

ON THE COVER
There has been much media coverage on the retirement of the Hawaii Mars, and rightly so. Photographer Tobyn Burton captures the iconic aircraft on Sproat Lake as it prepares for its final flight.
ON THE COVER
There has been much media coverage on the retirement of the Hawaii Mars, and rightly so. Photographer Tobyn Burton captures the iconic aircraft on Sproat Lake as it prepares for its final flight.
5 / WALKAROUND
For those who read books
6 / AIRMAIL
Memories and more
7 / GEAR & GADGETS
Four aviation products By Aviator Staff
8 / WAYPOINTS
Aviation news By Aviator Staff
10 / FLYING STORIES
A crass look at brass By Jack Scofield
11 / COLE’S NOTES
Paper’s continuous role By W.T. (Tim) Cole
14 / THE PLANE FIXER
Toilet duty By Liana Beussecker
16 / TALES FROM THE LAKEVIEW
Hauling muskrat pelts By Robert S. Grant
18 / EXPERT PILOT
Fuel management By Richard Pittet
20 / A PILOT’S LIFE
Mitsubishis made their mark By Chris Weicht
22 / INSTRUMENTAL FACTS
Looking deeper into IFR approaches By Ed McDonald 24 / UNUSUAL ATTITUDES
The Canadian Nationals By Luke Penner
26 / WORDS ABOUT A BOOK
Dam Busters Reviewed By René R. Gadacz
27 / RIGHT SEAT
The deadly spin By Mireille Goyer
28 / DOWN EAST
Bygone Canadian planes By Don Ledger
30 / PEP TALK
Who is having more accidents? By Graeme Peppler
50 / BOOKSHELF
Top aviation titles
52 / SERVICE CENTRE
Deals and offers
54 / FLIGHT BAG
Puzzle and questions
Not every bush pilot gets to fly a Martin Mars, especially on its final flight. We profile Peter Killin.
By Robert S. Grant
We bring this historic aviation event marking British Columbia’s 1971 Centennial back from obscurity. By Ed Das
Richard Cooper flies the only MiG-15 in Canada. We take a closer look at the aircraft.
By Victor Neskorozheny
If you received this issue of Canadian Aviator in the mail or if you purchased it on the newsstand, it means you’re not adverse to reading things on paper. In this digital age, there are fewer and fewer of us who choose this medium, although there are signs the trend may be reversing, however incrementally.
One of our subscribers, René R. Gadacz of Grande Prairie, Alberta, is a man who enjoys reading books, especially ones with aviation themes. So much so that he offered to write reviews for this magazine. Thus, a new column appears in this issue titled “Words About a Book.” We expect this to be a regular feature going forward.
The first book René reviews is Dam Busters by renowned bestselling Canadian aviation author Ted Barris.
Interestingly, one of René’s comments when we initially discussed this project was that he was unaware The Aviator’s Bookshelf, an online bookstore specializing in Canadian aviation themes by Canadian authors, is owned and operated by us at Canadian Aviator magazine. René pointed out that this is not clearly stated anywhere in the magazine. So now you know.
The bookstore was started over seven years ago by a previous publisher of Canadian Aviator, before I became publisher in 2018. From a few listings we grew the inventory to over 130 titles, although some are no longer in print and out of stock. We continually keep our eyes out for new titles to add to our selection.
Many of our titles are by self-published authors who maintain an invento-
ry of their books, most but not all memoirs, in their home. We list their book in our inventory, and they mail them directly to the customer once we receive an order. This accounts for around 20 titles; the remainder of the listings are stocked in our small warehouse. It needs mentioning that none of us find this a profitable enterprise. Rather, it’s a means of keeping Canadian aviation history and culture in print and available to those who want to read it.
The two-page spread listing available books that appears at the back of each issue of this magazine is limited to 18 titles. However, there are many more titles to choose from on our website, aviatorsbookshelf.ca. We encourage you to visit us there and add to your Canadian aviation library.
The picture of the Wong brothers in the Sep/Oct 2024 issue took me back 68 years when I got my pilot’s licence [at the Wong’s Central Airways flight school] and George Morwood was my instructor. George later joined Air Ontario and crashed his Fokker F28 in Dryden, Ont. after suffering icing, which was hard to believe because he was a very strict instructor.
Bob Bradley, Vancouver, B.C.
Thanks so much for sharing the video clip of the Martin Mars. She’s such a beauty and years ago she was here in Nelson saving us from forest fires. Our lake is the right shape for her to fill up and then get a run up into the air. You never forget the sound of those engines! Amazing to watch her in action and boy, did she take care of those forest fires. I really enjoy your [weekly newsletter] updates and often find books to order or articles to research further. Keep up the great work!
Lois Anderson, Nelson, B.C.
Re: RCAF Centenary Toonie Released, Aviator Weekly Update (Sept. 21): My question is, why did they not put the Avro Lancaster Bomber on the coin? The Lancaster played a big role over in Europe. To me, it is a disgrace not to have the Lanc on the coin.
Ronald Campbell, Winnipeg, Man.
I read the article “Canada’s Ideal Backcountry Airplane,” by Jack Ciulla [Jul/Aug 2024], with great interest as it brought back childhood memories of flying into many remote fishing locations with my father in his Lake Buccaneer. These experiences, in part, helped set me on the path to a rewarding career as a commercial pilot.
I’d like to point out a small correction regarding the photo on page 37, referring to conducting a pre-landing check of “Stein Lake, B.C.” This is, in fact, Elton Lake, located close to, but 800 metres above, Stein Lake. More importantly however, is that both lakes are located within the Stein Valley Nlaka’pamux Heritage Provincial Park. While BC Parks does permit aircraft landing in some provincial parks under specific conditions, landing in Stein Valley Park is expressly prohibited, without exceptions. Also of note, the VNC for this area states, “No Overflights Below 2000’ AGL.”
