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Rigid airships, called zeppelins, enjoyed a heyday following World War I (1914-1918). They were excellent for ground observation and could carry passengers in comfort. However, their slow speed and vulnerability to weather limited their usefulness compared to the quickly developing airplane. In 1930 German pilot Hugo Eckener set out, as he explained, “to learn what the capacities of an airship are; how to make the utmost use of them.” Under Eckener’s command the 235-m (772-ft) airship Graf Zeppelin made a historic three-stop flight around the world, passing over some remote regions of Siberia along the way. Eckener described the voyage in this excerpt from a speech before the National Geographic Society.
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…'If someone were to ask me what the purpose of the Graf Zeppelin's world cruise was, I should answer, frankly, that no definite plan existed when first the thought of the trip occurred. President Hoover once mentioned, in a telegram of congratulation to us, that the period of great adventure was apparently not over.
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'Something similar to what inspired Magellan, or Captain Ross, or, later on, Peary or Nansen, must also have been in our blood when the idea of flying around the world in our airship occurred to us.
'We knew we had a good and capable airship. We had proved it on various trips, fighting against the elements, and the desire to explore spurred us on. So we conceived the seemingly fantastic idea of a world cruise, to see other seas and other continents, and to widen our knowledge.
'There was the desire, above all, to learn what the capabilities of an airship are; how to make utmost use of them, so that regular air traffic may be possible in various zones and climates. A trip around the world, leading over several oceans and continents of entirely different meteorological conditions, seemed likely to increase our knowledge of the airship's reaction under various circumstances: and so, at the very beginning, it was actually a flight into uncertainty, to gain wider experience in air navigation.
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'Our plan developed the thought that this great trial of the airship, by which the public would judge it, should give a definite proof of the craft's usefulness under any weather conditions, especially for transoceanic trips.
'The airship has until now decidedly passed for a 'fine-weather ship.' Public opinion has awaited a solution of the aeronautical problem only in connection with the airplane. The objection had always been raised that the airship was too large and clumsy and much too slow.
'Now, in this proposed round-the-world flight we saw a chance to answer the question whether the airship was really only a 'fine-weather airship' or whether it could fly also under most difficult air conditions. To give our ship an impartial trial, we planned to make the trip on a definite schedule.
'From the beginning, it seemed to me that the route from Friedrichshafen [Germany] to Tokyo would be the most interesting, if not the most daring.
'Flying conditions over Asia seemed very indefinite and difficult, not only from the geographic, but also from the meteorological standpoint. Charts of Siberia are incomplete, particularly as regards mountains and their heights. A pilot, however, absolutely must be accurately informed concerning the heights of mountains, especially when they must be crossed in cloudy or foggy weather.
'A safe altitude must be maintained to avoid collision with mountain sides in fog or clouds. It would, however, be impossible for the airship to travel at such an absolutely safe altitude under certain circumstances, particularly in the beginning of a flight, when the ship is still heavily laden with fuel.
'These considerations led us to relinquish our first idea of a flight over southern Siberia, as the stretch between Irkutsk and Vladivostok leads over very high mountains, which in summer are often covered with clouds. I therefore decided to make the flight in a more northerly direction, over the so-called greater spherical circle.
'By this route we could fly around the mountains of southeastern Siberia in a wide circle, and would only have to pass over the Stanovoi Mountains between the Lena River and the Sea of Okhotsk, the airship having in the meantime become much less heavily burdened.
'A more careful study of Siberia's meteorological conditions showed, furthermore, that southeastern Siberia and Manchuria are subject to heavy rain and thunderstorms during July and August, when we planned to be in the Orient. Such storms would make the accomplishment of a flight over these districts almost impossible.
'I decided, therefore, on a route as far north as possible, over the mouths of the Ob and Yenisei rivers, the middle course of the Lena, and the Stanovoi Mountains, southeast of Yakutsk. From the geographical point of view, this route was of interest, as it would lead over the remote and almost unknown territories of far-northern Siberia, and would give us a chance to bring home an abundant number of photographs.
