Stumbled across this pic on the internet. It shows RAAF Canberra A84-240 (accompanied by a RNZAF Skyhook) whilst being ferried to NZ to be displayed in an RNZAF Museum.
(http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn19/Gort_08/RNZAF-Official-RAAF-Canberra-on-delivery-flight-to-RNZAF-Museum-3.jpg)
Ah, the memories (sigh). It's the Canberra I flew in the air display extravaganza held for the RAAF's 50th Anniversary in 1971 - even had my name on the side and all that malarkey!. All RAAF aircraft types took part in the display which was a travelling carnival, taking the show to most state capitals. The Canberras put on a low level three ship display; really steep turns at 200ft in close formation and ending with a vertical bomburst. Bloody hard work!
And here's a shot of the cockpit of A84-240. What a shambles!
(http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn19/Gort_08/CanbCockpit240-1.jpg)
So let's hear about your fond memories of flight (doesn't have to be pilot stuff, or military).....just add it here.
Eg: Woof, is that you in one of the Sabres in your sig? Must be a memorable story there!
You are very lucky to have flown some great machinery BD.....most of my stuff is boring aluminium tube except for some old taildraggers I flew in later years.
Looking back at some of the cockpits of yesteryear you wonder how on earth anyone managed. The most interesting one for me was the Bristol Britannia which for the Flt. Engineer was a pure nightmare having five different voltages.
Right now.....this is more like the everyday story of a Tuesday night.......!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVmpClf4SOg&playnext=1&videos=uMHUI1S9grc&feature=grec_index (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVmpClf4SOg&playnext=1&videos=uMHUI1S9grc&feature=grec_index)
Bounder ;D
Very funny clip, Bounder. It reminds me of the eternal question: Why are the windshield wipers on the inside of the glass in Polish airliners? (Don't hit me, Fitz. I'm only the messenger.)
Did you fly the Electra Woof? I did back in the eighties and it's one of my all-time favs. We got our manuals from Eastern, still have mine!
Yeah, I flew it on the old Eastern Shuttle: New York, Boston, Washington and around and around and around with a few 3 day trips across the country to get rid of that old whirly feeling. Great fun once they stopped the wings from falling off. ::)
No, Bluey, it's the squadron I was on but I was not aware of any photos being taken of me blundering around. Except, of course, of the F86 I flew into a hill. I have a pic or two of the remains somewhere. I believe Wilkins shoveled up the bits and pieces, put them in a crate and shipped them off to the Turkish Air Force.
But damn, I'm impressed by your show tour and your very own name beneath the cockpit! The best I ever got was "No Step".
QuoteWhy are the windshield wipers on the inside of the glass in Polish airliners?
In case the pilots get airsick?
And..........you flew an F86 into a hill?????????
And walked away?????????
QuoteYou are very lucky to have flown some great machinery BD
Yes Bounder, I do consider myself extremely fortunate.
Quote"No Step".
:D :D :D :D :D
I want to hear the whole story about the F86 having an argument with a hill Woof....!
I used to fly with an ex RAF jockey by the name of Ian Bashall....a splendid gentlemen who pranged two Argosies (remember those?) and one of those was on top of a hill!
Bounder ;D
QuoteArgosies (remember those?)
I certainly remember! Like flying a huge jelly - put in a control input then wait an eternity for the aircraft to react!
I went solo in the Argosy after 40 minutes dual. Well, not quite solo, .......... the flight engineer accompanied me on that white knuckled ride. Hopefully, after extensive PTS counselling he has erased that from his memory.
Now, how about your memorable moments, Bounder? (besides frequenting Mme Fifi's, of course)
And how about Buzzsaw (if you're listening, Dan). He's got some beauties from his bush pilot days!
Conky must have some too!
Fitz must have seen a thing or two in his younger days; and what about the rest of the Chuffy's Chappies.
Just found this on the net describing Ian's incident!!........
c/n 6800 Series 222
28th of January 1965 to BEA as G-ASXL.
4th of July 1965 destroyed when flying in turbulence and cloud it hit a hill top at 2230 feet and about 35nm from the runway 36 threshold, at Piacenza Airport, Milan, Italy. The aircraft was following the ILS beam and the probable cause was the failure of the aircrew to determine the aircraft's position in bad weather, due to incorrect identification of a navigation beacon. Together with the failure to make full use of the copilot, Ian Bashall, who by coincidence was also the copilot in the other BEA crash, G-ASXP, c/n 6804
Bounder ;D
I am very jealous here gents!! I have no real flying experience whatsoever and it's always something I have wanted to do but the lack of funds dampens any efforts.
The nearest I got was in 1976 when I was 6 years old. My Mum's cousin's husband was in the RAF based at Chivenor. We were holidaying in the area, so he took me and my Dad on to the base where we parked up alongside the runway watching Hawker Hunters taking off (can you imagine that being allowed today?) which I can remember vividly to this day. I can also remember seeing the burnt out shell of a Canbera which was used for fire fighting drill. But the one thing I cannot remember and which my Dad still reminds me of, is that I was sat in the cockpit of a single seat Hawker Hunter. Apparently I was all over the place, flicking every switch I could get my 6 year old hands on. It annoys me that I can remember every other aspect of that day 34 years ago but I cannot remember sitting in the cockpit of one of the finest jet fighters the RAF flew.
Chuffy
I do have a couple of amusing anecdotes from when I was a nipper. The one that springs to mind most readily was my first solo in a grob viking.
I was sixteen and quite sure of myself when hopping into the cockpit, mainly because they hadn't bothered to tell me I was going solo! My instructor pottered over and sticks a two ounce weight onto a rod in the nose and says to me 'You're on your own on this one, don't break it'
Slightly more nervous now I closed the canopy wondering how on earth a two ounce weight is supposed to compensate for the lack of an 18 stone instructor. Being young and cocky, I thought what the hell and got the show on the road. For those of you that have never experienced a winch launch, it's bloody great fun as you just go straight up like a rocket.
Anyway, got to 1000 ft and dropped the cable humming a police ditty to calm the nerves and having a jolly good time. As I reach my first turn point, I notive that the two ounce weight isn't doing it's job as I'm meant to be at 800 ft and I'm at 1200 and the bloody thing shows no signs of wanting to return to terra firma. I also happen to have caught a thermal and by the time I'm halfway down the downwind leg I'm at 1500 ft and getting a bit worried.
Every time I try and drop the nose to lose some height I can see the speed wizzing up so I whip out the air brakes and plummet like a stone from 1500 along the downwind, base and finals and manage to put it down as gently as can be with the wingtip coming to a rest outside the portable tower door. It was certainly a rush and I've never flown anything that hates being on the ground so much!!
I've got a couple of chipmunk and chinook stories as well to break out in future.....
Why are the windshield wipers on the inside of the glass in Polish airliners? Well it's an old audio joke. If you watch Bounder's Youtube link above and listen to the pilot you'll get it. (I'm kind of sorry I brought it up).
Re the F86 and the hill: I was landing #2 in a two man section, typical curved fighter approach to a new to us runway. LH break. Turning final at 140 knots and my nosewheel, complete with strut, slowly appeared before me going up, this was followed by the two drop tanks doing the same thing. All three disappeared over my head in very slow motion. That's interesting, I thought. Then I saw a roadside fence before me. This parted nicely as I slid across the road, slowly climbing the hill and finally reaching the concrete lip of the runway. I was still moving pretty quickly, I guess, although time had seemed to stop. So naturally the concrete lip caught the nose of the F86 and I flipped to the vertical position. Thank God for the inertia harness as it stopped my front teeth about half an inch from the gun sight. I really hadn't been too worried up to this point but then I suddenly realized the 86 could go all the way over on its canopy. Beads of cold sweat. Through pure skill on my part, however, the 86 flopped back on its tail and finally slid to a stop. Being a cool young fighter pilot I rolled back the canopy, jumped to the ground, glanced at the spreading pool of fuel and lit a cigarette.
Surprisingly to me the #1 got the rocket for the crash as the Board decided it was his wash that was blown by the Xwind from the left onto my 86, destroying the lift. The other somewhat mitigating circumstance was that neither of us realized there was a large gully off the end of the runway. Just a routine occurrence back in the good old days. We were back flying the next day.
Now it's time for someone else to tell a hero story. ;D
Man oh man, that's some story Woof. I've got nothing to compare - couldn't even make one up!
Seems you were a very lucky (or plain unlucky) puppy on that day. I expect the hands were shaking a tad trying to light that cigarette.
QuoteBut the one thing I cannot remember and which my Dad still reminds me of, is that I was sat in the cockpit of a single seat Hawker Hunter. Apparently I was all over the place, flicking every switch I could get my 6 year old hands on. It annoys me that I can remember every other aspect of that day 34 years ago but I cannot remember sitting in the cockpit of one of the finest jet fighters the RAF flew.
Growing up I seriously admired the graceful lines of the Hunter so I was thrilled to be given the opportunity to fly this lovely aircraft. Flew Hunter F6 XE 587 and Hunters T7 XL 564 and XL 579. You would have been about 2 yo at the time, Chuffy.
I am indeed fortunate! :)
There was one memorable incident in a T7 which I might keep for later.
Hello Chaps,
I will do some digging through my archives and come up with something one of these days. I'm heading back to Montreal in a few days to visit family, no internet but I may be able to locate some of my old photo albums from my bush pilot days. i exchanged some stories with Buzzsaw a couple of years ago, I'll see if i can rehash those.
Pip, pip,
Conky
Brilliant, Conkster. Looking forward to those BP tales. I've put Buzzsaw on alert that his input would be welcome.
Quote from: =CfC=BlueDog on August 06, 2010, 02:47:36 AM
Growing up I seriously admired the graceful lines of the Hunter so I was thrilled to be given the opportunity to fly this lovely aircraft. Flew Hunter F6 XE 587 and Hunters T7 XL 564 and XL 579. You would have been about 2 yo at the time, Chuffy.
I am indeed fortunate! :)
There was one memorable incident in a T7 which I might keep for later.
Blimey, I turn 40 on 16th and I thought I was getting old! ;)
It's not how much you've used up that's important - it's how much you've got left.
Personally, I'm planning on living forever. So far so good! ;D
Damn, Bluey, you're the first Hunter pilot I've almost met. What a great career you must have had. Now I think about it I did meet a guy on a cruise once who claimed he was the last living Meteor pilot.
Well.....you could have been as lucky as me and flown the elegant and delightful Bristol Freighter!
How could you possibly compare a Hawker Hunter with the elegant lines below? Speed...140kts.......altitude.......2000ft on a good day between Lydd and Le Touquet.....8 minute turn-arounds.....five times a day in summer........3 cars and 14 punters in the back.
I was twenty then.......a year younger than the youngest trolley dolly (they had an age limit of 21+)
Had an evil bounce if you got the landing wrong much to the amusement of all at Lydd when you first arrived fresh from flying school.
Memorable times in the local pubs and not a care in the world.......as you say BD.....Ah, Memories
Bounder ;D
(http://i303.photobucket.com/albums/nn134/Nicholaiovitch/Misc/BristolFreighter.jpg)
Truly graceful lines Bounder. (The little MG, not the "Guppy" that's swallowing it!).
Fitz, most impressed you went solo as a mere pup of 16! I doubt I was mature enough at that age (some hurtful souls might suggest I'm still not mature enough at my present age). First solo is always an exciting, memorable but sobering event - with mixed emotions: delight, excitement, apprehension, pride, doubts etc, but if you make it back in one piece, a huge sense of achievement.
