Summer 1988. I only had few months left as a Transport Canada flight service specialist (FSS) in Rouyn-Noranda (CYUY) before being transferred to Iqaluit, an isolated Arctic post in the Nunavut, Canada. That summer, during my annual holidays, I took few days to drive to St-Jean-sur-Richelieu, just in time for my parent’s wedding anniversary.
We thought of offering them a ride in a hot air balloon. The balloon would lift from a field facing the St-Jean-sur-Richelieu Cégep.
The winds were favoring a flight path that would allow the crossing of the Richelieu River. The pilot would profit from that opportunity since the crossing of that river is very popular with the city’s inhabitants. We just hoped that the wind direction would not change while the balloon was over the water.
The amount of propane gas being limited, the flight would have to be at a quick enough pace to allow the pilot to get away from Iberville’s buildings once on the other side of the river. I don’t think my parents were worried about those details. I imagined that their anxiety was instead building up at the same time as the balloon envelope was gaining volume.
As soon as the balloon lifted off, it drifted towards the river. This would allow the pilot to touch the river with the basket, something he did twenty minutes later with great ability.
The balloon then regained altitude, just high enough to skim over a corn field on the other side of the river. We were following the balloon’s path by car. We used all the shortcuts available, and were creative when it came to following traffic rules and road signs.
About one hour later, the pilot started the descent. The balloon landed without problem in a field. When essential manoeuvers were completed, he surprised us by pulling few items out of the basket: a small folding table, a red-checked tablecloth and glasses for everyone.
The evening was a complete success. Somewhere in the countryside, just before night time, we celebrated with a bottle of champagne…
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In 1986, the Propair Company’s hangar was located very close from our flight service station in Rouyn-Noranda. There were frequent exchanges between their staff and our FSS’s. One day, one of their employees told us that two American pilots had just come to the airport to take delivery of a Caribou DHC-4 cargo aircraft that had been sold by Propair.
The aircraft would be exported. The DHC-4 is known to be a very practical aircraft as it can carry heavy loads and manage to takeoff or land on an extremely short distance.The pilots took-off with their used Caribou and we did not hear any more from them until the world Medias started to talk about the Irangate affair. I can talk about it today as it is a public affair: details can be found on the internet.
The Rouyn-Noranda Propair Company had in fact sold not one but two used DHC-4 Caribous to a consultant working for a panamean company. One of the DHC-4 was later registered in El Salvador. One of the two Caribous experienced an engine failure over the mountains, enroute towards El Salvador. In order to stay in the air, and considering the extreme outside moisture and air temperature, the crew had no other choice than to get rid of some weight. Spare parts in the cargo bay, including a brand new engine still in its crate, were pushed outside the plane, falling in the jungle below. But the plane had eventually no other choice than to land before arriving to its initially planned destination, Ilopango.
All this was linked to the Contras who were engaged in warfare operations against the Nicaraguan leftist government of Daniel Ortega. In order to finance the covert operations, a secret budget was necessary: some Americans were selling arms to Iran, even if there was an official ban, and the money received was financing warfare operations. A journalist who had followed this story closely and made important discoveries was found dead. He had apparently committed suicide by shooting himself twice in the head…
One of the pilots who departed Rouyn-Noranda with a DHC-4 was named Sawyer. This man would later fly, covert operations organized by the CIA, a C123 cargo type aircraft that was shot down in southern Nicaragua. The pilot and co-pilot were killed but a passenger, Eugene Hasenfus, parachuted out knowing the aircraft would soon crash. He was interrogated and revealed the details that allowed the discovery of the secret deal with Iran.
The Oliver North’s testimony in front of the Congress kept that story alive for a long time. Eventually, like everything, this story was progressively forgotten. Thirty years later, I still remember the numerous phone calls that the flight service station received from the Medias about this affair.
A book published in 2013 and titled “Raymond Boulanger, le pilote mercenaire” adds several details to this story, since Mr Boulanger was himself a pilot hired by the CIA.
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The most recent creation from Metal2Mesh is a real stunner, graphically and when it comes to simulating the real aircraft. In the above picture, the Mirage 2000C is in flight over England and carries virtual armaments designed by VRSimulations (Tac Pack). The Rafale is visible in the background and was automatically generated by the computer (AI). The clouds are a combination of REX and CumulusX, for the shadows on the ground. ORBX is responsible for generating a virtual England.
Reading a minimum is necessary before you learn how to select and install the weapons, something I did not do since I was a bit too eager to do a flight test with that superb aircraft. I had to start over, but it really comes quickly and the manual provides you with clear instructions. You will need a small free program (available on page 9 of the manual, and created by Peter Dowson) in order to see the speed, altitude, etc, directly on the HUD.
For more articles on flight simulation on my web site, click on the following link : Flight simulation
The CL-415 is on final for runway 11 at the Québec Jean-Lesage international airport. Each Spring, the Canadair Cl-215 and 415 pilots go through annual training before being deployed across Quebec territory in preparation for the next forest fires season. This picture was taken with a Canon 5D MKII. The speed was 1/320, aperture 8.0 and ISO 250 and a polarizing filter was installed on the lens. The photo was taken using a Canon 70-200 f2.8L IS II USM.