I’m writing this note as a friendly reminder to check your charts as well as the BC Parks and BC Floatplane Association websites prior to choosing where to land in this spectacular province. There are plenty of great options located outside of our parks.
Thanks for the interesting article about this unique airplane!
Paul Copeland, Squamish, B.C.
Thank you for putting together the Canadian Aviator magazine, as well as the weekly bulletins. It takes me a good two hours to read the well written and captivating magazine. Roy Sobchuk, Brandon, Man.
Canadian Aviator welcomes reader letters on topics of concern to Canadian pilots and the aviation industry. Please be brief, to the point and polite in your submissions.
Email the editor steve@canadianaviator.com
Would you like a more accurate indication of outside air temperature (OAT)? Many of us rely on the traditional probe that protrudes from our windshields. Many others are considering replacing their windshields but omitting the OAT probe. U.S. company SwitchBot offers a remote compact sensor that delivers the temperature to within ± 0.02∞ C and relative humidity to within ± 1.8%. Link to it with your smartphone or tablet, mount the 6 x 2.8 x 2 cm, 44-gram device somewhere outside your aircraft away from engine heat or airflow, and read the temperature, dew point and relative humidity inside your cockpit. Two AA batteries should keep it powered for up to 68 days. About C$20.
Learn more at ca.switch-bot.com, available from amazon.ca
Saving money by performing your own oil changes? Finding it difficult to avoid spilling oil when removing the spin-on oil filter? HV-Flex of New Hampshire offers their HV-Flex Oil Filter Fluid Extractor Tool that allows the user to extract the oil from the filter in situ, thereby vacating the filter of oil and allowing its removal without any spillage. The tool is attached securely to the filter using a wrap-around band, Then the extractor pierces the filter as a control knob is turned. A tube attached to the extractor then allows the oil to be drained to a separate container. About C$135.
Learn more at, and available from, aircraftspruce.ca
Having trouble following taxi instructions at an airport, especially those with multiple runways? A tower controller has developed a smartphone app (Taxiway Madness) that allows you to receive taxi instructions and then follow them using a joystick control on the phone. Sound effects are great and practicing the scenarios should be fun as well as educational. Free of charge.
Available to download from Apple’s App Store or Google Play for Android devices.
Already a seasoned pilot? Training for an Instrument Rating? RealSimGear of California offers an imitation Garmin GNS530 that you add to your home flight simulator. Using ultra-realistic silicone buttons and replica knob, it comes as close as possible to the real thing, avoiding the need to fumble with a mouse while selecting radio frequencies or handling other controls. Not compatible with Mac computers. Around U$450.
Learn more at, and available from, realsimgear.com
major Search and Rescue exercise was staged on Vancouver Island in early September, the first one of its type in nine years. Units from 24 different agencies from across North America gathered at CFB Comox to share best practices and develop collaborative procedures, culminating in an exercise that sought to replicate a major emergency.
Participating were RCAF CH-149 Cormorant and CH-146 Griffon helicopters from CFBs Comox and Bagotville respectively, U.S. Navy SH-60 Seahawk and U.S. Coast Guard (USCG) MH-65 Dolphin helicopters, and a pair of RCAF CC-130 Hercules. On the sidelines were several new RCAF CC-295 Kingfishers, replacements for the retired CC-115 Buffalos. Six of these Airbus aircraft have arrived of the 16 ordered but have yet to be made fully operational due to procurement woes, they were not full participants in the exercise.
“It’s a great challenge for me and for our crews that come from here and from Greenwood [Nova Scotia] to fly in the mountains, test the machine capabilities, and to test our skills as well,” one of the RCAF’s East-Coast-based pilots told local media.
The simulated emergency was a plane crash at a rural airstrip 20 kilometres to the east of Courtenay. Participants were not informed in advance of the nature of the emergency. Once the call came in reporting a plane crash, rapid pre-dispatch briefings were held with the various crews after which they were promptly airborne, with SAR technicians (SAR Techs) the first on the ground after parachuting down from the Hercules. Helicopters arrived shortly after, with triaging performed on the volunteer ‘victims’.
Flying above was a USCG HC-130J Super Hercules surveillance aircraft providing aerial coordination.
The Civil Air Search and Rescue Association (CASARA), a Canadian volunteer organization was the only civilian organization to officially participate in the exercise.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever been to a place that’s quite as ideal as Comox for training and these types of events,” said U.S.C.G liaison officer Commander George Cottrell. The entire exercise, including other related activities, lasted for five days.
Similar events are planned on an annual basis at locations around the continent.
While many AvGas users were struggling to find a supply of 100LL here in Canada last summer, the discussion around the fuel used by most piston-engine-powered aircraft south of the border was around the availability of an alternative to the leaded gasoline.
Tetraethyllead, the proper name for the compound, is added to gasoline to allow higher compression and prevent detonation in piston engines. It is an antiknock agent and reduces exhaust valve and valve seat wear, among other properties.
Lead, which is a highly toxic product that affects brain function, especially in children, was phased out of automobile fuels in the 1970s, relatively easily achieved by the introduction of catalytic converters. For various technical reasons, this solution is not available
for aircraft engines.
Several companies in the United States have developed unleaded alternatives, but none have been tested thoroughly and long enough to guarantee safe adoption as a replacement for 100LL.
FlyEagle.org is a non-profit organization comprising industry stakeholders, including the FAA, AOPA, EAA, NBAA, API, GAMA and others. Their mandate is to have an alternative unleaded fuel available nation-wide by 2030.
Pressure to “get the lead out” is maintained by numerous health-oriented groups as well as local community associations and airport operators. A county in California put a deadline on sales of 100LL earlier this year and on September 22 of this year, the governor of California signed a bill banning the
sale of 100LL in his state after 2030.
