Old Quebec airport terminal with an Air Canada DC-9 and a QuebecAir BAC 1-11 (on aviation postcard)
Around 1996, during the summer, an Air Canada DC-9 captain visited the Transport Canadaflight service station in Québec City (CYQB) to receive a last minute briefing on the weather conditions between Quebec and Toronto.
All the passengers were already on board, but the captain had noticed a rapid change in the size of thunderstorms approaching the Québec City airport. Wishing to make the best decision, he requested the latest information on the approaching line of thunderstorms before proceeding with the takeoff.
The weather radar and satellite pictures showed a wall of convective cells that a DC-9 would not be able to go through. It would not fly high enough nor be able to go around the system unless it made a detour through Val-d’Or to the north or the Tennessee to the south.
The captain already knew the consequences of his decision. He nonetheless took the phone and called Air Canada’s dispatch in Toronto, announcing that he would not leave Quebec until the weather was acceptable. He could envision the missed transfers in Toronto for most of his passengers, and their bad mood in face of the lengthy delays he expected in Québec City.
Nevertheless, his decision was made and he left the flight service station satisfied. He knew very well that a line of heavy thunderstorms had often been the cause of accidents and that no aircraft, whatever the size, was safe when dealing with a wall of severe thunderstorms.
The flight service specialists (FSS) were happy with the captain’s decision since, throughout the years, the FSS often witnessed far less commendable behaviour from pilots of all categories. Judgment is the capacity to evaluate consequences, and it is not given to everybody.
April 2013, at the Nav CanadaFlight Information Center(FIC) in Québec City. This morning’s meterological forecasts indicate the possibility of dust devils. This type of obstacle to visibility is rare. The pilots call the flight service specialists (FSS) to know what “PO” means on the weather charts.
In spite of the calm winds and blue sky all over southern Quebec, the weather conditions can give birth to local wind shears. If they lift sand, dust or other small particles, those wind shears will become visible and cause dust devils five to ten meters in diameter.
A pilot would have to be unlucky to cross a rare dust devil. However, I remember an event I witnessed thirty years ago while I was working at the Transport CanadaRouyn-Norandaflight service station.
On a hot summer day, an aircraft landed in Rouyn-Noranda after a cross-country flight from Montreal. The pilot was making a short stopover to have his logbook stamped at the flight service station. The weather conditions were ideal at the airport: dry air, calm winds and a cloudless sky.
Once his run-up was completed on the taxiway, the pilot slowly headed for the runway 26 threshold. Once aligned and ready for take-off, he made the last few adjustments.
Few seconds later, the flight service specialists heard an emergency locater transmitter signal. Looking again at the runway, they saw that the aircraft was still on the threshold, but upside down.
A strong windshear had overturned the single-engine aircraft. The airport wind speed indicator being located farther away from the threshold only indicated calm winds.
The souvenir of this story reminded me that nature can always surprise the best prepared pilot. I imagine that this event shocked the student pilot as he tried, like us, to figure out what had just happened. I do hope that this adventure did not discourage him from flying.
One of four F-18s over the National War Memorial in Ottawa on October 22nd 2015
During the September 11th 2001 crisis, the Canadian sky belonged, for a short period, to the military. The latter had taken the decision that every aircraft that had not taken-off yet had to stay on the ground, and those which were airborne had to expedite the landing.
There were a few exceptions for medical evacuations, but those flights were tightly monitored. All air traffic services units communicated with aircrafts in flight and agencies on the ground to advise them of the new rules now in place.
Generally speaking, regardless of the initial surprise, all pilots with whom the Transport Canadaflight service specialists (FSS) in Quebec City had talked, through their multiple frequencies, offered no resistance.
But I remember the case of a pilot flying a twin-engine aircraft over the Laurentides region to whom the order of landing as soon as possible had been given. He refused to obey since it was out of the question for him to lose money on already booked charter flights, especially on a beautiful day.
The flight service specialists could understand his frustration. Nonetheless, it was not a good time to debate. It was, for all air traffic services units involved, a particularly busy day and nobody had extra time to argue at length about a request.
The message was repeated one more time. In view of his refusal to obey, NORAD (North American Aerospace Defense Command) was contacted. The reply came back quickly and the pilot was given two choices: either he landed or an CF-18 fighter jet would be launched to take care of the situation.
No need to add anything else. The pilot complied immediately.
