When is a flight not a flight? It's hard to pinpoint the precise date of Britain's first ever aeroplane flight because the dividing line between a brief 'hop' and a proper 'flight' is hard to judge. But the first confirmed flight in a British-built plane took place exactly 100 yearsago today. On Walthamstow Marshes, where else?
Sir AlliottVerdon-Roe was born in Manchester in 1877. He wasn't a Sir at the time, obviously, merely a merchant seaman with unseemly interest in model gliders. Alliott constructed his first biplane in a shed at the Brooklands racing circuit, powered by a two-cylinder motorbike engine, and on 8th June 1908 it flew a bit (maybe) watched by insufficient witnesses. Not good enough, so he packed his toolbag and relocated from Surrey to the Walthamstow Marshes. There's a low brick viaduct where the Stansted railway crosses the river Lea, and here Roe rented two of the arches - one to live in and one to build in. The Avro 1 triplane was the result, and on 13th July 1909 it managed a proper non-hop a few feet above the marshy grassland. With that singular 30-metre leap Roe became the first Briton to make a powered flight in an all British built aircraft. A glittering career in aeronautical engineering was to follow.
Yesterday afternoon a celebratorycentenaryevent was held on the grass outside AV's workshop arch. It's normally completely inaccessible, hidden away behind fences and shoulder-high undergrowth, but somebody had been very busy with strimmers and lawnmowers to ensure that we'd be able to get inside [photo]. Nothing to see except a big display board, but here was the space inside which Alliott assembled, tweaked (and repeatedly repaired) his prototype. A brand new blue plaque had been unveiled above the entrance to the arch by one of his descendants, presumably to balance out the original blue plaque bolted onto the opposite side by the GLC several decades ago. All this plus yet another new plaque on the side of the viaduct above the riverside footpath. Fourth arch in from the Lea - Roe's workshop is now unmissable.
A white marquee had been set up on the grass nearby, possibly on the spot from which AV took off, but probably not. Inside tea and cakes were on sale, and there were also several stalls from localhistoricalgroups. But most people weren't looking at those, they were looking at the plane. A proper replica of the Avro 1 triplane, no less, recently reconstructed by a team of volunteers at the Manchester Museum of Science and Industry. It had been trailered down from its usual resting place in the Air & Space Hall, and here it was at the scene of its greatest triumph. It seemed astonishing that anything so fragile could ever have lifted off the ground, let alone with a chirpy Edwardian pilot on board. Everybody clustered around for a good stare, taking particular interest in the engine, propeller and associated intricate bits. This made it nighimpossible to take a photograph of the complete plane unobstructed, but several people tried repeatedly nonetheless [half-decent photo]. There'll be a far better view once the triplane is back in the North West, but I doubt that many of the Walthamstow crowd visit Manchester too often.
A second marquee was pegged out alongside, inside which visitors could sit for a series of three half-hour presentations. First up was Eric Verdon-Roe, who read out an entertaining script about his grandfather's life and early flying experiences. A surprising number of black and white photographs illustrated the talk, fluttering on the screen as the digital projector hung from the ceiling swung gently in the wind. A famous shot from 1909 showed Alliott and his assistants setting up the triplane outside the arch ready for another pioneering flight. After Walthamstow he went on to establish Avro, one of the world's first aircraft builders, providing thousands of biplanes for a new aerial battleground during World War One. Sir Alliott moved on, but his company expanded to build Lancaster bombers for WW2 and even the legendary Vulcan. And it all started underneath the arches, down Walthamstow way. UK air travel's come a heck of a long way since.
Yesterday afternoon a celebratory centenary event was held on the grass outside AV's workshop arch. It's normally completely inaccessible, hidden away behind fences and shoulder-high undergrowth, but somebody had been very busy with strimmers and lawnmowers to ensure that we'd be able to get inside [photo]. Nothing to see except a big display board, but here was the space inside which Alliott assembled, tweaked (and repeatedly repaired) his prototype. A brand new blue plaque had been unveiled above the entrance to the arch by one of his descendants, presumably to balance out the original blue plaque bolted onto the opposite side by the GLC several decades ago. All this plus yet another new plaque on the side of the viaduct above the riverside footpath. Fourth arch in from the Lea - Roe's workshop is now unmissable.
A white marquee had been set up on the grass nearby, possibly on the spot from which AV took off, but probably not. Inside tea and cakes were on sale, and there were also several stalls from local historical groups. But most people weren't looking at those, they were looking at the plane. A proper replica of the Avro 1 triplane, no less, recently reconstructed by a team of volunteers at the Manchester Museum of Science and Industry. It had been trailered down from its usual resting place in the Air & Space Hall, and here it was at the scene of its greatest triumph. It seemed astonishing that anything so fragile could ever have lifted off the ground, let alone with a chirpy Edwardian pilot on board. Everybody clustered around for a good stare, taking particular interest in the engine, propeller and associated intricate bits. This made it nigh impossible to take a photograph of the complete plane unobstructed, but several people tried repeatedly nonetheless [half-decent photo]. There'll be a far better view once the triplane is back in the North West, but I doubt that many of the Walthamstow crowd visit Manchester too often.