Once a viable and reliable unleaded AvGas is developed, its availability in Canada should be easy to implement given that, under normal circumstances, all AvGas in Canada is refined and distributed by Imperial Oil at their Edmonton facility.
Do you know what a button stick is? Probably not, but a few old-time military guys will know. A button stick is a piece of brass about two inches by six inches and maybe a sixteenth of an inch thick. It has a quarter-inch slot cut into it longitudinally that ends about an inch-and-a-half from the end. You slide this device behind a brass button on a military uniform before apply ing Brasso and, with a soft cloth and lots of elbow grease, polish the button so that it is dazzling.
When you join the ranks and the drill sergeant inspects you, he won’t find any dried Brasso on your uniform be cause you employed this high-tech device. Okay, so, where am I going with this?
Well, I am currently designing a book for a self-publish ing aviator/author. The author came up with a graphic image of a hat badge for the Royal Canadian Artillery (RCA) to be displayed in his book. I just about wept. I was suddenly back, age 12 with button stick in hand, polishing my brother’s hat badge, tunic buttons and belt buckle of his old-style 1939 Canadian army uniform. Each of the eight buttons on the tunic had that emblem on them and on each side of the collar there was a flaming bomb made of brass.
have any complaint with my brother’s natty look, especially since this would be the last time I would ever polish those buttons. It was 1939 and he was going to war.
We wouldn’t see brother Gord, except for his hand-coloured portrait on the piano, for the next six years. He did leave something for me to polish, though, two things in fact — a lamp that he had made from an artillery shell that had been fired during gunnery practice at Calgary’s Sarcee Army Camp the previous year. The shell, made without explosives, had a beautiful nosepiece all in brass in which gunners were able to set the time delay and do other intricate things. The nose of this handsome lamp required weekly polishing as did that familiar hat badge he had attached to the gleaming steel body of the shell. I kept the lamp’s brass badge bright for that long six years while my brother inched his way up the Po Valley in northern Italy with the 5th Armoured Division of the 8th Army Field Regiment of the RCA.
Oh, the other thing he left me was a trumpet, also of brass, with the admonishment that when he got back, he wanted me to be able to play Sugar Blues, just like Clyde McCoy.
Gord made it home and was pleased with the lamp, but Clyde and I never quite made it. So why is this being submitted to an aviation magazine? Well, we could say it is a “joint services operation.”
In the late 1960s, over half a century ago, I could not imagine having a navigation aid like GPS that would give me my precise location, courses to steer and a host of other navigation data that is readably available to today’s pilot. Cockpit displays and navigation information that is available on personal tablets and telephones, in even the most basic VFR aircraft, would have been the envy of airline pilots 30 years ago.
My first job was in a floatplane that didn’t even have a directional gyro, but did have a ‘whiskey compass’ that jiggled around, particularly in the hot summer afternoon turbulence. My job was to steer and follow a series of laid-out tracks while patrolling the forests in Western Quebec looking for forest fires. The good news was that the VFR charts in the southern part of the province were very accurate. Not so a couple of years later while plying my trade as a bush pilot in the Ungava region of Northern Quebec and in the interior of Labrador. This rocky and barren subarctic area dubbed “The land that God gave to Cain” was the last area in mainland North America to be accurately explored and charted. When I started flying in this remote area, some of the VFR Navigation Charts (VNC 1:500,000, or eight miles to the inch) still had large areas marked as ‘Unmapped’ or ‘Relief Data Incomplete.’ Contour lines and/or elevations of land were often not represented. The charts were white and depicted only the blue hydrographic details (lakes and rivers) which were sometimes inaccurate in
“When I started flying in this remote area [the Ungava region of Northern Quebec and in the interior of Labrador], some of the VFR Navigation Charts (VNC 1:500,000, or eight miles to the inch) still had large areas marked as ‘Unmapped’ or ‘Relief Data Incomplete.’ “
their location, shapes and sizes.
This part of northeastern Canada, situated between three large saltwater oceans, is notorious for the poor weather that is influenced by the weather systems generated from Hudson Bay, the Arctic Ocean (Ungava Bay) and the Atlantic Ocean. Quite often, flights were flown below a thousand feet in poor visibility and in turbulence associated with strong surface winds. These weather factors coupled with the poorquality charts made our daily flights challenging. Going to repeat locations, such as outfitters camps and exploration drill sites, were a little easier, but when
geologists, hunters, outdoor enthusiasts and Indigenous groups were dropped off at remote sites in the wilderness, it was often a challenge to return to these locations. To add to the navigation challenges, the magnetic variation in this area can be between 20 and 30 degrees west of true north (which can change from year to year).
Most trips were between 100 and 250 nautical miles. Unless the ceiling was extremely low and you had to follow the winding river valleys, the navigation technique was to hold a constant magnetic heading that needed to be adjusted for wind drift. Using the old-
time woodsman’s proven method when travelling through the bush, we would build in an error (typically 10 degrees) right or left of track. There are many large rivers in the area and the tactic was to intercept one of these rivers or a very large lake. With this built-in error, when you reached your river or large lake you would know whether to turn right or left depending on which side you had built in your error. From these known points you could then more easily plot a course to find a tiny campsite to provide resupplies or to extract people who had previously been dropped off. An important practice was to ensure that company dispatch and other company pilots knew exactly where these campsites were so that, if something should happen to you, your clients could be located. This information would be plotted on the large wall map in dispatch and was sometimes accompanied by a hand drawn version to make it easier for another pilot to use.