Looking forward to those Chippie & Chinook stories.
Were you ever 20, Bounder? That also seems young to be gainfully employed by an airline. Was that as captain or copilot? I trust those trolly dollys looked after you - in a matronly way! ;D
Quote from BD:-
"Were you ever 20, Bounder? That also seems young to be gainfully employed by an airline. Was that as captain or copilot? I trust those trolly dollys looked after you - in a matronly way!"
Fresh out of flying school as a "Second Officer", although we were known in those days as "The Last Officer!" (in a matronly way)
Prime duty was to shin down the ladder from the flight deck and get the barn doors open before the ground crews arrived to get the automobiles off. It was about six months before you actually got to the dizzy heights of being a co-pilot....and then no three point landings....only wheelers! As you can imagine........landing a block of flats (25ft up) was a very different proposition to a Chipmunk!
In winter we carried horses, sheep and cows around between France and UK. It was a glorious if smelly existence.
Bounder ;D
Bounder, you brought back some memories with that Bristol Freighter, esp. the pic of the MG loading. In 1954 my wife and I crossed to France in a Freighter, taking with us our 54 MG TF, Boy I wish I still had it. The car, not the wife. (I've got a new one now...wife, not TF). We were jammed in traffic in London and were thirty minutes late and they waited for us. I guess they had to, we were the only pax, as I recall.
The RCAF flew the freighters in Europe...one bad crash when they screwed up an ILS and took out most of one squadron's pilots.
You must have some wonderful stories from all the glamorous flying you did around the world. Entertain us, please!
And I'm betting Silverback has a few tales to tell. How about it, SB?
Almost as lovely as Bounder’s Bristol Freighter was the stunning Twin Pioneer.
(http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn19/Gort_08/TwinPioneer2-1.jpg)
The two mighty Leonides power-plants were, however, a real bugger to start. It had a bewildering array of levers, buttons, switches and cocks to operate such things as boost, propeller pitch, mixture, magnetos, cooling cowls, fuel feed, fuel prime etc etc etc; way, way too complex for your average jet jockey who (at best) could only manage a couple of ‘go faster’ levers.
I was somewhat preoccupied on my way to the aircraft at this particular RAF base, failing even to notice the beautiful lines of the magnificent beast. Clambering aboard through a maze of doors and hatches I seated myself in the left hand seat. My fingers having deftly arranged the levers, buttons, switches and cocks in an eye-pleasing manner, I attempted to start the engines. After much coaxing and cursing I managed to get them going…….amid obvious sniggers from the ground crew. Bluey’s Big Book of Expletives had had a goodly workout so far, but at last I was ready to proceed. Tuning the radio I received a message from the ops desk to shut down immediately and return to the maintenance hut. Turning to a new page of my big book of expletives I ran a whole sequence of blue(ish) words and phrases, punctuated with the occasional ‘the’ ‘and’ and ‘but’.
However, obeying orders as is one’s must, I closed down the engines and proceeded in a service-like and orderly manner to the maintenance hut. There I found I had committed the cardinal sin of not initialing some minor item on the maintenance release form. Turning the page of Bluey’s Big Book……….
So, back to the Twin Pin. Luckily the Leonides started easily this time and I was soon taxying and ready for take-off. I called for, and was granted clearance to take off. Aligned nicely along the centerline of the runway I was just pushing the throttles forward when the Tower controller called: “xxx…HOLD POSITION!!!!â€
What now, I thought, reaching for Bluey’s Big Book of Expletives when I heard the sound of a Merlin. Looking up there was a Spitfire passing very low over my ‘jet’, then down to just a few metres above the runway. It followed the runway’s gradient, and then nosed up as the lucky pilot performed a beautiful aileron roll and departed the scene.
Enough even to put a smile on the dial of the grumpy BlueDog….and put away his big book for the day! I know not where it came from, or where it went, but it was a magnificent sight.
Ah, memories,(sigh).
Excellent a/c BD. That machine performed wonders in Malaya during the crisis. I think it could get into any of Madame Fifi's airstrips that we use and even shorter one's too with trees at the threshold.
I think the Bristol engine factory had a deliberate ploy to make starting their engines as difficult as possible. The Bristol Freighter had the Hercules sleeve valve engine (same as the Blenheim) and it was just the same. Count 12 blades.......left hand on primer and right hand on mixture....any other fingers on throttle.....move them all between 1/2 and 1 inch.....wait for a cough / smoke ....rich mixture....bit of primer....bit of throttle and eventually the beast would fire up!
This illustrates it well! :- (It's a MK31 short nose.....but same engines as the Mk32)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFXn5JzGljc (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFXn5JzGljc)
Bounder ;D
Great stories Chaps, i'm still trying to locate my old photo albums but I did find some slides of my time in the high arctic. I'll post some when I get them converted into digital format.
Pip, pip,
Conky
Oh, I forgot to add that Bluey could not have soloed at 18 since the aeroplane had not been invented yet ;)
I didn't know the Bristol Freighter had two dive brakes...
QuoteOh, I forgot to add that Bluey could not have soloed at 18 since the aeroplane had not been invented yet
You really know how to hurt a guy! Oooh, ouch :( :( :(
Yes, but the rewengy will be terrible! :D
On my recent barge trip to France we talked about many aviation memories as my host was a chap I first flew with in the early 70's after he had left the RAF and joined the airlines.
I never knew that he had got his "Wings" in 1952 about the same time as Woof! Not only that.....but he flew F86's also!
After converting from Harvards to the Meteor, then briefly the Vampire, he was posted to an F86 Squadron. The RAF version apparently had inferior engines to the Canadian ones and he remembers well a bunch of Canadian F86s barrel rolling around his flight and leaving the RAF for dust! Were you one of those chaps Woof? His name is Ned Neill.....ring any bells?
Being a member of the RAF Sailing Association, he always flies the RAF Pennant next to the French courtesy flag at the mast with the Red Ensign at rear. In the picture below you can see that it was like taking Madame Fifi's CfC barge appropriately marked through France. It always gives older French onlookers a thrill to see the RAF roundel on a boat passing through France and leads to interesting chats at the locks. Incidently.....that is Bounder's head on the bow working hard to navigate the treacherous waters of the Garonne Canal!
"Vive la France.........Vive Madame Fifi........vive la sport"
Bounder ;D
(http://i303.photobucket.com/albums/nn134/Nicholaiovitch/Misc/RAF_Pennant.jpg)
Nice posting, Bounder, about the French etc. No, the name does to ring a bell and I really can't remember ever running across RAF F86s. We mostly saw Meteors,Vampires, Hunters, Canberras and I believe the odd Swift. The USAF had F84s in the UK at that time.
'Twas a dark and stormy night in the mid fifties and I was flying a load of erks in an RCAF C47 for #1 Air Division (see below...it may have been the one I was flying as we had only three or four attached to the wing at this time) from Rabat, Morocco up to RCAF Gros Tenquin in northern France. We'd made a fuel stop in Marseilles and were about halfway up France close to midnight when the airplane very gently made a turn to the right. And wouldn't stop. I was hand flying, so ever alert it took only two or three minutes before I realized we were flying in right hand circles. Or trying to. How strange, I thought. We must have lost an engine without any power loss on the gauges, change in engine noise, airspeed or height. Another mystery of aviation. My days were full of them. It was only by pulling back #1 to idle and using all the rudder and ailerons that I could find that I could keep the beast pointed in a Northerly direction. What's a chap to do? Why call on the Yanks of course. The USAF had a field at Chambrey or similar name about thirty miles ahead and they kindly offered me a GCA. (Of course they were down to about 500 ft in rain etc but I don't want to make too much of a hero story of this). Anyway I finally got the thing on the ground, (grease job, of course), shot the erks off to the barracks and then we looked the airplane over. Many people, many flash lights and not a damn thing to be found wrong with it. Until...my mechanic let out a yell and fell through the rudder! He had been standing on the tailplane, close by the fin, leant on the ruddder, the fabric split wide open and he was looking out the other side. All the fabric had torn away from the starboard side while were in flight. Well, I ask you. The a/c was one of several that had recently been refurbished in Montreal and then flown across to France. ( I was on that flight the past November but that's a tale for another night, kiddies.) I guess that during the rebuild they figured the old WW2 fabric was just as good as ever. Oy!
So we slung on a USAF rudder the next morning and after a hearty breakfast sallied on to our home base. OH Boy, do OFs like their memories or what?
That's pretty scary Woof! My career seems pretty dull in comparison....which is fine by me :D
Ok Chaps,
My turn, the pictures aren't great but they're all I can find for now:
Aloft in my trusty DHC-3 Otter somewhere north of Schefferville, Quebec
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_081.jpg)
Most of my flying in Schefferville was in the DHC-6 Twin Otter, here we are operating off a makeshift strip on the border of Quebec and Labrador. The runway was made by cutting the top of an esker (long mound of sand and gravel, left by receding glaciers) to a length of around 1500 feet. We flew in a disassembled bulldozer (they flew the blade in with a chopper) and flew out 750lb barrels of ore samples. These were the days before GPS and my company was too cheap to buy omega equipment so we had to do it all by Mk1 eyeball. GCA 'LAR' (looks about right) approaches in whiteout conditions over a dodgy HF frequency were a real treat, basically the guys on the ground would tell us when we flew over the place, we'd take note of our heading, fly out for a bit then come back towards the strip. They would then let us know if the airplane sound was getting louder and if it was, we'd start a gentle let down and start searching frantically for familiar landmarks. We usually had vertical visibility from about 1000' AGL and we knew the height of the terrain in the area so it was possible to land in pretty questionable weather (I was young, thin and invincible back then! :D) . During the long, clear days of summer, we'd work 16-18 hour days for weeks on end and had a blast!
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_018.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_021.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_022.jpg)
I'll post some pictures of my early airline career next.
Pip, pip,
Conky
Good show, chaps. Keep them coming! :)
Our pilots’ course started with 33 ‘players’ of which 20 graduated. You could be “scrubbed†for all manner of reasons ranging from ‘personal qualities’ to flying ability not up to scratch. We lived in constant fear of being found wanting; and having a big X drawn over our rough-headed photograph in the flying instructors’ staff room.
Those having read “First Light†will have a inkling of what I’m talking about.
Now the first 6 weeks of the course was devoted to ground-school; learning a whole swagger of important/interesting/relevant stuff (like aerodynamics, aircraft systems, meteorology) and crappy stuff (like service knowledge, administration and â€" of course â€" drill). During this time Cadet P, an 17 yo, kept telling the rest of us of his exceptional qualities and how he was going to be the youngest and the best fighter pilot in the RAAF. “Yarp, yarp yarp†went Cadet P â€â€¦.. youngest…..best…..fighter…..pilot….yarp…yarp….yarpâ€.
The only problem was, Cadet P was a bit immature and a tad lazy and continually failed the ground school exams. On about the fifth week, as we were slavering at the thought of actually going flying, Cadet P was called into the Chief Ground Instructor’s office just before lunchtime (the CGI was a small, snarly, and thoroughly dislikeable individual) and given the ultimatum â€" “shape up, pass your exams…….or you’re out!!!!!†A thoroughly chastened Cadet P exited the CGI’s office.
As it happened, the first subject after lunch that day was aerodynamics, taught by that selfsame small, snarly, and thoroughly dislikeable CGI. With new resolve, Cadet P seated himself at the front of the class …………… AND FELL ASLEEP DURING THE LECTURE.
By 1600 hours that day he was gone.
