Tag: air traffic services

Real life stories as a flight service specialist (FSS): Inukjuak FSS

The Inuit who wanted to shoot Whites with a .303 caliber rifle

Post author By Stanley
Post date 4 January 2015

(Precedent story: the long awaited aircraft)

This is where we worked and lived in Inukjuak in 1982. One of the buildings holds the Transport Canada flight service station.

Note: It is only an out of the ordinary true life story. Normal relations between Whites and Inuit are entirely peaceful. Besides, we all know of situations in the southern cities where whites have tried to shoot people. The following story therefore presents an unusual and rare case.

In a Northern Quebec village named Inukjuak,in 1982-1983, the buildings layout was simple. On top of a nearby hill was the whole village, populated overwhelmingly by Inuit. Down the hill, near the airstrip and Hudson Bay, were the few buildings where Environment Canada employees and Transport Canada flight services specialists (FSS) could be found. There were only Whites living and working in this area.

One evening during winter` 82 -` 83, someone knocked on the door and entered immediately without waiting for an answer. It was the auxiliary police officer. He was an unarmed young man who occasionally helped the unique village policeman. He told us that the policeman was absent from the village and that he must fend for himself. He urged us: “Lock your doors and turn off the lights, do not go out unless it is essential, as there is one Inuit armed with .303 caliber rifle who wants to shoot white people.“

It was, of course, a complete surprise for everyone. It was easy to deduce that the shooter looking for Whites would choose the easiest solution and head towards our buildings to shoot somebody at random. Not wanting to be a sitting duck, I went to my room and grabbed a locked suitcase that had been sleeping for months on a shelf. I took out a Remington Classic 700 BDL Bolt Action and loaded the magazine.

We established a plan, with the other two persons in the house. Two of us would have to get out and head toward the flight service station, where there was an unarmed FSS female employee working alone. Chances were that she was not aware of what was going on. One of us would bring her back home and the other one would then complete her night shift at her place, since the station could not be left unattended.

While we would be gone, there would be one person left in the house with a gun to protect himself if necessary. This employee had just arrived in Inukjuak. I still remember his reaction when we were getting ready to leave. I can hear him say: “But what is this crazy place?“

We closed the outdoor floodlights and headed to the flight service station with our weapons. Walking in the dark, crouched like soldiers during wartime, we arrived at the Transport Canada building where we found the employee occupied at her normal duties, completely ignoring the possible presence of a nearby shooter. I took her place to complete the night shift while she returned home accompanied by an armed employee.

Once alone in the operating room, I shut the lights while keeping a small lamp to illuminate the console radio frequencies. I lay the rifle flat on a counter, the lock removed for faster use if needed. The radio console was located opposite a large window: it left us totally exposed to anyone who would decide to shoot through it. I therefore had to stay away from the normal working position, except when responding to radio calls, until we received fresh news about the shooter.

Twin Otter inbound for Inukjuak on a very windy day in 1982.

The improvised night shift ended without incident in the station, but I learned that multiple shots were fired at a vehicle traveling near our facilities. Projectiles pierced doors, but luckily they did not hit the vehicle occupants. Within hours of the event, a tactical response team of the Sûreté du Québec arrived in Inukjuak and controlled the shooter.

Even if this story took place decades ago, I still remember very well the atmosphere on that evening. When untrained civilians must load firearms to potentially use them against another human, it cannot be forgotten.

(Next story: emergency clean-up)

For more real life stories of a FSS in Inukjuak, click on the following link: Flight service specialist (FSS) in Inukjuak

Real life stories as a flight service specialist (FSS): Inukjuak FSS

The long awaited aircraft in Inukjuak

Post author By Stanley
Post date 28 December 2014

(Precedent story: the manager who lost his appetite)

Two Austin Airways Twin Otters being unloaded in Inukjuak in 1982.

During the years the Transport Canada flight service station in Inukjuak (CYPH) was in operation, there was something an Austin Airways pilot could count on: on the arrival of the aircraft, there would often be somebody from the village waiting to give a hand in unloading the cargo or provide some kind of services to shorten the stopover time. The villagers were indeed regularly calling the flight service specialists (FSS) to know if there was any aircraft inbound, and if it was the case, what was the estimated time of arrival. We were used to questions like “What time plane?”, “Is that food plane?”, “Is that mail plane?”.

