Cessna 310 C-GAFO parked on the ramp at Rouyn-Noranda (around 1986-88)
During the summer season, air surveillance is needed to watch for new forest fires in the center and north of the Quebec Province. There are periods, sometimes many days in a row, where the pilots do not observe anything significant. They accumulate hours of flying, quietly waiting to see a new fire or expecting to be directed by a dispatcher to a new problematic area. Those pilots also act as spotters for the Canadair CL215’s and CL415’s.
During the eighties, in the Abitibi region, a Cessna 310 had been in flight for few hours and the pilot had not spotted anything worth a call. Wishing to add a bit of action to his flight, he decided to descend and follow the meanders of a river at an extremely low altitude. As he exited a bend, the pilot faced a standing fisherman in its boat, angling in open water. Imitating the gestures of the fisherman, the pilot later told the Transport Canada flight service specialist (FSS) in Rouyn-Noranda (CYUY) that he was not the only one surprised…
It might be hard to believe that an aircraft could fly that low, especially when exiting a bend in a river. But after many decades in the aviation world, I can say that almost everything is possible. I imagine the fisherman’s reaction, quietly angling during a beautiful summer morning. While the fisherman lowers his head, the pilot pulls on the controls…
The expression in the pilot’s face showed clearly that he had had enough action for the day…I would like to swear that it was his last daring move, but it would be to ignore that this need for extreme flying is always present in some pilots.
For more real life stories on the Rouyn-Noranda flight service station and flight service specialists, click here:
Medical evacuation aircraft HS-125 C-FSEN Valentine Lupien of the Quebec Government, around 1986.
During the eighties, while I was working as a flight service specialist (FSS) at the Transport Canada flight service station in Rouyn-Noranda (CYUY), I received a phone call from a Val-d’Or air traffic controller. He told me that there was a problem with the type K ARCAL. The ARCAL allows a pilot to remotely activate the runway lights.
Normally, the pilot can choose between three intensities: low, medium and high. But it now seemed that for an extended period, the ARCAL’s low intensity would not be serviceable. The controller told me to issue aNOTAM stating that nobody could use the ARCAL for an indefinite period.
I did not agree with that request. An ARCAL system that was left available would facilitate a pilot’s life by allowing him to choose between the remaining intensities during the approach, or on takeoff. The pilots of the Quebec Government HS125 in charge of medical evacuations during night time would certainly appreciate.
I told the controller that I did not know of any approved procedures relating to an ARCAL type K system failure and that I did not see why I would consider totally unserviceable a system in which only one intensity out of three was posing a problem.
He replied that those were the written procedures that could be found in the control tower and that I had to call his manager if I wanted to see them. How was it possible that official procedures pertinent to a system installed on many airports across Canada, with or without a control tower, could only be found in selected control towers? This was unthinkable.
Through my manager, I asked to receive a copy of those procedures. But it now seemed that those procedures were not in the Val-d’Or control tower but in the Montreal regional office. I tried to get them from that office, but nobody could find anything on the subject.
It was now obvious that those procedures never existed. The funny thing is that all the stakeholders were defending, one level at a time, the existence of those fictive procedures, for all kinds of reasons.
During those years, there was a program called “Incentive Award”, encouraging an employee to present new ideas that would improve the efficiency of the public service. If a proposition was accepted by the highest management levels, a certificate accompanied with a small amount of money would be sent to the employee by the Deputy Minister at Transport Canada. Realizing I would not obtain satisfaction from the regional management, I used the “Incentive Award” program to present my proposition.
One year later, I received a call from somebody who told me he was working at the national level, in Ottawa. He implied that my suggestion would not be accepted.
I told him that I paid, like other Canadians, to get the ARCAL system installed and that, as long as one intensity would remain serviceable, the ARCAL would have to be available to pilots. I made sure he understood that I could not care if he felt comfortable with the idea or not. He was advised that if he maintained his view on the subject, he would have to justify his action to the Canadian public and to the Minister of Transport, who, at the time, was Benoît Bouchard.