It was a very primitive system compared to today’s ability to mark latitude and longitude with a GPS reference and then follow a magenta line on cockpit instruments or an iPad that leads to a precise location. Canada’s northern areas provide a vast landscape of thousands and thousands of lakes which makes it difficult to navigate without the aid of modern up-to-date
charts and GPS indicators and moving maps. It is difficult enough to traverse these areas in the summertime, but there are added challenges in the winter. Again referring to the subarctic Ungava/Labrador area that is located on the edge of the barren lands and the tree line, only a few trees grow close to the edge of the lakes and at the bottom of barren hilltops. In certain light conditions, or in falling snow, it
is difficult to determine if it is a lake ahead of you or a hill or low mountain that you are flying toward. Not having today’s accurate mapping system and terrain awareness made this type of lowlevel flying challenging and sometimes dangerous.
One must wonder, though, about today’s pilots who rely solely on their GPS information. What happens when the iPad or GPS display fails and the magenta track line and moving map display disappear? Are backup charts carried? Are basic VFR navigation skills still taught and learned, or is the current generation of pilots only capable of following the magenta GPS course line? Technology is great and wonderful to work with, but it can be subject to failure. I know it’s bulky, expensive and old school, but this old dinosaur still carries up-to-date backup paper charts and a current VFR Supplement. My advice to the new generation of pilots flying in Canada’s wilderness is this: Have a back-up plan. Always know where you are and don’t just follow the magenta line.
May you always have tight floats and tailwinds.
IT’S NOT ALWAYS A BED OF ROSES
Everyone knows that the most dangerous part of an aircraft for ground personnel is a running engine or moving propeller. But from a maintenance perspective, there are a lot of other components I’m more afraid of, even though they aren’t necessarily more hazardous.
The main landing gear doors on the De Havilland Canada Dash 8 Q-400 are Enemy Number 1 for a couple reasons. Each gear has four doors, two that close with hydraulic pressure when the gear is both up and down, and two that are fixed to the gear and move with it. The fixed doors are always open when the aircraft is on the ground and are right at forehead height for the average person. I’ve been a victim myself and so have many of my colleagues. The hydraulic doors are scary for an entirely different reason: any time hydraulic pressure is applied to the aircraft the doors snap shut, quickly and violently without any warning. Maintenance ground pins to keep them open are always installed while the plane is in the hangar, but the sound of hydraulics turning on is enough to make any AME’s blood run cold if they’re working anywhere near the gear doors.
The Bombardier CRJ-705/900 leading edge slats are Enemy Number 2. Leading edge slats are attached to the front of the wing and can be extended by the pilot during low-speed operations. When they are extended, as with flaps, they are lowered. If you duck underneath the wing while the slats are lowered, you must remember
to duck even further to clear the sharp metal edge of the slat. I’m pretty sure they are the reason bump-caps exist in aviation because I’ve witnessed first-hand how quickly they can send someone to a hospital.
Enemy Number 3 is a stationary propeller blade. Obviously, a moving propeller is far more dangerous, but a running engine makes noise, it’s turning at an expected time and you are conscious of the fact that it could
kill you. A stationary propeller blade simply waits spitefully for you to turn too quickly, and like gear doors and slats, they’re a real head-opener.
The Avro RJ-85 is equipped with an airbrake, a large clamshell on the end of the fuselage that can be opened in flight to slow the aircraft down, and it is Enemy Number 4. If the handle is left in the OPEN position and hydraulic power is applied to the aircraft, the brake will slam open the same way
the Q-400 gear doors will slam shut. The airbrake has enough power to knock over a scissor lift or any human that may have the misfortune of being perched on a ladder nearby. There is also an actuator lock that can be installed to prevent the doors from closing unexpectedly during maintenance operations because, as quickly as the airbrake opens, it closes just as dangerously.
The aircraft lavatory should almost
be Number 1 instead of Number 5; I could write for days about the nightmares involved with maintaining the bathroom. When passengers drop an object down the toilet, we’re called upon to wrap our arms in garbage bags and reach down there to retrieve it. That’s probably as dangerous as this job gets because, unsanitary issues aside, who really knows what’s down there? While working for an airline we once had a passenger drop her phone in the toilet during the flight. Maintenance met the plane at the gate but were unable to retrieve it and she left her contact information in case it turned up. Several days later the plane came into the hangar and, lo and behold, her phone was found at the bottom of the sludge. So the question is, do you have anything on your phone so important you’d collect it after nearly a week of sitting in an aircraft lavatory waste tank? She did.
saying to complete the following chapter 38 “Water and Waste” tasks: replace water pump, replace toilet pump, troubleshoot faulty system. That was all — no other remarks. Lucky for me, a plane came in that very night in need of some lavatory attention, and I got all three signoffs.
“The first time I submitted my logbook, my colleagues joked about how it would get kicked back because I’d never changed a lavatory pump before. As I’m sure you can imagine, that is a bit of a despised job that mechanics will pull straws over. ”
Before receiving an AME licence, apprentices are given a logbook full of generic maintenance tasks that must be completed to 70 percent. There has always been speculation about what exactly 70 percent means and, if you ask any AME, they will tell you it depends entirely on your Transport Canada auditor. (I’m sure there probably is a real system, but we have yet to crack the code.) The first time I submitted my logbook, my colleagues joked about how it would get kicked back because I’d never changed a lavatory pump before. As I’m sure you can imagine, that is a bit of a despised job that mechanics will pull straws over. I thought I was being sneaky because my book was completed to a total of 70 percent, rather than a percentage per chapter.
The joke was on me; my book came back with a note from the auditor
Lavatories are usually emptied before the plane comes into the hangar, but on the odd occasion they aren’t, we are full of prayers that there is no maintenance required. The port on the exterior of the aircraft where the tank is serviced has an inspection requirement to visually ensure the seal is not leaking. Most people interpret the language to mean “Open access panel, see the port is clean and determine the seal is in good condition.” One colleague of mine understood he should open the drain valve and on that unfortunate evening, the lavatory had not yet been emptied. Needless to say, it was emptied suddenly and unintentionally all over the hangar floor.
