EXCLUSIVEThe man who posted himself to Australia for his daughters third birthday: Regs daring journey was the start of a lifetime of adventure - but it almost ended in the gallows

When John McSorley first heard of his friend Regs audacious plan to fly from the UK to Australia without forking out for a plane ticket he didnt hesitate to express his opinion.

I told him he was bloody mad, he recalls.

In fairness, thats surely how most people would react: Reg Spiers, then 22, had just revealed he intended to post himself Down Under in a wooden crate.

Stranded in London with no money for his fare, and desperate to get back in time for his daughters third birthday, the Australian athlete saw no reason it wouldnt work.

I wasnt a deep thinker, as Reg puts it now. I wasnt afraid of the dark, and I just saw it as strapping myself in and getting on with it. 

Perhaps the maddest thing of all is that it worked: 60 years ago this month, Reg, now a sprightly 82, emerged from a cargo warehouse at Perth Airport - clad in the suit he had packed in the box with him - after a 63-hour journey across three continents in a wooden box put together by John and measuring 5ftx3ft in length and 3ftx2ft in width (152cm x 91cm in length and 91cm x 76cm in width).

After cutting his way through a wire fence, he nonchalantly emerged from the airport to freedom.

The duos derring-do made headlines around the world – and led to a reprimand from Johns employers – but it was only the start of an extraordinary life for Spiers, now 82, who went on to assume several false identities and spent time in prison for smuggling drugs for international syndicates. At one point, he spent time on death row in a Sri Lankan jail.

Stranded in London with no money for his  fare, and desperate to get back in time for his daughters third birthday, 22-year-old Australian athlete Reg Spiers (pictured with his wife and child in November 1964) posted himself Down Under in a wooden crate with the help of a mate

Sixty years ago this month, Reg, now a sprightly 82, emerged from a cargo warehouse at Perth Airport - clad in the suit he had packed in the box with him. The crate he travelled in is pictured

Regs mate John McSorley worked into the night at his London flat constructing this sturdy wooden box with internal straps that Reg could hold onto when the crate was being moved

Perhaps equally extraordinary, though, is that this eye-popping escapade was only the beginning of a profound, decades-long friendship between two men who, on paper, could not be more different.

Hes a true English gentleman, and Im the wild colonial boy, says Reg. But from the moment we met all those years ago we knew we were going to be friends, and we never stopped. 

That sentiment is echoed by John, also 82. We love each other, he says with a smile. We genuinely love each other. It says a great deal about their bond that when, last year, John had a stroke which left him paralysed down one side, Reg got on a plane from Adelaide as soon as he could and spent weeks at his old pals bedside.

Today, from their homes at opposite ends of the world – Reg in Adelaide; John at the care home in Hampton, West London, where he moved following his stroke - both delight in reflecting on a ruse that would not even get off the ground today.

It was the Sixties, and there was this sort of laissez-faire attitude to stuff, as John, still twinkly eyed despite being confined to a wheelchair, says now. Plus, when you are young you dont worry about things in the same way, do you?

John and Reg were both champion javelin throwers as young men, which is how fate brought them together: the duo first met at Perths 1962 Commonwealth Games, when John decided to walk to the accommodation housing his Australian rivals to check out the competition.

For the most part, they didnt want to know, but then Reg came out and we just hit it off, he reflects. We were both outdoorsy, into sport.

Reg pulled off his 63-hour journey across three continents in a wooden box with the help of his friend John McSorley (pictured), a fellow javelin thrower from England. The pair had met at Perths 1962 Commonwealth Games and formed a strong friendship that continues to this day

Reg tells me of his friendship with John, Hes a true English gentleman, and Im the wild colonial boy. But from the moment we met all those years ago we knew we were going to be friends, and we never stopped. (Left: John McSorley; right: Reg Spiers)

Reg is pictured at his Adelaide home on November 6, 1964, after telling of his 63-hour flight from London to Perth. He had worked his way to London on a ship in hopes of winning a place on the Australian Olympic team. He didnt make the team and because he had no money, seized upon the idea of flying home in a crate

It helped that the six-foot-two Reg was a force of nature: John recalls his new friend taking him to a local surf club for dinner, greeting everyone on the dance floor like an old friend and then raiding the fridge in the kitchen.

