Tag: radio communications

Sea kayaking on Île d’Orléans

Post author By Stanley
Post date 7 October 2023

Sea kayaks at Saint-Laurent-de-l'Île d'Orléans 2023 — Sea kayaks at Saint-Laurent-de-l’Île d’Orléans 2023

On Sunday, September 24, 2023, the company Quatre Natures organized a certified level 1 sea kayaking course the St. Lawrence River, starting from Île d’Orléans. As registration was done well in advance, we had to be a bit lucky during the activity, as it would take place as much in good weather as in bad.

So, I take a chance. Fortunately, an incredible day awaits the six students: full sun and twenty degrees Celsius. How should we dress for the circumstances? We know that the human body temperature is 37 degrees Celsius. The kayaker adds up the water and air temperatures and compares the total to the temperature of the human body. With the river that day at 18 degrees and the air around 20 degrees, this gives a total of 38. As this figure is slightly higher than normal body temperature, we can wear normal clothing for water activities, rather than a wetsuit.

The morning is used to cover theory. No one sets foot in the water. The instructor discusses what the kayaker must have on board, the relative quality of different equipment, preparation, communications and radio frequencies, safety and hypothermia prevention, and so on.

Sea kayaking activity at l'île d'Orléans (photo Vadym Kravchenko) — Sea kayaking activity at l’île d’Orléans (photo Vadym Kravchenko)

After lunch, the kayaks are placed on the lawn and the vocabulary related to each part of the kayak is learned. The student then settles into the kayak and learns how to adjust the footbraces, hold the paddle, install the spray skirt, and so on. The boats are then brought to shore and kayaking begins.

First, we learn the basic maneuvers. How to embark and disembark, the trajectory the paddle should follow in the water depending on whether you want to go forward, backward or turn. We discuss the correct position of the body, arms and wrists on the paddle, and the importance of rotating the pelvis to force the paddle properly. We quickly realize the influence of side winds on the kayak, especially when it has no centerboard or rudder.

The river is considered level 2 for kayaking. The current is strong, and we have to deal with three-metre tides. The wind around the island is also stronger than in Quebec City. Level 1 kayakers are encouraged to seek out Level 1 locations to gain experience, and never to set off alone at this stage of their learning process.

During the exercises, you can see the container ships and the various pleasure boats offshore. The larger vessels generate waves that take between five and ten minutes to reach the shore. When these approach, the instructor warns novice kayakers to turn to face the wave, so as to limit the effects on the boat.

The container ship Hapag_Lloyd Quebec Express and the container ship MSC Paola are sailing around Île d'Orléans near Quebec City. — The container ship Hapag_Lloyd Quebec Express and the container ship MSC Paola are sailing around Île d’Orléans near Quebec City.

The BBC Manila carries wind turbine blades on the St.Lawrence Seaway near Quebec City.

Then come the emergency maneuvers: what’s the procedure for getting out of a kayak that’s just capsized? How do you help someone who has capsized?

I didn’t have time to get to this stage of the course. I capsized before. I don’t remember how I managed to extricate myself from the kayak and get back to the surface, but we’re not talking about an approved method here. The brain immediately detects the danger and organizes itself so that the body gets out of the kayak and the head doesn’t stay underwater for too long.

In the minutes that follow, the instructor teaches us how to perform the classic exit from a capsized kayak. We work in pairs. At Level 1, there’s no question of using the paddle to force the kayak to turn.

To obtain KDM 1 certification, everyone must lean sideways so that the kayak tips over. Once submerged, the student leans forward, unhooks the spray skirt attached to the kayak, and slowly taps the kayak’s hull three times to signal that he is in control of what he is doing. The instructor wants to avoid unpredictable reactions. We then push ourself out of the kayak by placing our hands at hip height on the coaming. As soon as we are out of the water, it’s imperative that we hold on to our kayak, thanks to the lifeline. It only takes a few seconds. Here and there, you can hear a little coughing as the student surfaces, but nothing more. A good sip of St. Lawrence River boosts the immune system.

Next comes the recovery of the person in the water. As we work as a team, the kayaker in difficulty clings to the front of our kayak and stays there until we catch up with his or her kayak, lift it onto our boat, empty it of water, turn it over and position it correctly.

Sea kayaking course level 1 with Quatre Natures (photo Quatre Natures)

The person clinging to the kayak then releases his or her grip, and depending on the method taught, climbs back into the boat while the latter is being held securely. The important thing here is to keep the center of gravity as low as possible. If the person doesn’t hurry and proceed step by step, the operation is a success every time.