One loophole in the 70 percent is if you work on an aircraft that the sewage system does not exist on. Now I understand why so many of my classmates went to work for companies that don’t have onboard bathrooms.
An ongoing battle for maintenance is whose job it is to clean up after a passenger who doesn’t make it to the lavatory (or an airsickness bag) in time. I remember checking the cabin log one evening to find the write-up: “Vomit covering seat 7A.” I promise there isn’t a single tool in my toolbox that prepared me for that. Nobody wanted to be the one to scrub the seat cushion or lap belt clean, so we found an alternative rectification: Seat 7A replaced.
Below the Cessna 180, canoes circled a patch of bubbling foam on Moose Lake, 39 miles southeast of The Pas, Manitoba. My right seat passenger explained that the Cree villagers below were retrieving a drowning victim. The deceased was his father. Family members in CF-IRP’s rear seat pressed against the Plexiglas windows and watched the recovery operation. Despite the 230-hp Continental 0-470 doing its job at 18” of Hg and 2150 rpm, no one spoke. The silence inside became total.
So much for my elation of finally handling a float-equipped Cessna 180 after months on low-powered fabric-covered smaller airplanes. The season began with a ski checkout and caribou surveys north of Churchill until softening ice sent us south again. Wheel-skis exchanged for Edos, the company owner’s red-headed son ordered me aboard CF-IRP and we splashed and bounced across Grace Lake on May 23, 1967.
The first Cessna 180 and its ‘Para-Lift’ flaps flew in 1953 from Wichita, Kansas; another 6,191 followed until 1981 when sales oversaturated the markets. Advertised as a “businessman’s airplane,” at least 75 percent of production went to world markets as commercial bush planes. Almost anyone graduating to de Havilland Beavers and Otters started their seaplane careers on non-glamourous Cessna 180s.
After our floats crushed a pie-sized dock spider, the check pilot farted his way into the office to slurp a bowl of muskrat soup. I stood before what a 1953 Canadian Aviation advertisement called the “…solution to the problems of Canadian bush flying.” As Manitoba’s new kid on the block, I settled my excitement and examined the bashed airplane and the six-cylinder powerplant. Unfamiliar with, and untested in life beyond Ontario’s farm fields or British Columbia’s meticulously mapped fire patrol routes, the
weather-bleached carcass came across as a shock. No cosmetics for this workhorse; Cessna 180s made money for employers like mine who couldn’t care less how their fleet looked, sounded or smelled.
White corrosive circles surrounded rivets, and a mismatched cowling cover left no hint of newness since CF-IRP, c/n 32294, left the assembly line around the mid-1950s. Gouges below both yard-wide doors suggested overlooked seat belts flapping in slipstreams and worn propeller blades appeared as if they had shaved granite boulders in a headstone factory. Oil, strings of it, ribboned along the belly toward the semi-flat tailwheel tire. Inside, the 38-inch foam-rubber seats stained with every colour of the spectrum might have sufficed for mud stew. Moose hair lurked in floor tracks. Charters, I later learned, frequently came in to haul muskrat pelts whose stench permeated headliner upholstery and side panels. Long-gone fish tubs of gourmet Winnipeg Gold Eye left nauseating bou-
quets and a perspiration-soaked control wheel greeted my nostrils with pungent perfumes.
A slammed door brought me out of reverie. My first commercial trip on floats arrived. The 20-minute checkout—standard for the era—must have done the trick and now, big time bush flying waited. Before long, a shady-looking character parked his government-marked station wagon near the hangar and climbed aboard. With full fuel of 60 US gallons and almost 1,730-pounds empty weight, takeoff gross totalled less than the maximum 2,700 pounds.
I primed for start and confirmed water rudders down before taxiing to Grace Lake’s east side. The native civil servant intended to discuss federal funding with the Swampy Cree residents of Cumberland House. Although only a 40-mile flight, this short journey across the Manitoba-Saskatchewan border marked my admittance into the exciting league of northern pilots. Throttle to maximum
power, takeoff began without broadcast to incoming traffic. No one broadcasted in the “good ol’ days.”
As white water rooster-tailed behind the rusty rudder bolts, I remembered the check pilot’s instructions from an hour before. Control wheel hard back to the stops to raise propeller out of the spray, remove hands and allow CF-IRP to find its own way to the “on-the-step” planing position. When level across the water, regrip controls with gentle pressure to stop float heels digging and avoid excessive pitching. Too far forward and subsequent drag could cause porpoising and control loss. “Lightly, lightly,” I mumbled. Finally, we lifted and vapour-like moisture streams drifted back to Earth while we tracked along the Saskatchewan River’s muddy banks.
As odours of the long dead Gold Eye and eviscerated muskrat kept us company, the world transformed to antiseptic green lands and brown running rivers. My already crinkled map and smudging pencil lines showed the route to Cumberland House. King of the wilderness now, I had no idea that one training hop in what Cessna called a “…great executive timesaver” would lead to a terrible time within weeks; a mishap would soon change the course of my life.
Transferred to Thompson, overconfidence knew no limits. Some assignments took me away from the “Paradise of the Province” for days, including landings at every native community on the chart to arrange accommodations for entertainers hired for Canada’s Centennial year. Another trip meant landing on anything resembling a water surface within 100 miles for sulphide samplings. An early odyssey included a giggling doctor calming himself long enough to describe a patient who jammed a handgun into a pocket when an RCMP patrol car sauntered by. The doctor related rebuilding the man’s reproductive member and lapsed into laughter again while recounting other crazy episodes dealing with human body parts.
The final day in Thompson occurred June 30, 1967, in Cessna 180 CF-SLJ. Distracted by an Otter packed with teachers picked up from various villages at the
“As blue smoke sifted outward from the cowling, my frantic stomping on rudder pedals did nothing and the aircraft collided straight ahead with another Cessna 180.”
end of school term, I happily anticipated commencing conversations with each of the pretty ladies. After all, I had lofted into a glamourous pilot in charge of a big shiny airplane. A pair of wings embroidered into my jacket verified my status and so did white lettered “Prince Edward Flying Club” on the back.
