Earhart flies from Hawaii to California - Jan 11, 1935 - HISTORY.com Earhart flies from Hawaii to California Share this: Earhart flies from Hawaii to California Author Earhart flies from Hawaii to California URL Publisher A+E Networks In the first flight of its kind, American aviator Amelia Earhart departs Wheeler Field in Honolulu, Hawaii, on a solo flight to North America. Hawaiian commercial interests offered a $10,000 award to whoever accomplished the flight first. The next day, after traveling 2,400 miles in 18 hours, she safely landed at Oakland Airport in Oakland, California. On May 21, 1932, exactly five years after American aviator Charles Lindbergh became the first person to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean, Earhart became the first woman to repeat the feat when she landed her plane in Londonderry, Ireland. However, unlike Lindbergh when he made his historic flight, Earhart was already well known to the public before her solo transatlantic flight. In 1928, as a member of a three-member crew, she had become the first woman to cross the Atlantic in an aircraft.

Although her only function during the crossing was to keep the plane’s log, the event won her national fame, and Americans were enamored with the modest and daring young pilot. For her solo transatlantic crossing in 1932, she was awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross by the U.S. Congress. Two years after her Hawaii to California flight, she attempted with co-pilot Frederick J. Noonan to fly around the world, but her plane was lost on July 2, 1937, somewhere between New Guinea and Howland Island in the South Pacific. Radio operators picked up a signal that she was low on fuel–the last trace the world would ever know of Amelia Earhart. Related Videos Amelia Earhart becomes first person to fly solo from Hawaii to California | World History Project Jan 11 1935 Amelia Earhart becomes first person to fly solo from Hawaii to California On January 11, 1935, Earhart became the first person to fly solo from Honolulu, Hawaii to Oakland, California.

Although this transoceanic flight had been attempted by many others, most notably by the unfortunate participants in the 1927 Dole Air Race which had reversed the route, her trailblazing flight had been mainly routine, with no mechanical breakdowns. In her final hours, she even relaxed and listened to "the broadcast of the Metropolitan Opera from New York." Source: Wikipedia Added by: Kevin Rogers In January 1935, Earhart became the first woman to make a solo long-distance flight over the Pacific Ocean, flying from Honolulu, Hawaii, to San Francisco, California. This complicated flight in her second Lockheed Vega occurred in adverse weather conditions and demonstrated Earhart's courage as well as her stubbornness. Source: US Centennial of Flight commission Added by: Kevin Rogers In the autumn of 1934, Amelia announced to George that her next venture would be a trans-Pacific flight from Hawaii to California...and then on to Washington D.C. Ten pilots had already lost their lives attempting this crossing. Amelia's flight would be the first in which a civilian plane would carry a two-way radio telephone.

She departed Wheeler Field on January 11, 1935 and landed in Oakland, California to a cheering crowd of thousands. President Roosevelt sent his congratulations..."You have scored again...(and) shown even the "doubting Thomases" that aviation is a science which cannot be limited to men only." Amelia Earhart Amelia Earhart Amelia Earhart Famous Female Aviator Studio headshot portrait of American aviator Amelia Earhart, the first woman to complete a solo transatlantic flight, wearing a leather jacket. (circa 1932). (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images) By Dani Alexis Ryskamp, Contributing Writer Updated November 02, 2015. Who Was Amelia Earhart? As a pilot, Amelia Earhart set many world flying records. She became the first woman to fly across the Atlantic Ocean and the first person to make a solo flight across both the Atlantic and the Pacific oceans. Earhart also set several height and speed records in an airplane. Despite all these records, Amelia Earhart is perhaps best remembered for her mysterious disappearance, which has become one of the enduring mysteries of the 20th century.

While attempting to become the first woman to fly around the world, she disappeared on July 2, 1937 while heading toward Howland's Island. Dates: July 24, 1897 -- July 2, 1937(?) Also Known As: Amelia Mary Earhart, Lady Lindy Amelia Earhart’s Childhood Amelia Mary Earhart was born in her maternal grandparents’ home in Atchison, Kansas, on July 24, 1897 to Amy and Edwin Earhart. Although Edwin was a lawyer, he never earned the approval of Amy’s parents, Judge Alfred Otis and his wife, Amelia. continue reading below our video What are the Seven Wonders of the World In 1899, two-and-a-half years after Amelia’s birth, Edwin and Amy welcomed another daughter, Grace Muriel, into the world. Amelia Earhart spent much of her early childhood living with her Otis grandparents in Atchison during the school months and then spending her summers with her parents. Earhart’s early life was filled with outdoor adventures combined with the etiquette lessons expected of upper-middle-class girls of her day.

Amelia (known as “Millie” in her youth) and her sister Grace Muriel (known as “Pidge”) loved to play together, especially outdoors. After visiting the World’s Fair in St. Louis in 1904 , Amelia decided she wanted to build her own mini roller coaster in her backyard. Enlisting Pidge to help, the two built a homemade roller coaster on the roof of the tool shed, using planks, a wooden box, and lard for grease. Amelia took the first ride, which ended with a crash and some bruises – but she loved it. By 1908, Edwin Earhart had closed his private law firm and was working as a lawyer for a railroad in Des Moines, Iowa; thus, it was time for Amelia to move back in with her parents. That same year, her parents took her to the Iowa State Fair where 10-year-old Amelia saw an airplane for the very first time. Surprisingly, the airplane didn’t interest her. Problems at Home At first, life in Des Moines seemed to be going well for the Earhart family; however, it soon became obvious that Edwin had started to heavily drink alcohol.

When his alcoholism got worse, Edwin eventually lost his job in Iowa and had trouble finding another. In 1915, with the promise of a job with the Great Northern Railway in St. Paul, Minnesota, the Earhart family packed up their belongings and moved. However, the job fell through once they got there. Tired of her husband’s alcoholism and the family’s increasing money troubles, Amy Earhart moved herself and her daughters to Chicago, leaving their father behind in Minnesota. Edwin and Amy eventually divorced in 1924. Due to her family’s frequent moves, Amelia Earhart switched high schools six times, making it hard for her to make or keep friends during her teen years. She did well in her classes, but preferred sports. She graduated from Chicago’s Hyde Park High School in 1916 and is listed in the school’s yearbook as “the girl in brown who walks alone.” Later in life, however, she was known for her friendly and outgoing nature. After high school, Earhart went to the Ogontz School in Philadelphia, but she soon dropped out to become a nurse for returning World War I soldiers and for victims of the influenza epidemic of 1918 .

First Flights It wasn’t until 1920, when Earhart was 23 years old, that she developed an interest in airplanes. While visiting her father in California, she attended an air show and the stunt-flying feats she watched convinced her that she had to try flying for herself. Earhart took her first flying lesson on January 3, 1921. According to her instructors, Earhart wasn’t a “natural” at piloting an airplane; instead, she made up for a lack of talent with plenty of hard work and a passion for flying. Earhart received her “Aviator Pilot” certification from the Federation Aeronautique Internationale on May 16, 1921 -- a major step for any pilot at the time. Since her parents could not afford to pay for her lessons, Earhart worked several jobs to raise the money herself. She also saved up the money to buy her own airplane, a small Kinner Airster she called the Canary. In the Canary, she broke the women’s altitude record on October 22, 1922 by becoming the first woman to reach 14,000 feet in an airplane.