Pilots regularly refer to flight service specialists (FSS) when preparing for a flight. They can either phone or visit a flight service station. The FSS progressively know an increasing number of pilots who differ a lot in experience.
As with any profession, competence and a professional attitude vary for the same license. Pilots are no exception and I could divide them in three categories: 85% meet the requirements on a continual basis, 10% constantly exceed the expectations and the last 5% deals with more or less important shortcomings.
Here are two small stories involving pilots of very different style and some flight service specialists. Those events happened in the ‘80s and ‘90s:
The pilot with a gigantic ego
One day, a pilot called the Transport Canadaflight service station in Quebec City (CYQB) on the local radio frequency and said: “I’ll be landing in twenty minutes at Lac St-Augustin. Call my wife and tell her to pick me up”.
That was not a polite way to request a favor. He obviously had decided that those types of private phone calls were part of our responsibilities. As the flight service specialist was working higher priorities, he told the pilot that this was something he would have to do himself.
Losing his temper, the pilot started to reel off his CV and all the contacts with whom he would communicate to set this employee’s case. His long monologue forced us to lower the air radio frequency’s volume. His ramblings blocked an important frequency and were a nuisance to the other pilots. Eventually, he ran out of ideas and the radio frequency was finally available for essential communications.
A few hours later, the same pilot made a spectacular entry in the flight service station, shouting and blasting the employees. He then left the place by slamming what could be slammed of the swinging doors we had at the time.
Luckily, special cases like that are rare. They so differ from what we are used to that it’s impossible to forget them, even decades later.
An exceptionally cold blooded pilot
I remember of a very experienced pilot who used to visit us regularly at the Transport Canada flight service station in Rouyn-Noranda (CYUY). One day, he entered the station, leaned on the briefing counter, and started to talk about different subjects before finally asking us if we had any documents in our library that were dealing with an airplanecrash…
We replied by the affirmative. Considering his calm and the tone in his voice, we figured that he was just curious. He then told us that he had just crashed less than an hour ago and that the machine he was flying was totally wrecked. He was the only person on board and managed to get out with scratches only.
I must admit that I had never met somebody that could be so detached from an event of such importance!
One nice challenging virtual flight in FSX is to operate from the Juancho E. Yrausquin Airport, the shortest commercial runway in the world.
The runway is 1299 ft long (396m) and 60 ft (18m) above sea level. The IATA code is SAB, and the ICAO code TNCS.
30314 A Twin Otter aircraft is on long final for Saba (FSX)30315 A Twin Otter aircraft is on short final for Saba (FSX)
The ideal virtual aircraft for that runway is the Twin Otter (DHC-6) or the Britten Islander (BN-2). If you want something bigger, the De Havilland DHC-7 is going to be your perfect choice. Forget about jet aircrafts, the runway is too short.
30316 A last correction for the wind in Saba (FSX)
To add to the pleasure, use runway 30 and add a strong crosswind component, with gusts. In the screen captures below, I set the winds to 030 degrees at 10G20. For the flight, I also used Cumulus X and PrecipitFX to improve the visual effects.
30317 A Twin Otter aircraft is arriving in Saba (FSX)30320 A Royal Tongan Twin Otter aircraft is leaving the runway in Saba (FSX)
For an even more realistic experience, I suggest you get the FlyTampaSt.Maartenscenery, which will offer you three airports, which are all very well designed and present real challenging approaches : the Juancho E. Yrausquin airport, on Saba Island,the spectacular St.Barths airport and the Princess Juliana international airport in St.Maarten.
In the « challenging virtual flights » section of my website, I have already included an approach to Princess Juliana airport in St.Maarten, with the MD-11. The approach to St.Barths (TFFJ) will soon be included.
You will enjoy every minute trying to make perfect landings at those three airports. For other challenging virtual flights, visit the flight simulation page of my website.
Have fun!
For more articles on flight simulation on my web site, click on the following link : Flight simulation
On July 1st 1990, few months after having been released from twenty-seven years in jail, the South African PresidentNelson Mandelastopped in Iqaluit, on Baffin Island in the Nunavut. It was 03:30 AM and the aircraft had just arrived from Detroit in United States. Mandela participated in a special event linked to the three big American car manufacturers where he was invited to deliver a keynote speech.
I figured that this trip to Detroit must have brought him found memories since, in his autobiography, he mentioned that the first car he saw in his youth was a big black luxury car that he later recognized to be a Ford V8.
