It's the 3rd of November 1899, and here at Lancaster Park in Christchurch, Capt Charles Lorraine, aeronaut, is about to thrill the crowds. He intends to ascend in his balloon, The Empress, to a record 20,000ft, and then he's going to throw himself off it in an unparalleled feat of derring-do. By the end of today, he will leap into New Zealand's record books ` just not in the way he expects. New Zealand has a past filled with people who thought, 'She'll be right,' when more often than not, it wasn't. Join me as we celebrate these true stories of the history that history tried to forget. Copyright Able 2017 I've always loved the phrase 'derring-do'. It literally means to do something daring simply because you can. To tell the true tales of some extraordinarily daring New Zealanders, I have dared to use some ordinary New Zealanders; some of whom are quite daring. There's a trapeze artist, an orienteer and a guy I found on Piha Rescue. You'll spot him. As we celebrate our great tales of derring-do. New Zealand has a proud history of people who look at something dangerous and think, 'I'll give that a go,' when most of us would say, 'I'm not sure that's a very good idea.' This is one of my favourite New Zealanders. Born in Auckland David Mahoney, he's now world-famous as Capt Charles Lorraine, aeronaut. His death-defying antics involve him sitting on a little trapeze underneath his balloon, The Empress, and then, when he reaches a dizzying height, he throws himself from the balloon and he parachutes to the Earth while performing gymnastic stunts, including hanging from the trapeze by his toes. It's quite the spectacle. But no one can imagine what will unfold in the blue skies above Christchurch before the end of today. Flight of any kind is a dangerous novelty here in 1899, but in only 14 years, people will be squabbling over who it is that gets to go up. Should deserve to have` The mechanism is out of date in the 20th century. If the press are to report on this occasion` Who better to report on the Prime Minister's wishes than the...? This group of officials, politicians and media men are currently arguing about who should be the passenger on a demonstration flight by New Zealand's first official government plane. It's a Bleriot monoplane named Britannia, and it's going to be flown by our first official government pilot, one of Whanganui's finest, Mr Joe Hammond. (JAUNTY MUSIC) He cuts a dashing figure. Prior to being a pioneering pilot, he'd fossicked in the frozen wastelands of Canada's Klondike gold fields,... Yeehaw, we're rich! ...faced the terror of grizzly bears and wolverines while fur trapping in Alaska... (BEAR GROWLS) ...and been a cowboy in Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show, which had included stars like Calamity Jane and Sitting Bull. But for now, his demonstration flight is going to be the highlight of the Auckland Exhibition. Why? Well, for most people the closest they'll ever come to flying is having their photo taken in a photo booth. Like this family. Although, judging by their expressions, it doesn't seem all that exciting. So, who gets the highly sought-after spot in Hammond's passenger seat? He choses Esme McLalland. Who, you may ask? So does everyone else. Esme is a chorus girl touring with the Royal Pantomime Company, and the reason Hammond chose her? She asked nicely. (PLANE ENGINE STARTS) It was particularly daring of Esme, because it was only 10 years since the very first flight in New Zealand ` and possibly the world ` when Richard Pearce flew across a paddock in Waitohi before crashing into a gorse bush. Still, it's amazing Esme was flying at all, because when they shipped the Bleriot from England, they'd forgotten to pack the propeller. And as for her flight? Well, Esme is thrilled. Joe Hammond's employers, on the other hand, aren't as enthusiastic. The politicians, officials and media men are not thrilled. And neither is Joe Hammond, as he's promptly sacked as our official government pilot. Any comments to make, Mr Hammond? How was the flight? Uh, well, the`the flight was marvellous, but I` I think I just lost my job. Any comments to make on that, Mr Hammond? Uh, well, I do think it might have been because of her. How was the flight, Miss McLalland? Oh, it was just lovely. But when you visit the air force museum here at Wigram to see a replica of the Britannia, you will notice that inside it is not only Joe Hammond, but a very familiar passenger ` Miss Esme McLalland of the Royal Pantomime company. I bet she never expected that. Clearly a choice of passenger is absolutely crucial. Just ask this guy. This is Gordon Lukey, champion cyclist and record setter. In the 1930s, he biked from Auckland to Wellington in 31 hours, 58 minutes, via New Plymouth. Although, his greatest feat of derring-do might have been wearing those shorts. In 1935, the middle