Earhart Becomes the First Woman to Fly Over the Atlantic In 1927, aviator Charles Lindbergh made history by becoming the first person to fly non-stop across the Atlantic, from the U.S. to England. A year later, Amelia Earhart was asked to make a non-stop flight across the same ocean. She had been discovered by publisher George Putnam, who had been asked to look for a suitable female pilot to complete this feat. Since this was not to be a solo flight, Earhart joined a crew of two other aviators, both men. On June 17, 1928, the journey began when the Friendship, a Fokker F7 specially outfitted for the trip, took off from Newfoundland bound for England. Ice and fog made the trip difficult and Earhart spent much of the flight scribbling notes in a journal while her co-pilots, Bill Stultz and Louis Gordon, handled the plane. On June 18, 1928, after 20 hours and 40 minutes in the air, the Friendship landed in South Wales.

Although Earhart said she did not contribute any more to the flight than “a sack of potatoes” would have, the press saw her accomplishment differently. They started calling Earhart “Lady Lindy,” after Charles Lindbergh. Shortly after this trip, Earhart published a book about her experiences, titled 20 Hours 40 Minutes. Before long, Amelia Earhart was looking for new records to break in her own airplane. A few months after publishing 20 Hours 40 Minutes, she flew solo across the United States and back -- the first time a female pilot had made the journey alone. In 1929, she founded and participated in the Woman’s Air Derby, an airplane race from Santa Monica, California to Cleveland, Ohio with a substantial cash prize. Flying a more powerful Lockheed Vega, Earhart finished third, behind noted pilots Louise Thaden and Gladys O’Donnell. On February 7, 1931, Earhart married publisher George Putnam, the man who had discovered her. Also in 1931, Earhart and several other female aviators banded together to start a professional international organization for female pilots, of which Earhart became the first president.

The Ninety-Niners, named because it originally had 99 members, still represents and supports female pilots today. Earhart published a second book about her accomplishments, The Fun of It, in 1932. Solo Across the Ocean Having won multiple competitions, flown in air shows, and set new altitude records, Amelia Earhart began looking for a bigger challenge. In 1932, she decided to become the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic. On May 20, 1932, she took off again from Newfoundland, piloting a small Lockheed Vega. It was a dangerous trip: clouds and fog made it difficult to navigate, her plane’s wings became covered with ice, and the plane developed a fuel leak about two-thirds of the way across the ocean. Worse, the altimeter stopped working, so Earhart had no idea how far above the ocean’s surface her plane was -- a situation that nearly resulted in her crashing into the Atlantic Ocean. In serious danger, Earhart abandoned her plans to land at Southampton, England, and made for the first bit of land she saw.

She touched down in a sheep pasture in Ireland on May 21, 1932, becoming the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic and the first-ever person to fly across the Atlantic twice. The solo Atlantic crossing was followed by more book deals, meetings with heads of state, and a lecture tour, as well as more flying competitions. In 1935, Earhart also made a solo flight from Hawaii to Oakland, California, becoming the first person to fly solo from Hawaii to the U.S. mainland. This trip also made Earhart the first person to fly solo across both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. Amelia Earhart’s Last Flight Not long after making her Pacific flight in 1935, Amelia Earhart decided she wanted to try flying around the entire world. A U.S. Army Air Force crew had made the trip in 1924 and male aviator Wiley Post flew around the world by himself in 1931 and 1933. But Earhart had two new goals. First, she wanted to be the first woman to fly solo around the world. Second, she wanted to fly around the world at or near the equator, the planet’s widest point.

The previous flights had both circled the world much closer to the North Pole , where the distance was shortest. Earhart wanted to make the longest possible flight around the globe. Planning and preparation for the trip was difficult, time-consuming, and expensive. Her plane, a Lockheed Electra, had to be completely re-fitted with additional fuel tanks, survival gear, scientific instruments, and a state-of-the-art radio. A 1936 test flight ended in a crash that destroyed the plane’s landing gear. Several months passed while the plane was fixed. Meanwhile, Earhart and her navigator, Frank Noonan, plotted their course around the world. The most difficult point in the trip would be the flight from Papua New Guinea to Hawaii because it required a fuel stop at Howland’s Island, a small coral island about 1,700 miles west of Hawaii. Aviation maps were poor at the time and the island would be difficult to find from the air. However, the stop at Howland’s Island was unavoidable because the plane could only carry about half the fuel needed to fly from Papua New Guinea to Hawaii, making a fuel stop essential if Earhart and Noonan were to make it across the South Pacific.

As difficult as it might be to find, Howland’s Island seemed like the best choice for a stop since it is positioned approximately half way between Papua New Guinea and Hawaii. Once their course had been plotted and their plane readied, it was time for the final details. It was during this last minute preparation that Earhart decided not to take the full-sized radio antenna that Lockheed recommended, instead opting for a smaller antenna. The new antenna was lighter, but it also could not transmit or receive signals as well, especially in bad weather. On May 21, 1937, Amelia Earhart and Frank Noonan took off from Oakland, California, on the first leg of their trip. The plane landed first in Puerto Rico and then in several other locations in the Caribbean before heading to Senegal. They crossed Africa, stopping several times for fuel and supplies, then went on to Eritrea, India, Burma, Indonesia, and Papua New Guinea. There, Earhart and Noonan prepared for the toughest stretch of the trip -- the landing at Howland’s Island. Since every pound in the plane meant more fuel used, Earhart removed every non-essential item -- even the parachutes.

The plane was checked and re-checked by mechanics to ensure it was in top condition. However, Earhart and Noonan had been flying for over a month straight by this time and both were tired. On July 2, 1937, Earhart’s plane left Papua New Guinea heading toward Howland’s Island. For the first seven hours, Earhart and Noonan stayed in radio contact with the airstrip in Papua New Guinea. After that, they made intermittent radio contact with the U.S.S. Itsaca, a Coast Guard ship patrolling the waters below. However, reception was poor and messages between the plane and the Itsaca were frequently lost or garbled. Two hours after Earhart’s scheduled arrival at Howland’s Island, at about 10:30 a.m. local time on July 2, 1937, the Itsaca received a last static-filled message that indicated Earhart and Noonan could not see the ship or the island and they were almost out of fuel. The crew of the Itsaca tried to signal the ship’s location by sending up black smoke, but the plane did not appear. Neither the plane, Earhart, nor Noonan were ever seen or heard from again.

The Mystery Continues The mystery of what happened to Earhart, Noonan, and the plane has not yet been solved. In 1999, British archaeologists claimed to have found artifacts on a small island in the South Pacific that contained Earhart’s DNA, but the evidence is not conclusive. Near the plane’s last known location, the ocean reaches depths of 16,000 feet, well below the range of today’s deep-sea diving equipment. If the plane sank into those depths, it may never be recovered. Amelia Earhart becomes first person to fly solo from Los Angeles to Mexico City | World History Project Apr 19 1935 Amelia Earhart becomes first person to fly solo from Los Angeles to Mexico City That year, once more flying her faithful Vega which she had tagged "old Bessie, the fire horse," Earhart soloed from Los Angeles to Mexico City on April 19. The next record attempt was a nonstop flight from Mexico City to New York. Setting off on May 8, her flight was uneventful although the large crowds that greeted her at Newark, New Jersey were a concern[88] as she had to be careful not to taxi into the throng.

Amelia Earhart - YouTube Amelia Earhart Want to watch this again later? Sign in to add this video to a playlist. Need to report the video? Sign in to report inappropriate content. The interactive transcript could not be loaded. Loading... Rating is available when the video has been rented. This feature is not available right now. Please try again later. Uploaded on Nov 23, 2009 Amelia Mary Earhart, (born July 24, 1897; missing July 2, 1937) was a noted American aviation pioneer and author. Earhart was the first woman to receive the Distinguished Flying Cross, awarded for becoming the first aviatrix to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean. During an attempt to make a circumnavigational flight of the globe in 1937 in a Purdue-funded Lockheed L-10 Electra, Earhart disappeared over the central Pacific Ocean near Howland Island. Fascination with her life, career and disappearance continues to this day.