Ah, memories (sigh)
"Dried arrangement" indeed. Your subtlety is exceeded only by your lack of knowledge of my finer points. ;D
Great stories chaps........I will have to dig deep into the old memories to cough up some more......!
Bounder ;D
Guys, these stories are amazing. Keep it up, your tales add a whole new level of immersion to my game of Internet Aeroplanes!
In 1984 I was hired by a Montreal based airline called Nordair. Yippeee! said young Conky, happy at finally getting out of the bush of Northern Quebec. After around six weeks of ground school, simulator and flight training, a freshly minted First Officer, I was sent to the...arctic... :o
Nordair was operating re-supply flights to the radar sites of the DEW (Distant Early Warning) line. The Cold War was still going on don't you know. The line ran across Greenland, the top of the Canadian mainland and Alaska's north slope. We'd fly a schedule of two weeks on, two off.
Our trusty steed was the Fairchild-Hiller FH-227, basically a stretched Fokker F-27. We operated them as 'combis', the front half of the cabin used for cargo, and up to 24 passengers in the aft section of the cabin.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_011.jpg)
The stations were pretty remote places, in this picture you can just make out the station and airstrip.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_047.jpg)
To find them at night or in IFR conditions, each station was equipped with an NDB, but for ease of maintenance they were usually located at the stations themselves, not aligned with the runway so circling approaches were the order of the day. When the visibility was down, the usual procedure was for the 'flying' pilot to stay 'heads down' while the other pilot would talk him/her onto final approach, then take over for the landing. The 'flying pilot' would remain heads down until touchdown just in case a last minute go-around was required. This procedure worked very well. Strangely enough, the procedure is now reversed.
Weather conditions were actually quite good in winter, there was the odd blizzard but usually it was clear but as you imagine, very effing cold! :P It was dark 24 hrs a day and one had to be careful when on final approach. Because the only visible lights were on the strip, you would get the visual illusion of being too high and you could easily get too low while trying to correct the glide path. This illusion was a major factor in a C-130 crash at the Canadian Forces base in Alert. You also had to be careful not to stare at the lights because they would then appear to float all over the place, causing some funny gyrations on final. I get told all the time that I still land like that... :D
Summer was usually very nice, autumn was the worst season, open water in increasingly cold weather would result in thick fog with little warning.(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_010.jpg)
At the latitudes flown, the magnetic compass was unreliable so we would set our directional gyro using an astro compass or if the sun was out, with a quick formula (15 X GMT - Longitude) to determine true heading. The stations were also visible on the weather radar, which helped out at times.
Our biggest consideration was fuel, the FH-227 did not have tremendous range and only a few stations had fuel so we had to pay close attention when planning IFR alternates.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_007.jpg)
After 18 months I upgraded to the L-188 Electra, flying Ice Patrol flights for Environment Canada. I'm afraid I don't have too many pictures of this operation yet.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_068.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_069.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_070.jpg)
After a year on the Electra, I went back to the FH-227, this time as a Captain.
Gratuitous Conky action shot:
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_084.jpg)
Well, this post has gone on long enough I think.
Pip, pip,
Conky
Conky, that's REAL flying and a great experience (I expect). Thanks for that - and it wasn't too long.
More! More!
Thanks Bluey, they were good days.
Ok then, here are a few more...
This is a picture taken at a place called Komakuk Beach, the last station in the western Canadian arctic. The next station was Barter Island, in Alaska, 72 nm away. I used to fly there every Saturday until US Customs decided that the USAF, who ran the DEW line, could no longer self clear. So, I had to fly to Fairbanks first, a detour of 400 nm south, then another 400 nm north to Barter Island. In order to make a point, the biggest load I ever carried was a case of styrofoam cups. Nordair would charge by the mile, which the USAF would buy in bulk. These little excursions soon used these up and after a few weeks of being charged $3.50 USD per mile, plus fuel, the US Government stepped in and we could self-clear again. It was a nice change of pace though, as Fairbanks is quite civilized compared to the Canadian north. We would buy a couple of cases of booze, with an extra bottle of Scotch for the guy clearing us back into Canada, and then we'd have quite a party every Saturday night. It's a good thing no one needed to be medically evacuated because we were in no shape to fly! :D
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_009.jpg)
The arctic is far from being a deserted wasteland, it's actually quite beautiful:
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_001.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_079.jpg)(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_054.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_050-1.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_027.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_015.jpg)
These are the 'Smoking Hills', an interesting geological oddity, the hills spewing sulphur continuously:
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_013.jpg)
This is a weird one, this was literally in the middle of nowhere:
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_030.jpg)
A rather rare sight in the arctic, convective storm clouds:
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_014.jpg)
No, this isn't the aftermath of one of my landings... :D It's the remains of an Avro York that crashed in Resolute Bay back in the 50's:
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Arctic%20Pictures/8-27-2010_028.jpg)
Pip, pip,
Conky
Funny, all these recently found pictures are are bringing up some long dormant memories...
When the folks at Fairchild-Hiller were designing the 227, they put in a 14ft plug in the original F-27 fuselage, added an auxiliary power unit and significantly increased the gross takeoff weight but they forgot two small details: they only increased engine power by 50hp and they kept the same wing. As a result, the thing was quite a dog in warm weather. Nordair operated a scheduled run between Toronto and Pittsburg and during the summer we could barely make 10000 feet. It did however, have effective speed brakes, like the Corsair, you could drop the main gear with the flick of a switch and the thing would come down like a manhole cover. The controllers would vector us onto the downwind leg at 8000 feet and would usually clear us for a 'short gate' visual, weather permitting. With the main gear down and flat pitch on the props, we barely passed the runway threshold before we had to turn base and final. We'd be number six or seven on approach and all of a sudden we'd be number one and cleared to land!
The brakes on the 227 were pneumatic and the thing would sound like a city bus when taxiing, if you performed a tight turn the valves would move all the way to the stops and begin pounding the bulkhead behind the captain's seat like a hammer. On the DEW line, when the weather turned cold, it would take a while for the pneumatic seals to adjust. You'd be flying along without a care, then the gear would come down by itself. Since cruise speed exceeded the maximum gear extension speed, we didn't like it much. After a week or two of this the seals would seat themselves properly for another winter.
We'd fly ten to twelve legs a day, getting to the point where we would bring the power back at the top of descent, and if you touched the power again before being fully in the landing configuration, on final at 500 feet AGL, you had to buy the first round at the bar that night.
There was a strip in the Western arctic, the name of which escapes me now, that had a resident herd of carobou (reindeer), living next to it. The strip was located on a slope and ran parallel to the beach. The herd would hang out between the runway and the water and if they heard an airplane approach, they would run up the hill and park themselves on the runway. At first the fellows at the radar station would try to chase them away in a truck but they would just part to let the truck pass and stay put. As this was rather inconvenient to us, we had to devise a 'stuka' approach, where we would fly the downwind leg at 10000 ft, make a steep descent with everything out, bringing the power up at the last second (the engines needed to be spooled up for proper functioning of the reverse pitch and for quick acceleration in the event of a go-around). If you did it correctly you would land on a clear runway and when you turned around, you'd see dozens of caribou on the strip asking themselves: 'how the hell did he get here?' :D. A few minutes after we shutdown, the animals would go back to the beach and we usually had time to take off without being disturbed.
Pip, pip,
Conky
Marvellous stories Conky. Definitely sounds like a young mans game though! :D
Great stuff, Conky. I wish I'd had your foresight and a camera.
Pretty pedestrian stuff compared to you and Bluey, Woof. You guys got to fly FIGHTERS for chrissakes! :)
Pip, pip,
Conky
After weeks of searching, I've finally found my old photo albums and slide carousels. They were actually hiding in plain sight, serves me right for being such a pack rat :D.
Anyhow Chaps, prepare to be inundated with such a quantity of pictures and inane stories that you'll soon wish you were at the dentist getting a root canal instead of reading this thread... ;D
Pip, pip,
Conky
Hello Chaps,
Here are some pictures from 1980, during my second season as a bush pilot. I worked for a 'mom and pop' operator called Air Brousse (literal translation: Air Bush). They had three airplanes and I flew them all, sometimes all three in a single day.
The C-180 was one of those 'no vices' airplanes, it had a 230hp engine and everything about it was well balanced. A nice docile airplane for a newbie. I flew it on floats, wheels and skis.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/Dock-4.jpg)
The C-185 was basically a C-180 airframe with a 300hp engine. The one i flew had great big floats on it which reduced cruise speed by about 15mph but they were very stable on the water and had a very shallow draft, which was a good thing because Air Brousse specialized in river operations. I got my float and ski rating on the 185 in flight school and although it had lots of power and was very fast on wheels, it didn't handle quite as nicely as the 180. Sort of like a F4 vs a G10.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/Dock-2.jpg)
The DHC-2 Beaver. This one is one of my favourite kites. This one flew with the US Army in Vietnam before coming to Canada. It's an absolute joy to fly, as long as you're not in a hurry ;). It would take off with pretty much any load but you had to be careful because if you overdid it it would not climb out of ground effect. I had to return to the dock a few times after going round and round trying to climb over the trees.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/Dock-1.jpg)
The 'office'
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/MyOffice.jpg)
As i mentioned earlier, we specialized in river operations. It could get very rough in the canyons when the wind came up and most folks would only go either early in the morning or evening. My boss however, had developed a technique to get in pretty much anytime. It was simple enough, make a rapid descent in a clean configuration to about 100' off the water. At that height the winds were usually light and sometimes even calm and it was weird to look up at the hills and see the trees swing wildly back in forth a few hundred feet above while there wasn't a hint of a breeze on the river. Climbing out was a bit rougher but by taking advantage of updrafts caused by the terrain (as a glider pilot Fitz, I'm sure you understand), you would pop out of the canyons pretty quickly. Frankly, I'm not sure why the other operators didn't do it as well, it wasn't rocket science and we never really tried to keep it a secret.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/9-4-2010_003.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/9-4-2010_001.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/9-4-2010_004.jpg)
We usually did fishing and hunting charters but every now and then we'd get to do something different, like recover damaged aircraft. Here, a pilot has damaged his aircraft after a hard landing and we went it to patch it up enough to get it to a proper repair facility.(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/FMYM-2.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/FMYM-1.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/FMYM-5.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/FMYM-3.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/FMYM-4.jpg)
Not all the recoveries were out in the bush, in these shots, the airplane hit a rock on takeoff and the pilot landed it back at base as close to the dock as possible and barely made it before the float sank. The guy was a real maniac, would fly anything, anywhere, anytime but he was quickly going through his supply of luck. This was not the first incident for him, he would have one every couple of weeks. I wonder if he's still alive sometimes...
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/Fecteau-4.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/Fecteau-3.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/Fecteau-2.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/Fecteau-1.jpg)
There wasn't much work in the winter, but i did fly on occasion. These shots were taken along the lower north shore of the St-Lawrence river.
There are small town dotted along the river, some would have a proper airstrip but most of the time we'd just land on the frozen surface of the water. Once, I taxied into a nice family's front yard in order to get electrical power for the engine block heater and to ask them to store my battery for the night. They didn't even bat an eyelid at my request.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/FYZ-1.jpg)
Sometimes the deicing facilities were, um, basic.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/PUO-3.jpg)
We weren't always able to plug in for the night so the only way we could get the engine to start the next day was to dilute the engine oil with avgas. The Beaver had a switch for this, and a chart telling you how much to put in depending on the temperature. The Cessnas did not so you had to use the WAG method (Wild Ass Guess) to determine how much to put in. A litre was usually pretty close. After diluting the oil we would pull the prop through a couple of turns to get some of the diluted oil into the cylinders. After staring the engine we'd have to 'cook' the avgas off by leaving the engine at idle for a while (again, using the WAG method).