'Unfortunately, weather conditions prevented us from following the route as planned. When the airship was flying over central Russia we received weather reports announcing a strongly marked depression in the extreme north and in the adjacent provinces of Siberia. Under such conditions the northern Urals, some of which are nearly 7,000 feet high, were covered with clouds. So we would have been forced, during the first part of our flight, to ascend to a safe height of more than 7,000 feet. This the heavily burdened ship would not have been able to accomplish. I was, therefore, obliged to make a detour toward the south, and to pass over the Urals about 65 miles from Sverdlovsk (Ekaterinburg) at a low altitude and when the weather was clear.
'The flight beyond the Urals led over such wonderfully interesting regions that the deviation from our original plan was perhaps not to be regretted from the point of view of geographical interest.
'On the Siberian side of the mountains we saw dozens of tremendous forest fires, the dense smoke of which covered a vast area of many hundred square miles and hid the earth from the airship.
'We were obliged to pass through layers of smoke, which drifted from south to north at a distance of from 40 to 50 miles, until it was clear enough for us to be able to see fairly distinctly below, but for many miles the view was very indistinct and the smell of the fires continued for hours.
'After passing this zone we turned toward the northeast, over a bend of the River Ob, where, after describing an easterly course, it flows in a northerly direction. We soon arrived at the taiga territory, a region of widespread swamps which lie on both sides of the Ob.
'We flew hundreds of miles over uninterrupted stretches of these swamps. We then saw small pools, one after another, followed by more or less large lakes. These were connected by strips of swampy land. Then came low, swampy woods extending for many miles. The whole region gave the impression of a dreadful waste, uninhabitable for man or beast, where there were not even waterfowl.
'In grotesque contrast to all that deadly silence, the airship sailed, its cabins lighted, its care-free occupants dining and enjoying themselves; and yet, if for some reason it had been necessary to land in these swamps, escape from those black-green waters would not have been possible.
'We flew over that dread waste the whole night, from 7 in the evening until 9 o'clock next morning, and it was with sensations of relief that we finally hailed the broad Yenisei River, which, notwithstanding its loneliness and remoteness, seemed to us like a safe street that would lead us again to towns and people.
'Since we could not tell from the maps at just what point we first saw the river, we flew downstream for a while in an attempt to reach the Imbatsk wireless station and to follow the right course from there.
'The banks of the river extended endlessly, a monotonous waste, not a house, not a settlement, in sight, not a boat on the broad, powerful stream to enliven the picture. After about an hour, a small village of a few huts appeared on the left, and at the right was Imbatsk, for which we had been looking.
'Our appearance might have impressed as an inconceivable miracle the inhabitants, who begin and end their lives here, far from the outer world. Perhaps we frightened them, for we could not see anyone emerge from the houses. Three or four animals drawing carts ran away.
'Flying toward the lower course of the Tunguska River, where it turns directly northwest, we passed hilly and woody districts. It was entirely deserted, isolated country, woody and intersected by deep glens here and there. Far to the south and northwest we saw ridges of higher mountains. Never before, perhaps, had anyone viewed these territories, at least not to such an extent. Now and then, perhaps bold trappers have crossed these regions during the brief summer, when the land is free from the snow of a long, hard winter.
'After about two hours we reached the Tunguska River, which we now followed for several hours, cutting off the curves of the stream by taking a straight course. The Tunguska is a full, broad stream navigable undoubtedly for a long way. During our flight we saw only one little boat with three people and on the banks just four or five huts or tents, wherein the Yakuts live.…
'Late in the afternoon, on our monotonous route over these vast wooded districts, we encountered a heavy gust of wind, through which we tried to break at as great a height as possible. A wall of black menacing clouds was in front of us and darkened the country far off. Under these clouds the sunlit distance shimmered promisingly. The airship was somewhat shaken up in passing the critical point, but it soon flew steadily again and we could look calmly at the other side, which showed the scattered, whirling clouds.
'At sunset we had reached the upper course of the Tunguska and then approached the watershed between the Yenisei and the Lena. This watershed is an almost even highland, intersected by numerous small creeks, which gradually slope toward the east and the Lena—flat, monotonous, and vast.
