She Flew in From Cairo – April 1964
- Lifestyles
- Travel & Leisure
- Travel Destinations
Author: Mary Ellen Lorray
Released 3 December 2004
Gerry Mock Lands in Dhahran, 1964
Photograph Contributed by Saudi Aramco
In Saudi Arabia, Friday afternoon meant listening to jazz and reading a good book, but on this Friday, the telephone ended all that.
It was Louella. “Mary Ellen, that woman who is flying around the world is landing here in a couple of hours - want to go see her come in?
“What’s the deal? Who is she? Why is she doing this? I quizzed.
“I don’t know, lets go find out,” Louella laughed.
“OK, come over here and we’ll get a cab from my place. Can we have dinner at the Officers’ Club?” My mouth watered as I thought of a good steak at the U. S. Air Force Base near our Dhahran camp.
I had heard that Geraldine Mock was following Amelia Earhart’s attempt to fly around the world. This flight, thirty years later, had technical advantages over the past, but I recognized it was a gutsy thing to do. Unlike Amelia, who had navigator, Fred Noonan, Mrs. Mock was flying solo.
At the airbase, only a few Americans wandered around the small observation area. The heat enveloped each body movement with its moist overcoat. Tid-bits of information were exchanged.
“She’s flying in from Cairo.”
“She’s out of radio range and has only visuals while flying over the desert.”
“What visuals are in a sand dune?”
“She’s cut off from the world.”
“No one has done this before.”
Tension and spinal-shivers moved from body to body. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes like hours. The blue cloudless sky was static. No other flights were scheduled for Dhahran. As if their common smallness formed a bond, five small fighter planes snuggled at the edge of the tarmac waiting to welcome their distant relative, the tiny single-engine Cessna 180, piloted by Gerry Mock.
The solid blue of the northwest sky continued to demand our attention.
“What if she misses a marker?”
“Will the oil flares guide her?”
“Exactly what time is she supposed to be here?”
“There’s no doubt this is dangerous - life or death.”
There was no change to the solid blue sky.
“Look, what’s that”
“Its her, its her!”
The tiny speck hung in the sky.
“She’s here.”
The speck grew to a dot. Larger and larger it grew as we inhaled and gasped.
“Yes, that’s it. You can see it’s a plane.”
The tiny plane suddenly grew near. It was on approach to the runway, then the wheels touched down. The tarmac that normally invited DC7’s gave its ample berth to the tiny Cessna, “The Spirit of Columbus”.
All eyes were fixed on the tiny plane as it whipped down the runway. As I waved, cheered and screamed, my tears and perspiration mixed and the wet mess covered my face.
The cockpit door was on the opposite side, but I could see it open, and out stepped a very calm and composed woman about my age - thirties. No flight suit for Gerry Mock, she wore a skirt, just below her knees, and a white blouse. After dismounting, she reached into the cockpit and retrieved her high-heeled shoes. Then she walked around the plane to accept flowers, (which no doubt had been flown in from Europe), and to receive greetings from the officials. We knew we were in the presence of a lady.
The entire group proceeded to the Officers’ Club for dinner. Gerry sat at a special table with the “wheels”. Louella and I had a table nearby, where we kept sneaking peeks at this remarkable woman.
Geraldine Mock’s flight had started from Colombus, Ohio, and would end in Columbus after twenty-nine days, eleven hours and fifty-nine minutes. She landed nineteen times for rest, better weather, maintenance or refueling. The small Cessna originally had room for four passengers, but for this trip, passenger seats were replaced with custom-made interior fuel tanks. According to her granddaughter’s web-site, Gerry sat on a fuel tank with a pillow on it.
She had received anonymous calls strongly suggesting she not make the flight. Congress worked on a bill to prohibit the Navy or Air Force from searching for anyone idiotic enough to get themselves into a predicament on such a venture.
Prior to this trip, Gerry had flown cross-country, but had never flown over water. This trip would take her over the Atlantic and the Pacific oceans, as well as the Bay of Bengal, that large expanse of water between Delhi and Bangkok, known as hurricane alley.
Ironically, another woman, Joan Merriam Smith, was on her around-the-world flight at the same time as Gerry Mock. Their routes were slightly different. Smith, a professional pilot, had a twin-engine Piper Apache, and claimed far more experience than Mock, who was known as “housewife and amateur pilot.” Smith started her flight two days before Mock, but didn’t complete the journey until May 12,1964. By that time, Mock had claimed victory on April 17, 1964.
Gerry’s flight broke many records for around-the world flight, flights over the oceans, speed, and special categories for men and women.
Gerry never flew The Spirit of Columbus again. The manufacturer exchanged with her, giving her a later model plane. The Cessna Aircraft Corporation later gave the plane to the National Air and Space Museum.
Now in 2004, thirty years after her historic flight, Gerry Mock is a grandmother living in Florida. I am a grandmother living in California, and I will never forget that hot Friday afternoon in Dhahran when Gerry Mock crossed the Arabian Desert all alone in her tiny airplane.