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/PUO-4.jpg)
Finally, the gratuitous Conky action shot. Here I am about to leave the dock. I'm having a few last minute words with the dockhand and my left hand is operating the engine primer before hitting the start switch.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Sept-Iles/Leavingthedock.jpg)
Pip, pip,
Conky
I'm so envious Conky...must have been great fun...and so different from boring holes through the night sky in an aluminium tube a la Bounder!
Fitz.....Are you going to tell us about this?
Go on...go on...go on.....tell us the whole tale?
http://www.tonyrogers.com/humor/polish_c130_airframe_stress_test.htm (http://www.tonyrogers.com/humor/polish_c130_airframe_stress_test.htm)
Bounder ;D
Hi Bounder,
Going through all the pictures makes me realize how varied my career has been. I don't have any pictures of them, but I did a few strange jobs over the years.
In any case, I'm going to wait until one of you Chaps posts a few pictures and/or stories before I post more.
Pip, pip,
Conky
No need to wait, Conky. This is real good stuff.
The CA25 Winjeel, the RAAF basic trainer at the time I went through pilots course some 45 years ago. Seems just like yesterday.
(http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn19/Gort_08/Fox3_.jpg)
Dauntingly BIG to a trainee pilot, this thing was tough as an old boot (the whole thing reminds me of Matron…..but I digress). Powered by a Pratt& Witney Wasp junior (nine cylinder radial engine, 450 hp) this was a REAL aircraft; with the smell of AVGAS, exhaust fumes and PPP (previous pilot puke) (sort of Wilkinsesque); lots of engine noise and wind blast and lots of vibration (again, like Matron). I expect Conky and Buzz would consider its fundamental makeup as Otter or Beaver-like. The thing was fully aerobatic- you could do most things: loops, slow rolls, barrel rolls, roll-off-the-top Cuban 8, stall turn (but in my case not very well). Nice docile stall and somewhat reluctant to enter a spin. Side by side seating, there was a third seat in the back but rarely used.
Did it swing on takeoff? Well, that’s where I found the full 150 ft of runway width to be most useful. It had a strong (fixed) undercarriage that defied even my best efforts to break it.
Training encompassed all kinds of challenging sequences: general flying, instrument flying, low flying (joy), night flying, navigation and formation (joy). The first time I did close formation I found myself (unconsciously) pushing the brakes when I felt I needed to slow down to hold position. Of course this had little effect and was seemingly a point of high amusement to my instructor.
Screw up not too badly and you just had to run from the tarmac area to a ‘sight board’ â€" a long way away â€" in full flying gear (including helmet) and carrying your parachute. Usually you didn’t make the same mistake twice. Screw up really badly and you had an ‘interview’ with the small snarly squadron leader â€" with a good chance of being thrown off course.
But it was a great time.
Here’s a photo of No 58 Course reprobates. The BlueDog is in the centre of the three dorks on top.
(http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn19/Gort_08/PilotsCoursePtCook.jpg)
Ah, memories….(sigh)
Now THAT'S more like it Bluey! Well done!
Conky
Time for another walk down memory lane:
Here are some of the aircraft I flew during my time in Schefferville (off and on between '81-'84), a town about 700 nm north of Montreal, as the crow flies.
This DHC-2 Beaver used to belong to the federal ministry of transport. It was in lovely shape and shares the same engine as Bluey's CA25. The radios were the vacuum tube type however, so you had to wait a few minutes after turning the set on for the tubes to warm up before you could transmit.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Schefferville/9-4-2010_001.jpg)
I only have about 50 hours in the DHC-3 Otter, mostly on floats. It had a 600hp engine, I believe the same one as the Harvard (AT-6 Texan for the 'you'alls'). It could be tricky to taxi in a strong wind so it was equipped with a powered tailwheel. (http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Schefferville/9-5-2010_001.jpg)
These days, many Beavers and Otters have been converted to turbine engines, gps, sat phone, intercoms, etc. In other words....airplanes for sissies :D
This sleek beast ;) is a Beechcraft BE-80 Queen Air. This aircraft had the 'Excalibur' mod, replacing the original 380hp six cylinder geared and supercharged engines with eight cylinder engines without all the fancy stuff. They were simpler and more reliable, at the cost of a sharp drop in power above 9000 feet, it wasn't pressurized so we didn't fly all that high anyway. It sounded like a tractor when it flew by and despite it's mediocre high altitude performance, it was really quite good lower down. I once lost an engine on the thing while fully loaded with passengers, luggage and fuel, in icing conditions and the other engine kept us up long enough to return to the airport and do a full NDB approach to minimums, icing up the whole time. I've flown other twins of comparable size with the fancy engines and I'm convinced they would not have made it. I have a very warm spot in my heart for this bird :).
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Schefferville/9-4-2010_007.jpg)
I also flew the Cessna 337 Skymaster. Sorry Silverback, I don't have any pictures of her so you'll have to settle for one from the web :'(. We used it to fly excess luggage on our scheduled runs and for general utility flights. It wasn't really a good fit for what we were doing but it was a fun crate to pootle around in.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Schefferville/337-3.jpg)
You'll remember the DHC-6 Twin Otter from my previous posts. This is a shot taken during the summer months where we'd do three to four flights a day to this strip. Conky is on the left, my chief pilot is on the right. We'd take turns flying it in/out from the left seat. By this time we were primarily flying out ore samples in 45gal drums. Depending on the amount of ore, they would weight anywhere between 550lbs and 750lbs. We would have to roll them up a ramp into the aircraft, then stand them up and strap them in. We'd usually take three per trip. We'd get pretty good at standing them up unaided which was easier in the cramped confines of the cabin and my personal record was 625lbs.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Schefferville/9-4-2010_013.jpg)
Here is a picture of a severely hungover Conky, the day after my birthday. The fellows at the camp were very amused and not at all sympathetic to my pain and weakness that day, so they painted a sign for me, which roughly translated says: 'Eric, beer doesn't give you strength'.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Schefferville/9-4-2010_014.jpg)
Now for the gratuitous Conky action shots:
These pictures are of one of my takeoff runs, taken by one of the miners.
Normally on a maximum performance takeoff we'd stand on the brakes and run the power up but the ground was too soft so the locked wheels would start dragging, so we'd do a rolling takeoff.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Schefferville/9-4-2010_016.jpg)
The airplane coming off the ground at around 50kts.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Schefferville/9-4-2010_017.jpg)
Nose down to gain some speed. We'd lift off considerably below the single engine minimum control speed, but the alternative was running off the end of the strip so it was an acceptable risk.
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Schefferville/9-4-2010_018.jpg)
That's all for today, pip,pip,
Conky
Oh, I almost forgot, say hello to Matron's sisters... :D
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Schefferville/Matrons.jpg)
Grand stories, Conky. :) Keep 'em coming.
Another chapter in the C47 tales: "Black Russians In Gibraltar or Why I Didn't Make Air Commodore."
At one point in my ugly Air Force past I held (ahem) a VIP rating for the C47. This meant I could, and did, haul plane loads of Group Captains and higher ranks around the various NATO and other bases in Europe. I was given something called an ECPO book with which, by simply tearing off and signing a chit I could buy fuel, food, sleep and any other thing I deemed necessary for the continuance of life. Four to six week excursions were not unusual.
So it happened I had a plane load of very senior types down in Gibraltar for the weekend, Battle of Britain celebration sometime in the mid fifties, and of course that meant heavy boozing with the last RAF Sunderland Squadron. They were on temp posting to Gib.
Monday morning 0900 take-off arrived as it always must and just after gear up and staggering upwards through a couple of hundred feet on the way to Malta I had the bright idea to peer back into the cabin. It was hilarious...all fifteen or so RCAF Gods were sprawled in their seats, ties undone, arms and leg akimbo, hair mussed, faces flushed and and teetering on the edge of alcoholic poisoning.
There was no way I could resist it, the Devil made me do it, I swear. I closed the #1 throttle, let the a/c swing a little and hit the bail out bell. Which of course clangs The Coming of Doom in a very loud manner. You have never, in all your life, ever seen such an instant sobering up. And so many slack jawed, hung over faces ridden by instant fear. Such fun. For me. The co pilot thought I was an idiot. But there you go, I had seniority.
I shoved #1 back up, continued the climb out and never heard a word about it. Of course a couple of years later when I was posted back to Canada I was offered the choice of instructing on the Harvard or commanding a radar outpost on the Dew Line. Suddenly Trans Canada Airlines looked very appealing.
:D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D
Great story Woof!
:D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D
Woof, you are a legend - a dead-set LEGEND!!
Wonderful stuff from ye all BD,Conky and Woof!
I'm back home after escaping from Italy via the Simplon Pass and Chamonix. Managed to fool the border guards again with a passport photo of yester-year and two days later I find myself back in the Mess!
I spent the last two weeks with a very old flying friend from Jersey Airlines days (cc1967) and we talked a lot about things that happened. Unfortunately....many are not suitable for publication due to their "naughtiness" and the possibility of anyone that did not survive the 60's reading them.
However, MVS (initials of my old friend) has promised to send me a couple of pictures of a very amusing incident that did the tours of bars for many years after the demise of Jersey Airlines in 1969.
As soon as they arrive...(he is still in France sampling Merlot) I will attempt to put this story into print with the names changed to protect the guilty!
Bounder ;D
My second posting as a newly qualified “last officer†was to Jersey Airlines in 1967. This was a wonderful island for a twenty-one year old….six girls for every bloke on the island…petrol 1s 6d gallon and beer 9d a pint (old pence!)
I was to fly the newly acquired Dart Herald which replaced the DH Herons and DC3’s.
Apart from the tragic loss of a DC3 landing in fog at Jersey, the most talked about incident involved an empty Heron flying between Jersey and Dinard on the French coast.
We often flew “newspaper flights†in the middle of the night to bring the daily copies of the Times and Telegragh to the Channel Island population. This involved flying “off†airways in the FIR and at any level you liked! Do you get the idea?
Frequently, the French fishing boats would appear around dawn off the Minquiers rocks near Jersey. By skimming the waves from behind the rocks, you could give these poor souls the fright of their lives by nipping over their fishing boats at mast height plus 5ft! Many were seen to duck into their nets yelling “Aaaah les Roast Boeufs…….merd allors!" (or something to that effect!)
Well…this empty HP Heron with a guy called JLS (single pilot) went a tad too close as the pictures below show! He was fortunate enough to chose a twin masted vessel with wooden masts or would not have survived the incident. One mast went clean through the wing to the spar and took out engines 3 & 4 . The galvanised wire between the masts almost went right through the prop on engine 3 (can’t see in the picture)
JLS managed to pull off a CfC type severely damaged landing at Dinard in front of a Jersey Airlines Herald awaiting passengers by the terminal. In true style, he climbed out of the wreckage in his Mae West, lit a cigarette and walked over to the Herald taking a seat at the front to return to Jersey.
A large black police car appeared shortly after the incident and a couple of gendarmes entered the cabin of the Herald. Seeing JLS sitting in his lifejacket they asked “Pardon Capitaine, peraps yu culd come vith us and explain the circumstances of the damage to ure aircraft?â€
JLS flew as a co-pilot for a good while after the incident….but he was bought more beer at the bar than anyone else for a long time to come.