Upon landing, we could see, arriving from the village, a fuel truck and other pick-ups and Honda three wheelers. The postmaster came to fetch the mail, the villagers to meet passengers and family members, and the businessmen to unload their cargo or fuel the aircraft.

There was a similar interest regarding the arrival of the first vessels of the season, in late summer. Besides the occasional icebreaker presence, we witnessed the arrival of the Shell tanker, responsible to supply the villages along the Hudson Bay and Ungava Bay coasts. Barges loaded with heavy machinery and crated material were finally reaching Northern Quebec villages after more than a week of navigation, taking advantage of the low tide to deliver their cargo. Some of those vessels were damaged by ice and sometimes had to be repaired on the spot before they could resume their journey.

Piano and mattresses left without much protection in the absence of their new owners. Inukjuak 1982 — A rare sight: a piano and some mattresses were left without much protection in the absence of their new owners. Inukjuak 1982

One day, an anti-submarine patrol aircraft CP140 Aurora having completed his work over Hudson Bay contacted us for air traffic services. Since its operations seemed momentarily completed and it was now moving to another area, he was asked to do a “low pass” above the station. The pilot agreed and soon enough, the airplane was zooming above our facilities disappearing moments later in the clouds. I still remember the flood of phone calls that the aircraft fly-by created. Unable to see the Aurora, now above the clouds, the villagers were asking: “Is that food plane? “,”Is that mail plane ? ” .

A low pass is sometimes requested to get a close-up of an aircraft and to allow the staff to hear the roaring engines as the aircraft zooms by the building. This also creates an opportunity to take a picture. Every pilot that I have known throughout the years would gladly accept this opportunity to add some action in his routine…

An Air Inuit Twin Otter C-GMDC is refueling in Inukjuak in 1982

(Next story: the Inuit who wanted to shoot Whites with a .303 caliber rifle)

For more real life stories of a FSS in Inukjuak, click on the following link: Flight service specialist (FSS) in Inukjuak

Real life stories as a flight service specialist (FSS): Inukjuak FSS

The manager who lost his appetite in Inukjuak

Post author By Stanley
Post date 21 December 2014

(Precedent story: illegal fishing on the Innuksuak river)

An Austin Airways Twin Otter is getting airborne during a snow shower in Inukjuak, 1982. In the background, the Environment Canada upper air station.

A Transport Canada manager had to occasionally leave the comfort of his office in Montreal to visit one of the flight service stations located in Northern Quebec, in the Nunavik. So in 1982 he made the journey to Inukjuak (CYPH), using Nordair for the leg between Montreal and Kuujjuarapik (CYGW).

From there, an Austin Airways Twin Otter brought him to Inukjuak. But few minutes after the aircraft was airborne from Kuujjuarapik, the cloud base dropped dramatically and the pilot later told the flight services specialists (FSS) in Inukjuak that he had made the trip with no more than 200 feet of clearance between the Hudson Bay water and the clouds.

The airplane arrived in Inukjuak during the afternoon. At dinner, the chef offered a hot meal, but the manager refused to eat anything, stating that he had absolutely no appetite. He later told us that to see the surface of the water so close to the plane and feel the mechanical turbulence throughout the trip had cut his appetite. The flight services specialists realized that their manager was not very comfortable with “non standard” flights.

An Austin Airways Twin Otter on takeoff from Inukjuak in 1982.

On the return flight, he was the sole passenger on board, the remaining space being occupied by cargo. The FSS knew the pilots very well and asked them a small favor, which was a takeoff with a tight turn to the right. This was done skillfully and certainly created a surprise with the traveler.

On the flight back to Montreal, while on a stopover in La Grande (CYGL) he sent us a message via the La Grande flight service station teletype that spoke volumes about his appreciation of the turn. I must say, in all honesty, that the pilot had given more than the client requested, and that the traveler had the chance to experience a 70 degree right turn. It was enough to keep him from traveling up north for a while.

