Overalls and an evening dress. What better way to pack for a long journey, particularly one that involves solo travelling over 9,000 miles by air?
When she stepped out at Croydon Aerodrome in south London, Lady Mary Heath was wearing a fur coat, a cloche hat and high-heeled shoes. "My Avian is as comfortable as a motor-car," she said of her timber-built biplane. Flying along the river Nile had proved to be a "delightful experience", she told reporters, and she had read a novel and consumed chocolates during the arduous African transit.
Even now, such a flight in an open-topped aircraft would represent a considerable achievement; but this was 1928. Lyndie Naughton, journalist and author of a new biography of the Irish aviator, notes that at one point during the three-month trip she had hauled a pair of silk stockings out of her back locker in mid-air, before landing in Egypt. "As Cairo is an important place," she explained, "I thought I must appear respectable." And "respectability" was something that Lady Heath, alias Sophie Theresa Catherine Mary Peirce Evans, craved, in spite of her idiosyncratic and adventurous approach to life. Analyses of her short, but spectacular, career - undertaken in Ms Naughton's book, and in two other recent publications which refer to her - suggest that she was in constant flight, metaphorically.
Just a year after she was born in Knockaderry, near Newcastle West, Co Limerick, her father, Jackie Peirce, had beaten her mother, Kate Dooling, to death. In court, Peirce described how he checked that his baby daughter, Sophie, was safe and then ran for help when he realised what he had done. The local RIC man, Sgt Thomas Mongey, found the body lying on the floor, covered with old clothes. "Near her was the little girl, who was wrapped in peaceful sleep," he said.
Peirce was declared insane and consigned to the Central Lunatic Asylum, as it was known then, in Dundrum, Dublin. His daughter was 19 years old when he died. At this stage, Sophie had been reared by her grandparents in Newcastle West and was studying at the Royal College of Science for Ireland. Naughton notes that her "wild streak" was never too far from the surface.
She was in third year and was an accomplished athlete when she married Capt William Davies Elliott-Lynn, an officer with the Royal Irish Rifles based at the Curragh. Less than six months later, she offered her services to the British war office as a motor dispatch rider, and travelled by Harley-Davidson to London. The couple lived together briefly before Elliott-Lynn was posted to Africa, and returned there later to farm. The marriage was a disaster, mainly due to Sophie's inability to manage money. Capt Elliott-Lynn later committed suicide.
Ms Naughton charts Sophie's trajectory from competing in the javelin and high jump to becoming the first first licensed female commercial pilot in 1926. She also records in detail the tragic ending to this short but busy life. Her third marriage ended in divorce, she took to drink, and at the age of just 43 she fell down the stairs of a London tram and died of her injuries. Lady Icarus, the biography of an Irishwoman who couldn't bear to keep her feet on the ground, is published by Ashfield Press at €25.
Significantly, Sophie, or Lady Mary Heath, had always sworn by Avro Avians - and had only sold her own aircraft to Amelia Earhart, the first woman to fly across the Atlantic, on a whim. "To Amerlia Earhart from Mary Heath. Always think with your stick forward," she inscribed on the fuselage. In March, 1932, this State's Air Corps took delivery of a number of Avro aircraft - the 631 Cadet model - at Casement aerodrome in Baldonnel. Known as C1 to C6, the planes were painted in Air Corps colours of black and sliver, with the national flag across the rudder and wingtips.
Just one of the original Air Corps fleet is still flying, thanks to the dedication of the pilot and aviation enthusiast James Schmidt, down in New Zealand. His C7 was a replacement for one of the Avros which crashed in 1932, and was used by the Air Corps from 1934. Later it was sold into private ownership, and was consigned to the rafters of a timber mill for well on 40 years before a well-known aircraft restorer in England, Ron Souch, located it.
By the time it arrived in New Zealand most of its fuselage structure had been restored. Schmidt continued the project when he bought it about 10 years ago. With it came the original log book, and a letter from a former Air Corps pilot, Donald MacCarron, describing his experiences in the C7 on coastal patrol during the second World War. "At one point he jokes about the boredom almost driving him to join the Luftwaffe!" Schmidt says.
Schmidt believes the C7 belongs back in Ireland, and had almost concluded a deal with the Air Corps over a year ago when it fell through. "I think your treasury [ Department of Finance] stepped in," he says. Since then, he has advertised the aircraft - described as being in pristine condition - for offers of over $200,000 (US). "It is very rare, of great historical significance to Ireland, and has had a lot of money spent on it," he says.
One other Avro 631 exists but it is on display in a Portuguese museum. The C7 is the world's only "active example", still flying in the Irish colours and "much nicer than my Tiger Moth," Schmidt says.
More details and photographs are available on his website, www.avrocadet.com, or by email to jschmidt@xtra.co.nz