•Woman's world altitude record: 14,000 ft (1922) •First woman to fly the Atlantic (1928) •Speed records for 100 km (and with 500 lb (230 kg) cargo) (1931) •First woman to fly an autogyro (1931) •Altitude record for autogyros: 15,000 ft (1931) •First person to cross the U.S. in an autogyro (1932) •First woman to fly the Atlantic solo (1932) •First person to fly the Atlantic twice (1932) •First woman to receive the Distinguished Flying Cross (1932) •First woman to fly non-stop, coast-to-coast across the U.S.

(1933) •Woman's speed transcontinental record (1933) •First person to fly solo between Honolulu, Hawaii and Oakland, California (1935) •First person to fly solo from Los Angeles, California to Mexico City, Mexico (1935) •First person to fly solo nonstop from Mexico City, Mexico to Newark, New Jersey (1935) •Speed record for east-to-west flight from Oakland, California to Honolulu, Hawaii (1937) "The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life; and the procedure, the process is its own reward". Amelia Earhart. Category Women in Aviation and Space History - Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum women in aviation and space history National Air and Space Museum Archives, Smithsonian Institution Amelia Earhart Barron Hilton Pioneers of Flight (208); Golden Age of Flight (105) Amelia Earhart is probably the most famous female pilot in aviation history, an accolade due both to her aviation career and to her mysterious disappearance.

On May 20–21, 1932, Earhart became the first woman — and the second person after Charles Lindbergh — to fly nonstop and solo across the Atlantic Ocean. Flying a red Lockheed Vega 5B, she left Harbor Grace, Newfoundland, Canada, and landed about 15 hours later near Londonderry, Northern Ireland. The feat made Earhart an instant worldwide sensation and proved she was a courageous and able pilot. Then, on August 24–25, she made the first solo, nonstop flight by a woman across the United States, from Los Angeles to Newark, New Jersey, establishing a women's record of 19 hours and 5 minutes and setting a women's distance record of 3,938 kilometers (2,447 miles). Born in Atchison, Kansas, on July 24, 1897, Amelia Earhart displayed an independent style from childhood, including keeping a scrapbook on accomplished women, taking an auto repair course, and attending college (but never graduating). She attended her first flying exhibition in 1918 while serving as a Red Cross nurse's aide in Toronto, Canada.

She took her first flight in California in December 1920, with veteran flyer Frank Hawks, and declared, "As soon as I left the ground, I knew I myself had to fly." Her first instructor was Anita "Neta" Snook who gave her lessons in a Curtiss Jenny. To pay for flight lessons, Earhart worked as a telephone company clerk and photographer. Earhart soloed in 1921, bought her first airplane, a Kinner Airster, in 1922 and wasted no time in setting a women's altitude record of 4,267 meters (14,000 feet). In 1923, Earhart became the 16th woman to receive an official Fédération Aéronautique Internationale pilot license. Earhart moved to east to be near her sister and mother, and, after a second year at Columbia University in New York City, began working in Boston at the Denison Settlement House as a social worker with immigrant families.

In the spring of 1928, she was flying at Dennison Airport, and had joined the local National Aeronautic Association, when she was offered the opportunity of a lifetime: to become the first woman to fly across the Atlantic as a passenger. Amy Phipps Guest owned the Fokker F.VII Friendship and wanted to make the flight but when her family objected, she asked aviator Richard Byrd and publisher/publicist George Putnam to find "the right sort of girl" for the trip. On June 17, 1928, Earhart and pilots Wilmer Stultz and Lou Gordon departed Trepassey, Newfoundland and, though promised time at the controls of the tri-motor, she was never given the opportunity to fly the aircraft during the 20-hour 40-minute flight to Burry Point, Wales. She did get in the pilot's seat for a time on the final hop to Southampton, England. The dramatic 1928 flight brought her international attention and the opportunity to earn a living in aviation. Putnam became her manager and she began lecturing and writing on aviation around the country.

In August of 1929, she placed third in the All-Women's Air Derby, behind Louise Thaden and Gladys O'Donnell, which was the first transcontinental air race for women (from Santa Monica, California to Cleveland, Ohio) and a race she helped organized.Â This race, closely followed by the press and by the public who flocked to the stops along the way, proved that women could fly in rugged and competitive conditions. A few months after the Derby, a group of women pilots decided to form an organization for social, recruitment, and business purposes. Ninety-nine women, out of 285 licensed U.S. female pilots, became charter members, inspiring the organization's name The Ninety-Nines (99s); Earhart became their first president. Female pilots were keenly aware of the lack of social and economic independence for all women and were determined to help one another. In 1930, after only 15 minutes of instruction, Earhart became the first woman to fly an autogiro, made by Pitcairn and featuring rotating blades to increase lift and allow short takeoffs and landings.

Earhart set the first autogiro altitude record and made two autogiro cross-country tours, which were marked by three public "crack-ups," as she called them. Though Earhart was the most famous woman pilot, she was not the most skilled. Determined to prove herself, Earhart decided to fly the Atlantic Ocean again, but this time alone. She thought a transatlantic flight would bring her respect, something other women sought too -- Ruth Nichols made an attempt in 1931 crashing in Canada, but she was planning another attempt when Earhart succeeded. During her 3,260-kilometer (2,026-mile) nonstop solo flight across the Atlantic on May 20-21, 1932, Earhart fought fatigue, a leaky fuel tank, and a cracked manifold that spewed flames out the side of the engine cowling. Ice formed on the Vega's wings and caused an unstoppable 3,000-foot descent to just above the waves. Realizing she was on a course far north of France, she landed in a farmer's field in Culmore, near Londonderry, Northern Ireland.

Acclaimed in London, Paris, and Rome, she returned home to a ticker tape parade in New York City and honors in Washington, D.C. By July and August she was back in the Vega for her transcontinental flight. On January 11–12, 1935, Amelia Earhart became the first person to fly solo from Hawaii to the U.S. mainland, this time in a Lockheed 5C Vega. Although some called it a publicity stunt for Earhart and Hawaiian sugar plantation promoters, it was a dangerous3,875-kilometer (2,408-mile) flight that had already claimed several lives. Of that flight she remarked: "I wanted the flight just to contribute. I could only hope one more passage across that part of the Pacific would mark a little more clearly the pathway over which an air service of the future will inevitably fly." Later that year, Earhart made record flights from Los Angeles to Mexico City and from Mexico City to Newark, New Jersey. She also placed fifth in the 1935 Bendix Race. Earhart was a two-time Harmon Trophy winner and was also the recipient of the U.S. Distinguished Flying Cross.

Earhart became the first woman vice president of the National Aeronautic Association, which authorized official records and races. She persuaded the organization to establish separate female records because women did not have the money or planes — and thus the experience — to fairly compete against men for "world" titles. Earhart served as a partner in the Transcontinental Air Transport and Ludington airlines and lobbied Congress for aviation legislation. She promoted the safety and efficiency of air travel to women, on the premise that they would influence men. She tirelessly lectured across the country on the subjects of aviation and women's issues and wrote for Cosmopolitan and various magazines. She wrote about her flights and career in 20 Hours and 40 Minutes, The Fun of It, and Last Flight, which was published after her disappearance. Earhart married George Putnam in 1931 — hesitantly — on the condition that they would separate in a year if unhappy. Though some called it a marriage of convenience, they remained together. Earhart designed a line of "functional" women's clothing, including dresses, blouses, pants, suits, and hats, initially using her own sewing machine, dress form, and seamstress.