(Next story: the long awaited aircraft)

For more real life stories of a FSS in Inukjuak, click on the following link: Flight service specialist (FSS) in Inukjuak

Real life stories as a flight service specialist (FSS): Inukjuak FSS

A visit at the Inukjuak flight service station (1982)

Post author By Stanley
Post date 8 December 2014

(Precedent story: when in doubt, action is worth more than inaction)

Children visiting the Inukjuak flight service station in 1982. — Children visiting the **Inukjuak flight service station in 1982**.

In 1982, at the Transport Canada flight service station in Inukjuak (CYPH), I work with other flight service specialists (FSS) to provide air traffic services, which include advisory service to arriving and departing aircrafts. We also act as a radio communication station for ships as well as for airplanes, through VHF and HF frequencies. I only remember regular call-signs like Air France 004, who always used to call in the middle of the night, and KLM692. We also have radio contacts with military aircrafts.

Knowledge of Morse code is mandatory, although reserved for occasional use only. Weather briefings to pilots are scarce. The technology available at the time is very basic. All the data received, every minute of the day, is printed automatically. Miles of paper must be managed by the staff on a monthly basis.

Working seven days a week in a Nunavik isolated post, sometimes during twelve or sixteen hour shifts quickly becomes repetitive. In order to see something else than the flight service station, one should not miss the opportunity to participate in activities with the local Inuit population whenever possible. So one day I decide to prepare an elementary weather course in order to present it to Inukjuak children.

I then contact the Inukjuak police officer who is also responsible for the Scouts. I explain my idea and propose that a moment be found where we could all meet. I would offer a weather presentation followed by a question and answer period. Posters are prepared with topics specifically chosen to encourage participation by the kids. On the given day, about ten Scouts show up with the chief. Sitting along a wall on the gym floor, we spend a good two hours discussing about weather and aviation.

I also had the opportunity to receive a few visitors in the flight service station, accompanied by their teacher. Other times, while taking a walk, it was possible to witness a shinny hockey game. For the picture below, two bystanders accepted to pose with the hockey players.

Hockey players in the Inukjuak village in 1982

(Next story: illegal fishing on the Innuksuak river)

For more real life stories of a FSS in Inukjuak, click on the following link: Flight service specialist (FSS) in Inukjuak

Real life stories as a flight service specialist (FSS): Inukjuak FSS

When in doubt, action is worth more than inaction.

Post author By Stanley
Post date 29 November 2014

(Precedent story: enroute toward the first posting: Inukjuak)

The Inukjuak soft sand runway, in 1982, and a balloon tires equipped Twin Otter, property of Austin Airways. — The **Inukjuak** soft sand runway, in 1982, and a balloon tires equipped **Twin Otter**, property of **Austin Airways**.

During my first working days as a flight service specialist (FSS) at the Transport Canada flight service station in Inukjuak (CYPH), in 1982, I received a radio call from a Twin Beech 200. The pilot of this aircraft registered in the United States indicated that he wished to land at Inukjuak for a short stopover. Several passengers were on board. I gave him the necessary air traffic services and followed its progress towards the airport, through subsequent radio communications.

It is assumed that a pilot wanting to land at an airport has prepared himself and knows the length and orientation of the runway, as well as its constitution (cement, asphalt, gravel, grass, sand). These are absolutely essential information, like ensuring that there is enough fuel on board the aircraft. This makes the difference between an accident and a successful landing. I doubted that Inukjuak, with its soft sand runway, was suited for an aircraft like the Beech 200.

Being a pilot myself, I was uncomfortable to ask him if he was aware of the characteristics of the Inukjuak runway, because this was such basic information. Moreover, having no experience as a flight service specialist yet, I considered unimaginable that in the early days of a new career, I had to deal with a pilot that was not adequately prepared, and would soon put his life and the lives of his passengers in danger.

I kept on thinking that if the pilot was responsible for this type of aircraft, he must have had hundreds, if not thousands of hours of flying experience. It would be like saying: “Don’t you think that the plane is too big for your abilities?“

The aircraft was now on final for the runway, a few miles away. I decided to ask the fateful question: “Are you aware that you are about to land on a 2000 feet soft sand runway?” The pilot softly said: “OK, we’ll do a missed approach and will head somewhere else. Is Kuujjuarapik acceptable for us? “I answered positively and in the following seconds, the airplane overshot the runway and headed southward for the next airport.

