|
The circle closes, the launch of the Gordon Bennett
Race returns to its birthplace from 1906. This had
been achieved by Maurice Bienaime and Rene
Rumpelmeyer with a flight from Stuttgart to the area
of Moscow the year before. It was directed by fate,
that this return happened exactly in the moment,
when an interruption for a longer period stood at
the front door. Nobody knew this of course, for
times had become calmer. It still rumbled in the
Balkans, even if the Osman empire had mostly
renounced . their European possessions. But the
Balkans were far away, seen from Paris much farther
than from Stuttgart. Probably one can see in the
fixing of the union of three (Germany, Austria and
Italy) during the emperors exercises in Silesia a
month ago, the beginning of a confrontation against
France, England and Russia, which forced France to
introduce the three years duty in military service.
High diplomacy, who did care about it in those days?
It was much more than today the case of the leading
heads, either monarchs or civil presidents of a
republic. Much more a topic for discussion, at least
for balloon pilots, was the explosion of the German
navy airship L2 over Johannistal near Berlin,
killing 24 people. Also new ways to travel in the
air came up, and nobody really knew, how they would
perform. But everything else, besides the normal
catastrophes of nature, mine explosions, train
accidents and ships sinking is quite normal.
The people among themselves understood each other,
the sportsmen were friends. Of course, they fought
for victory in a race, but before and after they
shared experiences, discussed and helped each other.
If someone would have told to a Bienaime or a
Leblanc, that they have to hate an Eimermacher,
Kaulen or Berliner or the other way round, because
they were "iron foes", they would have refused
without understanding.
Flying balloons was very attractive to the French
people, more than half a million spectators were
counted at the launch. They hoped for another French
victory, but in vain. 18 pilots had come to Paris
and everybody knew that they were "the best of the
world". Honeywell, third the year before, was there,
and also Bienaime and Rumpelmeyer, last years
winners, flew separate this time. As "2nd man in the
basket" a woman flew for the first time in a Gordon
Bennett Race, Madame Gustave Goldschmidt.
Emancipation was always a matter of course in
ballooning. With Rene Rumpelmayer as pilot she had
flown from Paris to the area of Charkov (Ukraine) on
March 19th to 21st this year, putting the world
distance record up to 2420 km. One had heard from
Hugo Kaulen and Hans Berliner from Germany (and
should soon hear much more), Armbruster, de
Beauclair from Switzerland and young Belgian
Demuyter were hot favourites for the victory. Only
one would not be considered to be on one of the
higher rankings: 25 year old Ralph H. Upson from the
USA. Reason for this was among others, that he had
become a pilot just one year before and, at least in
the opinion of the other competitors and the
journalists, could not have gathered enough
experience and technical knowledge. Of course, he
was a student of meteorology, or, as it was called
in these days "the streaming of the air", but one
still did not think very well about this science.
Also his balloon was not in the best condition. A
well know balloon manufacturer pointed some broken
meshed in his net to him, Upson asked back: "Do you
think, that the hole is big enough that the envelope
could escape through it?"
There had also been a change in the selection of
the pilots. Looking at the competitors lists of the
first races shows, that a lot of officers, noblemen
and industrialists took part in these flights.
Ballooning was reserved to these circles of society
in many countries. But now, thanks to Gordon
Bennett, one could not only face adventures on these
flights, but also gather fame for oneself and his
home country. So it is quite understandable, that
the national aero clubs took more influence in the
selection of the competitors. They had to prove the
adequate staying power and enough experience, the
rest then came on its own.
Experience was quite different. Frank Lahm (1906)
won in his 15th flight in a balloon, Edgar W. Mix
(1909) had finished his instructions to become a
balloon pilot just two years ago, so there was not
too much experience. It looked quite better with
Erbslöh, Theodor Schaeck, Alan R. Hawley and Hans
Gericke. But all of them may not have cared much
about tactical conditions and long preparations.