Though "tousle-haired" and rather thin, she photographed well and modeled her own designs for promotional spreads. Earhart also designed a line of lightweight, canvas-covered plywood luggage sold by Orenstein Trunk of Newark, New Jersey. Earhart luggage was sold into the 1990s and featured an Amelia Earhart luggage key, prompting some people to believe they possessed her "personal" aircraft or suitcase key. In 1935, Earhart became a visiting professor at Purdue University at the invitation of Purdue president Edward Elliott, an advocate of higher education for women, especially in engineering and science. Earhart, a former premedical student, served as a counselor for women and a lecturer in aeronautics. Elliott was also interested in supporting Earhart's flying career and convinced Purdue benefactors to purchase a twin-engine Lockheed 10-E Electra for her. Many companies contributed their latest aviation technology to her Flying Laboratory. Earhart decided to make a world flight and she planned a route as close to the equator as possible, which meant flying several long overwater legs to islands in the Pacific Ocean.

On March 20, 1937, Earhart crashed on takeoff at Luke Field, Honolulu, Hawaii, ending her westbound world flight that had begun at Oakland, California. The Electra was returned to Lockheed Aircraft Company in Burbank, California, for extensive repairs. On June 1, 1937, Earhart began an eastbound round-the-world flight from Oakland, via Miami, Florida, in the Electra with Fred Noonan as her navigator. They reached Lae, New Guinea on June 29, having flown 35,405 kilometers (22,000 miles) with 11,265 kilometers (7,000 miles) more to go to Oakland. They then departed Lae on July 2 for the 4,113-kilometer (2,556-mile) flight to their next refueling stop, Howland Island, a three-kilometer (two-mile) long and less-than-a-mile wide dot in the Pacific Ocean. Unfortunately, due to various circumstances, Earhart and the U.S.

Coast Guard cutter Itasca, anchored off shore of Howland, could not complete any direct two-way radio communication and neither Earhart nor Noonan were competent at Morse Code. However, the Itasca did receive several strong voice transmissions from Earhart as she approached the area, the last at 8:43 am stating: "We are on the line of position 156-137. Will repeat message. We will repeat this message on 6210 kilocycles. Wait. Listening on 6210 kilocycles. We are running north and south." Earhart and Noonan never found Howland and they were declared lost at sea on July 19, 1937 following a massive sea and air search. Earhart's disappearance spawned countless theories involving radio problems, poor communication, navigation or pilot skills, other landing sites, spy missions and imprisonment, and even living quietly in New Jersey or on a rubber plantation in the Philippines. The most reasonable explanation, based on the known facts of her flight, is that they were unable to locate Howland Island, ran out of fuel, and ditched into the Pacific Ocean.

Earhart's disappearance remains one of the great unsolved mysteries of the 20th century, and it often overshadows her true legacies as a courageous and dedicated aviator and as an enduring inspiration to women. Amelia Earhart Record Setter 1922 — Feminine altitude record of 4,267 meters (14,000 feet). 1928 — First woman to fly across the Atlantic as a passenger in the Fokker F.VII Friendship. 1929 — Feminine speed record. 1931 — First woman to fly an autogiro. 1931 — Autogiro altitude record of 5,612 meters (18,415 feet). 1932 — First woman (and only the second person) to fly solo and nonstop across the Atlantic. Also first person to cross the Atlantic twice by air. 1932 — First woman to fly solo and nonstop across the United States. 1933 — Reset her transcontinental record. 1935 — First person to fly solo from Honolulu, Hawaii, to the U.S. mainland (Oakland, California).

1935 — Speed record between Mexico City and Washington, D.C. 1935 — First person to fly solo from Mexico City to Newark, New Jersey. Biography: Amelia Earhart for Kids from the Los Angeles Daily News Occupation: Aviator Born: July 24, 1897 in Atchison, Kansas Died: She disappeared on July 2, 1937 over the Pacific Ocean. She was declared dead on January 5, 1939 Best known for: Being the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean Biography: Where did Amelia Earhart grow up? Amelia Earhart was born on July 24, 1897 in Atchison, Kansas . Her father, Edwin, was a lawyer who worked for the railroad. She spent a lot of her childhood playing with her younger sister Muriel. Growing up Amelia and her sister had all sorts of adventures. They collected insects and frogs. They liked to play sports including baseball and football. Amelia even learned to shoot a .22 rifle and used it to kill rats in her Dad's barn. Amelia's first "flight" was when she was just seven years old.

With the help of Muriel and her uncle she made a homemade roller coaster. After crashing dramatically she told her sister that it "was just like flying". When Amelia was eleven years old, in 1908, she saw one of the Wright Brothers first airplanes at the Iowa State Fair. She had no interest in flying and didn't think much of the plane at the time. Before Flying After graduating from high school, Amelia wasn't sure what she wanted to do. She first went to the Ogontz School in Pennsylvania, but dropped out to become a nurse's aide tending wounded soldiers from World War I. Then she studied to become a mechanic, but soon was back in school studying for a career in medicine. Eventually she decided to go into medical research. That is, until she took her first plane flight. First Time Flying On December 28, 1920 Amelia and her father visited an air show in California. Amelia went on her first plane flight that day. She later said that "I knew I had to fly" as soon as the plane was just a few hundred feet off the ground. Amelia worked hard and, together with some money from her mother, she was able to pay for flying lessons.

Eventually she purchased her own plane. A bright yellow airplane she nicknamed the "Canary". She also got her pilot's license and set a new altitude record for female pilots of 14,000 feet. Amelia Earhart awaits transatlantic flight 1928 by Wide World Photos First Woman to Cross the Atlantic In 1928 Amelia was invited to take part in a historic flight across the Atlantic. Together with pilot Bill Stultz and co-pilot Slim Gordon, Amelia flew across the Atlantic Ocean in the airplane Friendship. Amelia was the navigator on the flight. On June 18, 1928 after twenty one hours of flying, the plane landed in Wales. She was the first woman to make the flight across the Atlantic. Earhart was received back in the United States as a hero. They had a ticker tape parade for her in New York City and she even got to meet President Calvin Coolidge at the White House. Crossing the Atlantic Solo Amelia was not satisfied, however. She wanted to make the same trip across the Atlantic, but this time she wanted to pilot the plane and make the flight by herself.

On May 20, 1932 she took off from Harbour Grace, Newfoundland aboard a bright red single engine Lockheed Vega airplane. She intended to make the same flight that Charles Lindbergh had made five years before and fly to Paris, France. The flight was very dangerous. There was bad weather, thick clouds, and often her windshield and wings were covered with ice. Fourteen hours later she had crossed the Atlantic Ocean, but had to cut the flight short, landing in a cow pasture in Londonderry, Northern Ireland . Amelia became only the second person after Charles Lindbergh to successfully fly across the Atlantic Ocean solo. She received many awards including becoming the first woman to receive the Distinguished Flying Cross from Congress. Aviator Amelia continued to fly over the next several years. She broke many records including being the first person to fly solo from Hawaii to California. Amelia wrote and gave speeches about flying and women's rights. World Flight Although she was the most famous woman pilot in the world, Earhart wasn't satisfied and wanted to be the first woman to fly around the world. On June 1937 Amelia and Fred Noonan, her navigator, took off from Miami, Florida.