From that day and the following decades, I vowed to never take anything for granted. When in doubt, action is worth more than inaction…

(Next story: A visit at the Inukjuak flight service station (1982))

For more real life stories of a FSS in Inukjuak, click on the following link: Flight service specialist (FSS) in Inukjuak

Real life stories as a flight service specialist (FSS): Inukjuak FSS

Enroute to the first posting: Inukjuak

Post author By Stanley
Post date 23 November 2014

(Precedent story: flight service and the Transport Canada Training Institute in Cornwall)

1982 Northern Quebec view from a Nordair B737

Summer of 1982. Today is the departure from Montreal towards Inukjuak (CYPH), a northern Quebec Inuit village, part of the Nunavik. There, I will start working as a flight service specialist (FSS) for Transport Canada. Nordair’s Boeing B737 takes off and immediately heads northward. It will fly along James Bay and, upon reaching Hudson Bay, will land in Kuujjuarapik, its final destination. From there, an Austin Airways’s Twin Otter will take us over to Inukjuak , an isolated posting further to the north on the east coast of Hudson Bay.

A Boeing B737 landing on the Kuujjuarapik (CYGW) 5000 feet gravel runway uses special procedures. This is a short runway for a loaded aircraft, and braking is less effective than on asphalt. There is no significant margin for error. The wheels must touch as close as possible to the runway threshold, followed by maximum breaking. Passengers really feel the deceleration. The same calculation applies for takeoff: the pilot positions the aircraft close to the runway threshold then applies both the brakes and maximum thrust, and once the appropriate parameters are reached , releases the brakes. As usual, weight and balance, density of the air, airport altitude as well as direction and strength of the winds are all precisely calculated for the aircraft to be airborne before the end of the runway.

1982 Kuujjuarapik. A Nordair Boeing B-737 in the foreground and an Austin Airways Twin Otter in the background.

1982 A flight service specialist (FSS) working at the Kuujjuarapik station, in Québec

After a short stopover, the Twin Otter is now ready for the trip to Inukjuak. The takeoff from Kuujjuarapik goes without problems. I am sitting in the first class section, behind some cargo held by a net. For champagne, I will have to wait for the boxes to be removed from the hallway.

1982 Cargo and passengers in the Twin Otter

1982. A view of Sanikiluaq from an Austin Airways Twin Otter.

Then a slow descent is started to Inukjuak. From my window, I can see a small group of narwhals. I feel like I’m dreaming but, after a quick research in scientific documents, learn that narwhals can be found in small groups mainly in the north of Hudson Bay.

The aircraft is now getting closer to Inukjuak. The flaps are extended and it is possible to see the runway before the airplane turns on final. It is two thousand feet long and made only of sand thick enough to render its surface unstable.

1982 Austin Airways Twin Otter on base for the Inukjuak airport runway

Upon arrival, someone comes my way with a motorcycle. He offers me a ride to the staff-house, even if there is only a fifteen or twenty seconds walk. I politely declined the offer, but the personage insists. Not wanting to give a bad impression just as I arrive, I finally accept and try to find a small place on the seat of his tiny motorcycle. Hardly have we started to move into the soft sand that the driver loses control of the vehicle. We fall (what a surprise!), but there is no serious consequence. Welcome to Inukjuak!

1982 Inukjuak inhabitant and canoes used for traditional activities

C170B C-GGPI in Inukjuak, Quebec, in 1982

For more real life stories of a FSS in Inukjuak, click on the following link: Flight service specialist (FSS) in Inukjuak

Real life stories: flight service and Transport Canada Training Institute

The flight service specialist training at the Transport Canada Training Institute in Cornwall, Ontario.

Post author By Stanley
Post date 12 November 2014
4 Comments on The flight service specialist training at the Transport Canada Training Institute in Cornwall, Ontario.