The more these races became known, the more fame
came to the competitors and their countries and the
more importance was put on selection of the balloon
and the persons. One of the first, who added
considering the influence of meteorological
conditions to his planning, was Ernest Demuyter. The
race in 1913 had contributed a lot to this, as he
explains in his report:
|
Ma seconde participation a la Coupe Gordon
Bennett
La dernière Coupe a été gagnée par le Français
Maurice Bienaimé accompagné de Rumpelmayer comme
second. C’est donc à Paris que je vais prendre le
départ.
Je frète un nouveau « Belgica » de la Société Zodiac,
de Paris ; j’emmène, une fois encore, mon ami
Vlemincx, avec lequel nous attendons l’heure de
l’envol.
Et nous nous élevons, en fin d’après-midi, emportés
par un faible courant en direction du sud-est.
Le temps est très pur. Lentement, nous nous
éloignons de Paris dont les lumières s’allument peu
à peu. Le jour tombe, puis la nuit. J’apporte, pour
ma part, la plus grande exactitude à la vérification
de notre altitude et des différences de direction
des vents que nous pourrions trouver, selon
l’altitude. Une poignée de sable, et nous pouvons
modifier notre position. Faire du ballon, c’est
travailler au compte-gouttes, en matière de lest.
Soudain, un ballon !
Un ballon, tel une lueur qui parait nous suivre et
se rapprocher, un immense fantôme qui grandit
d’instant en instant.
-Est-ce que je serais le jouet d’un mirage ?
A haute altitude, il se produit fréquemment des
phénomènes de réflexion. A la hauteur où nous nous
trouvons cela me paraît impossible.
Je me penche par-dessus bord. La forme se rapproche
toujours de nous. J’en arrive à penser :
-Nous allons entrer en collision avec un ballon !
Communiquer avec les pilotes. Au plus vite. Oui,
mais, comment ? Un accrochage peut avoir des suites
graves. Nous sommes emportés par le même courant.
Nous avançons à la même allure. Nous ont-ils aperçus
? En tout cas, nous le reconnaissons : il s’agit du
seul ballon Autrichien engagé dans la course, piloté
par Sigmund.
La sphère n’est plus qu’à quelques mètres de notre
nacelle. La collision va-t-elle provoquer une
déchirure ? Marchons-nous plus vite que nos
concurrents ? Leur avance paraît diminuer. Nous
gagnons du terrain !
Au moment où la rencontre va se produire, nous nous
écartons l’un de l’autre. Quelques instants plus
tard, nous nous trouvons hors de danger. L’autre
ballon s’élève. La nacelle arrive à hauteur de la
nôtre. Nous sommes encore émus par le danger auquel
nous avons échappé, mais les pilotes du ballon
Autrichien restent silencieux. Enfin, quelques
secondes plus tard, remis de nos &motions, nous nous
souhaitons un bon voyage, emportant de cette
rencontre inattendue nos voeux réciproques de bonne
réussite.
J’ai omis bien des détails concernant cette
ascension, mais cet incident original méritait, je
crois, d’être mentionné.
Quel étonnant concours de circonstances faut-il pour
rencontrer une telle situation : deux engins
équilibrés dans des courants quasiment identiques.
Avoir tout l’espace, et craindre un pareil
accident... C’est comme si deux hommes exactement
semblables se rencontraient dans un désert au volant
de deux voitures identiques.
Nous avons marché vers le sud-est, puis vers le sud,
pour prendre une bise de nord-est qui nous mène vers
le sud-ouest. La lune nous fait découvrir les
châteaux de la Loire. Ils sont pareils à des
diamants piqués dans la campagne.
Au début de l’après-midi, nous changeons une fois de
plus de direction. Nous remontons vers l’ouest, vers
Châteaudun, d’où, quoique à près de trois cents
kilomètres de la côte, nous apercevons la mer et les
premières îles à l’ouest de Nantes et Saint-Nazaire,
les îles de Noirmoutier et d’Yeu, probablement. Nous
sommes équilibrés à plus de trois mille mètres, par
un beau ciel d’où l’on jouit d’un merveilleux
panorama. C’est tout le Val de Loire, avec Vendôme,
la dormeuse, dans son lit de verdure, la forêt
d’Orléans, mousse touffue , face aux marais de
Sologne, plate étendue à perte de vue, Angers, en
bordure du massif armoricain... Mais bientôt nous
commençons à subir en altitude les effets d’une
dépression donnant des vents de sud, dépression qui
naît au nord-ouest des îles britanniques.