'At 7 o'clock in the morning we reached Yakutsk, the broad stream of the Lena before our eyes.
'On the other side of the Lena the land rose gradually to higher and higher ranges of mountains, which we had to pass by ascending. This part of the trip was beautiful and impressive and recompensed us for hours which we had to spend over districts of waste and desolation.
'From the very beginning of our trip I had looked forward to the route which we were now approaching, as I could not find any definite information in the maps and geographic handbooks concerning the heights of the Stanovoi Mountains. One statement merely said that the part of the mountains we planned to pass was much lower than the northern part and had an average height of 3,500 feet.
'According to the maps, the greatest heights of these mountains did not exceed 5,000 feet. Therefore it seemed that if the Stanovoi Mountains had been covered with clouds we could pass them safely at a height of 5,300 or 5,600 feet, even if we had to grope our way through the fog. I had planned, if clouds were had, to rise even to 6,000 feet. But we learned later that rocks, and not clouds alone, were to force us to fly very high. It happened this way:
'Halfway toward the Okhotsk Sea we had flown over ridges of 3,300 feet and more. By following deep canyons as long as possible, we were able to maintain an elevation of 2,300 to 2,600 feet until vast barriers of rocks blocked our way and forced us to ascend higher and higher.
'The mountains became more abrupt and awesome, partly covered with woods, partly barren and rising to magnificent peaks. We tried to find our way, if possible, over lower ridges, but soon had to ascend to 3,600 and 3,900 feet. More and more ridges of mountains towered before us and we had to go up to 4,500 and 4,900 feet.
'Finally, following a deep-cut valley, we arrived at the last ridge immediately before the Okhotsk Sea, which we had to pass at a height of 5,500 feet. We flew as close as possible, clearing the ridge by only about 300 feet. Steep walls of rocks at both sides were even 600 to 1,000 feet higher still. Therefore we should really have attained an elevation of 6,200 to 6,500 feet to have crossed the Stanovoi Mountains safely. We blessed our good fortune which gave us clear weather for this part of our trip.
'There was another reason to be thankful for the good weather: the Okhotsk Sea, which most of the time is covered with heavy fog, and therefore disliked by seamen, extended below us in a wonderful blue and its coast could almost be compared with the Riviera of the blue Mediterranean. Rocks sloped steeply toward the water and formed a coast line of marvelous charm. Some of the mountains right and left had their tops covered with fog, which drifted gracefully down the steep slopes.
'After the long flight over remote, waste districts the passengers greeted this view with enthusiastic cheers: 'Thalassa! Thalassa!'
'We flew by the small fishing harbor of Port Ayan, safely situated in a deep cove. Only a few huts and boats hinted that at this isolated spot people live and fight for life.
'Here our route across the immense continent really ended.
'With nightfall we piloted past Nikolaevsk, near the narrow sound which separates the island of Sakhalin from the Asiatic continent. The weather was excellent and augured a speedy flight. Toward midnight, however, the sky became overcast with thick clouds and the airship was caught by quick squalls. We had gotten into the tail of a light typhoon, which had passed Hokkaido Island the day before.
'This adverse weather, however, was not unwelcome to us, as it brought a fresh northeast breeze, which increased our speed. But we now had to be very careful in navigating, as we had to traverse the relatively narrow passage between the island and the continent in thick weather, between high mountains right and left, which rose to 6,500 feet. We navigated with utmost care in order to avoid collisions with the mountains on either side. Nevertheless we were glad when growing daylight at 5 o'clock enabled us to see the water below, here and there, and to control our drift.
'At 6 o'clock we crossed the southwest point of Hokkaido, and then with bright sunlight continued our flight toward Tokyo, which we reached at 5 o'clock in the afternoon. We had traveled from Friedrichshafen, almost 7,500 miles away, in less than 100 hours.
Source: Eckener, Hugo. “The First Airship Flight around the World.” National Geographic, June 1930.
Appears in
Siberia; Airship
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