For other articles on aviation and photography, click on the following link: Aviation photography
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.
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This is a simple and charming little book retelling the life stories of the pilot Fred Max Roberts Jr when he was flying his airplanes in the Bismark region, North Dakota, between 1929 and 1937. The book was written by his son, Fred Marke Roberts, so that some of his father’s stories do not fall in oblivion. You will find here a good idea of how things were done in the early years of aviation.
An original and easy way of refueling
When came the time to refuel, the pilots would regularly land on a farmer’s field. They knew that somebody had noticed the landing and, most of the time, a fuel truck would be sent without any previous arrangements. The pilot had nonetheless the duty to make sure he landed close to an easy access for the fuel truck. Sometimes, to simplify the refueling process a bit, the pilot landed directly on the road, outside of the city.
This habit did not seem to have change fifty years later when I did a 2650 kilometers cross-country flight with a Cessna 170B, between St-Jean-sur-Richelieu, Quebec, and Edmonton, Alberta. During the trip, I had to land in a field near Lundar, Manitoba, a Canadian province which is bounded to the south by North Dakota and Minnesota. Soon after the landing, a pick-up truck carrying fuel approached the plane. I had not made any arrangements for fuel. In my case, a precautionary landing was needed as the fuel gauges had started to give false indications. Since fuel was readily available, the tanks were topped before the next takeoff.
Killing coyotes against the county bounty
Coyotes where frequently attacking farmer’s livestock. When the situation was getting out of control, the farmers would phone Fred Max. The latter would take off with his Curtiss Junior Pusher, accompanied by an experienced shooter and they would spot and kill coyotes. Winter was the best season for hunting from the air since the coyote’s dark colored fur contrasted against the white snow.
The farmers, on their horses, were following the aircraft’s manoeuvers to spot where the coyotes had been shot. They then brought the dead animals back to their farm. Few minutes later, the aircraft would land as close to the farm as possible and the pilots picked up the coyotes, bringing them back to the county’s bureau in order to receive the published bounty for each killed coyote.
The American Midwest farmer’s hospitality
When a pilot landed in a farmer’s field, as a stopover on a long cross-country flight, he would often be offered a meal with the farmer’s family. If darkness was an obstacle for the continuation of the flight, the pilot was often offered a bed for the night. The next morning, after breakfast, and as a thank you gesture, the pilot would offer the farmer a courtesy flight.
A practical way to lower the costs associated with a long cross-country flight
An easy way to reduce the costs associated with a long cross-country flight was to offer airplane rides to villagers who had come to meet the pilot once at the destination. The pilot landed, waited a bit and knew that, soon, few people would come to him to ask for a ride.
The pilot Fred Max Roberts Jr hanging to the wing of his monoplane
A major concern for any pilot landing in a field was to find a fence to tie the plane as soon as possible to protect it from the strong winds blowing over the Midwest plains. But really strong gusts would sometimes break the ropes.
The pilot tells the reader that he was once immobilized in the middle of a field while a storm was quickly approaching. He got under the wing of his monoplane and hanged to it in order to add some weight. But that was not enough. A strong gust lifted the plane, broke the two tie-downs and sent pilot and plane flying at about ten feet in the air. Fearing that his plane would continue to climb without him at the controls, the pilot let go. The plane maintained a level flight while backing until it suddenly rolled and crashed.
Pilot and passengers are caught in flight by a tornado
Flying and meteorology manuals teach every pilot the necessity to avoid thunderstorms because, among other reasons, of the extreme ascending and descending air currents that are present in a well-developed cell. The pilot Fred Max Roberts Jr not only went through a thunderstorm but survived a tornado while he was in flight. His story was published in many newspapers at the time. Some of the articles are reproduced in the book.
As the pilot tells it, meteorological forecasts and weather observations were not as easily accessible as they are today. During a flight with passengers in his Waco 90 biplane, the sky suddenly darkened and the weather degraded rapidly. The pilot tried his best to fly between two important cloud formations. He could hardly see his instruments due to the lack of light, even if the flight was made during the day. He was fighting to avoid being disoriented.
Suddenly, the plane started to gain altitude rapidly by itself. The pilot nosed his ship downward and applied full power. This was useless. The aircraft was still rapidly climbing, tail first. Then the ascent abruptly stopped and a dive ensued. He pulled on the stick to bring his Waco to a level flight, but the rapid descent continued. Having no other choice, he applied full throttle and set his plane for a normal climb. Again, the descent continued until the Waco was at about 500 feet above ground level.
Eventually, they got out of the storm and landed at White Rock. Fred Max then realized that his passengers, sitting in the open cockpit Waco during the storm, had not fasten their seat belts and were hanging for dear life to a brace running across the front of the passenger cockpit.
Those are some of the tales a reader can find in “Tales of a Dakota Pilot”, an unpretentious book but nonetheless a publication that might very well surprise many young pilots, as the 1930’s way of flying so differed from what a young pilot lives when he integrates today’s world of aviation.
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.
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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.
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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(Precedent story: a kitchen used as a navigation aid to aviation)
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…
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)