Lores Bonney: Australian Female Pilot

Bonney took off from Brisbane’s Archerfield Airport on April 10, 1933. Racing to get through the tropics before the monsoon broke, she was on schedule to attack British airwoman Amy Johnson’s England–Australia record until she was delayed by food poisoning after a meal at Singapore’s fabled Raffles Hotel.

By the time she left Singapore two days later, the weather had changed. She had been airborne 10 hours and was close to the day’s destination of Victoria Point (today Ranong, Thailand) when she flew into a barrier of dark, threatening clouds that erupted in torrential monsoon rain. ‘I was dreaming about a hot bath and a good night’s sleep when the storm struck,’ Bonney recalled. ‘For the previous half hour, building clouds had forced me down below 1,000 feet. I had been warned to stay away from these tropical storms. But I was so close to Victoria Point I was sure I could get through. The nearest alternate airfield was six hours away, and I didn’t have the fuel.

‘Visibility dropped to zero. The rain seemed to fall in a solid mass. It lashed my goggles, and I couldn’t even see my instruments. I was forced to raise them to see anything at all. My small glass windscreen provided no real protection, and the rain stung my eyes and face like driving sand. My Little Ship bucked and rolled, then a sudden downdraft flung us toward the water. Even with full power I couldn’t check the descent. I regained control about 50 feet above the water. ‘I was really terrified and knew it was time to get out of there. It was as though the gods had turned on scores of celestial taps. I was surrounded by jets of falling rain. Some were only a few hundred feet in diameter, others seemed miles wide. They looked like pillars supporting the black overcast.

‘I turned back and headed for a small island I had flown over a little earlier. I had noticed it had a good strip of beach and a village nearby. In those days we always kept an eye out for likely looking landing grounds — just in case of an emergency. Bert Hinkler had talked about it years earlier when he took me on my first flight. It was good advice. That strip of beach was the only landing ground I was going to make before the storm enveloped me again.’ On her way to the island Bonney saw a small steam launch. She wrote out her plan to land on the island on a page torn from her flight log, then stuffed the note into a waterproof message bag. Swooping low over the boat, she threw out the bag — only to see it drop into the sea unnoticed. ‘The crew were probably too concerned with getting themselves safely back to land to see the falling bag,’ Bonney later recalled.

Reaching the island ahead of the rain, Bonney found the tide was out, which meant there was an area of hard sand on which she could try to touch down. The only sign of life was a few buffalo grazing on the grassy fringe. She circled it once, checked the wind and then positioned her Moth on a long, straight, powered approach. Many years later she still clearly recalled her sensations during that landing: ‘My tires kissed the sand as I made a rolling touchdown. I was often accused of landing like a kangaroo — you know, a series of bounding hops. This one was a beauty until one of those blessed buffaloes lumbered out in front of me. The tail was still up and I had no brakes. All I could do was jam on rudder and swerve. That’s when my luck ran out. Before I could straighten up, the left wheel hit the water’s edge and we slewed into the breakers.

‘I remember a shower of spray and a sharp pain as the Moth flipped over and my head hit the cockpit coaming. Next I was underwater and hanging upside down in my harness. I recall thinking: ‘What an inglorious end — drowning upside down in the cockpit.’ I was struggling to undo the harness pin when the water dropped away. I was only submerged when each wave came in. It took me several waves before I released my harness and plopped head first into the sea. I dragged myself up to the beach and sat there watching the waves pound over my plane and repeating over and over, ‘Oh, my poor little ship.’ ‘It was some time before I noticed a group of villagers watching me through the trees. My first thought was that they might help me drag my plane ashore. But as I walked toward them, they backed away. I could not believe it. I am less than 5 feet tall, and they were scared of me.

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One Comment to “Lores Bonney: Australian Female Pilot”
As a girl, my mother Ida Florence Meier lived in 52 Dover Street, Newmarket (Flemington) and Maudie Bonney lived in the same street. My mother was born on 6 December 1893, so she and Maudie were much the same age and they played together. Maudie Bonney took my mother to meet her father and he said to Maudie I’m told, “What is your friends name?” and Maudie said, “Her name is Ida.” and Maudie’s dad said “Then I shall call you Ida Spider.” For all their lives and my mother died 13th February 1983, the ladies remained friends. As a boy I called Maudie “Auntie Maudie”, and she always called my mother “Spider”. I still have a copy of Terry Gwynn-Jones book “Pioneer Airwoman” which Auntie Maudie gave my mother on my mothers birthday in 1979. Maudie has written on the page with the Jonathathon Livingston Seagull Quote, the following inscription:
‘To Dear “Spider”
My first Australian friend.
With Great affection.
Maude (Lores) Bonney.
7 /12 / 1979″
I have read many articles about her but there is never refernce to the time she lived in Flemington (Newmarket) in Victoria.

She visited my family when ever she came to Melbourne and my mother and I visited her whenever we were in Queensland.

I am now 71 years of age.

By Edward F Dickinson on Nov 21, 2008 at 8:21 pm

Lores Bonney: Australian Female Pilot

One Comment to “Lores Bonney: Australian Female Pilot”

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