They flew a number of flights, eventually getting all the way across Africa and Asia to New Guinea in the South Pacific. On July 2nd they took off from New Guinea to fly to Howland Island in the Pacific Ocean, but they were never seen from again. Amelia Disappears The United States government searched for Amelia and her plane for several weeks, but they could not find them. There have been a lot of theories about what happened to the flight, but no one really knows and her plane has never been found. Fun Facts about Amelia Earhart Amelia went by the nicknames Meeley and Millie. Her sister Muriel was called Pidge. She married her book publisher, George Putnam, in 1931. When Amelia landed in Ireland after her solo Atlantic flight, the farmer asked her where she was from. When she answered that she was from America, he wasn't quite sure he believed her. Howland Island is a mile and a half wide and one mile long. It is located in the Pacific Ocean 2,556 miles from New Guinea. A lighthouse was built to the memory of Amelia Earhart on Howland Island.

In 1935 she became the first person to fly solo from Los Angeles to Mexico City and from Mexico City to Newark, New Jersey. More women leaders: Amelia Earhart’s 1935 Story on Becoming First to Fly From Hawaii to California Amelia Earhart’s 1935 Story on Becoming First to Fly From Hawaii to California View Images Pilot Amelia Earhart smiles from the cockpit of an airplane. Photograph by Time & Life Pictures via Getty Seventeen-year-old Haris Suleman set out in June with his father to break the world records for the fastest circumnavigation of the globe in a single-engine plane and for being the youngest pilot to do so. Last Tuesday, during one of the final legs of their journey—en route from American Samoa to Honolulu—the Sulemans' plane crashed into the Pacific Ocean. Haris's body was recovered, but his father, Babar, 58, has not been found. Related Content Strange Radio Bursts Seen Coming From a Galaxy Far, Far Away The Sulemans' crash occurred near a poignant date in the annals of flying. Thursday marked what would have been Amelia Earhart's 117th birthday.

It's also 77 years to the month since the legendary aviator went missing near Howland Island, some 1,000 miles north from where the Sulemans' plane went down. Since the dawn of transcontinental flight, pilots have pushed the bounds of long-distance flight. In an article written for National Geographic, Earhart recounted her groundbreaking flight as the first pilot to fly from Hawaii to the United States mainland. This article was published in May 1935, three years after she became the first woman to fly solo nonstop across the Atlantic and two years before she disappeared: Amelia Earhart: My Flight From Hawaii The story of my flight from Honolulu to San Francisco begins several months before the date of the crossing. Paul Mantz, my technical adviser, Ernie Tissot, mechanic, and others had worked for some time getting the plane and motor in readiness. On December 22, 1934, these two, with Mrs. Mantz, Mr. Putnam and me, set off from Los Angeles for Honolulu. The airplane, intact, rode with us on the Lurline, secured as only sailors could do it, on the aft tennis deck.

View Images Amelia Earhart's plans to fly solo from Hawaii to the U.S. mainland necessitated shipping her plane from Los Angeles on December 23, 1934, to Honolulu. Photograph by Bettman/Corbis During the five days of the voyage we ran the motor up several times, lest it swallow too much corroding salt moisture, and tested the radio. After midnight, as far as 1,000 miles from shore, we picked up the familiar airway station signals. "Sparks," the Lurline's radio operator, was much interested in our set and was extremely helpful. Two weeks in Honolulu were necessary for final testing and checking. Paul and Ernie, with United States Army helpers, worked day and night. I stayed away except for special tests I had to make. This was partly because I could not help the competent gentlemen in any way and partly because I believe it is better for the flyer's peace of mind to back away from the project in hand, occasionally, and get perspective By January 11, Paul had completed to his satisfaction final mechanical details on the plane. I was fit as could be and weather was favorable.

View Images Flower leis drape Amelia Earhart in Honolulu on January 3, 1935. Photograph by Bettman/Corbis The Wind Is Perverse I had intended to try taking off about 1:30 or 2 o'clock in the afternoon, but late in the morning light rain began to fall. Before 1 o'clock it had turned into a tropical downpour. The wind, instead of blowing from the northeast as it had been doing, came perversely from the southwest. Wheeler Field, the Army airport which I planned to use, has no hard-surface runways, and I knew the ground would be fairly soft for a heavily loaded plane. I was carrying more than 500 gallons of gasoline, and this, combined with other extras, weighted my plane more than ever before. However, the field is 6,000 feet long and slopes into the direction of the prevailing winds. A plane takes off against the wind as does a small boy's kite. Even with unfavorable surface conditions and without the usual help from the wind, I still felt I could lift my plane in a 3,000-foot run, perhaps less.

The Army authorities had kindly mowed a pathway for me in the smoothest part of the reservation and had planted small white flags along the edge to guide me. As lunch time approached with no improvement in weather, a small group of those intimately connected with the flight had luncheon at the home of Lieutenant and Mrs. George Sparhawk. The invaluable aid Lieutenant Sparhawk rendered in connection with radio tests was equaled only by his wife's ability and willingness to turn her home into a temporary boarding house for Putnams, Mantzes, and their associates. Field Wet, Plane Wet, and Spirits Damp Intermittently someone at the window reported weather changes. I went to sleep for a while and awoke about 2:30—to the continued patter of rain. About 3:30 the rain slackened. The wind died down and the clouds gave promise of breaking at last. So I drove to the hangar where my plane was housed. Weather forecasts over the Pacific were satisfactory, but would not remain so the next day. Unless I took off, despite the local meteorological upset, I might be held indefinitely. I found the field wet, the plane wet, and certainly the spirits of the faithful few who were standing by were damp, indeed.

However, I asked that the motor be warmed and my few belongings stowed. At 4:30 I climbed into the cockpit and tested the motor. It sounded crisp and lusty. There were about two hundred people standing silent on the apron, somber weather having discouraged more of the curious. I saw several women with handkerchiefs obviously ready for any emergency. Out of the corner of my eye I sighted three fire engines and an ambulance posted down the field where "X" might be expected to mark the spot if an accident occurred. The Army to a man seemed to have portable fire extinguishers in their hands. Such precautions were wise enough, for the take-off, with excess load, is considered by many flyers the most hazardous moment. My loaded plane weighed more than 6,000 pounds. Three tons is considerable weight for a comparatively small type like mine to get into the air, even from a smooth, paved runway under favorable conditions. Here I had no runway, and the weather was definitely unhelpful. View Images Pilot Amelia Earhart readies her plane at Wheeler Field, Hawaii, for a flight across some Pacific islands.

Photograph by Keystone-France/Gamma-Keystone via Getty Images A Take-Off in the Mud At 4:45 I taxied to the end of the marked pathway. Paul Mantz freed a ball of mud and grass my tail skid had rolled up. My last human contact was a fleeting glimpse of Ernie, my mechanic, trotting along beside the plane, mud sloshing over his shoe tops at each step. His cigarette drooped forlornly from the corner of his mouth; his face was as white as paper. I hope he saw me smile. I looked ahead between the marker flags, checked again the spot at which I was to begin to stop in case I was not off the ground by the time I passed it, and pushed the throttle ahead. The plane did exactly as expected. The tail came up as it gathered speed, throwing up a cataract of red-brown mud. It grew lighter, as the 550 harnessed horses of the Wasp motor gobbled gas. Then a final bounce and it took to the air, holding it easily as I slowly turned to the right toward Honolulu and Diamond Head.

The take-off, I am told, was accomplished well within 3,000 feet—less than half the length of the field. Skirting Honolulu, I could see the human ants, far below, going home after their day's work. I rounded Makapuu Point, the last island outpost on my course. To my right I could see the long sloping side of Molokai, the next island, blue in the hazy distance. Clouds were all about me from the start, and to get on top of them I climbed 6,000 feet, whence I could look down on their fluffy contours moving against the dark sea. On three over-ocean air voyages, totalling about 6,500 miles, I have seen little more than a thousand miles of water. On these flights I have been above clouds, between two layers, or actually in the formation most of the time. Certainly, in covering similar distances on ships one gets a much better idea of how mighty oceans really appear. A Night of Stars The night I found over the Pacific was a night of stars.

