Around 1996, during the summer, an Air Canada DC-9 captain visited the Transport Canada flight service station in Québec City (CYQB) to receive a last minute briefing on the weather conditions between Quebec and Toronto.
All the passengers were already on board, but the captain had noticed a rapid change in the size of thunderstorms approaching the Québec City airport. Wishing to make the best decision, he requested the latest information on the approaching line of thunderstorms before proceeding with the takeoff.
The weather radar and satellite pictures showed a wall of convective cells that a DC-9 would not be able to go through. It would not fly high enough nor be able to go around the system unless it made a detour through Val-d’Or to the north or the Tennessee to the south.
The captain already knew the consequences of his decision. He nonetheless took the phone and called Air Canada’s dispatch in Toronto, announcing that he would not leave Quebec until the weather was acceptable. He could envision the missed transfers in Toronto for most of his passengers, and their bad mood in face of the lengthy delays he expected in Québec City.
Nevertheless, his decision was made and he left the flight service station satisfied. He knew very well that a line of heavy thunderstorms had often been the cause of accidents and that no aircraft, whatever the size, was safe when dealing with a wall of severe thunderstorms.
The flight service specialists (FSS) were happy with the captain’s decision since, throughout the years, the FSS often witnessed far less commendable behaviour from pilots of all categories. Judgment is the capacity to evaluate consequences, and it is not given to everybody.
1986. It was a beautiful summer afternoon at the Rouyn-Noranda airport (CYUY). The Transport Canada flight service station employees knew that a cold front was approaching and would soon sweep the airport. Until then, it was still a perfect day. Blue sky, light winds. At the time, the flight service specialists (FSS) did not have access to radar images or satellite pictures.
To get an idea of what was coming from the west, we were normally using an Environment Canada aviation weather forecast and the actual weather observations of two flight service stations in Ontario, Earlton FSS and Timmins FSS. Their last weather observation mentioned a wind shift and an isolated thunderstorm. But Timmins was far away and could only provide us with a rough estimate of the situation.
As I was working the evening shift on that day, I checked the wind speed indicator, as a reflex developed throughout the years. What I saw was kind of unreal. The speed indicator’s needle suddenly went from showing few knots to 20 knots, and then 40 knots, hesitated a little then went up to 60 knots and, in a final correction, reached 72 knots, which was about 134 km/h.
Everything was so peaceful around the flight service station. I looked through the window to detect any moving object. At that very moment, the wooden shed normally used by the fuel man passed in front of the station. That wooden structure must certainly have weighted few hundred kilos. The fact that it was moving at a good speed was a clear indication that the instruments were working properly. A squall line was associated with the cold front progression.
Everything that was not properly fixed to the ground started moving. In the next hour, strong thunderstorms going eastward moved in over Rouyn-Noranda. The Val-d’Or airport (CYVO) being located sixty miles east, it was clear that it would be hit directly in about two hours. I called the Val-d’Or control tower so that everyone got prepared for the squall line. That gave them enough time to tie everything correctly and damages were limited.
One hour later, everything was back to normal in Rouyn-Noranda and we profited from an ideal summer night.
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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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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: