Paris to Perth in a Horizon with no Horizon
Charles Page
The Robin Miller story is an enthralling saga of a courageous and determined young lady, whose short life was filled with adventure. Robin was born in 1940 of pioneering stock. Her mother, Mary Durack, grew up in the Kimberley and was the author of 15 books, including Kings in Grass Castles. Robin’s father, Horrie Miller, was a World War I fighter pilot, and co-founder of MacRobertson Miller Airlines.
Robin’s school holidays were spent at the family home in Broome, where she spent many hours flying in her father’s Wackett trainer. After leaving school she trained as a nurse at Royal Perth Hospital, won the State Nursing Prize in 1962, and went on to become a triple certificate nurse. During that time she gained her Private Pilot licence, and later qualified as a Commercial Pilot, with multi-engine and 1st class instrument rating.
Her ambition was to combine nursing with flying, and from 1967 to 1969, she flew 43,000 miles across the Kimberley and Pilbara regions distributing 37,000 doses of polio vaccine in sugar cubes. Thus was born, the legend of the Sugar Bird Lady.
In March 1968, Robin Miller and Dr Harold Dicks were invited to fly two new Gardan Horizon light aircraft from Paris to Jandakot for distributor Southern Aeronautics. The Horizon was an all metal 4 seat aircraft, with a Lycoming 160 hp or 180 hp, and a maximum speed of 155 mph. The tricycle landing gear was operated by 12 turns of a winder, and the flaps operated along with the landing gear.
One pilot, who was an experienced airline captain, had already attempted the flight, but never made it out of France, and returned to Paris, saying it was too dangerous to continue.
Robin observed, ‘Frankly, I didn’t want to accept this new proposal. I felt pretty sure I would never make it back, but found myself saying “Yes” mainly I suppose because I hate to decline a challenge.’ She then purchased a will form for ten cents. ‘Gran was of course horrified.’
In those days, there was no GPS, and they had no autopilot, or weather radar, or satellite weather charts, or anti-ice. So it was hand flying all the way to Australia, using dead reckoning, just like Bert Hinkler and Kingsford Smith. Even these two experienced flyers perished on their last England to Australia flights. Early in the flight, Robin lost her artificial horizon, and other instruments, and was reduced to the limited panel ‘needle, ball and airspeed’.
Robin led the way in F-OCLA, with Harold Dicks in F-OCLI. Sometimes they managed a loose formation, but they were more often separated because of cloudy or stormy weather.
Nearing Cannes, they were bounced by a fighter jet, and then flew direct across the Mediterranean to Pisa, where they were later given special clearance to take off in thick fog.
On the leg to Athens, fuel was getting low, so they landed without clearance at a Greek fighter base and were met by two truckloads of armed men, and thoroughly searched. They were eventually released the next day and set course for Rhodes, but ran into a mountain wave that sent them from 8,000 ft to 13,000 ft and then back down again, with severe turbulence.
The next morning, F-OCLA sat in a pool of petrol, as the ferry tanks had over pressured. When finally on their way, they flew over Nicosia and were buzzed by a jet fighter, and rocked by wake turbulence. It was only when Robin untied her long golden locks that the ‘jet jockey’ waved them off. They then followed the airliners into Beirut and parked under a 707.
They were pleasantly surprised when they landed in Damascus to a military band and parade. However, the band was there to greet a Russian delegation, and the music died away when the embarrassed band realised their mistake.
On the way to Bahrain, they were bucked around under violent thunderstorms, and then the sky filled with dirty red dust and sand. It was at this point that Robin’s artificial horizon failed, and she had to fly all the way to Perth on a tiny electrical turn and bank instrument. Also the compasses were found to have 30 degrees deviation.
Robin took the aircraft down to 100 ft in the dense sandstorm, and an eerie light, and was tossed around like a cork in high seas. Nearly all the registration letters were sandblasted off. With visibility down to 100 yards, she passed over Bedouin tents and drew up alongside an Arab on a horse. The rider swerved, aimed his rifle and fired away as she left him in the dust. She was lucky, as in 1926, Alan Cobham’s engineer had been killed in a similar incident.
Bahrain then reported a 45 knot crosswind, so they diverted to Al Qaysumah, on the Aramco pipeline. Robin was quickly told to cover up and was asked ‘Why is a woman flying a plane?’ They were taken to a guarded compound and accused of violating Saudi Arabian airspace. On the fourth day, a guard came for Robin, saying the Emir liked her blonde hair, found her very desirable, and wanted her for his harem.