(Precedent story: the flight instructor license)

View of a small portion of the Transport Canada Training Institute in Cornwall, Ontario, in 1982

In the early 80s, the oil crisis forces airlines to greatly limit hiring. This was not the case during our pilot training course but becomes a reality when applying for a job a year later.

However, on the government side, the situation is quite different. The air traffic services branch of Transport Canada is looking for new employees to replace staff approaching retirement age. The only option immediately accessible to me is to apply as a flight service specialist (FSS). I have only a rough idea of what are the responsibilities, nothing more. But the pay and advantages are far better than what is otherwise available to a new flight instructor. It is time to send in an application.

For the Province of Quebec, two written examinations totally unrelated with aviation are held at the University of Quebec in Montreal. There are 1500 candidates (5 sessions of 300 applicants) who attempt these tests during the two days allotted for the first phase of the selection process. In the following weeks and months, those who have succeeded in the written tests must then undergo anything from personal interviews to language tests, medical examinations and security clearances.

We are now three candidates from Quebec heading towards the Transport Canada Training Institute in Cornwall. There will be thirty-five hours of theoretical and practical course per week, over a six months period. The pressure will be continuous and desired in order to eliminate candidates who may not react well to stress.

We will be paid to study. A candidate is guaranteed with a posting upon completion of training, providing he manages to obtain 80% and above on the written and practical evaluations. Because this 82-01 course is not dedicated to Quebecers only, it cannot be offered in French. So it is going to be in English only, and will include twenty-four students from almost all Canadian provinces.

The Transport Canada Training Institute in Cornwall is nothing short of exceptional for those who have decided to study and succeed.

In order to help the student to deal with the weekly thirty-five hours of courses and examinations, the school provides interesting amenities.Each student has a private room with daily maid service. The cafeteria offers a good choice of meals. Calories can be burned at the pool, gym, weight room, on the tennis court or on the baseball field. A snack bar remains open for late-night cravings. A bank teller is made available to students, as well as a hairdressing salon, a bar, arcade games, pool tables, etc.

Transport Canada Training Institute weight room. Cornwall, Ontario 1982

1982 TCTI, Cornwall. Students from the FSS 82-01 group are experimenting a new way to improve scoring at basketball.

So that we understand what lies ahead, we are told that there are traditionally many students in each class who will not keep pace and will be sent home, despite their efforts. For a francophone who wasn’t using a second language on a daily basis , it is clear that integrating new theory presented in English for seven and a half hours every day, five days a week, becomes demanding. I compensate for the times when my attention decreases by studying in the evening.

There is a library in the school as well as multiples rooms for flight simulators designed for every career considered by the students.

1982 Cornwall TCTI Flight Simulation Room

1982 TCTI Cornwall. Environment Canada upper air building.

In the courtyard, there is a peacock and other small animals and a water source flows into a very well planned landscape.

The amenities are simply stunning. The message is clear: “Transport Canada only ask you to study and succeed, it will take care of the rest.”

1982 Cornwall TCTI corridors to classrooms

Finally, the moment we were all waiting for as arrived. Students who managed to get through the course celebrate their graduation.

Assignments are distributed. Those who will be working in isolated postings, in northern Quebec, are well aware that the schedule does not include holidays. The FSS will be on duty every day. The new employee will be compensated for overtime and a more expensive cost of life. He will also benefit from subsidized rents.

My departure is planned shortly for Inukjuak (CYPH), along the east coast of Hudson Bay in the Nunavik. Life will soon change radically.

(Next story: enroute to the first posting: Inukjuak)

Real life stories as pilot and FSS: learning how to fly

Accidental Night Flying…Without Night Rating

Post author By Stanley
Post date 22 September 2014

(Precedent story: The Private pilot license)

Note: For this real story, since I did not have a camera with me in the aircraft in the 1980 flight, I reproduced the flight on a simulator using a Piper Cherokee (which is the closest I could find that looks like the Grumman Cheetah).

Shortly after obtaining my private pilot license, in 1980, I was asked to pick up a plane parked in Earlton, Ontario, three hundred nautical miles northwest of St-Jean-sur-Richelieu, and bring it back to St-Jean. To get to Earlton, I was in the company of an experienced pilot and we left together on a single-engine Grumman Cheetah. For the return flight, each pilot would fly his own plane, following one another. My companion would lead in his aircraft because he had all the necessary navigational charts to get us back to St-Jean.