of the Depression, and Lukey decides he needs a bigger challenge. So he grabs his mate John Schofield, and they plan a morale-boosting road trip. And the road-trip vehicle of choice ` a wheelbarrow named the Snailaplane. Barrow pushing was something of a fad at the time and as such, the Snailaplane was an excellent example of the kind of souped-up garden tool New Zealanders are famous for. It has padded handles, a pneumatic tyre, headlights, footrests, a clock, a thermometer and a horn, (HONK-HONK-HONK!) and, thankfully for Schofield, a cushion, because he and Lukey plan on taking the barrow from Auckland all the way to Wellington via New Plymouth and Palmerston North. Lukey, being the athlete, will do all of the pushing. Schofield, weighing in at 87kg, will do all of the sitting. Is he the right choice as passenger? Well, he did confess to doing no training whatsoever other than eating, because in New Zealand that's how mateship works. So who drew the short straw? Was it Lukey, who had to endure strong headwinds and steep gravel inclines while pushing a combined passenger and wheelbarrow weight of 144kg for 800km? Or was it Schofield, who simply had to sit still and not fall out through rain and hail and temperatures so cold, he was often frozen stiff and had to be hauled out of his seat at the end of the day? And why was it so cold? Well, they set off in the middle of winter, because when you have an idea this good, you don't want to wait for summer. And what toll did it take physically on the 31-day journey? Well, despite pushing the Snailaplane the entire way, Lukey's weight didn't change at all, whereas Schofield, who simply sat in the barrow, lost a couple of kilos. Clearly, sitting was the tougher job. Although, as far as jobs go, it was nowhere near as tough as the one chose by aeronaut Charles Lorraine. Tomorrow, in an article about his feat of derring-do here at Lancaster Park, the Christchurch Press will print the greatest summation of New Zealand masculinity ever captured in a single paragraph when they wrote, 'Having taken the trapeze bought to him by his wife, the Captain, pooh-poohing the idea of danger, 'and heedless of the high nor'wester, took his seat in the rope sling attached to the netting 'without thought of accident or peril.' (APPLAUSE) And if that doesn't sum up every New Zealand man you know, I don't know what does. 1 New Zealand has a long record of being entertained by people risking their lives for our pleasure ` people such as balloonist Charles Lorraine. He's performed his feats of derring-do throughout Europe and America. Now he's back in New Zealand. In April 1889, an ad appears for his newest feat of daring. 'It will be,' it says, 'A double spectacle in Takapuna. Capt Charles Lorraine will ascend by balloon with Miss Frances Juriss. 'She will parachute from 6000ft, followed by Lorraine from 9000ft. 'It will be,' the ad says, 'An exhibition of sublime splendour, 'a living cosmographic reflex of Earth in air for the first time in New Zealand, 'absolutely the greatest act in existence.' Unfortunately,... it isn't. Low ticket sales and bad weather sees the jumps cancelled. But who is Miss Frances Juriss? As it turns out, the modest Charles Lorraine has met his match in the equally daring Frances, and they'd plunged headfirst into marriage only a few weeks before the advertised double jump. Had she made the ascent, she would have leapt into the history books as New Zealand's first female balloonist and she would have been one of our most fascinating women of derring-do. New Zealand history books are filled with stories of courageous women ` even if they have to occasionally write those stories themselves. Thank you, Lady Barker. This is Lady Mary Barker, the author of this very good book, Station Life in New Zealand. It's the story of the three intrepid years she spent here in the 1860s, living on a remote Canterbury farm with her poet husband. She once saved herself and her beloved horse from being gored by a boar. How? Well, she smashed the boar in the head with a rock. But don't worry, her husband helped. He wrote a poem about it. (CLEARS THROAT) With jaws all extended and horrid; fierce and foaming, the brute leapt to gore her. When she dropped a rock full on his forehead, and, lo, he lay dying before her. Bravo. Lovely, darling. Bravo. To be honest, one of the bravest things she ever did was listen to her husband's poetry. Bravo. But perhaps her most daring feat was when Mary Barker is thrown from her horse and dislocates her shoulder. Mary quickly realises her husband's tender touch and rhyming couplets aren't much use in an emergency. But travelling by horse was so painful, she pooh-poohs the idea of riding 15km to the doctor and instead gets out her medical book, braces herself... (BONES CRACK) Ugh! ...and pops her arm back into its socket. And