I said: "Reg, how come you know this place?" He said: "This is my first time here." And that was textbook Reg – you just couldnt help loving him, he laughs. Reg felt the same way about John. I took to him immediately, Reg recalls. He was just a terrific bloke.

On Johns return to England, the pair wrote to each other regularly, and when in Spring 1964 Reg arrived in the UK to use the summer season to recover from an injury that had prevented him competing in that years Tokyo Olympic games, they were able to resume their friendship in person.

A few months later, however, it became clear Reg could not realise his Olympic ambitions. He decided to return home, determined to make it in time for his daughters third birthday. But there was a snag: the £400 fare - about £2,500 (or AU$4,950) in todays money – was beyond reach.

Hed worked his passage over to the UK on an oil tanker, but that would take too long. He tried to blag a free flight, but that didnt work. And then the final straw came when he had his wallet pinched, John recalls. Thats when he concocted his crazy scheme.

Reg visited John in hospital in Britain last year when he had a stroke. The two men have been friends for 60 years after John played a crucial role in planning Regs man-in-a-box journey

Colin Ross (left, pictured with Reg, right, and John, sitting middle) was the third man of the 1964 operation, having helped load Reg onto the van to the airport back in the day

The scheme was, at least, based on some logic: Reg had been working in cargo export for Air France to earn some cash, and had seen the freight system from the inside. Id watched animals being sent all over the world – so why not humans? he recalls.

John didnt quite see it that way at first: when told of his plan by Reg over drinks in a London pub, his initial reaction was that his friend was stark-raving crazy.

In time though, he realised Reg being Reg, he was going to do it whatever he thought. I realised I needed to be involved, otherwise he was likely to do the wrong thing and get into some real trouble. I was a handy guy, so I thought Id make him a decent box, he says.

Working into the night at his London flat – where Reg was also staying - he constructed a sturdy wooden box with internal straps that Reg could hold onto when the crate was being moved around. Once inside, he could lie down with his legs bent, or sit up with his legs straight, says John.

The duo also created a fictitious company, the Supreme Shoe Company – registered to a Corona Road, in London – and labelled the contents as paint to be sent to a fictitious Australian shoe company and which would be collected by a Mr Graham in Perth, cash on delivery (COD as it was known then). That meant nothing to pay up front. And of course, no one was ever going to collect it as Reg was going to climb out of it, says John.

And so, on Saturday, October 17, 1964, John strapped his friend into the box in his apartment, and together with two other friends loaded him into a van and took him to Heathrow Airport.

Inside, Reg had a torch, a can of baked beans, a pillow, some sweets, and two plastic bottles, one for water, one for the contents of his bladder. He had fasted for the previous week.

Did he not think about all the things that could go wrong? In as much as I thought about it at all, it was a case of just jumping in and seeing what happens, Reg insists now. And John had built a wonderful unit.

In fact, the scheme was nearly thwarted before it began, when a friend continued to chat to Reg inside the crate after they arrived at the airport. He nearly blew it, says John. But thankfully staff didnt notice. And so, with a pat on the box by way of goodbye, John could do nothing else but go home and wait for news.

Now tucked inside, Reg had no option but to wait too - in his case inside his box which had been placed high up in a warehouse. With thick fog in London delaying take-off for the Air India flight from London to Perths first leg to Paris, it was 24 hours before he was on the move.

In fact, he nearly didnt take off at all. 

They had an apprentice being taught to move the freight, and he put the forks under the box, but not far enough, meaning it nearly tipped to the floor, he says. Then thank God someone intervened.

Once on the plane, Reg was in a pressurised hold, meaning he could breathe and wasnt cold. He could even, if he chose, get out and walk around. I got out once between London and Paris. Thats the only time, Reg tells me.

The next stop was Bombay, where baggage handlers took out his crate and left it on the tarmac in the blazing heat for four hours. It was hot as hell so I took off my clothes and couldnt help thinking it would be funny if they found me then, he says. Finally they came and put me on another plane.

