My dreams are coming true. Airships are being built again. Not so long ago I cruised the Internet to see the flaming crash of the Hindenburg at Lakehurst, New Jersey on May 6, 1937. The Hindenburg depended for lift on highly flammable hydrogen which, when ignited, destroyed the massive airship in minutes. This disaster was the beginning of the end for lighter-than-air craft. Only seven years before Britain’s R101, then the largest airship in the world, was forced down over France in a storm on Oct. 4, 1930. It nosed into the earth gently at a speed of 13 miles an hour, but hydrogen-filled gas bags in the nose cone burst and the gas was ignited by a spark. Flames destroyed the ship quickly and most of those on board perished.
In America, the navy had faith in airships if their lift was provided by inert helium. It commissioned the building of the USS Macon and USS Akron. Both were flying aircraft carriers, successfully launching and retrieving small fighter planes. Both perished when their tail assemblies were damaged in violent storms. Except for small blimps, the age of airships was over.
I began to wonder whether new technologies and materials could bring the airships back. I visualized the shape of an airship changing from a monster cigar to a flying wing, with electrically driven motors powering ducted fans to provide upward or downward motion as in a helicopter and forward and back motion through propellers in rotating pod mounts. It seemed to me the electrical power should be provided by fuel cells and top-mounted solar panels.
What I envisaged has now been built and is in the process of being marketed, except that neither contestant in the race embodies fuel cells and solar panels. The advantages of the new monster airship are obvious. Although slower than jet-powered cargo planes, they can, at miserly costs of fuel, carry tremendous loads of goods into and raw materials out of places beyond the reach of roads and rails. They can stay aloft for days and can land anywhere there is an area large enough to accommodate their massive size.
The smaller entry in the competition for markets is built by Lockheed-Martin of the United States. According to the Internet, the price of the LM H-1 is $480 million for a dozen. Anybody can buy one for $40 million. There is a confident prediction that the price will drop if more are sold. Even more expensive is the British built Airlander 10, which is the largest flying object ever built. It costs 287 million British pounds for just one. The popular Airbus jet plane costs 375 British pounds. By my uncertain calculations, an Airlander 10 costs $215 million US and the Airbus $284 million.
Could the owners of such impressive flying miracles ever employ them in the mundane task of taking grains and oilseeds to Canada’s northern port of Churchill, orphaned now since Omnitrax has shut down the rail line that was once the old Hudson Bay Railway? This is a question that can’t be answered now, but there may come a time when it should be asked.