With several aircraft at the dock, I went through pre-start checks without a miss. Except one. When the dock boy turned CF-SLJ toward open water, I engaged the starter switch. As blue smoke sifted outward from the cowling, my frantic stomping on rudder pedals did nothing and the aircraft collided straight ahead with another Cessna 180. As long as I live, the sound of the propeller chewing the wing of its sister ship and the detached wing tip sailing away and barely missing the awe-struck audience has remained with me since that overcast day. So has the tobacco-scented breath emanating from the passenger whose mouth remained open in stunned surprise. I had forgotten to lower the water rudders.
The chief pilot soon poured forth the words “Better take off down the road, boy.” That particular burning elegance marked the end of my world. Ego and overconfidence had struck down a low-time hero of the northern skies. No air services would hire anyone in mid-seaplane season, especially some fool dismissed from a previous employer. Thoughts of labouring on a General Motors assembly line again or perhaps another term pounding track spikes for the Canadian Pacific Railway crossed my mind.
The company had intended to send me back to the Arctic’s “relief data unreliable” terrain with a similar seaplane where tundra lakes and jumbled boulder shorelines could permanently damage a know-it-all expert. Life went on and finally, after expensive telephone calls,
luck came my way when Georgian Bay Airways in Parry Sound, Ontario, took a chance and placed me on the payroll. This time, a conscious safety attitude flew with me in every airplane thereafter including a much mightier Cessna 185 at Arctic Air, 300 miles up the Alaska Highway.
Registered CF-YIF, the 180’s big sister at Arctic Air in Fort Nelson, British Columbia had also experienced a share of tough love. Vomit-splashed cabin walls from hauling dead Dall sheep for big game outfitters from mountain airstrips came with loads of cement bags. The image of a pretty Indigenous girl went into the memory bank after she struggled out at the end of her seatbelt-less voyage. As she walked away, I noticed her blood-red butt and suppressed a giggle. She had done the trip sitting on a stack of moose meat.
Another big iron Cessna 185 provided introductions to the intricacies of handling short lakes, fast rivers and ocean swells along Quebec’s North Shore from Sept Îles for Les Ailes du Nord. More short-term tasks near Kenora for a two-airplane operation drove home the fact that our neighbours south of the border often arrived in Canada with strange attitudes. Although almost all pleasant people appreciative of bush country, some truly thought they owned our pristine immensities and possessed guaranteed rights to “harvest” whatever fish or four-legged animal they wanted, whenever they wanted.
In retrospect, the dismissal back in Thompson saved my life. Overconfident at the time, no question remains; had the company returned me to the Arctic, my attitude would have ended in a fog bank or against a lakeshore hill. Thanks to those harsh words, I went on to a career which included the most notorious ground looper of all time — the de Havilland DHC-2 Mk III Turbo-Beaver.
When I was an undergraduate RCAF Canadair CT-114 Tutor jet pilot at CFB Moose Jaw, it was a rite of passage to head out on a five- or six-day IFR cross country with a Qualified Flight Instructor (QFI) prior to graduation. The thinking was these multi-leg missions flown in the CT114 would give new military pilots an exposure to both civilian airspace and non-military ATC. What these trips were not intended to do was prepare students for the prospect of ejecting over Lake Superior in early June, as nearly happened to me. More on that to follow.
My six-day cross-country started out in standard form, with stops in Winnipeg, Thunder Bay, as well as K.I Sawyer AFB in northern Michigan. The highlight of the trip was an overnight stay at Wright-Patterson AFB in Ohio. We toured their fabulous military aircraft museum, but were understandably denied a peek at the extraterrestrials rumoured to be hidden away there since their alien spaceship supposedly crashed at Roswell, New Mexico. The closing days of our eastern swing then took us north to CFB Trenton, which would be our launch point for the final legs home to Moose Jaw on Day 6.
Day 6 was in turn broken into four legs with fuel stops planned in Sault Ste. Marie, Thunder Bay and Winnipeg. On the first leg of Day 6, while cruising along at FL360 and about 100 miles back from the Sault, I pulled out my Department of Defence Instrument approach plates for that airport and began briefing what was to come next. Quite unexpectedly, my instructor informed me that we were no longer stopping in the Canadian Sault for jet fuel and were instead pressing on to Thunder Bay.
On a normal day this could have been a practical solution to the alternative of losing about 45 minutes during each fuel stop. But on that particular day in June
1989, the winds aloft had other ideas. To emphasize just how bad an idea this really was, I pulled out my military E6B, the famous “Tutor Computer,” and demonstrated to my QFI that we simply did not have the fuel for the now projected 2.5 hours of air time, and especially not into 120-knot-plus headwinds. My instructor, the ranking lieutenant on board, had other ideas. He argued that the forecast headwinds would soon diminish as we flew down the middle of Lake Superior and, with no further discussion, that was that.
Then it started. At 68 miles DME from Thunder Bay, the Tutor’s low fuel light illuminated. With a burn rate of 20 pounds a minute, that meant roughly 19 minutes to dry tanks. At our glacial pace of four miles per minute ground speed, the flying time to touchdown was forecast to be 17 minutes, giving us about two minutes of fuel, more or less, to spare.
In response to what I was certain would happen next, I announced we were going to prepare for ejection and ran through that checklist via the intercom. If and when the engine flamed out, the plan was to make a hard left turn and
overfly the coast of northern Michigan by several miles before pulling the yellow ejection handles. The other option, namely bobbing around in Lake Superior in late spring, hoping for rescue, held even less appeal than a parachute descent into the bush.