A few more exercises follow, and it’s back to the beach on Île d’Orléans a few hours later. Once all participants have dried off and put on their warm clothes, the course concludes with a few weather notions, including the need to consult weather forecasts and radars, and to return quickly to shore when storm cells are present.

We also cover tide calculation (rule of 12) and how to attach a kayak to a car roof. How many attachment points? What equipment is available to make the job easier? Where should harnesses go to avoid breaking the kayak? Etc.

The KDM 1 certificate is awarded approximately eight to nine hours after the start of the course, depending on the instructor’s assessment. I noticed that on the way home, in the heat of the car, I really didn’t feel like rushing on the road. But you quickly come back to reality when you see how fast the cars are coming up behind you.

In short, a full day to remember!

Sea kayaking on the St.Lawrence Seaway near Rivière-du-Loup

Click on the link for Autumn photos of Quebec City and Île d’Orléans on my blog.

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

FSS and pilots with different styles

Post author By Stanley
Post date 13 January 2016

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!

For more real life stories about being a FSS in Quebec City, click on the following link: Flight service specialist (FSS) in Quebec City

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

Iqaluit FSS and the sleeping pilots

Post author By Stanley
Post date 26 December 2015

In the early 1990s, I was working at the Transport Canada flight service station (FSS) in Iqaluit, providing air traffic services. While I was in charge of the HF radio communications allowing the tracking of transoceanic flights, I received a call from a controller asking me to try to contact an airliner of a big European company.

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.

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

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

Canada: Iqaluit FSS and the 1989 solar storm

Post author By Stanley
Post date 22 November 2015

1989 was a problematic year for the Transport Canada flight service specialists (FSS) in Iqaluit as we had problems communicating by means of HF frequencies with airliners crossing the North Atlantic.

As usual, we tried to get position reports at 60, 70 and 80 degree west in order to ensure that the Montreal, Gander, Winnipeg and Edmonton area control centers could provide accurate air traffic services by maintaining ten minutes or eighty nautical miles between each aircraft. We had to note the route, the actual and next position of the aircrafts, the different time, speed and altitude, this while we relayed ATC clearances.

Flight service specialists at work at the Iqaluit flight service station in 1989

But for many weeks in February and March, the radio communications were blocked by a solar storm that was strong enough to cause problems to the Hydro-Québec electrical network. The entire province of Quebec suffered an electrical power blackout that lasted nine hours on March 13th.

During a major solar storm, the full spectrum of HF frequencies can become useless for frequent periods varying from ten minutes to an hour.

I remember several problematic cases, among which one where an area control center controller asked us to contact an airliner to know if the pilot could climb to 37,000 feet once at 70 degree west. The question was transmitted to the pilot and he immediately replied: “Roger, we are climbing 370”. He had not received any clearance to change his altitude but he was nonetheless starting to climb where there was no adequate separation between him and other aircrafts.

We replied multiple times: “Negative, this is a question, this is not a clearance, do not climb to flight level 370”, but the pilot never replied back due to the poor quality of HF communications. The control center was quickly called back and advised of the situation.

For the remaining period of the solar storm, the flight service specialists were asked about the actual quality of the HF communications before any punctual requests was sent on radio in order to avoid problems.

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

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

Iqaluit FSS and the Persian Gulf War

Post author By Stanley
Post date 23 September 2015

Markair L-382 on a stopover in Iqaluit in 1990

In August 1990, Iraq invaded Kuwait. This invasion was unanimously condemned, even by countries that are traditionally aligned with Iraq. The United Nations reacted by giving Iraq up to January 15th 1991 to withdraw. But Saddam Hussein’s attitude clearly showed that there would be no withdrawal and that he intended to proceed with Kuwait annexation to the Iraqi territory.

Understanding that military force would obviously be necessary, United States (representing a coalition of 34 countries) started preparing for the conflict. Aircraft movements increased and short range military aircrafts that would have to cross the Atlantic used Iqaluit, on Baffin Island, as a stopover before continuing through Greenland, Iceland, Europe and finally the Middle East.

OV-10 Broncos transiting through Iqaluit in 1990 and heading for the Persian Gulf

Starting summer 1990, the Iqaluit airport then became one of the mandatory stopovers towards Middle East for some military aircrafts. Soon we could see L-382s carrying large size items and some OV-10 Broncos painted with desert colors landing in Iqaluit. Later on during autumn, other specially equipped aircrafts like the U.S.Army RU-21 Guardrail Common Sensor also made stopovers in Iqaluit.

RU-21 Guardrail Common Sensor on a stopover in Iqaluit in 1990 and heading for the Persian Gulf

A Southern Air Transport L-382 also landed in Iqaluit. That company was sometimes used by the CIA for its operations.