Nous apercevons, beaucoup plus bas que nous, une
demi-douzaine de concurrents. Certains marchent vers
l’ouest, d’autres vers le nord-ouest. Que faut-il
faire ? Rester à notre altitude ou rejoindre le
mouvement général ?
Où nous naviguons, le courant est fort lent. Il doit
nous mener vers la mer. Et plus loin vers
l’Angleterre. Et nous sommes seuls à accomplir une
manœuvre qui nous mènerait par-dessus la Manche.
Avons-nous tort ? Avons-nous raison ? Là, plus bas,
ils sont une demi-douzaine. Nous, nous sommes seuls.
Je relis ma carte. Je vérifie mon itinéraire établi
au départ. Me serais-je trompé ? Il ne me semble
pas. Ne puis-je compter sur le courant ? Les doutes
m’assaillent.
J’ai vingt ans. Je suis le plus jeune des
concurrents. Ils ont expérience, eux. Je n’ai pour
moi que les prévisions, les mêmes qu’ils ont eues au
départ.
Je suis seul à avoir emprunté cette voie.
Finalement, le nombre l’emporte. Et aussi l’échec
possible d’un voyage au-dessus de l’eau m’inquiète.
Mon matériel de location, la sécurité de mon
passager, le fait que je me trouve à un point à
l’ouest où la traversée de la Manche se ferait dans
sa partie la plus large, toutes ces raisons me
paraissent suffisantes pour respecter les règles de
la prudence.
Je rejoins, autant que faire se peut, les autres
concurrents et nous poursuivons le voyage vers
l’ouest-nord-ouest, c’est-à-dire la partie
nord-ouest de la Bretagne. Renonçant à l’altitude,
nous changeons de direction, nous nous laissons
mener vers la presqu’île du Finistère, pour atterrir,
vers minuit, près de Saint-Michel-en-Grève.
J’ai mené mon ballon au long d’un voyage de
trente-deux heures, et j’ai probablement raté la
victoire, et cela par ma faute.
Le vainqueur, l’ingénieur américain Ralph Upson, a
suivi, lui, le chemin des hautes altitudes. Il a
passé la Manche à Cherbourg et a atterri en
Angleterre.
Conservant son altitude, il a profité de ce vent de
sud, lent d’abord puis beaucoup plus rapide par la
suite. J’ai la confirmation de cette impression
vingt-quatre heures après mon arrivée. Tout
l’intérêt de cette randonnée réside dans mon échec.
La victoire m’échappe, mais je ne peux m’en prendre
qu’à moi-même, et quelle belle consolation que la
preuve absolue de l’exactitude de mes déductions
quant à la manœuvre météorologique possible ! Quelle
matière à encouragement que de pouvoir se dire qu’il
était possible de vaincre ! Quelle désillusion aussi
de n’avoir à regretter que son manque de confiance
en l’application systématique de la météorologie à
la navigation en sphérique ! Enfin, perdant cette
fois encore, je me sens plus capable de gagner à une
prochaine occasion.
De ces déception, me vient cependant une grande joie,
celle de mes progrès techniques. Et je peux, dès à
présent, contrôler la courbe ascendante de mon
évolution scientifique.
De 1910 à 1912, je me suis contenté d’enregistrer
des faits météorologiques, de me familiariser avec
eux et de m’intéresser progressivement à leur
application.
1913 est l’année des déductions scientifiques, des
constations pratiques quant à la régularité des
mouvements. C’est aussi l’année des hésitation, des
doutes. Que me reste-t-il à faire ? Appliquer les
certitudes dont je dispose et vaincre.
