Tag: Québec

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

The Flight Instructor License

Post author By Stanley
Post date 5 November 2014

(Precedent story: the flight from St-Jean-sur-Richelieu to Edmonton)

In order to accumulate flying hours, I needed to become a flight instructor. The course was undertaken and my license obtained, after successful written and flying exams. Already having logged enough flying hours as pilot in command, I was able to receive a Class 3 license immediately. Technically, this meant that I did not have to receive permission from a chief instructor before I authorized a student to fly alone for the first time.

In order to study certain maneuvers with the greatest possible accuracy that I would have to teach, I sometimes practiced unusual flying exercises. This meant I needed to check the behavior of the aircraft if a student mishandled the controls before I could correct him. With enough altitude, you could afford a fair amount of improvisation.

So I decided, during one of these specific exercises, to simulate a student who had inverted the maneuvers required to stall an aircraft and bring it to a spin. The plane turned completely upside down and I heard noises indicating that the stress on the structure was possibly important. Needless to say, I decided to abandon some experiments, realizing that it was quite possible that certain leased aircraft had previously been engaged in similar exercises. We all want to end a flight with our aircraft intact…

A group of flight instructors working in St-Jean-sur-Richelieu in 1981

At the St-Jean-sur-Richelieu flying club, we were now eleven certified instructors. However, the number of new students was stagnating in the economic uncertainty of the late 70s to early 80s. A global recession was raging and unemployment soaring. Some airlines went bankrupt, others were freezing the hiring of new pilots. Eleven instructors in the same flying club was a lot for so few customers. The pay was meager.

Among the students I trained during the period when I was a flight instructor, the first to successfully fly solo was an Egyptian. He arrived in Quebec with a group of a dozen compatriots. Their ambition was to receive all of their training in Quebec and return to Egypt as pilots for the national carrier EgyptAir.

Two Egyptian students at a St-Jean-sur-Richelieu flying school in 1981

My student had talent and learned quickly. But there was a student in the group that many instructors tried to train without success. Each of us thought that our own method might not have been appropriate so we encouraged him to try flying with other instructors. But it became clear that aviation would never be the field of activity in which he could progress and make a career. No instructor ever agreed to let him fly solo, and this, even after the student had spent months trying to understand the basics of flying: when came the time to execute the learned concepts, even after multiple demonstrations, he could not do it. He was simply not a safe pilot. I guess he changed his plan after the St-Jean experience.

(next story: the flight service specialist)

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

The flight from St-Jean-sur-Richelieu, Québec, to Edmonton, Alberta in 1981

Post author By Stanley
Post date 28 October 2014

(Precedent story: unexpected thunderstorm cells)

After a proficiency check, I soon find myself flying a Cessna 170B (tail wheel) on a flight across Canada, from St -Jean-sur- Richelieu, Quebec, to Edmonton, Alberta. I am accompanied by the aircraft’s owner who has not yet completed his private pilot course. The 1952 Cessna flies well, but has absolutely no instruments for air navigation, not even a VOR nor ADF. And the era of the portable GPS is not yet upon us.

Fourteen 1:500,000 VFR charts, covering the planned flight, are folded, glued and numbered. I trace the expected flight path on each chart, with 10 miles landmarks. This will facilitate the monitoring of our progress, considering the absence of navigation equipment. The preparation now completed, the take off is done on a beautiful summer day of 1981.

1:500,000 VFR charts used for a flight toward Edmonton, Canada, in 1981

We do stopovers at Gatineau, North Bay, Sudbury and then fly along Lake Superior to Wawa.

Small break in Sudbury on a VFR flight to Edmonton in 1981

We fly around Lake Superior to our next stopovers, Thunder Bay and Fort Frances. Over large forested areas, with no major landmarks, the gyroscopic precession must be corrected frequently so as not to stray too far from the intended track. Sometimes when it facilitates navigation, we either follow a railway or main roads. There are some instances where the westerly winds are so strong that our ground speed is slower than a car on a highway.

From Fort Frances to Kenora in 1981, with a Cessna C170B

Our flight path follows a line that keeps us away from areas of high air traffic. I choose to fly north of Winnipeg terminal control area, thus avoiding frequent radio exchanges with air traffic control in a language I do not master. The underperforming radio would not be of any help at any rate. This option eventually means that we must fly over Lake Winnipeg, in its southern portion. We have enough altitude to be able to glide to the other side in case of an engine failure. Nonetheless, we realize that we are gradually loosing several thousand feet due to the cold air mass above the lake. This with maximum power applied. The unexpected descent eventually ends, but it is now impossible to have an engine failure without ditching in the lake…

The crossing of Lake Winnipeg with a Cessna C170B in 1981

Near Lundar, Manitoba, the aircraft’s old gauges indicate a significant loss of fuel. It is surprising since we refueled an hour ago. We must land the plane on the nearest runway, but the strong crosswinds exceed the capabilities of the aircraft. Nonetheless, an attempt is made with the result that only the left wheel accepts the contact with the runway. As soon as the right wheel also touches the ground, the aircraft becomes airborne again. A nearby field is selected to make a precautionary landing so that the fuel status can be verified. We fly at low altitude over the electrical wires and the cows in the adjacent field, and touch smoothly at a ground speed not exceeding 15 knots. A farmer witnesses the landing and arrives in his red pick-up to offer some help. The tanks are almost full, so the plane only needs few liters of gasoline. Once this is done, we take off westward. It appears that the old fuel gauges of this 1952 Cessna are now totally unreliable…

Landing in a field with a Cessna C170B in Lundar, Manitoba in 1981.