Two months later, I received a check and a letter from the Deputy Minister of Transport Canada thanking me for my suggestion that was improving the efficiency of public service. Fourteen months were needed to make the transition from fictive to official procedures that now apply to all Canadian airports equipped with this type of remote control of runway lights.
For more real life stories on the Rouyn-Noranda flight service station and flight service specialists, click here:
Flight service specialist (FSS) at work in Rouyn-Noranda around 1986
On a nice summer day of July, at the Rouyn-Noranda airport, a pilot from a local flying club called our Transport Canada flight service station to get the latest airport advisory for a takeoff. He wanted to use a Cessna 172. He got the details and started taxiing. I quickly noticed that the aircraft was pulling an object. Using the binoculars, I could see that it was a cement block of about 100 kilos, attached to a rope. That cement block was normally used to immobilize an aircraft after a flight.
Aircraft Cessna C172 C-GUCU in Rouyn-Noranda around 1986
It was now obvious that the pilot had not done his walk around the aircraft, a mandatory procedure to ensure that everything is normal. Pulling that cement block on the asphalt must have required more power from the engine. I asked the pilot: “Don’t you find that more power is required to taxi today?” He answered that, in fact, he noted the need to increase the engine’s revolutions and that it was possibly due to the outside high temperature and moisture.
Without further delays, I replied: “Did you walk around your aircraft before the flight to make sure that everything was OK?” At that very moment, he understood that something needed to be done. He stopped the aircraft on the taxiway, got out and realized why a higher RPM was needed to taxi. Without saying anything that could imply his personal negligence, since he knew the radio communications were recorded, he announced that he was returning to the flying club. He had “forgotten something”…
The working position of the old Rouyn-Noranda flight service station allowed only a partial view of runway 08/26, but a complete view of the taxiway where the Cessna 172 was pulling its cement block.
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A section of the front page of my newspaper “Le Moyen Terme”
Since the Quebec flight service stations were disseminated over a vast territory, the communications between the employees of each station were quite limited. It was difficult to obtain relevant information on staff transfers: such information was badly needed when came the time to choose the next transfer site.
How would an employee be able to insist that there is availability in Montreal if he did not have in front of him, during the “discussion”, such verified information? To correct the situation, once I was working at Rouyn-Noranda FSS, I decided to create my own newspaper, titled “Le Moyen Terme”.
The newspaper was distributed to every Quebec flight service stations, to the Transport Canada Training Institute in Cornwall, Ontario, to Montreal regional office and to Ottawa headquarters. Suddenly, the Quebec flight service specialists were having access to relevant information that was updated on a regular basis.
I had contributors from all over the province, and as the newspaper gained in credibility, even Ottawa managers started to provide me with some input. I financed the newspaper, wrote most of the articles and mailed a new edition every two months. I was indebted to nobody. This did not preclude the reception of a lawyer’s letter, but in such a controlled environment, that did not come as a surprise. I presented the letter to a well-known judge who took care of the matter for free. He closed the case in one swift move.
Each edition had ten to fifteen pages. It was typed using an old typewriter and mistakes were erased using correcting fluid. A small part of the content was meant to amuse the reader, but must of the information was of an editorial nature. The texts were generally received positively by the employees and that contributed to a regular exchange.
The “Facts and rumors” page of the “Le Moyen Terme” newspaper
The section that was possibly the least appreciated by the regional office was titled: “Where are they?” On that page, one could find the name of every employee working at a particular station, with its seniority. The details were now readily available to everybody. The information provided by the management could now be crosschecked by the staff. This possibly annoyed some managers who, until recently, had a relatively easy task in attributing respective postings.
Page “Où sont-ils?” (Where are they?) of my newspaper “Le Moyen Terme”
One day, I had to visit the Montreal Transport Canada regional office. A high ranking manager, aware of my visit, invited me in his office and ordered me to stop the production of the newspaper. I told him that it was out of question and that the newspaper was useful to many employees. My answer, at the time, did not make me friends in high places, but it was not my goal. The newspaper was produced for another two years. I decided to end this personal project when I had no more time to take care of it, busy with multiple university courses and a seven days a week working schedule in Iqaluit. Since I did not want to dilute or diminish the content or the quality of the newspaper I had created, I chose to stop its production.