They seemed to rise from the sea and hang outside my cockpit window, near enough to touch, until hours later they slipped away into the dawn. But shortly before midnight I spied a star that differed from the others. It was too pink and it flashed as no star could. I realized I was seeing a ship, with its searchlights turned into the heavens as a lamppost to guide me on my way. I snapped on my landing lights, which are on the leading edge of the wings midway to their tips, and had them bravely blink a greeting to whoever might be watching. I was wearing my radio earphones, and after a moment the spattering buckshot of code wiped out everything else on the air, as the radio operator on that ship broadcast to shore stations that I had been sighted. Though we could not converse directly, it was comforting to hear the crackle he produced and to realize that at least thus far I was on the course. Later I learned the vessel passed was the Matson ship Maliko, 900 miles from Honolulu.

An interesting data sheet in my "chart room" (a tiny space in the wing beside my shoulder, where reposed maps, tools, etc.) was a blueprint showing the position of every vessel on or near the course, and the exact time I should be over it, reckoned on an average flying speed and a predetermined hour of starting. But before starting I thought it unlikely that I would sight a ship. The chance of two specks, one on the surface of a very large ocean, the other thousands of feet above it, passing near enough to see each other seemed slim. About midway the Ramapo, a Navy tanker, reported me, but I missed seeing her. View Images Duke Kahanamoku, champion swimmer and sheriff of Honolulu, instructs pilot Amelia Earhart in the proper Hawaiian way of eating a pineapple, on January 11, 1935. Photograph by Bettmann/Corbis Two-Way Radio Telephone Mine was the first civilian long-distance flight made with two-way radio telephone. This equipment, of course, is regularly used on the air-transport lines in the United States, but hitherto has been perhaps too heavy, costly, and complex to find a place in record flying.

My outfit, in addition to the usual set for beam reception, included a 50-watt transmitter with a possible sending range of more than 2,000 miles. My call letters are KHABQ (a mouthful indeed!), assigned by the Federal Communications Commission under a special license for communication at sea, with frequencies of 6,210 and 3,105 kilocycles. On the Pacific voyage I received certain commercial broadcasting stations, tuning the programs low except when the stations "talked" to me. I was scheduled to transmit at a quarter to and a quarter past the hour. The radio itself was operated by remote control and was situated in the rear of the plane, behind the fuselage gas tanks. In the cockpit I had a dial for tone and sensitivity control and volume, a selector switch, and a hand-held microphone. To broadcast, I rolled out the antenna through a hole in the floor by means of a reel under my seat. The antenna was weighted with a small lead ball, and streamed out in an arc below the plane in flight—adding another thing for a pilot to think about when taking off or landing, for it had to be reeled in then.

Commercial stations which generously cooperated with me before and during the flight were KGU in Honolulu, KPO in San Francisco, and KFI of Los Angeles. The latter put on a special all-night program, relayed information, and otherwise kept in touch with me every half hour. The Department of Commerce short-wave airway stations on the coast and at Kingman, Arizona, also stood by for the duration of the flight. They, and the amateurs who co-operated, can never know how much they helped a lone pilot. Only a few hours after the start, I happened to hear the KGU announcer say: "We are interrupting our musical program so that Mr. Putnam may try to communicate with his wife." And then, some hundreds of miles out over the Pacific, I heard my husband's voice as though he were in the next room. "A. E.," he said, "the noise of your motor interferes with your messages. Please speak a little louder." A few minutes later I talked back to him, through the little cup microphone—louder, as requested. Crossing the Atlantic, I saw no actual sunrise, because of clouds.

This time, with more than half of the Pacific stretched behind me, the rising sun ushered in a new day in orderly fashion. Since I was coming from "down under," the sun flared over the horizon not straight ahead but somewhat to my right, fortunately for my eyes. Flying full into the glare at high altitudes is very trying, even with dark glasses. All the way I had flown at 8,000 feet, because best winds had been predicted there. From dawn until 10:30 I was over a solid pack of fog in a world utterly remote and quite my own. Once, on the quarter hour, I confided to my microphone, "I am getting tired of this fog." Subsequently I discovered that all of the message which filtered through the static to mainland listeners were the words, "I am getting tired." So shore radio announcers, bless them, had fresh ammunition for their word pictures of the little girl battling exhaustion as well as the elements. After I had been flying for about 15 hours, the formation began to break up. Large holes appeared, through which I could see the crinkled blue surface of the sea flecked with morning sunlight.

A larger opening appeared on my left and framed in the middle was another ship. Down through the hole in the clouds I went, happy for the company of that toy steamer and exceedingly pleased because its presence proved I still was on my course. Only 150 to 200 feet above the sea I circled the steamer, which proved to be the Dollar liner President Pierce. And then I "lined up" on the wake, which from the air I could see stretching astern for perhaps a mile. The line of that wake checked exactly with the compass course I had been following. So I continued on my way. Within a few minutes KPO, in answer to my query, radioed me the position of the President Pierce as 300 miles out from San Francisco. I did not pull up again to 8,000 feet, but flew at about 1,500 the rest of the way to shore. The last hour or two of any flight is always the hardest. If there are clouds, the pilot, straining his eyes, is likely to see illusions of land. In my opinion California is letting slip many a sightly acre in the Pacific just off her coast.

I saw them, islands and distant shores almost indistinguishable from clouds. Were they only clouds, after all? I did not let myself turn from my course to explore. If there is any time when experience counts it is in putting down the temptation to wander from that course which instruments declare is true to that which the human mind would like to try. A pilot's maxim should be, "Usually the instruments are right and you are wrong." I was glad to see land—but not in a state to "scream for joy," as reported in one fervid account. My faithful plane, I believe, would fall apart under me if its pilot grew so senselessly emotional. View Images Amelia Earhart poses in front of her airplane in Wheeler Field, Hawaii, on January 4, 1935, before becoming the first person to fly solo from Honolulu to Oakland, California. Photograph by Underwood Archives/Getty A Contrast to Atlantic Flight Landing The first land I sighted was the outjutting of Pillar Point, about 21 miles south of the Golden Gate, and Pigeon Point, some 43 miles. I did not recognize the territory at all.

As there was a little rain squall directly in my way, I went around to the right. Thus I appeared five miles or so south of where I otherwise would have been—but anyway on the continent I aimed for! Pulling up over a notch in the hills, directly on my course, I beheld San Francisco Bay before me. Over San Mateo I sailed and six minutes later NR-965-Y and I sat down on the runway of Oakland Airport, approximately 18 hours from Honolulu. My landing was in marked contrast to that of the solo Atlantic flight. At that time a farmer's best pasture had been my journey's end, and there three Irishmen had come out to see what manner of creature the airplane held. My announcement that I was from America was accepted in dubious silence. At Oakland I did not have to explain whence I came to the thousands of people who waited. Cameras clicked as soon as I opened the cockpit and microphones were raised to catch my important (?) first utterances. I have said little about the precautions taken in case something went wrong. Mine is a land plane, equipped with wheels. Occasionally such a one has come down safely on water, though the landing is generally dangerous.

