Clyde Pangborn, Miss Veedol, and the Landing Gear He Dropped Over the Pacific

Clyde Pangborn completed the first nonstop transpacific flight from Japan to the continental United States on October 4, 1931, covering 4,558 miles in 41 hours and 13 minutes. He deliberately jettisoned his landing gear into the Pacific Ocean to reduce weight for the crossing, then belly-landed in a field near East Wenatchee, Washington. It remains one of the most carefully calculated acts of controlled risk-taking in aviation history.

From Barnstormer to Record Chaser

Pangborn didn’t come up through the military or a flight academy. He earned his skills on the barnstorming circuit, working county fairs across the country through the 1920s. He flew inverted over crowds who had never seen an airplane up close, walked on wings at altitude, and transferred between aircraft in mid-flight. The nickname they gave him - Upside-Down Pangborn - wasn’t a stage name. It was a job description.

By 1931, the barnstorming era was winding down. Regulation and commercial aviation were crowding out the carnival pilots. Pangborn found a new backer in Hugh Herndon Jr., a young socialite with money and appetite for adventure. Together they planned a full circumnavigation of the globe, targeting a new around-the-world speed record.

The Airplane: Miss Veedol

Their aircraft was a Bellanca CH-400 Skyrocket - a high-wing monoplane with a single radial engine, designed by Giuseppe Bellanca. His airframes were known throughout the aviation world for structural efficiency and the ability to carry large fuel loads relative to their size. Pangborn and Herndon named her Miss Veedol, after the Veedol motor oil brand that was among their sponsors.

The CH-400 was well-suited to distance flying. What it was about to be asked to do was something else entirely.

Arrested in Japan

The circumnavigation was progressing until Japan. In 1931, Japan was under rapid military expansion throughout Asia, with restricted airspace that a foreign pilot navigating by dead reckoning could easily violate without knowing it.

Pangborn and Herndon routed near Kasumigaura, a major Japanese naval air station. When they landed to refuel, officials were waiting. The charge was espionage - aerial photography of a military installation. A camera found in the cockpit became evidence. The airplane was impounded, and both men were held and questioned for days while lawyers argued over what had been photographed and what it meant.

The circumnavigation was over. Miss Veedol sat in a Japanese hangar, and a substantial fine had to be paid before anyone went anywhere.

The Prize That Changed Everything

A major Japanese newspaper, the Asahi Shimbun, had been offering 25,000 yen - roughly $12,500 USD in 1931 - for the first nonstop flight between Japan and the continental United States. The route had never been flown. No one had crossed the entire North Pacific nonstop. It was considered one of the last great unclaimed distance records in aviation.

Pangborn went to the Japanese authorities with a proposal: return the airplane, let them attempt the Pacific crossing, and the prize money would cover the fine.

They agreed.

Why Dropping the Landing Gear Was the Only Option

The North Pacific is approximately 4,500 miles of open water. No islands to divert to. No alternates. No second chances. To cover that distance, Miss Veedol needed to carry close to 920 gallons of fuel. At that weight, she would barely fly. She would climb slowly and burn an enormous amount of fuel just reaching cruise altitude.

The landing gear weighed several hundred pounds. That was weight Pangborn couldn’t afford to carry.

His solution was straightforward in concept: design a jettison system, release the gear once they were clear of Japan and over open water, let it fall into the sea, and fly lighter across the Pacific. At the other end, in Washington state, belly-land Miss Veedol in a field. He built the release mechanism himself and added a wooden skid under the fuselage belly.

It was the kind of problem that gets solved when there’s no other answer.

Sabishiro Beach, October 4, 1931

They prepared for departure at Sabishiro Beach near the city of Misawa in Aomori Prefecture, on Japan’s northeastern coast - a long, flat stretch of Pacific shoreline. Miss Veedol needed every foot of it.

The takeoff run was long. Witnesses on the beach later said the aircraft barely cleared the wave tops at the water’s edge. She was climbing, technically, but against the weight the whole way.

Once clear of the coast, Pangborn climbed out of the cockpit. He worked his way along the fuselage, hands and feet on the structure, engine exhaust and open-ocean wind hitting him directly, the water moving below. He reached the undercarriage mounting. He released the mechanism.

The landing gear fell into the Pacific.

Forty-One Hours Over the North Pacific

Navigation across the North Pacific in 1931 meant dead reckoning: compass, airspeed, and watch. If forecast winds were wrong, an aircraft could arrive a hundred miles off course with no way to know it in advance. Without GPS or reliable long-range radio beacons, Herndon navigated the way ocean sailors had for centuries - careful calculations, star shots when the clouds broke, and confidence in the math.

Somewhere over the mid-Pacific, weather closed in. Cloud, rain, and turbulence with no horizon to reference, instruments demanding constant correction. No weather updates, no radar. They came through on instruments and experience.

Forty-one hours and thirteen minutes after leaving Sabishiro Beach, the Cascades rose through the morning haze. The Columbia River basin opened below. The city of Wenatchee, Washington came into view.

The Belly Landing

A belly landing offers no second attempt. You set it up, you commit, and the outcome is what it is. Pangborn got the nose attitude right. He pulled the throttle back. The belly of Miss Veedol met the earth of a field near East Wenatchee, the wooden skid bit the soil, and the airplane ground forward through decelerating friction until it stopped.

The propeller was bent. The engine was quiet. 4,558 miles. Nonstop. The first transpacific flight from Japan to the continental United States.

Wenatchee celebrated. The prize money came through. The Japanese fine was paid.

What Came After

Herndon stepped away from flying not long after. He’d gotten the adventure he came for.

Pangborn never stopped. During World War II, he flew with the Air Transport Command, ferrying bombers across the North Atlantic to Britain through the worst weather that route could produce. He flew until the world moved past the kind of aviation he had always known. He died in 1958.

He never became the household name that Lindbergh became. He didn’t get the ticker tape parade that some far smaller achievements received. But in Wenatchee, they never forgot. The Wenatchee Valley Museum and Cultural Center has kept the record - and the story - intact.

Why This Matters for Pilots

Every weight-and-balance calculation, every fuel planning decision, every conversation about performance margins on a hot day has roots in the kind of problem Pangborn solved over Sabishiro Beach. He understood his airplane’s limits precisely - and he trusted that precision enough to bet everything on it.

The lesson isn’t the drama. It’s the discipline. Pangborn didn’t guess. He built the mechanism, he did the math, and he committed to a decision that couldn’t be undone once he was 500 miles over open water. That’s the standard that built modern aviation.

Key Takeaways

• Clyde Pangborn completed the first nonstop transpacific flight from Japan to the continental United States on October 4, 1931, in 41 hours and 13 minutes
• Pangborn deliberately jettisoned Miss Veedol’s landing gear into the Pacific Ocean to save weight for the 4,558-mile crossing - the airplane was carrying nearly 920 gallons of fuel
• The flight was motivated in part by a 25,000-yen prize (~$12,500 USD) offered by the Asahi Shimbun, money Pangborn needed to pay a Japanese fine after being detained on espionage charges
• Pangborn built the jettison mechanism and landing skid himself, then climbed outside the aircraft in flight to release the gear
• The belly landing in a field near East Wenatchee, Washington was successful; Pangborn went on to fly with the Air Transport Command in World War II and remained active in aviation until his death in 1958

Sources: Wenatchee Valley Museum and Cultural Center; Henry Holden’s research on the golden age of long-distance record flying.