurry: Richard could see the huge mining towers from Mount Isa 40 miles away when at 12,000 feet-great view Richard said!

Landed at small airport there, and almost immediately warmed up in heat of afternoon blasting off tarmac; feet still frozen, and needed time to wake up! Immediately was offered a hanger by Dan, a friendly guy who was servicing his littleCessna, that he uses to round up cattle! Also met some other helicopter pilots who use their machines to round up cattle as well-one of them flew his helicopter from Sydney out to them just a few weeks ago-able to give us valuable information about the quickest route to Sydney! Fuelled up aircraft and secured her, then dropped off at pub in the town-the Lady here called Billy refused to charge as for our wonderful state meals or accommodation to night-it is her contribution to our flight-her  a husband seriously ill in hospital undertaking radiation therapy for cancer, yet still able to think about us and the blind people in the world-a truly wonderful, warmhearted, caring woman- God bless you |Billy, and bring healing to your husband.

Doing our best to reach Sydney by Sunday evening, ready for final flight around the harbour early Monday morning, before luncheon organised by the bank and lots of media interviews-very tired, but excited and amazed that we are nearly there-for so long it has just been a dream, and now, it appears we are only a few days away from completing our journey halfway around the world-I can hardly believe it.

Both Richard and I now very tired after some 46 days without a break, but determined to do our utmost to be in Sydney for Monday morning!

At an hour before dawn tomorrow, planning to be in the microlight and on the runway at first light, to make the most of the day-some bad weather ahead apparently, and over 1000 miles still to fly; heading for bed very tired, but full of optimism!

Thought for the day, inspired by Billy: If you have not often felt the joy of doing a kind act, you have neglected much, and most of all yourself.
 A. Neilen

Always need to say my goodbye's before I put my headphones on, as, due to the need for them to cut out most of the engine noise in flight, can't hear anything once on, and can't see any signalling/waving from them either!

Very hot flight, with ATC keeping us at just 2,500 feet for some reason, and not the 5,000 feet requested  throughout four hour flight, mostly over sea, with island of Java about 10 miles on our right- had flying suit and fleece undone most of flight due to heat at lower altitude.

My computer navigation system packed in half-way through flight- overheating I think; had to rely on Richard flying remainder of leg.

Landed at Semarang- big military base with lots of army helicopters (Huey's I think, judging by thumping sound).

Great welcome by airport ground staff and airport management- apparently TV coverage proceeded us, so all aware of our mission.
Soon sorted out with Av-gas and hangarage; alerted some media people around, but didn't see when leaving airport.

Semarang big city- six million population!

In hotel room by only 1500 hours- wonderful, wonderful treat, being able to lie down and rest for a bit before catching up with Blog- feeling absolutely exhausted, realising basically no time/day off for last 42 days, apart from day in bed when ill.

4pm, with me fallen into almost drugged sleep on bed, woken up by gentle but very persistent knocking on door; turns out to be very polite journalist, alerted to our presence and whereabouts by thoughtful airport management. Journalist/photographer comes in, apologising not able to speak much english; I offer him Coke from mini-bar; more asleep than awake, wishing I could curl up and go to sleep in secret broom cupboard somewhere!

Man sits on bed, staring at me; myself staring back reclining on bed, encouraging questions to begin; he doesn't understand; we stare at each other, with him starting to take flash pictures of me, looking, I presume, like drugged lizard, and not blind aviator!Finally saved by another knock on door, this time by two more enthusiastic reporters and cameramen, with one woman speaking excellent english, with sense of humour to match. I call Richard from his room (waking him up as well!) and he joins me, also sitting on bed, with room now full of flashing photographers and lady translating questions for everybody. I tell her Richard much more famous than me, as several times world microlighting champion, flown over Everest, etc, etc, and that he started trip with huge, huge bushy beard, trimmed just before flight.

Beard so huge that several birds flew out in barbers shop when started hacking into it, two un-hatched eggs found in abandoned nest, and, most strange of all, Owl flew out from very dense bushy area near right ear, leaving behind big mound of mouse bones.  Richard told by chiropractor, when visiting for back problem that weight of rat and mouse bones found in nest near right ear cause of twisted back, and all OK now.

Richard quietly guffawing good-naturedly, whilst lady journalist laughing uncontrollably whilst translating for avid, seriously-minded eager reporters, scribbling away madly into shorthand books …

Finally we asked to stand together in room for more photos; giving them, I am sure, at least a few photos that may be useable…

(To Richard's amazement, by the way, the big photo on front page of newspaper outside our room showing me reclining on bed, with part of his face and forehead right up close in the photo, with rest of face/head missing- he went around people in the dining room who recognised us apologising, shaking his head, and saying to the bemused audience "bad photo, bad photo", whilst shaking his head and laughing apologetically…) Despite our humorous activity during interview, I felt like my life had been invaded, being woken up from deep, exhausted sleep.  Realised it was not their fault at all, but an indication I seriously needed to get some sleep.

Really, what I am craving is not only sleep, but time for myself; feeling like suffering from "time deprivation"- probably a common-enough problem in the busy world today, but I realise I have acute case right now!

Originally planning to catch up with Blogs later this afternoon, but feeling so absolutely drained and exhausted, that I gave in to little voice inside me saying "Don't write it now- go have some food with Richard, and do it later!".

Felt very guilty, like I was failing everybody by not keeping up to date with my daily reports. Remembered that I had fallen asleep at least once on all recent flights, and battled to stay alert when awake; told myself I need to be kind to myself, and give my body some rest; seems rational and right, but still leaves me feeling guilty, with so many people checking our websites daily. Had great meal with Richard; steak with green peppercorn sauce, along with tossed salad; staying away from all national food dishes now, after being ill in India; need to stick to food my body recognises!Back in room; downloaded my e mails and replied to urgent ones; plugged in phone, computer, camera, MP3 digital recorder, camera, then downloaded photos taken by me for the day, saving each day's images in separate folder.

Yes, I do take digital photos each day, with Richard suggesting content and where to point whilst flying! Also take video clips with camera at times; landings for example, using my camera; wing-mounted camera working only intermittently- usually just when I am not flying, due to kit problems etc!
Once everything downloaded and on charge fell into bed, feeling drugged with exhaustion, after setting alarm for 0515 hours, to do it all over again tomorrow!

Thought for the Day:“The most important thing I have learned over theyears is the difference between taking one's work seriously and taking one's self seriously. The first is imperative, and the second disastrous.” Margaret Fontey