After Detroit, the jet carrying the Mandela couple followed an orthodromic line around the planet for the return to South Africa. It meant that a stopover for refuel was mandatory and Iqaluit, in Canada’s arctic, was chosen.
In anticipation for the VIPs arrival, the Transport Canada flight service station and the airport installations had been secured by the RCMP. Before meeting the VIP’s, the Mandela couple took some time to walk toward a group of persons outside the airport terminal. They discussed for a while, each group separated by the airport fence.
As reported by historian Kenn Harper in Nunatsiaq News in 2008, the security staff tried to rapidly bring back the Mandela couple inside as there were VIP’s waiting for them. But Mandela answered: “There are no more important people in this town tonight than these folks who have come out to talk with me. I’ll be in when I’ve finished speaking with them.”
In his memoir, Conversations with Myself, he wrote: “What struck me so forcefully was how small the planet had become during my decades in prison; it was amazing to me that a teenaged Inuit living at the roof of the world could watch the release of a political prisoner on the southern tip of Africa.”
Nelson Mandela and his book “Conversations with Myself”, image extracted from www.nelsonmandela.org on January 5th 2016
As they entered the Transport Canada installations, Nelson and Winnie Mandela were greeted by several persons, among which Iqaluit’s Inuit chief. A ceremony was held in a room next to where I was working, one floor lower, under the flight service station (FSS) tower.
Around 04:00AM, I came down from the FSS tower to transmit an important message regarding the return flight. At the bottom of the stairs, positioned on the other side of the door, was a huge policeman blocking our staff from accessing the corridor.
I tapped lightly on the windowed door and showed him that I had an urgent message for Mandela’s entourage. He refused to budge. The smooth way not bearing any results, I used the necessary means to achieve success. This did not go without a bit of noise.
The policeman finally let me go through, knowing very well that all flight service specialists were screened for security on a regular basis. But looking at his facial expression, it is obvious that we were not friends anymore.
Obviously, all my attempts at opening the door disrupted the ceremony a bit. As I was delivering the message, I saw the Mandela couple sitting in a nearby room, few meters away, attending a traditional Inuit dance performance. Drawn by the noise in the corridor, Nelson Mandela diverted his attention and we looked at each other for a short moment.
What surprised me the most was to see this remarquable man sitting straight in his chair, like a young man in his prime, showing no signs of fatigue, despite a very busy day and such a late hour that would not allow him to rest before 0500AM. That night, I understood a bit more what involved the responsibilities of a head of State and all the energy required day after day to occupy the position.
In 1989, News North journalist Cam Lockerbie wrote an article about the misadventure of passengers who were forced to stay longer than expected in Iqaluit because of a stopover that went wrong.
A Trans Ocean AirwaysDC-8 on a flight from San Francisco to Great Britain had stopped in Iqaluit, on Canada’s Baffin Island in the Nunavut, to refuel but experienced some problems during the refueling process. The aircraft would not be able to depart before the next day and 220 passengers had to find a place to sleep in Iqaluit.
Impressive efforts were deployed to help those stranded passengers since there was far from enough hotel rooms to accommodate everyone. Eventually, the passengers were dispersed throughout the town and, although there were not enough beds for everyone, there was at least a roof provided for the night.
The wing of a Trans Ocean Airlines DC-8 touches a hangar in Iqaluit
The spare parts needed for the broken DC-8 were delivered by charter jet directly from United States. After the repair was done, the DC-8 attempted to move but faced another problem. It had to find enough space to manoeuver between a hangar and an American Trans Air Lockheed L-1011 that was refueling. An airline company employee was requested to guide the DC-8 and ensure that it would not come into contact with the L-1011 or the hangar.
The newspaper article mentioned that the aircraft was not able to move past the hangar and that part of the wing had to be dismantled. What the journalist did not write, certainly because he ignored it, is that there was a contact between the hangar door and the wing tip, in spite of the person walking in front of the DC-8, like you can see on the picture above taken by anIqaluit flight service stationFSS.
On the return flight, the same DC-8 experienced an alternator problem but the engineer’s resourcefullness prevented the passengers to spend another night in Iqaluit. In the following year, the company declared bankruptcy.
American Trans Air Lockheed L-1011 in front of the Iqaluit flight service station in 1989
Canadian Airlines B-737 and Firstair HS-748 in Iqaluit in 1989