I had the best time of my career in Jersey without a doubt….great characters and wonderful memories of the sort of flying that was never to return due to the increasing regimentation of civil flying.
Bounder ;D
(http://i303.photobucket.com/albums/nn134/Nicholaiovitch/Misc/HERON_002.jpg)
(http://i303.photobucket.com/albums/nn134/Nicholaiovitch/Misc/HERON_001.jpg)
Good story, Bounder. Did you fly the Heron also or just the Herald? And what were they like to fly? More info, please.
Your mention of flying IFR off airways direct (good luck in that) reminded me that that was the way we always flew around Europe. Amazing to me that there were no mid airs. Although Leo LeBlanc whacked into a hill doing this. Very bad results.
I was at five or six thousand feet one beautiful morning going from Cannes to Marseilles in a C47 when an Alitalia DC4 descended through my altitude, whiz bang about 200 yards right in front. It certainly filled a lot of windscreen. For once I was flying legitimately so I called up the controller to complain and he came back with: "Ah yes. He was just showing you to his passengers." As you said, the good old days.
And that reminds me of the night, in the dark of, carrying one lonely pax from Langar, our base near Nottingham, back to Gros Tenquin in France. She was an enlisted man's wife (don't ask) and heavily pregnant. Her nurse, ahem, my mechanic Cpl Roy Cullen from Newfoundland , (my God, how do I remember these things? I have no idea what I had for breakfast yesterday) of course had to deliver the baby on the metal floor of the C47, but no harm done to the airplane. It was the freighter version and thus easily hosed down after we landed. The only difficulty we had was trying to figure out where the kid was born. England, Belgium, France, in Canada because it was an RCAF airplane? They're probably still working on it.
Roy Cullen by the way was a permanent fixture when I drove C47s. The copilots changed, but never Roy. One of his finer moments, apart from the night he fell through the rudder, was telling me in graphic (what else?) detail about the pleasures of the local cat house near Cagliari where we had just spent the night. It wasn't the sex that thrilled him, apparently. It was the fact that each girl cost only 28 cents Canadian. A fair price for the mid-fifties.
Roy was also with me the foggy morning we took a taxi from the hotel in downtown Brussels to the airport. The cabbie (it must have been his first trip ever) got lost. The first thing that alerted us to this was when he ducked his head and tried to hide under the dashboard. For a very good reason. Somebody's DC4 had just loomed out of the fog and blasted over the cab's roof. I swear it's wheels left rubber skid marks, The idiot driver had blundered onto the main runway. Fortunately he was able to blunder his way back into the fog and we escaped all authority.
Look what you started, Blue Dog, with your nostalgia fetish. Back to your Morris dancing, I say. Back!.
Great story Bounder!
A few of those Herons made their way to Canada in the guise of the Saunders ST-27, the four piston engines being replaced by turboprops.
i know how you feel Woof, I can remember stuff from thirty years ago but can't find the car keys I used five minutes ago...
Speaking of ancient memories....:
...I open the door of the lavatory and what do I see but a the business end of a very elderly woman who forgot to lock the door....some things you just can't unsee :P
...Walking off the aircraft after a flight to see a lone woman sitting forlornly in her seat trying to be invisible, with a strange look to her jaw. As I get closer to the rear of the aircraft, I pass by the slightly open door of the lavatory to see one of our flight attendants gingerly pouring out the contents of an air sickness bag into the toilet, looking for the poor lady's false teeth.
Aviation is such a glamorous career! :D
You guys should round up a few more stories and create an anecdotal book. It would go down a storm in airport bookshops!
Great stuff.
Champion tales, Bounder & Woof.
Just love stories of the 'interesting' characters one comes across in the aviation world - legends to their compatriots :D, but trouble-makers/cowboys to their crusty old seniors/supervisors/bureaucrats. >:( >:( >:(
Time for some more ramblings...
I didn't have a camera with me back then, so all mages are from the net.
In May of '82 I was hired to fly a Piper Aztec in support of the effort to eradicate the Spruce Budworm from the forests of eastern Quebec
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Spruce%20Budworm/Aztec.jpg)
The spray company was called Conifair, and they operated DC-4's, -6's and Lockheed Super Constellations:
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Spruce%20Budworm/DC-4.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Spruce%20Budworm/DC-6_A.jpg)
(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc53/Sillius_Sodus/Spruce%20Budworm/Connie.jpg)
My job was to fly as "bird dog" for the tankers, backing up their navigation. They were equipped with ins sets, but they were very unreliable so we would follow the tankers during their drops, and if the ins went for a burton, we would follow the track on a 1:50,000 map, letting the tanker pilots know if they were off track, when to turn and when to turn their nozzles on/off.
Now for the fun part, the tankers would fly a box pattern over a section of forest, spraying insecticide from an altitude of about 100 feet AGL. Yes, you read correctly, one hundred feet above the trees. Every morning at dawn (3am-ish), the bird dogs would take off for a weather check. The insecticide had to be applied in perfectly smooth air, otherwise to dosage would be off and/or the stuff would drift away to where it did not belong. According to the SOP's, weather checks were flown at 50 feet AGL and naturally, we would cut that in half. The rooster tails when you fly low over the water in IL2 are pretty accurate :D.
If the conditions were right, we'd send for the tankers. They would have an IP, usually a church steeple, that they would cross before starting their runs. It was very amusing to see a large four engined aircraft fly over a church at 100 feet at 4am, then watch all the lights in the villages turn on! :D. There were complaints aplenty, but we had special dispensation from the authorities during the spray season. The spraying usually went on from 4am to 8am, and if possible we'd also have a go in the evening from 7pm to 10pm. Calm, cloudy days were best for spraying since there were usually few or no thermals to deal with. The were also some Piper Pawnees spraying over tighter spots. This was also an interesting operation as they would land on secluded country roads to refuel and load up on product. They could run on automotive fuel and it was not unknown to see one at a country petrol station. Over the border in New Brunswick they used Grumman Avengers for spraying and it was cool to see them flying around. Unfortunately they would usually lose at least one per season. The Avenger was a tough bird though, most of the time the pilot would survive the crash, usually due to engine failure.
The Aztec quite a bit slower than the tankers in level flight so in order to keep up with them we would have to intercept them from higher altitude, then dive down to match or slightly exceed their speed. We would then park ourselves a few hundred feet behind and 100 or so above them, following their track with the map. when they came to the end of a line, they wold perform a procedure turn to realigning themselves for the next run while we would pull up and turn inside them, timing it so we could dive down into position as they started their run. They were easier to follow once they shut down one of their engines, which would happen quite often, being paid by the hour, the pilots would just keep spraying.
It was great fun!
As a postscript, John Travolta showed up one day in his Lockheed Jetstar and bought one of the Connies. There is also one that is now flying in KLM livery. I'm not sure if it's the same one but both were from Conifair.
As far as I know they're still trying to kill the pesky little bugs.
Pip, pip,
Conky
If you peer closely at the nose of the T Bird pictured below you'll see a smudgy white streak. A week in Lahore with Matron and a can opener for the first to guess what this streak is. Ah, the hell with it. I'm gonna tell you now. It's RCAF's first HUD, 1953. A simple piece of white cord chewing gummed to the nose and centered in the slipstream. If you ain't flying true this thing will tell you right away. Who needs a ball banging around in a dirty little tube?
And as I mentioned on Xfire the other day, the other highly classified mod on our T Birds was the condom stretched over the throttle. Seems our erks couldn't stop all those little buttons and knobs and such leaking electricity into our sweaty little palms.
We used the T Birds transitioning from T6s to the F86s. Ten hours dual just to get the feel of high speed and high altitudes. It was also used to get jet instrument ratings.
A side note: I checked into the OTU Friday night and Saturday morning I was standing on the flight line, drooling and nursing a hangover when a F/L, (Red Ashley...God, I still remember his name) strolled up and invited me to ride the back seat of his T Bird while he took part in a four plane aerobatics show over Halifax.
The only thing that really stands out in my memory is his dragging the left wing through the grass during the formation take-off. Of course I was too stupid to be concerned. A great afternoon, though, and a wonderful introduction to jets.
And a morbid note I just remembered: One of our instructors had perfected the loop landing in the T Bird and demonstrated it across the country. Probably not such a big deal now but was considered quite daring back then. (And fun to try in IL2) You dive at the button of the active runway, pull up into the loop[, drop the gear and flaps while upside down and all things being equal you should touch down on the numbers. Power off all the way. A derivation is the half Cuban Eight off the opposite end of the runway. I saw Bob Hoover doing both these in an Aero Commander with both engines shut down. Oh, the morbid note: We had a S/L from the RAF on exchange as an F86 instructor and he killed himself in the T Bird on his first attempt at the loop landing. A really great guy.
We should really organise a "Crazy" flying night and try some of these....any takers?
Bounder ;D
Quote from: =CfC=Bounder on October 20, 2010, 07:46:51 PM
We should really organise a "Crazy" flying night and try some of these....any takers?
Bounder ;D
Strictly a "straight & level" man myself!!! ::)
Pt
Your memory reminded me of another great flyer...maybe not in the same league as Hoover...but there was nothing he could not do in a Piper Cub!!
He came to UK and flew the airshow circuit in about 1992 I think....If you have not seen some of the crazy flying he did...here is one of the YoutTube videos:-
The legendary "Flying Farmer....Charlie Kulp"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2BPcurREpo&feature=related (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2BPcurREpo&feature=related)
I had the good fortune to have a chat and chew the cud with Charlie at the Badminton Air Show (Duke of Beaufort's private airstrip...you know!)about 1992.
With me was my old friend Tony Liddiard...he and I put together many old aircraft in those days and sold them off.......here we all are in this pic....Bounder, Tony and Charlie Culp...all telling each other lies about how well we could fly a 65hp Cub...trouble was...Charlie did not tell any lies!
Bounder ;D
(http://i303.photobucket.com/albums/nn134/Nicholaiovitch/Memories/CharlieCulp.jpg)
Love the 'stache. Were you a practicing porn star by any chance, Bounder? And I didn't know that Charlie Culp also played with ZZ Top. And furthermore, Palmtree, you are a stone killer and anything but straight and level.
We entered BFTS (Basic Flying Training School) as civilians from various backgrounds â€" teachers, car detailers (cleaners), GA pilots etc; or straight from school. Back in those ‘good old days’ it was considered necessary to “break down the individual and then build him up again as an airforce cloneâ€; so we were told we were the lowest of the low and had to obey all and sundry, do what we were told, learn the essentials of how to march (etc); and eventually we would end up at an acceptable level to be considered an airforce officer.
Unfortunately, the approach was aimed at robbing the lad of his individuality and this resulted in him rebelling against the establishment; or ending up as a basket case. (Of course I exaggerate, but looking back it was truly the wrong approach to take).
All we wanted to do was to fly and learn about flying associated stuff. Constantly we were told, though, that it was much more important to be an OFFICER first, and a PILOT second. We all thought the same thing: that was CRAP (or words to that effect).
As brothers forged together through adversity we had two major enemies: the Warrant Officer Disciplinary (WOD) and the Chief Ground Instructor (CGI). The WOD was a sort of RSM (in fact, legend had it he was once an RSM retreaded from the Coldcream Guards) and the CGI was a small obnoxious Squadron Leader bent on terrorizing any cadet who came into view.
