Archive for the ‘flying experience’ Category
Not sure when I had noticed the (approximately) 1500′ unused roadway at Parksville beach park, right in the heart of the town of Parksville. It extended at right angle from an seemingly unused area of beach straight in toward town ending in to a wide ditch, no doubt purposely created to prevent driving from street or park to beach.
In any case it appeared to me to be as perfect a short field aircraft runway as a private pilot like me could ask for!
After visiting with aviator friends at the Parksville/Qualicum airport who had departed for a short trip to the sunshine coast in their Cessna 172 I was planning to rendezvous with them there.
But for some reason which I don’t recall now I had taken on board the father of one of those other pilot’s who’s home jut happened to be quite near the Parkville beach park. So as we quickly flew over Parksville, I rather impulsively decided to land on that unused roadway right in the park!
I turned towards the beach and landed on that roadway with no difficulty at all in my Mooney M20A holding the nose up and raising flaps in order to reduce landing speed and distance. I was always delighted to land on short runways anywhere, but this was clearly not an ‘approved’ landing site by any means! Happily my mature elderly passenger was not traumatized by the sudden turn of events, and after an amicable goodbye, he was able to simply walk home from there, perhaps slightly shaking his head – as did his novice pilot son when he heard about that unusual landing!
This took place in the 70’s, and his son who is still with us will confirm this really took place on the testimony of his dad. For no particular reason other than the airplanes nearly silent gliding approach no one appeared to witness it either, even though there were quite a few people on the beach and in the park at the time, but safely away from my impromptu ‘landing strip’.. Of course my expeditious takeoff (before any public notoriety) was a lot more noisy than the landing, but then again there was no obvious beach activity. And a slight on-shore breeze probably mitigated the noise somewhat.
Of course it wasn’t a wise decision to virtually land in downtown Parksville in the 1980’s, but it was done safely and without incident. To this day I believe that isolated roadway could have served as a downtown Parksville airstrip for enlightened civic authorities. In any case it was just one more flying experience for me…. hey I said in my bio I wouldn’t exclude my ‘bads’, so consider this one of them!
Flying U Ranch
I left rather late in one afternoon and flew directly from Victoria airport over Georgia Straight and coastal mountains to the 108 airstrip. It was (is?) an excellent paved strip capable of handling larger airplanes as intended. However as the sun set I was amazed at the total absence of anyone in the vicinity, including a nearby store and golf course!? In fact even while I spent the night under the stars in a sleeping bag right on the golf course, yet I never saw a single person! To this day that is puzzling.
It was intended only as a quick educational trip to 108 ranch resort 300 miles from Vancouver B.C. Block Bros. Realty a well known Vancouver real estate firm beginning in 1960’s Vancouver, had sponsored, and financed this recreation retreat. In spite of considerable investment and promotion it never succeeded as hoped for several reasons. For more information on this project go here: http://108 Ranch Resort by Block Bros. Realty
Despite the reasons for its eventual failure, including driving distance from Vancouver, Henry Block * had developed notable features, 18-hole PGA golf course, clubhouse, swimming pool, restaurant and lounge, and a 20-room lodge, which were completed by 1972, to encourage investors.
* “The Grand Scheme“
I was very intrigued by it as a youthful Realtor in Vancouver. So sometime after acquiring my pilot’s license, and airplane, I decided to take a quick trip from my Victoria base to take a look at it.
In any case the next day, perhaps because of some disappointment at the 108, I decided to fly South before returning home. As I did I noticed a small airstrip next to Green Lake and decided to land and have a look. It was a very dry dusty landing, but just across the road there was a ‘dude ranch’* where a family from the lower mainland was vacationing that welcomed me! Somewhat overwhelmed by their hospitality, I ended up joining an evening around open camp fire, but not before a trail ride that was an experience of a lifetime in the afternoon! See this great video on the Flying U Ranch!: * * * Flying U dude ranch
With very limited ‘horse sense’, I was invited to join the family galloping (and I do mean full speed) through a forested area you could hardly call a trail! I hung on for dear life as small trees and bush brushed my legs and threatened to rip me off my steed, it really was the experience of a lifetime!
Afterward we drank some beers around a large and hospitable camp fire under a starry night. I could not believe how fortunate I was, and only wish I had my own family with me there. Once again I slept in my sleeping bag out in the open under an awesome Caribou sky as can only be fully seen far away from city lights.
The next morning I took off early in a huge cloud of fine dust from the short dirt airstrip, and after doing a low pass or two over the ranch, headed South to Vernon. At an airstrip shop there I found partners who had sold me a Mooney airplane previously. As fellow pilots, typically, they gave me the keys to a vehicle in order to briefly spend a few sunny moments on a lakeside beach! However, it was past time to head home and I did so that afternoon.