There are a number of factors which affect the result. Among them are the roughness of the water, the buoyancy of the craft itself, and its position when it strikes. I had dump valves in the two largest fuselage tanks, which permitted almost instant evacuation of the contents. Empty, these alone had considerable buoyancy—added to that of any wing tanks from which fuel had been used. I felt there was every likelihood the plane would remain afloat for some time. Paul Mantz, my technical adviser, who in his flying for motion pictures makes airplanes do unbelievable things, helped me plan the best way to bring a high-wing monoplane down on water without somersaulting. The feat has been accomplished and a craft of that type has been known to float for eight days before the crew were rescued. Of course, a steep dive into the sea would so damage any plane that it would tend to sink at once. Similarly, high waves would demolish either unfortunate land or water craft forced down on their merciless surface. Over my warm flying clothes I wore an inflatable rubber vest, divided into two compartments. Each would blow up instantly when I released the compressed carbon dioxide contained in two little metal capsules at the waist.

A Hatchet and Knife on the Belt Strung to my belt I had a hatchet and a sheath knife. Once down and out of the plane, I was to crawl back along the fuselage. Because of the weight of the motor, the tail surfaces presumably would be sticking out of the water. Immediately behind the gas tanks was a rubber raft. I was to hack my way through the light fabric-covered wood of the plane to reach it. It, too, was instantly inflatable from a carbon dioxide container. The sealed compartments of the raft held tomato juice, chocolate, malted-milk tablets, and a container of water. For distress signals I carried a Very pistol which shot regulation red and green rockets. Small flares which burn on contact with water and several small balloons completed my attention-attracting equipment. The balloons were to be let up on stout fishline and bear aloft a very red silk flag. The raft, once in action, was to be moored beside the plane, as long as the latter kept afloat. Then, as a last resource, I was to abandon ship. Hot Chocolate at 8,000 Feet What did I eat?

My standard ration—plain tomato juice, one hard-boiled egg, and the most memorable cup of hot chocolate I have ever had. Drinking hot chocolate alone over the Pacific at 8,000 feet is a unique experience I shall not soon forget. At that, my larder was overstocked. Katherine Sparhawk, at Wheeler Field, put up sandwiches which I did not consume but know were good. One seems to require very little nourishment on a long pull of this kind. Though I had had the lightest sort of lunch at noon in Honolulu, when I reached Oakland I was in no hurry for food. Actually my first meal was postponed until evening, 24 hours after taking off. But I vanquished a roast chicken then, with ease. View Images Amelia Earhart is showered with flowers after landing in Oakland, California, in January 1935. She was the first person to successfully fly from Hawaii to California. Photograph by Corbis Infinite Details of Preparation The plane I used is at least three years old. It is a high-wing monoplane capable, normally, of carrying six passengers and a pilot. It is closed—like a closed car. I like comfort in flying.

More important, I believe comfort decreases fatigue on long flights, and fatigue is a factor to be considered. The passenger seats in the fuselage were removed to make room for four tanks, which with five in the wing were required to carry fuel for at least twenty hours aloft. The cruising speed with moderate load is 150 to 160 miles per hour; with a top speed, at higher altitudes, about 200 miles. The Wasp motor used is the same one which performed so well on the Atlantic flight three years ago. It is in the prime of life and, after complete rebuilding and mechanical face-lifting, better than new. Pacific Airmotive Corporation, Ltd., at Burbank, did the job and I believe no engine of mine ever sang a sweeter song. Both motor and plane were checked and double-checked by competent inspectors of the Department of Commerce, and specially licensed for long-distance flying by the Government before I left for Honolulu. My cockpit contains every instrument, I think, the practicality of which has been proved for all-weather flying, except a robot pilot. On my solo Atlantic flight the altimeter failed, the first failure of the kind I had ever encountered.

Over the Pacific my instrument board carried two altimeters, as well as three compasses and other duplications. Also, metal gasoline lines were encased throughout their length in rubber tubing—double insurance against fuel leaks. Live and learn. I have long preached that two-thirds of the success of any expedition is in the preparation. Few know the time and patience expended through weeks or months of testing before even so simple a flight as that between Honolulu and Oakland—and simple it was compared to flights such as Wiley Post's round-the-world. For example, every one of my nine tanks had to be filled, run dry, and checked at different altitudes for various characteristics. In one, difficulty was experienced with the venting (necessary to allow air to enter the top of a gas tank as the gasoline is consumed from the bottom); so changes in the venting arrangements had to be made. It took hours of work to determine how many gallons of gasoline the motor consumed. If it used more than estimated, the pilot might face a serious predicament. My calculations were about 24 gallons an hour for 1.50 miles an hour speed.

These worked out reasonably well, except that my speed on the actual flight dropped to between 130 and 140 because of head winds. Oil consumption is as important as that of fuel. I carried 35 gallons of oil, after carefully determining the quantity used each hour. Load and speed tests had to be made with the controllable pitch propeller to find the most efficient setting. Such a propeller works as does the high and low gearshift in an automobile. The pilot takes off in the "low," climbs to the altitude at which he wishes to fly, then shifts into "high," for speed in level flight, or moderate climb. And so it goes through all the intricate phases of getting ready a flight. Three Routes Charted Under preparation, in addition to mechanical detail should be considered personnel. Pilots and mechanics and all others concerned should be experienced and physically and mentally fit. Worry and fatigue are relentless enemies of good judgment. The subject of navigation looms large on long flights. To keep going is useless unless one knows how to get where he wishes to be. My navigation charts were prepared by Lieut. Comdr. Clarence S. Williams, of the U.S. Naval Reserve, of Los Angeles.

On them were worked out alternate courses, one to San Francisco, a second to Los Angeles, and a third providing a shift from the northerly route to the southerly, should Pacific coast weather conditions make a midocean change of destination desirable. The charts called for fourteen changes in compass course, each to be made at intervals slightly over one hour. To facilitate time calculations, I had three clocks in the cockpit, one set on Honolulu time, another San Francisco time. The third was set at zero when I started and thereafter recorded the exact elapsed time of the trip. All of which is another answer to the question, "What does a transocean flyer think about?" For the last I have left an aspect of the Pacific flight—or of any aerial expedition-whose conduct can spell the difference between success and failure. That is the forecasting of weather to be encountered, a science which, as regards flying conditions over oceans, is yet in its infancy. When the Friendship flew from Newfoundland to Wales in 1928, only the sketchiest weather data were available regarding Atlantic upper-air conditions. During a fortnight prior to our flight, reports were obtained at considerable expense by those immediately interested in the project from a dozen ships at sea.

These reports supplemented the limited material then available to the Weather Bureau. From all of this Dr. James Kimball, meteorological dean of Atlantic flying, constructed the weather maps used. At best the basic information was incomplete and stale. Mariners' vs. Flyers' Weather The situation was much improved four years later, in 1932, when I flew solo to Ireland. The Weather Bureau was then securing reasonably comprehensive reports from ships every four hours. Dr. Kimball's maps were correspondingly fuller and fresher. However, they still concerned mariners' weather; Nautical observers are not equipped or trained to give information exactly as flyers wish it. What does a sailor care about the height of clouds or how the winds blow at 10,000 feet? The meteorological assistance rendered me on the Pacific flight indicated the accuracy that can be attained in the science with trained personnel and a new theory of forecasting. In Honolulu I was fortunate in obtaining the cooperation of Lieutenant E. W. Stephens, U.S. Navy, aerological officer at Pearl Harbor. Lieutenant Stephens, who was responsible for plotting the weather for the Navy's successful flight to Hawaii a year previously, worked with us early and late.