then, because she couldn't brush her hair while her arm healed, she had her husband cut it all off. Um, actually she never mentioned whether he wrote a poem about that. Sorry. Sometimes, though, the things that thrill a nation are decidedly more pedestrian. (SCISSORS SNIP) In 1931, with the Depression looming, young fashion model Esther James decides to promote local industry by going for a walk. Wearing only New Zealand-made clothes and shoes and eating only New Zealand food, such as butter, bacon, cheese, eggs, fruit, honey, milk, meat and sweets, she sets off to walk the length of New Zealand. On one of her days off, she climbs Mt Taranaki. Impressive? Not really. Even a kitten could do it. This kitten, actually. (KITTEN MEOWS) This is Ginger. She lived at the Mt Taranaki hostel and used to follow people up the mountain. Once Ginger climbed all the way to the top. When she got home, she was presented with a silver medal and a new collar to hang it on and probably some milk ` no doubt of the same kind that was fuelling Esther James as she walked all of the way from Cape Reinga in the north to Bluff in the south, some two-and-a-half-thousand kilometres. And she did it in 197 days. And not content with that, she then walked all the way across Stewart Island. It was no mean feat, Lisa. But it would have been very mean on her feet. It would have been. It's a phenomenal distance, but one that you are pretty familiar with. I've done it` done the same trek but in reverse ` from Bluff up to Cape Reinga. 42 days. Slightly faster than Esther, but, um, I had a lot more support than she did. You think that Esther may have had that moment where she went, 'Mm, why am I here?' Where` Where did that moment come for you? Um, for me it was at Bluff. (LAUGHS) But that's where you started. Exactly. It was like an elephant sitting on my chest when I realised that I was looking down the barrel of 2000-plus kilometres, and I'm sure for Esther there would have been moments along the way ` if not already at the beginning where she went, 'Oh, crikey. What have I gotten myself into?' But when you've set yourself a task and you've told everybody you're doing it, you're sort of committed, you know, there's no way out but through. So I'm sure Esther would have had many of those moments. But the thing is you should never have been running in the first place. (LAUGHS) You're not really physically` No. No talent. ...built for it. No, not built for it. No, I'm an asthmatic, um, and I broke my back when I was, uh, 21, and, um, I've never had any ability. So, you know, you find ways around obstacles and you... Some people would have thought that the way around that obstacle would have been not running. (LAUGHS) But I love adventure, and I love to be able to push my limits and find who I am in the most extreme circumstances. When you think about it, it's not getting a blister or pulling a hammy, is it? No, no. It can get a little bit more extreme. Hyperthermia, heat stroke, ripped hamstrings, ripped, um, uh, muscles, broken arms, uh, broken ankles, you name it, I've pretty much had it. But it's even more than that. There's` there's dysentery. There was, um, uh, Death Valley, your` your` what` your stomach` Oh. ...sort of stopped. Often when you're doing super-long races like Death Valley ` the heat was incredible, and we were running 217km through 55-plus degrees. So it's very, very hard to get anything, digestion-wise, through your stomach without vomiting it up, putting it bluntly. And when you don't eat, of course, you run out of energy, and then you pass out and fall over, and then you have hallucinations and... One of my, um, favourite hallucinations, if you like, or the most common, is, uh, I see giant penguins, for some reason. Do they speak to you? (LAUGHS) Yes, they're always cheering me on with their little flippers, yeah. Esther James' extreme strolling never led her to hallucinate, but it was still an incredible feat of endurance. Of course, the irony for Esther is that having walked two-and-a-half-thousand kilometres, she actually put on 13 kilos. I imagine it was all of the bacon, butter, cheese, eggs, fruit, honey, milk, meat and sweets she was promoting. Still, it's a lot safer than going up in a balloon in 1899. Acts of derring-do come in many forms ` from walking to running to flying or, in the case of balloonist Charles Lorraine, to falling from great heights. Thousands of spectators have gathered in Christchurch to witness Charles Lorraine ascend in his balloon and break his altitude record. They'll then watch as he leaps from the balloon and parachutes to the Earth while performing astonishing feats of acrobatics. Or at least that's his plan. While he gets ready, it's good to remember that some of our most impressive feats of derring-do had no spectators at all. (THUNDER CLAPS) It's a freezing night on the East