Only less than a two day experience, but as memorable as ever can be for me!
Clipping the edges of thick cloud over the mighty Columbia River gorge, I headed for a former USAF airstrip in Eastern Washington State near the Canadian border. Sadly it would be my last flight in Mooney N1060B.
The adventure began a few years earlier as I searched for a bargain-priced airplane, straining my eyes on those tiny Aviation Plane ads. With a little extra cash sale of a fixer-upper real estate project burning a hole in my pocket, I was hoping to pursue much loved flying hobby after several years of absence.
Eureka! There it was. A vintage Mooney, the very same wood-wing 20A model I had previously owned, and at a bargain price! Of course the reason was obvious; it ‘needed work’.
Far from discouraging me however, this was an added incentive! Having owned two previous early-model M20A’s, one with a wood wing and tail, and one with a converted metal wing and tail, this fixer-upper held no undue concerns for me.
Soon I was on an American Airlines DC-10 streaking for Louisville Kentucky and a date with a car dealer, owner of several airplanes.
Although he looked a little skeptical when he met me at the airport, possibly because I was younger that his own age of approximately 40. Still, he immediately loaned me one of his used car lot vehicles, saying he would need a day or two to get the plane ready for my intended cross-country return flight to California – only after verifying my bank draft check mind you.
The next day, after returning to the airport to recover my Canadian re-routed baggage, I tried in vain to be interested in touring the Louisville area. However my mind remained focused on the purpose at hand.
Joining up with the seller on the second day, we drove over the bridge to an airplane parts supply store in Indiana. Back at the local airport garage I watched and handed tools as he confidently rolled up his sleeves and proceeded to install new piston rings in the venerable 180 h.p. Lycoming I0-360 engine.
It was quite evident Mooney N1060B had not been flown for quite some time. “Don’t worry” the seller assured me, “I’ll test fly it before you take off for home.” Always the optimist, I was only slightly less sure of his mechanical abilities when he broke one of the new oil rings he was installing! 
However, true to his word, the next day he took off and briefly circled the Louisville airport without incident. I was ready to go the next morning, but bad weather brought a solid layer of clouds and drizzling rain, preventing a normal VFR (visual flight rules) takeoff.
After waiting another full day, regularly checking aviation weather reports by telephone, I felt I could not be away from wife and children any longer – never a safe reason for making a go or no-go flight decision.
Taxiing out to the runway for the obligatory runup, I proceeded to read back an IFR (Instrument Flight Rules) clearance dictated by the control tower before rolling down the runway full throttle and lifting off. In a flash I pulled the familiar Johnson bar landing gear handle retracting the landing gear, and proceeded to punch through the persistent overcast cloud.
Soon I was ‘on top’ above the clouds in glorious sunshine! A fresh boost of pilot confidence bolstered my spirits. (While not recommended, in the USA it is legal for VFR pilots like me to fly above the cloud deck in US airspace.)
Now at 8,000 feet, visibility was CAVU (ceiling and visibility unlimited). I was ecstatically heading South in my ‘new’ 1950’s vintage airplane.
Before leaving home I had carefully plotted and mapped a return course, leaving a copy with my wife. Now I was en route to my first refueling stop at Little Rock Arkansas, about 500 miles South of Louisville. Running at a modest cruise rpm, I diligently checked my compass heading, radio aids, oil pressure, exhaust gas temperature, and fuel consumption, moment by moment. Happily the engine sounded good and appeared stable, so I truly exulted in the always gratification of human flight!
Unreservedly I sang out loudly, praising God for my good fortune and blessings. There is definitely something about flying, especially solo flying, that heightens your spiritual awareness. It’s clearly a ‘nearer to God’ experience.
The solid blanket of cloud below gradually broke open as I headed South by SW. By the time I reached Little Rock, visibility allowed for a normal VFR landing and I didn’t waste any time getting airborne again after refueling. After take-off I reported a good-sized funnel cloud in the area, what we pilots call a ‘pirep’ (pilot report).
My next refueling stop was Abilene Texas. By that time I was tired, but decided to continue on and make the most of good flying conditions. Finally, just after sunset, I landed at Deming, New Mexico, a non-control tower airport. The local service provider immediately handed me the keys to his pickup truck so I could travel the short distance into town and find a restaurant. That trusted pilot fraternity exists everywhere you fly, and it’s truly heart warming.
Returning later I slept under a wing on the ground in my sleeping bag, it was a warm summer night. Gazing up at the star-filled sky, with great humility, I was truly grateful to God that things had gone so well.