(Note: the comic-book characters were created by Gotlib)
For more real life stories on the Rouyn-Noranda flight service station and flight service specialists, click here:
New Rouyn-Noranda flight service station. Photo taken around 2002. Unknown photographer.
Photo of the old Rouyn-Noranda flight service station. Photo taken in 1984
November 1983. After having worked every day for more than a year, it was time to leave Inukjuak, in the Nunavik, for a new Transport Canada flight service station (FSS) located in Rouyn-Noranda (CYUY), in Abitibi region in the Québec province. Things got complicated on the day of departure, the weather worsening rapidly. An Air Creebec Twin Otter departing from Kuujuaraapik (CYGW) would now do the flight. But this company’s route implied numerous stopovers along James Bay.
With the strong winds and low clouds, I was aware that we would be in for a rough ride. The clouds being merely few hundred feet above the tree tops, the pilots had to do the whole flight and the multiple stopovers while dealing with those limitations. Along the route, there was no airport equipped to allow instrument landings. The runways were short, in gravel or dirt, and trees sometimes near the thresholds forced the pilots to adopt steeper rate of ascent or descent.
After few hours of flying in this sustained mechanical turbulence, many passengers started to experiment air sickness. They had to use the practical little bag offered by all the companies. I changed my mind by looking through the window. There was no choice of music for the flight: the wheezing and grunting noises of the passengers were used as background ambiance.
We finally landed in Val-d’Or (CYVO) late in the evening. It was different to see a long asphalted runway and an airport equipped with appropriate instruments. One hour later, I was in Rouyn-Noranda. Welcome in the South…!
For more real life stories on the Rouyn-Noranda flight service station and flight service specialists, click here:
(Precedent story: a kitchen used as a navigation aid to aviation)
Cockpit and crew view of a KLM B747 on a night flight from Montreal to Amsterdam (EHAM) . The picture was taken while the aircraft was mid-point over the Atlantic ocean, in 1983.
There was a time when it was very simple to visit the cockpit of an aircraft in flight. A request was made to the stewardess, who then coordinated with the captain. Even during this period though, several companies forbade those visits when the plane was over the ocean.
In 1983, during a journey from Montreal towards Holland, I decided to take a chance and ask the on-board staff the dreaded question, hoping to be able to take a picture of the cockpit.
The flight was being made on a KLM Boeing B747. In the middle of the night, while the plane had been at cruising altitude for several hours and most of the passengers were asleep, I discreetly asked the flight attendant the authorization to visit the cockpit. Naturally, she refused. I tried again, telling her that I was working as a flight service specialist (FSS) for Transport Canada in Inukjuak, and that I regularly talked with KLM to provide air traffic services. To dissipate any doubts, I finally gave her the KLM call-signs that I was dealing with over Northern Quebec.
She agreed to deliver my request and, twenty minutes later, I was told: “come with me but pay attention not to wake the first class passengers installed near the spiral staircase which leads to the cockpit “. As I entered the cockpit, the captain turned around, greeted me while he crunched in an apple and returned to his work. Everything was quiet in the cockpit and we could hear a continual light whistling caused by the air friction.
After a short discussion with the crew, I asked both pilots and the flight engineer to close their eyes a short moment while I took a photo with flash with my Pentax KX. A photo impossible to take today, under the same circumstances, due to higher security standards.
And, since I started my annual holidays by visiting a cockpit, I thought it would also be interesting, once in Holland, to visit the famous miniature world of Madurodam, so as not to stay away too long from the aviation world…
(Precedent story: the UFO invented in Inukjuak in 1983)
Inukjuak during a blizzard that forbid landings for days.
