Sierra

Sort:  Alpha  Chrono  Rando

Shizo Kanaguri

Reaching the 1912 Stockholm Olympics required Shizo Kanaguri to travel for 18 days by ship and the Trans-Siberian Railway, followed by five days of rest. Thirty kilometres into the marathon, he stopped at a house for water, lay down on a couch and awoke the following morning. Ashamed, he returned to Japan without formally withdrawing and was considered missing in Sweden for decades. In 1967, aged 76, he returned to complete the race. His final time of 54 years, 8 months, 6 days, 5 hours, 32 minutes and 20.3 seconds remains the slowest in Olympic marathon history.

Sheikh Hamad bin Hamdan Al Nahyan

Sheikh Hamad bin Hamdan Al Nahyan is an Emirati royal and car collector better known as the Rainbow Sheikh, after ordering seven Mercedes in the colours of the rainbow. His collection contains hundreds of vehicles, including a giant Willys Jeep, a three-times-scale Hummer H1, a ten-wheeled SUV and an enormous Dodge Power Wagon with living quarters inside. Many are fully functional. For Sheikh Hamad, the boundary between an automobile and a building appears to be an unnecessary technicality.

Star Dust Mystery

The passenger manifest for British South American Airlines (BSAA) flight CS-59 might have made a perfect character list for a murder-mystery. Aboard were two businessman friends touring South America on the lookout for trade opportunities: a fun-loving Swiss and a self-made English executive. Also travelling were a Palestinian man who was rumoured to have a diamond stitched into his jacket, and a South American agent of the Dunlop tyre company who had once been the tutor to Prince Michael of Romania. The oldest passenger was in her seventies, a widow of German extraction returning to her Chilean home after an inconvenient World War had unexpectedly extended her stay abroad. And to add a whiff of espionage, a member of a select corps of British civil servants known as King’s Messengers joined the flight, carrying a diplomatic bag bound for the UK embassy across the border. The date was August 2nd, 1947, and the flight was scheduled to depart from Buenos Aires, Argentina, bound for Santiago, Chile. The intrepid voyagers were to fly in the Star Dust, a shiny Lancastrian aircraft derived from the legendary Avro Lancaster World War II bomber. Its aircrew were ex-Royal Air Force to a chap, and the machine was captained by an experienced and decorated wartime flyer named Reginald Cook. Traversing the Andes Mountains in atrocious winter weather was an undertaking that would demand all his knowledge and skills, yet the journey should have been well within the capabilities of both man and machine. The dependable airliner could fly at speeds of 310 miles per hour and at altitudes of well over 20,000 feet— higher than most aircraft of the time and sufficient to clear the tallest peaks in the area. Reginald Cook had been recruited to the airline from the elite RAF Bomber Command Pathfinder Force, and like all BSAA pilots had received additional navigational training. The crew maintained Morse-code radio contact with the ground for the duration of the flight, and just before it was scheduled to arrive they signalled their approach. But then a mysterious signal was received at Santiago airfield—comprising the letters “S-T-E-N-D-E-C”. Aware of no such Morse abbreviation, the radioman at Santiago requested a repeat of the signal, and the same cryptic message was received twice more. This inexplicable message was the last one received from flight CS-59; it answered subsequent signals with silence, and it never arrived at its destination. Mount Tupungato Mount Tupungato An extensive aerial search was mounted, while the Chilean and Argentine armies combed the area on foot. No trace of Star Dust was found. For over fifty years the disappearance ranked as one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of the aviation world, and a lively and inventive mythology grew up around the incident.