The next morning I took off with three full fuel tanks and an overly optimistic plan to make it to the Los Angeles basin in one hop, not a good decision as it turned out! In spite of scrupulously leaning the fuel mixture and running at an economical cruise speed of about 135 mph, by the time I reached California fuel was running very low. To make matters worse, horizontal visibility was reduced to perhaps a mile or less in smog. Descending to less than 1500 feet I strained to locate an airport, any airport!
After long minutes, with fuel critically low, my heart rate was beginning to rival engine rpm. It was definitely time to swallow pride and call for help. The L.A. traffic controller responded swiftly and efficiently, ordering me to go to the emergency frequency of 121.5.
Once in contact there he ordered me to “turn right for radar identification”, i.e. to get a sharper radar reflection and direct me to the nearest safe landing site. But the problem was that at my low altitude it was difficult for them to target me. While they were attempting to do so, mercifully, the Palm Springs airport suddenly came into view nearby!
The controller immediately cleared me with the tower for a straight in landing approach. With a huge sigh of relief I landed and taxied directly to fuel pumps, it was like an oasis in a hot dessert. My good fortune and gratitude re-doubled when refueling added up to the maximum fuel capacity of the Mooney!
After a much needed bathroom break, and a required phone call to L.A. traffic control to explain my reason for declaring an emergency, namely; ‘smog reduced visibility’, I continued on with a short hop over to Oxnard airport. It was my plan to obtain a full examination of my newly acquired gem, including air frame and engine, by a recommended shop there.
But now my solid string of good fortune was interrupted! As I landed at Oxnard airport the Mooney brakes were virtually non-existent. They had been unneeded for prior landings, but now I was directed by the control tower to turn off the runway to a taxiway. Since I couldn’t slow down enough to do so, I made a hasty decision to turn off the main runway on the grass in between taxiways, attempting to climb back onto the main taxiway which was somewhat elevated. Since the Mooney only has an 8.5″ prop clearance from tip to ground, it struck the raised asphalt taxiway!
The damage resulting in a slightly twisted prop tip. However after receiving some remedial straightening by the local shop, I was once again able to depart without incident. Finally returning to my temporary home base near Sacramento California with a friend flying escort in his Cessna 172.
Advising the Louisville Seller that I had reached home safely was a satisfying end to this highly memorable flight. It was truly a ‘flight to remember’ for me.
But now, many months later, it was time to return my beloved Mooney back to the USA after being frustrated by Canadian Transport regulations, ah but that’s another story.
After purchasing a 100 year old two-storey Austin Street residence that was in need of repairs on a very short term private contract. The work progressed well.
I turned it into a simple up and down duplex, with cozy one bedroom upper suite. Now with young rental tenants upstairs the time to resell and pay off the private financing was not far off.
In fact progress had been so good I wanted to reward my family, as a private pilot.
So I took the required pilot medical in Medford Oregon to obtain a US private pilot endorsement, plus a check ride in a Piper Cherokee thus allowing me to rent said plane for a short pleasure trip around the area with my family.
After circling the nearby spectacular Table Rock volcanic plateau at low altitude, we cruised over the Rogue Valley and further South over the popular ski slopes of Mt. Ashland.
All in all it was a memorable experience that day, which I truly hope left a lasting impression on my children. After all, few could claim to have had such experience.
I had just landed at the Nakusp B.C. airstrip located right next to the local community dump. It was a few miles from the village and completely isolated.
My younger brother was supposed to pick me up there, however he had not arrived on time. So I hefted a back pack of some personal gear and started down what appeared to be a back road toward the main road and highway from the airstrip.
Immediately I observed another individual walking along the same roadway just a 200′ or so ahead. Indeed it was a full grown black bear. As I hesitated to follow along behind him, or her, it looked back over its shoulder at me. No doubt more easily aware of me than I was of it.
Of course I can only imagine what it’s thoughts were, mine were somewhat frozen. I thought the backpack may have been somewhat interesting to this beast, even without food. In any case I definitely declined to continue following it, and back stepped back towards my airplane.
Soon I realized my encounter was not alone, the local dump had numerous competing resident bears. Needless to say I was now a little traumatized. So when a pickup truck with a young couple came along I waved them down and very thankfully got a safe ride to the main road where i eventually connected with my negligent brother!
It was at or near sunset when I landed right behind a classic biplane Waco from Washington State. My Mooney airplane was slightly intimidated by the Waco as I parked alongside it. The Waco is a true classic bi-plane with radial engine and great performance.
When I checked in to airport registry I met the friendly owner of the Waco airplane *, from Washington State, his wife, and friend and accepted his offer to share a cab into town. Such immediate private pilot friendship and trust is common and gratifying.
Entering a casino he asked me to look after his wife(!) at a bar while he and his friend were going to do some gambling. So we had a drink together. I had no interest in gambling, or his wife, so when they returned I went out on my own looking for an overnight place to stay.