We were required to “double†(run) wherever we went and the WOD was there to see that we did. Slack to a walk at any stage, even the remotest corner of the remotest part of the base, and the WOD would jump out from behind a bush/tree/building/sign etc, yell at the poor cadet and confine him to barracks (CB) over the highly prized freedom of the weekends. He drilled us mercilessly, trying to get us to march in some semblance of order, he inspected our rooms picking us up on horrendously sinful acts such as having newspapers less than 5 days old lining our wardrobe draws (more CB), and standing behind us during parade inspections and saying hilarious things such as:
“Am I hurting you, Cadet X?â€
“No sir!â€
“Well I should be, I’m standing on your hair it’s so long. GET A HAIRCUT!!!!! â€" and you’re on CB†(this even tough Cadet X had had a severe short-back-and-sides the previous day.)
We hated the WOD with a vengeance.
The CGI was even worse. He lectured in aerodynamics and majored in making fools of us by asking questions that even someone with a Masters in Aeronautical Engineering would have trouble answering:
“So, Cadet X, what is the time to half amplitude of the Winjeel’s phugoid?â€
“Don’t know, Sirâ€
“You *&$#@*&!@%. FIND OUT!!!!!. And you’re confined to barracks until further notice!!!â€
He also administered the military legal system â€" using it to his advantage wherever possible to punish each and every cadet .
To have him as an instructor for ANY flight was very, very bad!
We hated him with a vengeance.
Ah, memories, sigh.
More on the WOD and the CGI to come
Please, Sir, may I have some more?
Is that =CFC= "Rockets" Woof? ;D
Now that looks like fun! :)
Ah, it was, it was. What great toys for we young boys.
At least at the flight area area (huts, flightline,taxiways and runways) we were free from the WOD . There we were taken under the wings of the flying instructors â€" gentlemen (in the main) who were interested in teaching we individuals of low caste how to fly. But stray a millimeter back onto the WOD’s territory and you were at the mercy of ‘the enemy’ …….. and subjected to character building comments such as: “WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING, YOU DOZEY INDIVIDUAL????â€
Actually, there was another area: the gymnasium. It was located 1.1 miles from our barracks on the other side of the airfield and en route there was nowhere for even the WOD to hide (mind you, we wouldn’t have been surprised if he jumped up from the grass areas dressed in ghillie suit). Of course we were still required to ‘double’ all the way there and all the way back and sure as eggs had we slacked to a walk it would have come to the notice of the WOD. Nevertheless this was a good time, for we would break into spontaneous song as we ran, hoping that the breeze would convey our strong, lusty voices back to those extremely sensitive ears of the WOD; along with the odour of the local sewerage treatment works for his likewise extremely sensitive nasal passages. Our favourite song was a variation of “The Woodpecker’s Holeâ€; substituting ‘WOD’ for the woodpecker and emphasis on a well known orifice instead of the word ‘hole’.
Now when I say ‘gymnasium’ don’t think of a classy building full of treadmills, rowing machines, muscle building equipment and the like; for it was just an empty hangar with strange marks on the concrete floor for basketball and the like; and a couple of ropes dangling from the roof (we fantasized about arriving at the gym one day to find the WOD and CGI hanging from those very ropes) . The PT instructors had been tainted with the WOD’s brush of hatred and they treated us with great distain (unlike them, none of us had huge muscles to flex in front of the wall mirrors). When we got there the first thing we had to do was to grab brooms and sweep the place clean.
I recall one day we had a double period of PT. So we ‘doubled’ to the gym (still 1.1 miles away), swept the floor and then the PTI said dryly: “you guys are unfit……we’ll go for a run!†So we went for a run for the next 40 minutes. Once back at the gym we were dismissed and then had to ‘double’ the 1.1 miles back to our barracks, quick shower, change and up for the next class. Such joy!
But back to the WOD.
As I’ve said before he seemed to take delight in denying us our freedom at weekends. On one occasion he decided on Friday afternoon that the outside of our 2 storey barracks was dirty and had cobwebs on the eaves (for God’s sake!!). So, before we were allowed off base on Saturday we were required to clean down the outside of the entire building. By a serendipitous happenstance one of our chaps had a friend in the base fire (fighting) section; also by serendipitous happenstance the WOD always took his family into the local township for shopping on Saturday morning. So we bided our time till he departed the base and, figuring we had about an hour, called on the fire section for a small favour. They arrived with a huge fire truck and we relaxed as they sprayed the building down with high pressure hoses. The WOD arrived back after an hour or so to find the barracks squeaky clean. What could he do? He had to let us off for the rest of the weekend!
But fear not, dear reader, for the BlueDog eventually had a small, but satisfying revenge. A couple of years after graduating, and as a brand-new captain on the mighty C130 Hercules we lobbed into a RAAF base near Melbourne to load cargo and passengers. I was walking to the aircraft when I heard a familiar voice behind me, calling me by name. I turned around to see one of the passengers approaching: it was…………..the WOD, By then he had been commissioned and retreaded as a Flying Officer Admin type person. He tried the old ‘hail fellow well met’ but I, feigning great diligence, moved rapidly away. Pulling the Flight Sergeant Loadmaster aside (he’s the crewman that manages the blunt end of the C130) I said: “see that Flying Officer over there, find the most cramped and uncomfortable seat down the back, and don’t let him come up on the flight deck†(we allowed passengers to come ‘up front’ during flight to have a look see’. I added: “make sure everyone else gets a tour of the flight deck.â€
And so it happened. Petty, BD, petty. But satisfying nonetheless. :D
Ah, memories, (sigh).
I think you were in the wrong Air Force, BD, All I got from flight training was a pair of wings and a post graduate course in drinking. ;D
Great stories Woof , BD and Conky….now to lower the standard….
Many moons ago, I was with a well known airline named after the “tails†side of a penny coin! Remember?
It was the end of the “Glorious 60’s†and anyone that was not there…just does not know what they missed!
As was normal at an overnight stop, we had a crew party. At this particular hotel, we always had three crews staying every night throughout the summer. I have to say that the parties were pretty wild.
This story always reminds me of one of the funniest stories told at the “Oxford Unionâ€. Did you ever hear Gerald Hofnung recount the tail of the bricks going up and down on a hoist? Well if you didn’t….here it is:-
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wtW_iSX0tM (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wtW_iSX0tM)
So…my story starts at a crew party. We used to play a game called “fizz-Buzzâ€. Can’t really describe it here, but most of you will have heard about this well known drinking game. The only difference at our party was that if you made a mistake….you had to remove an item of clothing!
At this particular party, one of the airline’s ravishing blonds was in attendance.…name….just initials …SL.
She was determined to make sure that the Captain of her crew ended up with zero clothes. Well…..he did. She then threw his clothes out of the fourth floor window of the hotel. He had had a lot to drink by this stage and feeling a little guilty…SL tied a Xxxxxxxx Airways crew label to the end of his “dongle†so that he could be identified on the way to his room!
Firstly, he had to navigate the lift…and this is where Gerard Hofnung’s story always reminds me of the next part of the sad tale. Our blond bomber (SL) escorted the naked Captain to the lifts and pressed the button whilst they both stood on the landing. Meanwhile, downstairs in the main hotel lobby, a family with two young children had finished checking-in and pressed the button to call the lift down to the lobby.
When the door opened on the fourth floor, SL pushed our well dressed Captain into the lift and pressed the button for floor 6 where he had his room, kissed him goodnight and watched the doors of the lift close! Unknown to her, the lift then went down!
The poor unfortunate Captain appeared in the main hotel lobby, the doors opened and there to greet him were a family with two young children. It was not difficult to identify him as the only item on him was a crew label!
The end result of this was most unfortunate as JB was demoted to First Officer for four years!
Part II will follow with a tale at this same hotel involving Bounder…who luckily did not meet the same fate …but deserved it!
Bounder ;D
:D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D Classic!
More, Bounder, more! With party pictures if possible! ;D ;D ;D
QuoteShe was determined to make sure that the Captain of her crew ended up with zero clothes. Well…..he did. She then threw his clothes out of the fourth floor window of the hotel. He had had a lot to drink by this stage and feeling a little guilty…SL tied a Xxxxxxxx Airways crew label to the end of his “dongle†so that he could be identified on the way to his room!
Was that Captain Charlie Sheen by any chance?
Send him to rehab!
RE the C45 pictured below. Also known as the Expeditor (but not by me) and the Beech 18. I was hanging around the field one day and spotted one of these things on the flight line. This in France in about '55. I started to poke around it and some guy, I've forgotten name his name as I knew him for only ten minutes, asked if I'd like to check out in it. Of course I said sure, so I climbed in the right seat, he fired it up and taxied to the active and flung the throttles to the stops. At about sixty knots he's booting the rudders from stop to stop and waggling the ailerons like he's purely demented and then of course he lost it in the biggest damn ground loop I ever lived through. Off the concrete and tearing around on the grass in a bloody great circle, engines screaming and chunks of sod flying in all directions. I could've sworn we went around three or four times, but I guess it was only once for suddenly there was bloody great bang and we stopped like we hit a brick wall. I didn't even look at him...just jumped out of my seat and turned to go back in the cabin and get out...but there was no cabin. The airplane had snapped in half right behind the wings. Didn't need the cabin door after all.
Turned out he hadn't locked the tail wheel (somewhat of a necessity on a C45) . Apparently he had a reputation for this sort of thing as I found out later. That was the end of his flying career. I flew it quite a bit...after a proper check out...pretty nice little airplane.
And that remind me of the C47 co-pilot I had who had a problem staying awake. Apparently it was a genuine medical condition. I found out about it when he fell asleep just after gear up...and he was flying. He didn't last too long either. What a nice flying club we had.
Woof, you get into more trouble than the early settlers ;D!
Great story, though! :D I've got nothing to match it - I personally never completely broke an aircraft, or was in one that broke around me.
I guess things were a lot more casual in those days, BD. All my instructors at Flight School were ex WW2 and had a very relaxed attitude. Dual one day before first solo, I was flying and entered the pattern downwind in the front seat of an AT6 when a seal blew and covered the windscreen in oil. Being a prudent chap I said "You have control" and the instructor in the back seat bellowed back at me "You want to be a pilot, you land the damn thing!" A great confidence builder. For some reason I don't do quite as well in IL2 as I did that day.
More old fart tales to come...
Ah, my tax dollars at work... :D
Great stories Woof........like BD my aviation incidents were very dull...it was only the "outside hours" incidents that were memorable!
Bounder ;D
Woof, is there an aircraft type you haven't trashed :D?
I'm thinking you must be an ace...at least against the RCAF! :D :D :D
Pip, pip,
Conky
Well chaps, I've just been reading through these memories and have been not only royally entertained, but also educated and inspired. So now I'll offer Father Ted's entry into the oevre...(will read a bit like Fitz's, but heigh ho)
I took up gliding aged 16, largely because I'd always wanted to fly, but also because my dad did it and I had no real hobby. Every Saturday I would be driven out to a disused Eighth Airforce bomber base in deepest East Anglia and left with a bunch of old (ie the age I am now) weirdos with whom I had nothing in common. The one or two 20 min flights I got in return for nine hours of social purgatory were of course exciting, but I never truly looked forward to those Saturdays.
We used the aerotow to get our ASK13s airborne. This is more expensive than winch launching, and more dangerous (especially for the tug pilot), but it has the advantage that you're in the air for longer per flight. I did my training in the winter, so there was little or no thermic activity and you basically drifted down from 2000 feet rather than the 1000 for a winch. Another bonus of this launch method is that you learn to fly quicker as you have to fly during the tow. A hidden disadvantage was the lack of landing practice.