Suddenly my instructor caught up to our predicament and finally asked me what I had in mind. I wanted to say, “Land a few hundred miles behind us… sir!” but instead replied I was going to reduce thrust to idle power, then glide at L/D Max (maximum lift/drag ratio) of 130 KIAS, for a very-long, straight-in approach and landing. If the engine quit AND the glide option wasn’t working, we would then eject.
Once more I was outranked and was told instead to plan the so-called High Instrument Approach, one in which you overflew the landing airport at FL200, then deployed speed brakes in a highspeed descending turn, intercepting final a few miles before touchdown. Despite the procedure normally being used to save fuel, I countered that burning what little fuel we had to cross over an airfield
at 20,000 feet before popping the boards to dissipate the energy spent at cruise thrust getting there, made no sense when compared to the gliding option. (The math later confirmed my idea was the best option.)
As we crossed overhead Thunder Bay airport, I distinctly remember the Tutor’s fuel gauge reading zero. Not low, or just above zero, but ZERO. I waited for the impending silence, but the engine kept purring along at idle thrust.
With the speed brakes deployed, I pitched down into a high-speed dive, losing the nearly 20,000 feet before turning onto final and pulling off a successful landing. Remarkably, the engine kept on running and did so for about the next minute until I shut it down in front of the fuel supplier. Good luck, or the notion that God protects little children and fools, had once again carried the day.
When the refueller finished his work, he asked what the burn rate was in a CT-114. Knowing what was coming
“As we crossed overhead Thunder Bay airport, I distinctly remember the Tutor’s fuel gauge reading zero. Not low, or just above zero, but ZERO. I waited for the impending silence, but the engine kept purring along at idle thrust.“
next, I rather sheepishly replied, “About 20 pounds a minute.” He fiddled with his little calculator for a moment, then looked up at me in apparent disbelief and simply said, “Just to let you know, you had four minutes of fuel to dry tanks.” Suffice it to say that news of our near calamity made it back to Base Moose Jaw well before we did. Several gems of knowledge can be gleaned from my near-ejection experi-
ence. The first being that superior rank does not ensure superior decision-making skills. This has been perennial a flaw that the RCAF — and certainly the airlines — have addressed in recent years through the science of Human Factors.
Even with that added awareness, airplanes, military or otherwise, still fare very poorly on empty tanks. The best example in our world of general aviation is that the number one cause of engine stoppages continues to be fuel deprivation, a technical euphemism for “running out of gas.” I almost know how that feels and believe me when I say it’s not a pleasant experience.
Finally, remember that, with the exception the Cirrus fleet and some European LSAs, general aviation aircraft commonly lack anything resembling the ejection option, so always default to the most conservative course of action where gas in the tanks is considered. Airplanes run out of fuel only when their pilots stop thinking.
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LIVING THE DREAM WITH CHRIS WEICHT
While reviewing my flight journal of over 30 years ago (1994) which I had titled “Rice Rockets out West,” it further tweaked my interest to check my logbooks and review the many flights I had made in the Mitsubishi MU-2s flown in my aviation career.
In 1958, Mitsubishi Heavy Industries of Nagoya, Japan announced its intention to construct a twin-engine turboprop business aircraft which would compete with the two American designs of the Beechcraft King Air and the Rockwell Turbo Commander.
To achieve high speed, Mitsubishi used a small wing, only four square feet larger than a Cessna 172 wing. The MU-2 high wing design provided two feet of ground clearance for its propellers, which reduced the possibility of foreign object ingestion by the engines. The trade-off with small, highly loaded wings is a lack of low-speed manoeuvrability during takeoff and landing. To lower its stall speed, designers used full span fowler flaps, and roll control was achieved by utilizing spoilers instead of ailerons; a first in general aviation. In order to trim the aircraft, electronically
driven trim-ailerons were placed on the trailing edge of the flaps.
Mitsubishi had previously manufactured the F-104 Starfighter under licence from Lockheed, and the design technology of its undercarriage was incorporated into the MU-2, resulting in better rough-field takeoff and landing characteristics.
Landing an MU-2 has brought many a new Mitsubishi pilot to tears. The aircraft’s high wing loading and propeller drag often meant a high sink rate as the aircraft neared touchdown, followed quickly by a resolute arrival on
the main gear (an admitted understatement), and confirmed immediately by the short-coupled MU-2 nose gear. All of this is amplified by the fact that the entire landing gear is housed in a round fuselage. Smooth landings are rarely accomplished but can be improved by leaving the power on until the main wheels are firmly on the runway. Despite this, “greasers” are infrequent.
The first three MU-2s of the Mitsubishi production line in September 1963 were MU-2As powered by two 562 shaft horsepower Turbomeca Astazou turboprop engines; all later MU-2s were powered by Garrett AiResearch TPE331 turboprop engines.
In the spring of 1975, I was hired as a summer relief pilot by Northwood Mills (a division of Noranda Mines) of Prince George, British Columbia where I flew operational and executive flights throughout Western Canada and the United States.
One flight during my time flying MU-2 C-FCEL with Noranda on an executive flight from Prince George to Vancouver at 20,000 feet in solid cloud is memorable. We had been cleared for descent and were coming down over Grouse Mountain in North Vancouver. Suddenly we broke out of cloud and right in front of us and very, very close was a hang glider. We did a “fighter
“Smooth landings are rarely accomplished but can be improved by leaving the power on until the main wheels are firmly on the runway.”
break” to the right and dumped the executives and their glasses of scotch all over the roof of the MU-2’s cabin. I imagine that the guy in the hang glider probably, at the very least, messed his pants. Of course, the hang glider was not seen by air traffic control radar as it was made of bamboo poles covered with some lightweight fabric. I don’t want to experience being that close again!
On July 1, 1987, I was hired as chief pilot for A.L.C. Airlift (later Airlift Canada) flying MU-2 aircraft largely for executive charter and government operations. I was also fortunate enough to hire my son Andrew Weicht to fly with me as co-pilot on these operations until he took a job out of Inuvik, Northwest Territories flying a Twin Otter.