It had been slightly more than a whim to visit the famous Harahs’ Reno car collection, a truly amazing collection of cars, some were even ‘one-of-a kind’ creations by brilliant inventors, located in several large garages.
As it turned out there were ‘no vacancy’s’ everywhere that night. So I was getting a little desperate. Finally I ventured into a decent hotel and asked the desk clerk if he ‘had a rollaway for the laundry room?‘ To this very day I do not know where that idea came from, but apparently he assumed I was a tour bus driver and the idea was not totally unknown to him, for a modest fee that is!
Needless to say it was a very odd experience to wake up with an audience of chuckling cleaning women in the laundry room! In any case a shuttle bus took us out from Harahs’ cassino bus stop to the car collection, a truly amazing experience..This was in the 70’s and sadly that amazing collection has since been eliminated.
Another episode in my adventurous, perhaps somewhat outrageous, flying experiences.
* http://Visit WACO airplanes here!
We had been visiting my parents with my daughter Yvette in White Rock B.C., and were about to fly home to Victoria from the Blaine Washington airstrip, (now permanently taken out of service unfortunately).
It was dusk and visibility was restricted as we boarded my Mooney 20A airplane. My parents were on hand to bid us good bye.
Taxing from an off runway parking area the front wheel went into a mud-hole, no doubt caused by a lot of rain in recent days. The Mooney prop only had 8.5″ from tip to ground clearance.
There was no one else present at the airstrip at that time, but my dad had seen the problem and tried to get me to shut down the engine by waving his arms quite dramatically a few yards away in the landing light of the airplane.
However my youthful boldness prevailed. I gunned the engine to near full throttle to force the front wheel out of the mud-hole. It succeeded in doing so, but not before the tip of the prop made contact with the ground!
I realized what had occurred but only observed some mud churned up in the air so concluded it wasn’t a serious issue. Continuing to the paved runway we took off for the fairly short return trip home.
Everything seemed normal as we flew over Georgia Strait waters and Gulf Islands., although I did have some reservations, so reduced the (variable) prop speed and rpm slightly as we flew in a very dark night sky.
I don’t recall if it was when clearing customs, or after taxiing to a parking spot on Victoria airport that I made a shocking discovery; one prop tip was ‘markedly’ twisted! Thankfully the flight home had not been noticeably affected at all!
Not much more can be said about this incident. The danger had been real. No prop damage should be ignored since prop failure or even engine damage is a possibility. Thankfully the durability of my (Hartzell) propeller prevailed. Another good lesson for a very fortunate private pilot.
Its more than 60 years since the Air Canada flight 831 crash after taking off from Montreal… all 118 passengers and crew were killed.
I was booked to be on that flight weeks ahead, following an honorable discharge from the RCN. At that time there was no direct flights from Halifax to Vancouver, so a connecting flight at Montreal was a necessary intermediate flight.
The day I was scheduled to leave, I had an unexpectedly met a girl on a Halifax street I had once dated. She was in a graduating group of Victorian Order of Nurses in beautiful blue capes, perhaps waiting to get pictures done.
Recognizing one another, even though my flight itinerary was scheduled for later that same evening I impulsively asked her to meet me for a farewell drink at a recently opened mixed gender * bar, to my surprise she agreed.
While waiting at the bar for her to arrive, I realized it was going to be a close call to make it to the Air Canada desk in time. So I phoned to ask if I could take a later flight and was told I could do so if I wanted to come there for transportation to the airport at 5 a.m. So I made a last minute decision to delay my flight and corresponding connecting flight #831!
After a brief social evening at the bar, I took the nursing graduate home in a cab to the outskirts of Halifax. Snow was falling quite heavily, and I returned to a motel room for a short rest.
After a quick shower and brisk morning walk in light snow in semi-darkness, I arrived at the Air Canada desk. Staff had just opened up their Nova Scotian hotel lobby desk. I was puzzled why they appeared to be nervously whispering to each other while glancing at me as I waited for ground transportation to the airport.
Apparently they had already learned of the connecting flight DC-8 Trans Canada Airlines disaster between Quebec and Ontario, no doubt realizing I had been booked to be on it many days in advance! More than 100 passengers and crew were killed, likely due to a pilot pre-flight error.
Indeed, as Solomon so well said it “…time and unforeseen events overtake them all.” (Eccl. 9:11) Our lives are so limited by circumstances we have little or no control over, I most truly sympathize with those who lost family members on flight #831. Thankfully we all have hope to see loved ones again in the future provided we exercise faith in the loving ransom of Christ Jesus… while that opportunity still exits. (please visit JW.org for more information on our resurrection hope!
*mixed gender bars were a ‘first’ for Nova Scotia at that time!