I picked up the flying pretty quickly. I soloed with relatively few hours in the log book. It was grey day in January, with a steady breeze strong enough to keep the wings level as I waited for the tow rope to be attached. During my last flight, the instructor had picked up on my habit of deploying full air-brake on landing approach and suggested that this wasn't good practice. I had nodded sagely and agree not to do it. Take off and tow were uneventful. I nervously stooged about keeping an eye on my altitude and position until I judged I needed to join the circuit. That all went fine, turned on to final aproach, yanked out air-brakes. Glide-path Ok, speed ditto. At about 20 feet up I remembered about the air-brakes and half-closed them. Suddenly I was doing 90 knots intead of 45 and heading into the next parish. In a panic I aimed the nose at the ground and duly hit it with a resounding bang. Airborne once more I got the airbrakes fully out and sank to earth with a slightly less bone-jarring crunch. Despite another bounce the glider was obviously not flying anymore and I was a helpless passenger as it carried on bouncing down the runway. We finally came to rest two hundred yards or so past the small knot of spectators (including my Dad) who had gathered to watch. I sat for an age, turning the air inside the cockpit blue as I waited for them to fetch me and for the humiliation to begin.
To be fair there was none and all agreed that the best thing to do was go straight back up and try again, which I did - successfully this time
Excellent story FT! I look forward to hearing more of your exploits, in the air of course ;).
Pip, pip,
Conky
Brilliant Ted........yup...you walked away from it...just lucky you didn't have 400 down the back all bellowing "send him back to flying school"!
Aaaah...the memories!
Bounder :-[ ;D
Nice cameo appearance there, Ted; and of course we need more from you..........and the rest of Chuffy's chappies.
First solo is something one never forgets! :) :) :)
LAST FLIGHT
(http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn19/Gort_08/IMG-1-1.jpg)
A few preflight drinks.
(http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn19/Gort_08/IMG_0002-1-1.jpg)
OOps, small accident - shouldn't have had that last glass of champers. Gotta make a dash for the bathroom!
(http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn19/Gort_08/IMG_0001-1-1.jpg)
AAARRrrrrggggghhhhhh. Didn't make it. Goddam incontinence!
Ah, memories (sigh)......
"One small step for BD....one giant leap for the WC!"
Great pics Bluey.....yes and we need more from Ted.
Bounder ;D
PS. My last flight before retirement was to Tehran (A320) a week after "9/11". My briefcase was opened by security in flight ops and my Swiss Army knife which had flown with me for at least twenty years was removed. The aircraft was surrounded by military (it was a scheduled service out of Heathrow) and also on arrival at Tehran. One of the worst memories of my entire career. What a way to bow out.......but I didn't wet my pants over it!
After this did some soul destroying ground jobs for a couple of years then back to flying for another 8 or so.......
Finally ended up in some HQ type ground jobs battling public service bureaucrats - memories I'd rather forget!
Is this the F-111 you're climbing out of, Bluey? And if so, you must have some hero stories for us.
'Tis indeed the mighty F111, Woof - all were retired from service on 3 December last year (sob) :(
Incidentally, the photos were taken at the end of the flight; where, by tradition, at the end of ones 'tour', the aircraft is met by squadron aircrew accompanied by a fire tender. As one exits the aircraft one closes the clamshell canopy and one is then hosed down liberally with a high pressure hose from the tender.
Injuries are rare, but unless one is careful, one can be washed off the ladder and plummet gracefully to the hardish tarmac.
Just harking back to the start of this thread, I mentioned participating in the RAAF's Golden Jubilee air display; flying in the Canberra formation team.
Here's the team standing beside one of the mighty jets (no, we didn't all fit into that one aircraft). We have: Navigator (ballast) #3, ballast #2, ballast #1, team leader, pilot #3, BlueDog (pilot #2). Our ground transport can be seen in the background.
(http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn19/Gort_08/IMG_0003-1.jpg)
All RAAF aircraft put on a display, and the F4 Phantom presence was of special interest (the F4 were leased from the USAF while RAAF was awaiting delayed delivery of F111). Also right up there was the Mirage III formation called the "Deltas". To the fighter jocks they were the star of the show. The pilots strutted around in fancy outfits: specially tailored bottle green flying suits, white cravats and special poofter boots. Each had his formation position embroidered on a special patch worn on the upper sleeve of their flying suit: "Delta 1", "Delta 2" etc. I was highly amused by the patch on the reserve pilot's sleeve: "Delta Spare".
By '71 the Canberras were a bit "old hat" so we weren't considered "starworthy". However, not to be outdone by the sartorial elegance of the Deltas, we dyed our flying suits black, found some incredibly coarse (uncomfortable) yellow material and wore it as cravats. We called ourselves the "Baggyarses" - causing some wrinkly mouths in the Mirage camp. :D ;D :D ;D
Great, Bluey. And more, please, much more.
Baggyarses :D :D :D
I think we've found the name for our squadron mascot, if we had one :D.
Has a certain ring to it!!!! :D :D :D ::)
Baggyarse the Auroch, captured from Goering's personal herd!
Mrs Ted has a DVD of a 1970's children's TV prog. Its title on the disc was abreviated to "Complete Bagpuss", which always strikes me as the sort of thing a CFI might say about a dodgy landing
BD....your "Team leader" appears to generate the best "baggyarse" impression....I guess easy to follow when in formation...but not a patch on Father Ted's new suave overalls and cravat in his sig.
Great pic Ted.
Bounder ;D
Cheers Bounder, although the credit for the pic should go to Jean-Paul Tibbles who painted the picture which graces the cover of my copy of "Piece of Cake"
(http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn19/Gort_08/aurochsfh6-1-1-1-1.jpg)
That chaps got something baggy back there Bluey but it don't look like his arse.
Uh oh, Matron has gazed upon the baggy thing.
Poor beast doesn't have a chance... :D
About the only good thing about having Defence Headquarters jobs was that you might be 'directed' to attend airshows - on the pretext that you might find something useful to the Australian defence Force; or that by circulating with overseas companies/services you might build up a network of contacts useful in future project (equipment acquisition) dealings.
Fat chance! It was a good opportunity to be fed and 'watered' at various aerospace companies expense (whilst gawking at aircraft and other fun stuff from their chalets), and to be transported and accommodated at the Australian taxpayer's expense.
So it was that I (and a 707 full of Australian Defence guys) attended the Aerospace shindig in Singapore in (I think) 1991. Jolly good fun!
Accompanied by a friend of mine, an ex-patriot Brit, we oohed and aahed at the flying and static displays and when he enquired about something at the British Aerospace stand, we were invited to attend an evening BBQ at the British High Commission for further 'discussions'. How could we refuse?
So it was that we arrived at the British High Commission as night was falling, only to find the gate was well and truly closed and locked. We attracted the attention of the security guard who informed us that the BBQ was being held at the residence of the Commissioner - not far away, just 'up the road', well within walking distance. Well it wasn't quite up the road - we got lost and arrived there an hour later, sweating profusely, and letting slip a profanity or two.
Graciously we were allowed into the grounds and directed to a large circular table where we sat with 20 or so Brits. Too late for the food, we settled for a beer whilst those around us sipped on their G & Ts. We were introduced to all, particularly Sir Peter L****, whom all were fawning over with a "yes, Sir Peter this" and a "yes Sir Peter that". Being uncouth, uncultured, uncaring and very sweaty Australians he was known to us as just plain Peter.
Anyway, the topic of discussion was airshows and the chaps got around to discussing the future of Farnborough. Much was made of the fact that airspace around Farnborough was tightening and it might mean that the airshow would need to be moved to somewhere like Manchester (for instance). My friend was incensed about all this and suddenly burst out: "What are you saying??? If you move it to Manchester it won't be the Farnborough airshow any more! What about tradition? You can't let Farnborough die!" On and on he went with his rant, obviously getting tropically hotter and hotter under the collar. The Brits were somewhat taken aback by all this. Finally he said "You can't move the Farnborough airshow! Who owns Farnborough anyway?"
The rant came to a sudden halt when Sir Peter quietly replied: "Well, as a matter of fact, I do."
Ah, memories (sigh)
Must have missed you by a couple of year BD....I left Singapore in 1988 and remember the first few airshows well. I have to agree though,
Farnborough at Manchester?? No black sheds? Brown Ale instead of Gin and tonic? Mushy peas instead of cucumber sandwiches? Niet!
Changing the view......
Does this bring back any memories?
http://www.slideshare.net/Jorgelld/fotografas-antiguas-principios-siglo-xx (http://www.slideshare.net/Jorgelld/fotografas-antiguas-principios-siglo-xx)
Bounder ;D
Not bad guys!
Those photos bring tears to these old eyes Conky, I lost my 35 jumping out of a plane onto a log boom in the early days,
and had to use a pocket camera from then on, can't even tell what most of them are anymore.
I remember sneaking up on a bunch of snow geese at 200 ft in a 185 through the view finder,
bad idea, when I lowerd the camera they were going through the prop, guts and feathers every where. :-[
Newbie??? :'(
A genuine newbie here, Buzzsaw (how do, by the way!), and I suspect the post-count reset when the new website went up in July
Ted
Hey Buzzsaw!
Great to hear from you again! ;D
When are you coming flying with us again? We're currently using 4.10 on sundays and Tuesdays, with Thursdays reserver for UP 2.01. It can be a bit of a chore to get all fixed up but we're more than happy to help ya.
All the best,
Conky
Buzzsaw, you old buzzard, welcome back! :)
Here's the place for your bush pilot and USN stories. Still fondly remember the parachute prank. ;D :D ;D
Thanks for the warm welcome back guys. :)
I won't be fully back for a while, I still have a few probs, and my controls went south!
Thanks for the explanation Ted, I thought maybe I was demoted for being gone for a while! ;D
I don't remember how many of you have seen my bush storys, but if you think the new guys would like to see them, let me know.
Buzz
PS thank you BD for the search and rescue missions.
My computer finally allowed me to see those photos, Bounder.
Great shots!
Okay, Buzzsaw, take off that oxygen mask, throw away the crutches, get out of those sawbones' clutches and get writing more stories. It's just great to have you back.
Great story, BD...but where are the F111 tales? Even a routine trip in one of those must have been awesome.
And I loved the old photos , Bounder. In fact I could swear I spotted one of my old girl friends sur la plage.
Great to hear from you Buzzaw........and we are all sitting comfortably, the lights are down and all ears....so when you are ready...you can begin one of your stories......?
Bounder ;D
Stickied as requested!
Feel free to continue adding interesting stories chaps.....
Fitz
The Hunter was a smooth bird, but it did have some 'nasties'. One was the spin, which could catch the pilot out if pro-spin or anti-spin controls were applied the wrong way; or it could just catch you out if it felt 'ornery'. You could get disorientated, spin recovery was sometimes dodgy; and on top of this, by the fourth turn of a fully developed spin the aircraft's rate of descent was in the order of 40,000 ft/minute.
The Pilot's Notes were quite specific: NO INTENTIONAL SPINNING ALLOWED!!!!!!!!!
As students of a certain establishment some of us were required to conduct an assessment of the Hunter's spin characteristics (the others assessed the spin characteristics of the docile old Chipmunk). Several solo sorties were allotted in the F6, and the final sortie was to be done dual (with a tutor) in the T7. The final flight was to include incorrect (reverse) recovery actions (stick forward before opposite rudder) and out-spin and in-spin aileron inputs. We were also encouraged to try to get into an inverted spin, which reportedly was rather difficult to achieve in the Hunter. You had to enter it just right at the top of a mini barrel roll at low speed; but normally the nose would just drop through and a normal erect spin would ensue.