We leave Manitoba through Dauphin and enter Saskatchewan. If we were to experience an engine failure above such uniform fields, the risk of serious problems at landing would be virtually nonexistent.

Near Yorkton, Saskatchewan, in flight with a Cessna C170B in 1981

The weather is slowly deteriorating. We choose to land in Watson, Saskatchewan, on the nearest runway.

The runway surface consists of muddy earth and grass, and it’s delimited by small red wooden panels. As we touch the ground, the tires splash mud everywhere, including under the wings.

The Watson runway, Saskatchewan, in 1981

The King George motel in Watson, Saskatchewan in 1981

Finally, the weather improves and a takeoff is made toward North Battleford, the last stop before Edmonton. The sloping terrain forces us to fly lower and lower near Edmonton, under an overcast stratocumulus, limiting our ability to see a long time in advance the correct airport from the three available (international, civil , military ). Luckily, everything goes well in choosing the right airport and approach, but we cannot say the same with radio communications. The sound quality coming from the old speaker is awful and the English spoken by the air traffic controller too fast for us. The combination of these two factors causes the controller to repeat more than once his instructions until he finally decides to slow down and we can officially say: « Roger! »

After spending few days in Edmonton it is now time for the return flight to St-Jean. This proves to be much easier and faster because the westerly winds push the aircraft. Our ground speed is sometimes double what we had managed to get on our trip to Edmonton. The journey took us twenty-five hours to go and eighteen hours to come back.

Cessna C170B in flight over Canada, summer 1981.

Climbing to 9,500 feet on the return leg to St-Jean-sur-Richelieu, in 1981.

VFR "on top" with a Cessna C170B in 1981 over Canada — VFR “on top” with a Cessna C170B in 1981 over Canada

Over North Bay, Ontario, the weather is ideal. But we will have to land in Ottawa while waiting for thunderstorms to move away from Montreal and St-Jean-sur-Richelieu. After a total of forty- three-hours of flying time, the old Cessna 170B is landing back to St- Jean -sur- Richelieu.

(Next story: the flight instructor license)

Updates

Update October 24, 2014

Post author By Stanley
Post date 24 October 2014

Hi,

here is a picture and an edited screen capture recently added on the site (among about ten new pictures). During the next few days, two articles will be published on 1) Bletchley Park and 2) the trip (with pictures) of a VFR flight from St-Jean-sur-Richelieu, Quebec, to Edmonton, Alberta, trip that was done in 1981 with an old Cessna 170B.

Have a good visit,

François

Sikorsky MH-53 airborne from Queenstown, New Zealand.

The nice problem with the flight simulator is that there are lots of interesting planes and sceneries available from around the world. Virtual pilots benefit from a huge variety of products. In general, flights made either at dusk or dawn benefit from a special light. For the actual flight with the Sikorsky, I went for a cool light so that the military helicopter would not look too inviting.

Tags Alberta, Cessna 170B, flight simulator, Old Quebec, Québec, Sikorsky, St-Jean-sur-Richelieu

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

The commercial pilot license / a tire bursts on landing

Post author By Stanley
Post date 14 October 2014

(Precedent story: night landing on an ice rink)

The Commercial Pilot License

A few months later, I got my commercial pilot license. It was now time, as for all pilots, to accumulate flying hours in order to gain experience as captain.

I chose to accumulate hours by making short cross-country trips and offering first flights to people of all ages. The evenings were particularly popular because there was little convection and most passengers appreciated a smooth ride for their first flight in a small aircraft.

A Tire Bursts on Landing.

Despite my best intentions, there has still been an occasion where I had to perform an unusual landing. It was during a busy time for air traffic control. Many aircrafts were in the St-Jean-sur-Richelieu (CYJN) airport’s circuit pattern and the controller asked me if I could make a short landing with my Grumman Cheetah (AA-5A). He was counting on a minimal roll after the landing so that the aircraft could exit the runway as soon as possible.

All pilots know how to make a short landing. This is part of the basic training and I accepted this restriction. This can, however, be complicated by the fact that sometimes we had to fly an aircraft with particularly worn out tires. I remember (and I should not be the only one) having had to use an aircraft on which we could see the rope under what was left of the rubber sole. School aircrafts are generally safe. You just don’t want to be the one using the plane the day before the tires have to be changed…

So I began the approach toward runway 29 on a particularly hot summer day. Touchdown was smooth. I applied the brakes without blocking the wheels, while pulling on the control column at the same time that the flaps were returning to their initial position. A pilot does not block the wheels when breaking as the friction decreases and the length necessary to stop the aircraft increases.

At the same time, blocking the wheels increases the risk of loss of control of the aircraft. With these manoeuvers, my aircraft was supposed to stop quickly. However, a few seconds after landing, it started to vibrate and move to the right. I had no other choice but to apply a lot of pressure on the left brake and use full deflection on the left rudder trying to keep the aircraft centered on the runway. Nevertheless, the aircraft slowly headed toward the right side of the runway while slowing down. The landing ended with the left wheel on the runway and the right wheel in the grass.

During the last few seconds, it became obvious that I was dealing with a flat tire. The passengers were not too bothered by the incident because they only started to realize what was happening when we were almost immobilized on the grass. The tire was completely twisted but still on the wheel. Equipment failure is something a pilot knows he will have to deal with from time to time. So considering that it was part of the job, I continued to accumulate flying hours during the following weeks and months.

(Next story: unexpected thunderstorm cells)

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