About 13 hours later, the cargo hold opened once more, and Reg heard the accents of his fellow countrymen. It was wonderful, he says. Id made it. 

Not quite: he still had to navigate his way out of the box, which had been taken to a bonded warehouse, and then out of the airport. 

Once the coast was clear, he climbed out and, clad in the suit hed packed, he cut a hole in the chain link wall with tools he found nearby, jumped onto the tarmac and onto the street. There was no security, he says. I walked out and hitched the 3,000 kilometres to Adelaide.

He was greeted by an astonished - and dubious - wife and daughter. She didnt believe me at first.

Ten thousand miles away in London, meanwhile, John was growing increasingly concerned that he had not heard from his friend. I think he now feels a bit bad he didnt let me know, he says wryly. But after a good week or so I felt I had to do something.

He contacted a sports journalist he knew on a British paper, who in turn contacted a journalist he knew in Australia and who duly turned up on Regs doorstep.

His report saw Reg hailed a hero. I had politicians sending me telegrams telling me it was a gallant effort by a real Aussie, he chuckles. 

Not everyone was thrilled: Reg recalls that Air India subsequently tried to charge him £400 for his passage. I said: Look, if you want to make an announcement to say youve been paid for the flight, Ill give you ten shillings a month. Other than that, you can go to buggery, he smiles. I never heard from them again.

Meanwhile John was rewarded for his efforts by a rap on the knuckles by the HR department of Heinz, where he was working at the time. I was told I was irresponsible, and they didnt want this sort of thing to happen again, he smiles.

After his London-to-Perth journey, Reg would go from larrikin to criminal, becoming involved in international drug trafficking. But John never judged him for this, and the duo stayed friends

Not that anything could mar the duos friendship, even if they went on to lead rather different lives, albeit for a time on the same continent: in the 1980s, after marrying his Australian wife Julie, John moved to Australia and worked as a sports coach at a top school, staying in the country for 22 years before returning to the UK and Spain. He has three children, Marcus, Ben and Louise.

After successfully smuggling himself into his homeland, Reg went on to smuggle other things altogether – largely cannabis - assuming a number of false identities along the way and at one point finding himself on death row in Sri Lanka on drugs charges.

After successfully appealing his sentence, he spent five years in jail in Adelaide where - naturally – one of his regular visitors was John. He had the jailers making us tea and bringing cake - thats how much he had them wrapped around his finger, John says with a smile. 

And if John ever thought ill of his friends unconventional activities, he never showed it. Ive never had an argument with the man, and hes never shown an ounce of judgement, says Reg, who confides that he never wanted to live an ordinary life. We didnt see each other for years sometimes, but whenever we did, its like I saw him yesterday.

Regs exploits – including his unorthodox passage to Australia - have been documented by Johns son Marcus, who grew up alongside his siblings listening to his father regaling dinner party guests with the tale of posting his friend to Australia, in Out of the Box: The Highs and Lows of a Champion Smuggler, co-authored with his late mother. 

He, too, has got to know Reg well over the years. Hes wonderful, he says. Some people cant see past the brashness, but theres such generosity and warmth. Hes a man of many layers.

The truth is that Reg has a really good heart, adds John. Even when he was in prison, he was helping people.

That good heart has been reinforced in recent years following Johns stroke: Reg sent money to help pay for his wheelchair, and got on a plane as soon as he could.

The following week he came to the hospital, told me I needed a haircut, got me in the chair and wheeled me from the hospital down the road into town to the hairdressers, John says. When he left, everyone said: Who is that man? They all wanted him to come back.

And of course he is: Reg, still hale and hearty at nearly 83, and today living in Adelaide with Caitlin, his partner of 33 years, has already planned his trip for next year. He copes with his situation like the champion that he is, he says of his oldest friend. And if I can play a small part in it, make him feel good for a few weeks when I go over there, well, Ill do that as long as Im capable of doing it.

And this time, of course, hes paying.

Out of the Box: The Highs and Lows of a Champion Smuggler by Julie McSorley and Marcus McSorley is out now