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 Canada flight 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 Canada flight 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 airplane crash…
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 FlyTampa St.Maarten scenery, 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 President Nelson Mandela stopped 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 Airways DC-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 an Iqaluit flight service station FSS.
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
Their pilots had crossed 60 degree west without communicating with Iceland radio and it was now necessary to ensure that the projected passage time for 70 degree West and the altitude of the aircraft were still valid.
I tried to communicate with the crew using all means at my disposal, among which the SELCAL system which sent an alarm signal on board the aircraft. Nothing worked. Other airliners flying nearby the aircraft were requested to help by trying some calls on VHF emergency frequencies. But again, there were no replies.
Suddenly, about one hour after the moment that the pilots should have given some sign of life, I received an answer to my repeated calls. I told the crew that all the efforts had been made to contact them but without success. I asked them an official position report and an estimate for the next mandatory point of contact. Calmly, the pilot answered that he did not know why I had not received his calls and he immediately prepared an official position report.
It was kind of strange that on a day where the HF reception was excellent, and when all other companies were communicating with Iqaluit radio without any problem, this company stayed silent for such a long period of time.
I finally received the new position report but it clearly looked like an invention. If the data provided by the crew was correct, this aircraft would successfully fly 400 nautical miles in the next ten minutes. It would mean that at this speed, the crew expected to cross most of Canada in about one hour.
I advised the pilot to redo his calculations since, visibly, he seemed to have no idea of his position. He came back with new numbers, very different this time, which match what was expected.
I guessed that during the long transatlantic flight, both pilots slowly fell asleep while the automatic pilot kept the aircraft in flight. Suddenly woken up by the multiple calls, the crew did not take into account the movement of the aircraft during the hour where everybody was asleep and, worried not to get caught, rapidly transmitted totally erroneous calculations.
Nonetheless, the story ended well since the crew, now rested, provided exact information for the following position reports, allowing for a safe flight until destination.
If you are looking for a challenging virtual flight, why don’t you try the route Syangboche –Lukla with the Aerosoft Twin Otter? It is a very short flight, few minutes only, where the aircraft will be constantly descending until its destination.
A Twin Otter aircraft is on descent from Syangboche towards the Lukla runway
A Twin Otter aircraft is on approach for runway 06 at Lukla
The approach in Lukla can be tricky due to a 12 degree sloping runway. You have a feeling of coming in too quickly, but you must resist the temptation to reduce speed since, at this altitude, the stalling speed increases with all aircrafts.
Runway 06 is used for landing, and 24 is for departures. There is no possibility of a missed approach. You either succeed or you crash since there is a high rock wall at the end of runway 06.
A Twin Otter aircraft is on final for runway 06 at Lukla
A Twin Otter is about to land on runway 06 in Lukla
So the flight is made from Syangboche (OACI code:VNSB, altitude : 3748m and a 400m runway) towards Lukla (OACI code:VNLK, altitude 2860m and a 460m runway).
A Twin Otter aircraft is landing on runway 06 in Lukla
The scenery and objects around Syangboche are a creation of ORBX. Once you get closer to Lukla, you will notice a change in the scenery details, since you are entering the Aerosoft Lukla scenery (you have to buy this additional scenery to make the flight more realistic).
A Twin Otter aircraft has just landed on the runway at Lukla
A Twin Otter aircraft exits the runway in Lukla
The integration of the two scenery styles is very well achieved.
This flight will require all your attention. Good luck! For other challenging virtual flights, visit my website.
For more articles on flight simulation on my web site, click on the following link : Flight simulation
February 1990 in Iqaluit, on Baffin Island, Canada. Activities have slowed down a bit today. A temperature of -43C combined with 35 mph north-west winds means that the wind chill factor has gone down to -85C (NOAA Wind Chill Chart). We see far fewer pedestrians and even less motor vehicles on the city’s few roads. Many engines refuse to start and the motor oil has almost the consistency of maple taffy.
A special day indeed as, from the Transport Canada flight service station (FSS) tower, we can watch a very interesting performance. Huge ravens have picked that very windy day to have fun, regardless of the temperature. Flying under the wind near the FSS cab, they benefit from the venturi effect. There is no need flapping their wings. They just glide while occasionally correcting the angle of attack to adjust for the gusting wind.
The wind chill factor affecting living organisms, I find it quite spectacular to see those huge black birds having fun while we would expect that, with a -85C factor, ravens which must not absolutely fly would stay under cover until the weather improves a bit.
We can clearly hear the noise made by the wind on the wings of a huge raven when it glides over us. One day, I was walking near the Apex village under total silence. Suddenly I heard a raven glide low over my head. He was possibly checking if there was anything eatable out of that deformed shape transformed by multiple layers of winter clothing. There was only the rustling of the wind on its large open wings and no other sound. That was a very special experience.
CP Air B-737 on approach for the Juneau airport in Alaska
Here is a slightly modified screen capture showing a CP Air B-737 in a virtual flight towards the Juneau runway in Alaska. The Boeing is a creation of the Captain Sim company and the scenery is the result of the hard work of the ORBX pros.The meteorological system is a combination of three elements: Cumulus X, the “Heavy snowstorm” selection in FSX and the improvements to snow appearance obtained through PrecipitFX.
On a summer day of 1989, a DC-8-63F took-off from Iqaluit airport’s runway 36, on Baffin Island, heading towards Los Angeles. In order to do the flight without any stopovers, the tanks had been topped. The combined fuel, passengers and cargo weight required an extremely long ground run before the wheels could leave the runway.
Viewed from the Transport Canada flight service station tower, it seemed to us that the pilot had waited until the last moment to pull on the stick. Once airborne, the aircraft flew horizontally and stayed very low over the flat terrain to profit from the ground effect.
However, few kilometers from the threshold of runway 18, the terrain started to rise enough to request a positive climb rate. The pilot slightly pulled on the stick but avoided any turn to maximize lift.
Using binoculars, the flight service specialists (FSS) watched the aircraft as it should have made a left turn a long time ago. When the turn was finally attempted, the aircraft started to sink and lose much of the altitude precedently gained. We could follow the changes of altitude through the long trails of dark smoke left behind the aircraft.
Realizing the airplane was not ready to turn yet as it was going down, the pilot had started to fly it horizontally again. Moments later, the pilot tried again and the aircraft made a five to ten degree bank before starting to climb very gently. The aircraft would not have handled anything more.
It was the first time that we were considering pressing the red button used to alert airport emergency services. But this would not have been very useful since very little help could have been provided quickly enough, taking into account the position of the aircraft, its enormous amount of fuel on board and the total absence of roads in that isolated Arctic region.
N795AL DC-8-63 Trans Ocean airborne runway 18 in Iqaluit in 1990