Southern Air Transport L-382 N908SJ transiting through Iqaluit in 1990

As soon as a flight service specialist (FSS) was not busy with radio communications, he would head toward the briefing counter to receive the military pilots who had come to obtain the mandatory weather and flight planning information that would be used to safely cross the Atlantic.

HF frequencies used for international communications at the local Transport Canada flight service station were really busy. On top of the regular air traffic services normally associated with commercial aircrafts crossing the Atlantic, we were now dealing with the radio communications associated with numerous military cargo aircrafts like the C-5s Galaxy and others.

In the two weeks preceding the United Nations ultimatum, between January 1st and 15th 1991, the Iqaluit flight service station recorded a 266 % increase against the same period in 1990 in oceanic traffic transiting through its airport. Flights were mostly related with private or chartered business jets linked to international banks, petroleum companies and military organizations preparing for the events to come. We received, among others, aircraft types like the G1, G2, G3, G4, HS25, DA50, DA90, CL60, C550, LR25 and B-727.

Occidental Petroleum B-727 N10XY on a stopover in Iqaluit in 1990

One night of January 1991, while we were at work, one member of the staff took-off his headphones and calmly told me: “Son, the war has started”.

I will remember that special period since we did not receive a military training but, nonetheless, we witnessed and dealt with the preparation and aircraft movements associated with a major military conflict.

Moreover, for a short period, the Iqaluit airport reverted to the use it had initially been planned and built for in 1942, during the Second World War, which was a base created for short-range military aircrafts heading to Europe.

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

Real life stories as a flight service specialist (FSS): Rouyn-Noranda FSS

Pilots: from best to worst

Post author By Stanley
Post date 15 May 2015

October 1984. It was time for the annual holidays. Florida was the destination. What made the trip more interesting was that the Challenger space shuttle would be launched while we would be there, and that the Canadian astronaut Marc Garneau would be on board. He was the first Canadian astronaut to have the opportunity to go in space.

The Canadian astronaut Marc Garneau (upper row, extreme right) and the other american astronauts chosen for the Nasa Challenger Space Shuttle Mission 41-G (from left to right and lower to upper row: Jon A.McBride, Sally K. Ride, Kathryn D. Sullivan, David C. Leestma, Paul D.Scully-Power, Robert L. Crippen, Marc Garneau) on aviation postcard.

The plane’s tickets were bought and one morning of the whole trip was reserved for the shuttle’s takeoff. I was planning to take a picture of the launch from Cocoa Beach. The shuttle would be airborne before daylight, while it was still quite dark.

I had a very basic Pentax camera at the time and all the settings had to be done manually. The aperture and speed were adjusted to ensure a well-balanced picture. But I never expected that the gas combustion would illuminate the sky in such a radical way. I believed, like many people, that the thundering noise from the engines would be the first sign that the launch had just happened.

But the speed of light being way faster that the speed of sound, we suddenly experienced a radical change in the ambient light. I had barely enough time to modify the settings before the shuttle entered the clouds. But I still managed to bring back a little souvenir from that day…

Challenger space shuttle taking-off in 1984 with the Canadian astronaut Marc Garneau on board

I had just seen something spectacular. I knew that on board were pilots with exceptional talent.

But two months before, while I was working as a flight service specialist (FSS) at the Transport Canada flight service station in Rouyn-Noranda (CYUY), I witnessed a different kind of performance. One day that I was listening on a frequency that is not normally used for communications between pilots and air traffic service units, I heard two pilots exchange the questions and answers found on airline pilot license written exams. The pilot’s comments gave me the feeling that they would be very lucky to succeed at such a written exam.

I took the microphone and, without announcing myself, intervened as a third party in the discussion. I asked them to repeat the questions and answers that they just gave each other since I did not have time to copy everything.

The pilots were stunned to realize that other people were listening while they were exchanging the data on the air. One of them said: “Did you hear that?” They immediately ended the radio communication. The simple fact of using radio frequencies for such activities told a lot about the quality of their judgment. And judgment is an essential quality of every performing pilot…

For more real life stories on the Rouyn-Noranda flight service station and flight service specialists, click here:

Real life stories as a FSS in Rouyn-Noranda

Real life stories as a flight service specialist (FSS): Rouyn-Noranda FSS

The Cessna 172 that was pulling a 100 kilos cement block.

Post author By Stanley
Post date 7 April 2015

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.

For more real life stories on the Rouyn-Noranda flight service station and flight service specialists, click here:

Real life stories as a FSS in Rouyn-Noranda

Photography

Lockheed L-1011 in front of the Iqaluit flight service station tower in 1990

Post author By Stanley
Post date 18 January 2015

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.

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 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)