Ten days before the take-off he constructed a hypothetical weather map embracing much of the Pacific Ocean and western America. That chart—a thing of highs and lows, swirling isobars, barometer and temperature readings, wind directions and velocities—he made as he felt it should be when I started. Then we waited for the gods of weather to adjust their caprices throughout this far-flung territory so that their handiwork would at least approximately match our ideal. View Images Amelia Earhart's first pilot license, her flying gloves, and a silver bracelet are now on display at the Ninety-Nines Museum of Women Pilots in Oklahoma City. Photograph by Sarah Leen, National Geographic Creative Friday the Good Weather Day After digesting the data that came in by radio from vessels, from tiny islands scattered eastward of Hawaii, from Pacific-coast stations, Lieutenant Stephens on Wednesday remarked: "It looks like Friday. I think things will work out by then." They did. And because of his satisfaction with the outlook when Friday came, I decided to start, even though that was against advice received from California. The consoling fact is that I found conditions substantially as predicted by Lieutenant Stephens, even on the California coast.

Just now much attention is being directed to the pending possibilities of airlines operating across the Pacific. Momentarily the center of interest has shifted from the Atlantic. But over whatever ocean scheduled air transport may pioneer, a vital factor in its establishment will be the development of meteorological data. With what we now know about weather and with the instant communication of radio, it is not at all impossible, with proper preparation, to command a picture of upper-air conditions prevailing at any given hour over even extended routes. One can also forecast what will "come in" during the time elapsed in the making of a flight. Flying the Atlantic and the Pacific The western frontier of the United States lies 2,400 miles from the mainland. Though this stretch of water is several hundred miles greater than the shortest land-to-land distance of the North Atlantic, it probably presents less formidable hazards for the flyer. Of course, no definite statements on this score can be made until after considerable research on weather and more actual flight data are recorded. Further, what is applicable to an individual flight such as mine does not necessarily hold true for transport operation. For general comparisons North Atlantic and mid-Pacific weather disturbances are similarly severe at times, but probably ice-formation danger is greater over the Atlantic.

The shortest course from America to Europe, followed by most flyers so far, has been somewhat north of the normal steamer lanes. From Honolulu to San Francisco or Los Angeles the route lies directly over that traversed by ships—a definite advantage. To me it seems that regular air transport across both oceans is inevitable, and will probably come about sooner than most people suspect. Probably used in such long-range service will be the new radio compasses. These are extraordinary "gadgets," which actually lead a pilot to a selected point, guided by radio operating at that destination. This uncanny "homing" device is gradually emerging from the realm of experimentation into that of proved practicality. One, the Kruesi compass, after Army testing ashore, has recently been tried out over the Pacific in flights instigated by Eugene L. Vidal, Director of Air Commerce. Another variety of the new instrument, the Lear compass, is being installed in my own plane. With this latest addition to my already generously populated instrument board, I anticipate instructive experience in this most modern means of finding one's way in the air.

Comment on This Story Outstanding Men and Women in Aviation - Level 1 Level 1 Admin/Tools Please let me remind all of you--this material is copyrighted. Though partially funded by NASA, it is still a private site. Therefore, before using our materials in any form, electronic or otherwise, you need to ask permission. There are two ways to browse the site: (1) use the search button above to find specific materials using keywords; or, (2) go to specific headings like history, principles or careers at specific levels above and click on the button. Teachers may go directly to the Teachers' Guide from the For Teachers button above or site browse as in (1) and (2). Men & Women In Aviation - Level 1 Outstanding Men & Women In Aviation Leonardo da Vinci was known for his attempts to design a mechanical device using arms and legs which activated flapping wings through a system of pulleys and levers. This machine was called an ornithopter which means "flapping wings." Joseph and Etienne Montgolfier designed the first hot air balloon. Hot air is lighter than the surrounding colder air and causes the balloon to rise.

Hot air ballooning was slightly dangerous because the brazier which maintained the supply of hot air in flight could also cause the fabric to catch fire. Sir George Cayley was concerned with a form of flight which could break man free from the limitations of lighter-than-air craft. He realized man had held the key when flying a kite. A kite mounted on a stick with a movable tail was a heavier-than-air craft, in fact, a glider. The basic principles upon which modern aeronautics is founded were formulated by George Cayley. Cayley's vehicles were launched by ramp because the internal combustion engine had not yet been invented. Cayley is known as the "Father of Modern Aviation." Wilbur and Orville Wright - With the availability of the internal combustion engine the Wright Brothers designed a control system which meant for the first time that lift, power, and control were combined to enable the first controlled and sustained flight. The Wright Brothers made several short flights at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina on December 17, 1903. The Wright Brothers Felix du Temple de la Croix was the first person to fly a powered airplane. His flight, however, was not sustained or controlled.

Otto Lilienthal was one of the world's greatest exponents of gliding. Otto Lilienthal Glen Curtiss was known for his pioneering in water-based aircraft. Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin - The Zeppelin Company was credited with developing the first airliner. The airship was a dirigible and looked like an elongated balloon. It provided air service between Europe and America in the early 1900's. Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin Charles Lindbergh was best known for accomplishing the first flight from New York to Paris in the Spirit of St. Louis. He covered the distance of 3,610 miles in 33 1/2 hours. This was the first solo, non-stop transatlantic flight. Charles & Anne Lindbergh Amelia Earhart was the greatest American woman pilot in the 1930's. She flew solo across the Atlantic from Newfoundland to Ireland. She was the first person to fly solo from Hawaii to California and from Mexico City to New Jersey. In 1937 she set out for an around-the-world flight. In New Guinea her radios failed but she continued out across the Pacific Ocean and was never seen again.

Amelia Earhart Olive Ann Beech is known as the First Lady of Aviation. Co-founder of Beech Aircraft Corporation, with her husband Walter H. Beech in 1932, she now serves as Chairman Emeritus and Director of diversified Beech Aircraft Corporation, producer of the internationally known Beechcraft airplanes, military aircraft and target missiles. Beechcraft is now a Raytheon Company. Send all comments to ï¿½ 1995-2017 ALLSTAR Network. All rights reserved worldwide. Funded in part by Earhart, Amelia Encyclopedia > People > Science and Technology > Aviation: Biographies Amelia Earhart Earhart, Amelia (ârˈhärt) [ key ], 1897–1937, American aviator, b. Atchison, Kans. She was the first woman to cross the Atlantic by airplane (1928) and the first woman to make a solo flight across the Atlantic (1932). She was also the first person to fly alone from Honolulu to California and to solo nonstop from California to Mexico (both: 1935). In 1937, she attempted with a copilot, Frederick J.

Noonan, to fly around the world at the equator, but her plane was lost on the flight between New Guinea and Howland Island. In 1992, a search party reported finding remnants of Earhart's plane on Nikumaroro (formerly Gardner Island), Kiribati, but their claims were disputed by people who had worked on Earhart's plane. Other artifacts that could be from Earhart's flight (but no clear evidence) have been found on Nikumaroro, and her fate remains a mystery. Geraldine Mock later became (1964) the first woman to complete Earhart's round-the-world route. Earhart was married (1931) to George Palmer Putnam , who wrote (1939) a laudatory biography of her. See biographies by M. S. Lovell (1989), D. L. Rich (1996), and S. Butler (1997, repr. 2009); T. E. Devine and R. Daley, Eyewitness: The Amelia Earhart Incident (1987); S. Ware, Still Missing (1993); C.

Szabo, Sky Pioneer (1997); T. C. Brennan and R. Rosenbaum, Witness to the Execution: The Odyssey of Amelia Earhart (1999); K. Lubben and E. Barnett, ed., Amelia Earhart: Image and Icon (2007). The Columbia Electronic Encyclopedia, 6th ed. Copyright © 2012, Columbia University Press. All rights reserved. See more Encyclopedia articles on: Aviation: Biographies Advertisement Advertisement

Question: Who was the first person to fly solo from Hawaii to California?
Answer: Amelia Earhart