The winter 1982-1983 was fierce in Inukjuak (CYPH), in the Nunavik. There was a period when the winds were strong enough and the visibility reduced to the point that a rope had to be attached between the staff house and the flight service station. A Transport Canada flight service specialist (FSS) had to hold a rope to guide himself from one building to the other. And good luck to the FSS who would try to carry his meal on a tray between both buildings. A hand held the rope while the other one took care of the tray which was going in all directions. On one occasion, tray and food found their way in the snowbank.
Due to strong sustained winds, snow sometimes reached the roof top of the Inukjuak flight service station.
After a storm which seemed endless, I remember that the employees had to dig steps in the hardened snow in order to reach the flight service station door.
We sometimes had to dig in the snow to free the door and enter in the Inukjuak flight service station
This blizzard, which lasted twelve days, had prevented any takeoff and landing. There was no more milk for sale in the Inuit village, as it was now reserved for children. Hardly one hundred feet over us, there was a perfectly blue sky, according to the pilots who had tried to land on multiple occasions. But one morning, an Austin Airways pilot decided to risk an approach.
A red square was useful to help the employees find a building during a blizzard in Inukjuak.
The pilot could not benefit from any precise navigation aid during his approach, as the airport was only equipped with an NDB. So he trusted his local knowledge and what was left of his judgment. He knew that the staff house was painted green and situated just beside the runway. I guess that he prepared himself to aim for the colored staff house then make a sharp turn at the last minute. He dived into the storm, estimating the wind drift as much as he could.
At that same moment, our cook was working in the staff house’s kitchen. He was facing a huge bay window and was stunned to suddenly see the nose of a Twin Otter appear a few meters away from the window at the same time as a steep turn was being made to avoid the building. Reverse thrust was immediately applied to immobilize the plane as fast as possible. The cook repeated what he witnessed to every employee. I guess that helped him to unwind a bit.
As this was not enough surprise for the day, the plane’s doors opened and, instead of the much needed milk cargo expected by the villagers, we witnessed about ten passengers stepping out the plane and chitchatting like nothing ever happened. This unorthodox approach to the Inukjuak airport would now be one more story added on top of all the others told by pilots offering daily air service to northern Quebec villages along Hudson Bay and Ungava Bay coasts.
(Next story: the cockpit of a KLM Boeing 747 during a night flight over the Atlantic)
The Bell Canada Twin Otter in the background during a nice winter day in Inukjuak. In the foreground, an old ski-doo model.
One winter evening, in 1983, the Transport Canada flight service station (FSS) in Inukjuak (CYPH) received a radio call from a Bell Canada Twin Otter that was in trouble. The fog had invaded the Hudson Bay coast in several places, and landing at the planned alternate airports was now impossible. Weather conditions still being acceptable in Inukjuak, our airport became the last option for the pilot. Unfortunately, our runway lights were out of service and a solution had to be found quickly.
Phone calls were made. Several Inuits arrived in snowmobile and installed their machine on each side of the runway, in more or less regular intervals, so as to light the outside limits of the landing surface. The pilot made a normal approach and the aircraft landed without problem. This kind of service provided by the Inuit was not something new. The pilots were always happy to be able to rely on this emergency auxiliary lighting supplied by the inhabitants of northern Quebec villages when there was a sudden problem.
(Next story: acquisition of an Inuit sculpture in Inukjuak in 1982)
An American Trans Air Lockheed L-1011 is parked in front of the Iqaluit flight service station tower (Iqaluit FSS) in 1990.
The image above comes from a slide that was then digitalized 24 years later. Its quality is not optimal but the essential information is there: the presence in Iqaluit (CYFB), on Baffin Island, of a Lockheed L-1011 belonging to American Trans Air. During the refueling and customs procedures, the passengers were allowed to stretch their legs on the ramp. In the background is the Transport Canada flight service station (FSS) tower, where I used to provide air traffic services on VHF as well as HF frequencies to airliners crossing the atlantic ocean in the absence of satellite technology. Many heavy aircrafts were using Iqaluit on a regular basis as a stopover airport, like the extended DC8, Boeing B707, 727, 737. An Airbus A-380 even stayed for few days in order to be tested under extreme cold.
(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.
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)