‘Go and get your things,’ the guard demanded, ‘I have been ordered to take you to the Emir’. An indignant Robin exclaimed, ‘Tell him to go to hell.’ But as she was being hauled away, the guard said, ‘Do you know what is the date?’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Robin replied. ‘Well’ said the guard, ‘It is first of April’.
Soon afterwards, a message came in from Jeddah ordering their release. They took off for Bahrain in total darkness, with Robin holding a penlight to see her tiny needle and ball instrument. Luckily, Bahrain soon picked them up on radar and guided them in.
They flew on to Karachi and Delhi, where they were swarmed by beggars. While awaiting their turn for take off, they watched a large four engine aircraft lift off with black smoke and flames pouring from one engine. The aircraft crash landed nearby, and was still burning as Robin flew past, with no sign of crew or passengers.
After Calcutta they flew across the Bay of Bengal, surrounded by thunderheads and waterspouts. As they flew along the Burma coast, Robin thought of Kingsford Smith who went down in the area. A very relieved Robin made it into Mergui, just before the heavens opened, and two inches of rain fell in ten minutes. Once again they were interned, but were released when Robin showed a letter from the State Premier.
From Singapore they faced 400 miles of open sea, and in yet another test of fortitude, they plunged into a great wall of monsoonal rain, forked lightning and turbulence. Robin was thrown up against the straps, and wondered whether F-OCLA was in fact flying under water. On arriving at Djakarta, they had to dodge children who were playing chicken, riding bicycles all over the runway. The flight to Bali was no easier, with mountain currents so violent; the little Horizon was thrown almost upside down.
Then after leaving Denpasar, they heard Broome radio, and an elated Robin soon made contact. Broome replied, ‘Go ahead Robin’.
‘Tell Dad that we’re ok’ Robin replied.
‘We’ll ring him right away. I can tell you he will be mighty relieved.’
Robin observed, ‘For the first time on the entire flight from Paris, we knew that we were being looked after and that if anything went wrong someone would care. The feeling of relief was beyond words.’
At Dili they had to buzz a herd of goats off the airstrip, and from there they flew across the Timor Sea, and ran into the most ferocious of all tropical thunderstorms.
Messages of congratulation reached them at Darwin, and they flew on to Kildurk Station, where they had a reunion with the Duracks. Then, it was on to Broome, where Horrie Miller was ‘mighty relieved’ to see his daughter. Then they were in familiar territory for a home run down the coast to Jandakot.
Robin declared, ‘For myself, I had fallen in love with FOCLA. She and I had proved something together. We had taken on the world and won out against every mean trick it had contrived to turn on for us. It was little wonder that, as she flew off to Sydney, I felt that I was losing someone with whom I had developed a deep relationship.’
Robin’s F-OCLA was re-registered as VH-EOL and sold to a Melbourne private owner; however in 1970 the undercarriage was damaged in a landing at Lakes Entrance, Victoria. After a rebuild, it transferred through several owners, with the final owner being Dean Nicholls, a pilot with 28 years of flying experience. Then in July 2025, Dean generously donated the aircraft to the Aviation Heritage Museum of WA. There it will join F-OCLI, Horrie Miller’s Wackett, and the restored RFDS Baron VH-FDN that Robin flew.
Between 1968 and 1975 Robin flew as pilot and nurse for the RFDS. She flew in all kinds of weather, and on one occasion the wind was so strong, the airfield windsock tore loose and went flying past her wing. She encountered all manner of emergencies, from delivering a baby in midair, landing by car headlights, and battling a python in the cockpit. She was often called out at short notice, and was teased over the airwaves when she advised ATC she had left her stew cooking on the stove.
She also made nine ferry flights across the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and competed in the Powder Puff Derby from California to New York. Before leaving for her last ferry flight, she told family and friends, ‘If anything happens to me – not to worry dears – I’ve had a fabulous life’.
Tragically, her truly ‘fabulous life’ was cut short on 7 December 1975, when she died from cancer, age 35. She worked for the RFDS almost till the day she died.
She received many international and national awards during her short life, including the Nancy Bird (Walton) Award, the UK Brabazon Cup, Paul Tissandier Diploma, ANI Diploma of Merit Italy. She also authored Flying Nurse and Sugarbird Lady, the latter posthumously. Robin Miller was a special person, who has left an inspiring legacy.
Sources:
Flying Nurse, Robin Miller
Sugarbird Lady, Robin Miller
Aviation Heritage Museum of WA
Marie Megaw
Dean Nicholls
Royal Perth Hospital Museum