Coast in 1926. The Waiapu River ` one of the most dangerous in the North Island ` is in flood. Only a week before, it had claimed the life of a local man. Does this deter Mr N Reihana from plunging in on his horse to cross the swollen torrent? It does not. And why does he risk his life to cross the river? A wife about to give birth? A loved one dying? Nope. He's been selected to play rugby for the East Coast and doesn't want to miss the game. Against all odds, he manages to cross, he makes the game on time, and his team... lose 14-nil. But there was an even more impressive swim by a man so quintessentially Kiwi you'll think I've made him up. Spurning such modern accoutrements as a wetsuit, in November of 1962, Barrie Devenport slips on some speedos, chucks on a bathing cap and, lightly greased, slides into the ocean, and heads off across Cook Strait. Good luck! Oh, don't worry. He's been training. He's jogged, and he's swum, and over winter, he's been sleeping without any blankets. But he's failed once before earlier in the year. Will history repeat or will he become the first man to officially swim the strait? His mates from the Worser Bay Life Saving Club man the support boats. Worser Bay, incidentally named after local curmudgeon James Heberley, who occupied the pilot house in the 1840s. Any time he was asked, 'What's the weather going to be like?' he'd say, 'It's bad, and it's gonna get worser.' Nothing's changed. The weather isn't against Barrie Devenport, which is just as well because the entire country is following his progress on the wireless. RADIO: Devenport has helicopters overhead. The Interislander diverts her course to see him. He's almost there, he's very, very close. There have been several aircrafts hovering overhead for the last 10 minutes, quarter of an hour. And as he inches ever close to the South Island, even Parliament has suspended to listen to the live broadcast. Then 11 hours into his swim, only 200m from shore, Barrie Devenport stops. He rolls on to his back. The country holds its breath. Has he failed again? Bugger off, mate, and let me enjoy my leak. To be fair, it's probably the warmest he's been all day. Relieved on a number of levels, Barrie Devenport clambers on to the South Island. RADIO: Well, there you are. There are the cheers of the boys on board the boat, the Crusader. Barrie Devenport becomes the first man to conquer Cook Strait. Congratulations. Great swim. As Prime Minister Holyoake later said at the after-match function,... 'You must be the only person in the country ever to hold up Parliament for a pee.' It's the true mark of a showman ` always keeping an audience on its toes. And Capt Charles Lorraine is the consummate showman. Ladies and gentlemen, does anybody have... a knife? Lorraine takes the knife and with it he cuts the rope that tethers the the balloon to the Earth. (ROPE TWANGS) And he hands the knife back to the man in the crowd. And as the band plays Rule Britannia, Lorraine slips the surly bonds of Earth. His plan is to ascend to 20,000ft ` or 6000m ` throw himself from the balloon and parachute back down. But he's only 10m above the ground, when suddenly the parachute becomes detached from the side of the balloon. They watch as Lorraine attempts to maintain his grip on both the balloon and the parachute. But soon, foop! (CROWD GASPS) The parachute is ripped from his hands. The Empress rockets high into the sky, and the people of Christchurch think, 'Jeekers! I don't think that was supposed to happen.' Surely, Charles Lorraine will just release some gas from the emergency gas relief valve and drift safely back to the Earth. But emergency gas relief valves cost money, and Charles Lorraine is a New Zealander. Perhaps he'll just take his knife, cut a hole in the balloon to release some gas and descend safely. But almost as one, they remember that he'd handed the knife back to the man in the crowd. His new wife Frances watches as Lorraine attempts to rock the balloon backwards and forwards to release some gas. But when it's apparent that that is futile, particularly to Charles Lorraine, they see him climb up and sit on the very top of the balloon. The balloon drifts out over the Port Hills, and as it drifts slowly out to sea, Capt Charles Lorraine is seen sitting on top of the balloon looking quite dejected. The balloon was later spotted plummeting into the sea, but that was the last that was ever seen of Capt Charles Lorraine. He became, at the age of 26, our very first aeronautical death. Frances, his wife of only eight months, never married again, and she never went up in a balloon. While Capt Charles Lorraine may have died a very strange aeronautical death by drowning, he did prove one very important thing ` that with a little bit of derring-do, Kiwis can fly. It's just that we're not very good at landing. Captions by Julie Taylor. 1