Au reste, il me tarde de remporter une belle
victoire, aussi bien pour moi-même que pour un sport
que je souhaite servir le plus efficacement possible.
Ernest Demuyter
|
Meteorology in those days was in its childhood. Of
course, the pilots got handed out the information
from all meteorological stations round the world,
and often the forecast for beginning rain, snowfall
or storm was true. But there were no weather maps as
we know today from the television every evening.
There was also no weather briefing before launch.
Everybody got his own information. What he then
concluded and how he put it to practice was his own
affair.So they tried to save ballast, looked for a fast and
adequate layer, put the track to a map and prolonged
it, concluded then to fly a little higher or lower
to catch some more kilometres over land before the
sea put and end to the flight. One only risked to
fly out to the sea, when the direction and power of
the wind, seen by the heading till then, could
guarantee a relatively safe arrival at the opposite
coast. It was still well remembered what happened in
1908.
The morning after launch found the field close
together about 200 kilometres south of Paris. Then
the wind turned to the northwest, towards the
Atlantic ocean. Now, according to the old way, one
had to try to fly to the longest bulge of the land.
That means, flying low, to the left, this was the
direction for the Bretagne. Catching this peninsula
of France allows to fly up to the town of Brest.
American Honeywell managed this best, his most
southerly heading brought him almost 500 km as the
crow flys.
Italian Pastine tried it just the other way round
and was also not without success. His most northerly
heading brought him to Normandy almost up to the
town of Cherbourg, at least also 450 kilometres far.
All the others flew in between and therefore had to
come back to earth at the bay of St. Malo. That
would have been it, if not Mister Upson was
absolutely confident in his science.
Today every balloon pilot knows (or should know it),
that the wind turns right in a high pressure area
and counter clockwise in a low. Today we know the
gradient winds, floating almost parallel to the
isobars. Mister Upson also knew this in his days. In
the beginning, he did not care at all, flying more
north or south, then, to the horror of the others,
he crossed the coast, heading for his sure death, if
he would not find a ship, fishing him out of the
waves of the ocean.
He did not need the ship. He fell, caused by the
cooling air above the water (and its influence on
the temperature of the gas) from his former altitude,
but got the balloon under control, overthrew,
climbed much higher than before and headed now
exactly north, towards the English coast between
Exeter and Portsmouth. From there it went on in a
wide bend, crossing the Bristol Channel, passing
north of Birmingham, until the North Sea north of
the little town Bampton, Devon, forced him to land
after 43 1/2 hours of flight.
We had seen this before! 1906 American Frank P. Lahm
made his victory not far from this place, but much
more directly, not with this long detour over
Southwest England. Upson told after his victory,
that he had made a mistake in his calculations: He
had not calculated the cooling above the water,
without the fall he would have flown in a bend much
more narrow above the Netherlands to Northwest
Germany. But nobody believes this, especially with
today's knowledge of his science. Such small circles
are rarely permitted by a high over Scandinavia and
a low west of England. And would this have been
farther? – He got his victory with 618 kilometres, a
victory of science over technical skill in a
balloon, a victory of sober calculations over
experience.
The end of the race caused another effect. Both
Germans Hugo Kaulen and Hans Berliner had hoped for
more success. They ended in the disappointing ranks
16 and 18. But hey did not rest, they knew about
their skill and wanted to prove it to the world.
Little later, they had the opportunity for it. On
December 13th Hugo Kaulen went on a flight, bringing
him the world record for duration with 87 hours.
Hans Berliner waited another 2 month longer. On
February 8th 1914 he flew east from Bitterfeld for
47 hours covering 3053 kilometres and landing at
Perm in the Ural. That was the new world record in
distance, first beaten on August 17th, 1978 with the
first crossing of the Atlantic ocean. The history of
this two flights is worth an extra book.
Later, after the war, Upson flew in two more Races,
but could not repeat his success. The break of six
years, following the 1913 race, also forced progress
in meteorology for all, otherwise a war with poison
gas would not have been possible. A lot of people
would have loved to wait longer for these quick
results.
|