Along the way we had to deal with a cold front which delayed our arrival to St-Jean. Before the journey started, I was assured that we would arrive before darkness. It now seemed a bit tight.

A nice evening light over the parc de la Vérendrye.

My companion had accelerated the pace. Two facts became obvious: first, the sunset was beautiful. Second, I did not have my night flying rating. This sunset meant that there was about thirty minutes left before total darkness.

I called him on the radio to enquire if he still believed that we would reach St-Jean on time. He answered that we were at the limit.
I then enquire about the possible existence of a button that would illuminate the instruments at night. The button was found and soon the instruments took on a pinkish color. Then came the questions about the essential tools for a night flight. He named the few.

Réserve du parc de La Vérendrye at night time.

With minutes passing by very quickly it now seemed impossible to arrive before the official night time as we had not yet crossed the Montreal Pierre-Elliott-Trudeau control zone.

Approaching Montreal, I tried to communicate with my companion but there was no more reply. The only navigational fix available for this improvised night flight was the small red rotating beacon on the tail of his aircraft. Strangely, its intensity was gradually weakening. My companion was getting away, his plane being a faster one.

Montréal from above, in a single engine aircraft. — Montréal in sight. It is the first time that I see Montréal from high above during the night. I did not expect I would do so while flying a plane without holding a night rating.

I increased the power and adjusted the mixture to gain a few knots, while focusing on the little red dot that could direct me to St- Jean-sur-Richelieu. I was not too happy with my performance. I should have insisted from the beginning, to have a copy of all the documents. But this flight seemed so simple. Lesson learned.

We flew through the Montreal international airport control zone. In the night, the strobe lights of big airliners were visible on the approaches to landings or during take-offs. Abusing the engine a little bit, I gradually decreased the distance from my companion’s aircraft. Unable to hear anything due to the lack of documents that would provide the local frequencies being used, I simply followed the aircraft ahead of me.

Suddenly, the distant red beacon started going down in the night. I supposed we were getting close to St-Jean-sur-Richelieu. My companion was certainly communicating with the airport control tower to announce his intentions. This was a frequency I knew by heart. I ran the risk of calling him on the tower frequency to ask for tips to land at night. The answer was short and uncertain, because he knew that radio communications were recorded. The only advice he could find was: “I do not know what information to give you, take your time.” The air traffic controller heard this and offered me the presence of emergency vehicles, an offer I politely declined.

A Lake Buccaneer seaplane pilot flying in the area heard the communication and told the controller: “Advise him to turn his landing light on!” I replied that it was not functional. It had been observed during the pre-flight checks at St-Jean-sur-Richelieu, but it was not supposed to be a problem since we were flying during daytime only.

The first step towards a landing is to know the relative position of the plane from the airport and its three runways. When you have never flown at night, the view is different and requires an adjustment. Once the runway in use was identified (runway 11), the next step was to imagine that the flight instructor who trained me was sitting next to me. He would require good positions in the circuit, exact altitude according to each leg of the circuit pattern, appropriate speed and flap degrees, and finally an approach with a suitable angle.

At the time, all I knew about night flying boiled down to one eminently practical aspect: there was a wooded area at the beginning of runway 11 and I did not want to descend too much and hit the top of those trees, invisible in the night. However, being too high above the runway threshold would mean that the wheels would touch too far away past the threshold and the remaining runway length would be insufficient to stop the aircraft the ideal way, that is to say in one piece.

During the final leg of the approach, although my attention was fully dedicated to the procedures, I could feel that the rhythm of my heart had accelerated. On short final, everything happened quickly. The plane flew above the wooded area, the runway approached rapidly and the two wheels of the main gear touched the runway gently. The brakes were applied immediately and everything was over.

The main issue was now solved. I requested guidance from the air traffic controller to taxi down to the flying club. He jumped on the opportunity to ask me, a smile in his voice: “Are you going to take your night flying rating now?“!

(Next story: Night landing on an ice rink).

For other real life stories as a pilot, click on the following link: Real life stories as a pilot