Emergency briefing for the exercise was concise and clear: if you're not out of the spin by 10,000 feet - EJECT.
So there we were at 35,000 ft after completing a couple of spins and a couple of attempts to get into the inverted one - without success. I put it into a normal spin with the intention of applying about 1/4 out-spin aileron during the transition to the full spin. Then all hell broke loose. The aircraft pitched rolled and yawed violently, moving in all 7 degrees of freedom (I know there's only 6, but it felt like more!). It was like an extreme ride on a wildly bucking bronco..........or a moderate romp in the hay with Matron (so I'm told :P). Dust and cockpit debris hovered in the negative 'g' environment and amongst all this I heard the calm, controlled voice of the tutor saying:
"Good...........good. This (pause) is an inverted spin"
Well, I'm pleased to say that centralising the controls got us out of it. So we climbed once more to continue the exercise - albeit the white knuckles and the shaking of the hands detracted from the performance!
Walking away from the aircraft at the end of the flight the tutor said to me: "I rather liked your comment in the inverted spin".
I replied "well, I heard what you said, but I don't recall saying anything"
"Oh yes," he replied "you said in an anxious voice: 'STUFF ME GENTLY!' "
Ah, memories......sigh.
Great story Bluey!
It reminded me of my experience spinning a Beechcraft Musketeer back when I was a young lad. Now the Musketeer was a very docile kite, not at all as exciting as your birds but it did have some interesting characteristics. It had two appendages (strakes?) attached to either side of the engine cowling, ostensibly to make spins more difficult to enter. And difficult it was, kicking the rudder during a stall would result in a wing dropping, followed by the nose, then the thing would basically accelerate itself back into normal flight. Borrrring!
So, one day, while flying solo in the training area, I decided to see if I could coax one into a spin. I dutifully closed the throttle, raised the nose and waited for the speed to bleed away. On cue the aircraft began to shudder and the nose began to drop, meaning it was time to apply some rudder. This time though I decided to help the aircraft along by slamming the throttle full forward right after I applied full rudder. My faithful steed responded by flipping over onto its back and entering a rather violent, (at least to me and my 40-ish hours of experience at the time :D), albeit conventional spin. In the time it took to say 'Holy shit!', I'd done about two turns. I let everything go and it righted itself, but I never tried it again.
Unfortunately I've never had the chance to practice real aerobatics but I have a friend who teaches it and he keeps asking (threatening? :D) me to go up with him. I should probably take him up on the offer.
Pip, pip,
Conky
Quote from: =CfC=Fitz on July 03, 2011, 09:52:27 PM
Stickied as requested!
Feel free to continue adding interesting stories chaps.....
Fitz
G'day Fitz,
Mate, have you heard from "bluey" lately??? ??? I sent him an email some time ago and still no reply? ???
Cheers,
SS.
Egad chaps - this is a fantastic thread!
I must agree with one of the earlier posts - this should be a book! I would most certainly buy it!
But good grief, gents I am so jealous... I wasn't even born when you chaps were off, trotting round the globe with beautiful and mysterious blonds, ground looping C-45s and landing F-225s in white out conditions... I loved Woof's story about the unfortunate F-86 belly landing and the one about the C-47 (cutting #1 and hitting the bail out alarm... wizard jape, what?) Conky has experienced more in one season as a bush pilot than I have in my entire 30 years so far... And all the while proudly sporting the badge of office for all aviators (sun glasses and / or a manly mustache). Good show!
I was born in '81 and have been periodically a Car / Truck / Bus mechanic, a Construction Manager and I now fly a desk as a Technical Purchaser for HeidelbergCement... Quite a different background...
I am purely a commercial flyer and never, ever in the front (always in the back with the other cargo...) And this makes me sad...
Please, gents, keep the fantastic memoirs of Chuffy's Flying Circus coming. They make for incredibly interesting reading.
Good show!
We made up all those stories you know :D
Pip, pip,
Conky
Quote from: CfC_Conky on November 23, 2011, 08:40:22 PM
We made up all those stories you know :D
Pip, pip,
Conky
Well, at least Woof and Bluey did... ;)
Quote from: CfC_Conky on November 24, 2011, 04:58:13 AM
Quote from: CfC_Conky on November 23, 2011, 08:40:22 PM
We made up all those stories you know :D
Pip, pip,
Conky
Well, at least Woof and Bluey did... ;)
Oh, no we didn't, Conkini, and I have the emotional scars, drool and vacant stare to prove it.
:D :D :D
Conkini eh? I like the sound of that, sort of like 'The Great Santini' (very good book btw)
'Make way for The Great Conkini!'
Yup, sounds grand. :D
Gents,
Firstly, I must apologise profusely for the extended absence.
A combination of wedding preparation, losing two colleagues at work (not down the back of the sofa, either) and much, much traveling have left me with a decided deficit in flying time...
But enough about me and my slack bladdered excuses... I have an aviation story! Not a very good one, but one, none the less... Are we sitting comfortably? Good, then I'll begin...
There I was, sitting in seat 21a of a SAS Bombardier CRJ900 (very smooth flying aircraft to be a passenger on... Not as nice as the BAC 111, but then nothing in my experience ever is...) the aircraft was sitting at the end of the main runway at Gardermoen Intl airport, Oslo, Norway, awaiting clearance to begin the take off roll...
So, I hear the throttles open, the engines begin to lift in pitch and volume, I feel the kick of acceleration in the small of my back and we are off! Accelerating, Accelerating, Accelerating, reaching the rotation point and then.....
BRAKES BRAKES BRAKES!!!!
The incredibly uncomfortable feeling that something has gone wrong started to creep over me... The worst thing? There was absolutely nothing I could do... Worse still? The pilot was silent the whole time... So, with full spoilers and brakes, the aircraft slows to taxy speed and pulls off onto the last taxy way on the left...
The pilot then sheepishly comes over the intercom...
Quote"Em... yes, sorry about that, we didn't have clearance to take off and so had to abort.... Also we have also over heated the brakes and so must wait for them to cool down before hopefully finding a slot in the schedule to take off...
Is this normal? Or do airline pilots get so bored at work that they decide to scare the shit out of their charges, just to liven things up a little...
1 hour later I was still sitting in seat 21a, still waiting for a slot to take off...
I was not amused... Next time, I'm taking the train...
:D :D :D :D :D :D :o :o :D :D
Hello Chaps,
A former employee of Nordair, my first airline, has created a video of the 'old days'. This video is of the FH-227 operation in the arctic during 1987. I's a short video, 1:43, and at the 1:13 point there is a slightly embarrassing shot of a much younger, thinner, better looking Conky :D.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZB65ckjC58&NR=1&feature=endscreen (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZB65ckjC58&NR=1&feature=endscreen)
Here is another one on the various a/c operated by Nordair. I came along a little late so I did not get an opportunity to fly the smaller turboprops, piston-engined kites or flying boat, but I did fly every 737, L-188 Electra and FH-227 shown in the film.
http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=ttYuPdO3WkU&list=UUVwU4Nje9NjxT4ZwZmRI-Yw&feature=plcp (http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=ttYuPdO3WkU&list=UUVwU4Nje9NjxT4ZwZmRI-Yw&feature=plcp)
Pip, pip,
Conky
So you're obviously one of the people standing at the back trying to avoid the camera...
If you had to live in the arctic, you'd go a little nuts too :D.
Is that you blowing the didgeridoo in the background in the first video, Conky? Or did Bluey squeeze in there?
God's teeth! that looks cold. Are you the one at the front doing jazzhands?
Crikey!.......I had to put a sweater on to watch it Conky!
The 737 looked like a rare 100 series?
I flew those in the 70's at the opposite end of the temperature spectrum (see below). They were eventually sold to Air Florida and unfortunately you may recall that one finished up in the Potomac. I have to say that the 100 series was a great little machine.....loved it....just the basics with no gubbins in it!
Bounder ;D
(http://i303.photobucket.com/albums/nn134/Nicholaiovitch/Memories/SIA737.jpg)
BD,
Yes, to my now everlasting cyber-shame (I've been getting ribbed mercilessly by former Nordair chaps) , that is me hamming it up for the camera :-[
Bounder,
Those 737's are -200 series; the bulge below the fuselage at the nose wheel position and the probes sticking out from the engine nacelles are from the gravel kit, the nose wheel had a 'ski' which would deflect debris coming up off the runway and the probes blew bleed air which deflected debris from the intakes. It was an effective system but imposed a considerable performance penalty. I have flown the -100 series, I really enjoyed flying those; by the time I got my hands on them, some had over 100,000 cycles, everything was very loose and they were pretty underpowered but very, very smooth flyers. They were a bit slow as well, probably the result of the drag created by all the patching of the roof! :D
Pip, pip,
Conky
Such beautiful jets.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=etw2boRRBgs
So, Woof; do I hear you whisper "ah, memories (sigh)"?
Ah, Bluey, you really know how to hurt an old guy. Talk about wanting to live your life over again. It's high times every day now, but back then...wow, really high times, no pun, and we didn't even realize it. Many thanks for posting. :-* :-* :-*
I trust those are platonic air kisses, woof! :o :o :o ???
That's ok Bluey, when they pucker up just imagine them going 'baaaaaaaahhhhh', and you'll be alright mate! :D
Long ago, in the days when the Viet Cong were tunneling their way under South Vietnam and hauling goodies along the Ho Chi Minh trail, Bluey was piloting his mighty C130A back to Oz after delivering much needed warfare-waging gear to Vung Tau airbase. The flight from Butterworth in Malaysia to Darwin took about 8 hours; so after arriving in this tropical clime and working our way through customs etc we were keen to breast the bar for a cold ale or two.
So, into the shower for a quick rub-a-dub, then (as was my wont), towel slung low around my sensual hips exposing trim waist and gloriously sculptured abs; (much to the envy of passing male officers, and with female officers falling pregnant simply by glancing at my oh so erotic torso), I started back to my room. Ooops, forgot the soap - so, back to the shower block. Almost there and I note a chap scurrying furtively from the block, avoiding eye contact with all concerned. Shrugging my massive shoulders I walk into the block and ............ my soap had GONE!
My Nav and co-pilot were at the bar when I arrived and this incident gave me about 30 seconds of fame:
Bluey: "Some bugger stole my soap"
Nav: "So what, it's only soap"
Bluey: "But it's one I bought at the USAF PX. It's a bit special"
Nav: "So what, it's still only soap"
Next morning on the way to breakfast in the company of my co-pilot I notice the furtive thieving chap disappearing into the shower block. Grabbing co-pilot by the arm I say "C'mon, follow me. Just take my cue and say what the nav said" and head for the block.
Inside I say in a rather loud voice:
Bluey: "Some bugger stole my soap from here yesterday arvo"
Co-pilot: "So what, it's only soap"
Bluey: "Yes, but it's the special soap the medical officer gave me for my syphilis"
Co-pilot and I proceeded to breakfast. On the return I peeked into the shower block and my soap was BACK!
True story. OK I might have exaggerated about the shoulders.
Nice one Bluey; hope you didn't get any unwanted surprises when you bent down to pick up the soap; you being so irresistibly gorgeous and all.
:D :D :D :o
Quote from: BalDaddy on November 28, 2014, 10:16:26 AM
Nice one Bluey; hope you didn't get any unwanted surprises when you bent down to pick up the soap; you being so irresistibly gorgeous and all.
Not to worry BD, the only ones worried on an RAAF base are the ewes ;).
Great story Bluey! 8)