Airlift had secured a contract to fly mining engineers and executives of the Skyline Gold Corp. to its mining operation at Johnny Mountain, located above the Iskut River in northwest B.C. and 60
miles east of Wrangell, Alaska.
I had heard derogatory reports about this mining airstrip, so after landing at Wrangell and clearing customs and getting a briefing from the local operator Diamond Aviation, I decided to take the engineers to the mine site. The airstrip started at about 200 feet below the summit of a hill at approximately 2,800 feet above sea level. It crested the hill where the ice-covered strip took a 20 degree turn to the right and ran on down into the camp itself, several hundred feet lower. The MU-2 is a hot aircraft and touches down at a very minimum of 100 knots, or 115 mph. The short-body MU-2F is powered by a pair of 650HP turboprop engines and its big props do a good job of slowing the aircraft down, but when landing on ice, if the props do not go into reverse at precisely the same time, things could quickly get out of control.
Fortunately for me, we landed without incident and, after discharging our happy mine bosses, I deadheaded back to Wrangell to await our passengers there. While waiting and talking to a local pilot we learned of several accidents that had happened at the Johnny Mountain airstrip: A Beech 18, a de Havilland DHC-3 that ran into a whiteout on takeoff and a Bristol 170 Freighter that had been unable to stop on landing and gone right through the mine camp. It was obvious that I had made the right decision to only fly to and from Wrangell.
Due to Airlift’s connections, we received several charters from the federal government. One of these was to fly security bodyguards for Prime Minister Brian Mulroney when on visits to Western Canada.
We would fly these bodyguards to the P.M.’s destination ahead of his landing, and they would station themselves in potential problem areas with their concealed arsenals. Then, when he was preparing to depart to the next location, we would take off ahead of the official aircraft for the next landing. While enroute these guys would have all kinds of munitions on the floor of our MU-2.
Previous articles in this series have described the satellite-based approaches available to general aviation aircraft. This article will describe a specialized form of RNAV approaches available to suitably authorized aircraft and pilots — airline and corporate aircraft – the Required Navigation Performance (RNP) approach.
The concept of RNP began in the early 1990s when a couple of Alaska Airlines pilots were trying to solve the challenge of flying into Juneau, Alaska. The weather in Juneau is often characterized by low clouds and fog; groundbased navigation aids and LNAV approaches were ineffective. Leveraging the avionics available on the Boeing 737, Alaska Airlines developed the first RNP approaches to vastly improve airport access and safety.
Unlike ground-based navigation aids where the accuracy decreases with distance from the device (commonly known as “splaying”), with satellite navigation the accuracy is a uniform value regardless of how far or close the aircraft is to the waypoint. Knowing this, RNP navigation is flown along protective corridors of uniform width. The nominal width for a final approach segment is 0.30 nm either side of centreline — this is the same for any GPS receiver. The difference with RNP, however, is that narrower corridors can be defined which ‘require’ a certain navigation performance, hence Required Navigation Performance or RNP.
The effect of this is best illustrated with the RNP approach to Ottawa’s Runway 32. The approach limits with smaller RNP values decreases as obstacles that were controlling get eliminated as the corridor tightens up.
An RNP of 0.3 nm yields approach limits of 439 feet above the runway, while an RNP of 0.1 nm produces approach limits of 321 feet.
Other differences exist as well between a standard RNAV approach and an RNP approach. Curved segments are possible to fly around obstacles or to shorten the track distance flown (to save time, fuel and therefore money). For example, beginning at ILUBO, the aircraft would fly a curved approach, rolling out at MIXOT, a mere 3.1 nm from the threshold.
Notice too that “RF Required” is depicted, meaning “Radius-to-Fix” is required.
Unlike regular RNAV approaches with long, straight-in intermediate and final approach segments, RNP allows an aircraft to fly the curved approach rolling out on short-final while descending on a vertical path, all while in cloud. Pretty impressive stuff! But since the vertical navigation source is based upon barometric altimetry, it is still subject to the same issues of the LNAV/VNAV approach, such as temperature limitations.
“Unlike regular RNAV approaches with long, straight-in intermediate and final approach segments, RNP allows an aircraft to fly the curved approach rolling out on short-final while descending on a vertical path, all while in cloud. Pretty impressive stuff!”
The requirements are massive and “Authorization Required” is denoted, meaning regulatory intervention. Specialized pilot training, avionics database management and aircraft equipage are required. Equipment includes multiple electronic flight displays, attitude heading and reference system, terrain awareness and warning, radar ground mapping, barometric vertical navigation (BaroNAV) and lots of money. The avionics suites found in modern airline and business jet aircraft that are necessary for RNP cost millions of dollars.
Meanwhile, a Garmin or Avidyne Satellite Based Augmentation System (SBAS) or WAAS receiver provides as good or better capabilities for a fraction of the cost of the Boeings and Airbuses. While the RNP 0.10 approach produces approach limits of 321 feet to this runway, the approach limits for the WAAS/LPV approach 200 feet. Hooray for GA!
But RNP is not for the faint of heart.
The past few articles have provided a dizzying number of acronyms, lateral and vertical navigation concepts, and terms. All of this can be neatly summarized in the following table:
The next series of articles will focus on how to leave an airport, rather than how to arrive. Departure procedures, including RNAV Departures, will be the topics.
AEROBATICS WITH LUKE PENNER
Aerobatic pilots pushed the limits of precision and control at the 2024 Canadian National Aerobatic Championships. From challenging winds to personal triumphs, the August 23-25 event in Steinbach, Manitoba (at the CJB3 airport) was an unforgettable showcase of skill, passion and adrenaline. As his assistant, I had the honour of working alongside our outstanding contest director, Abram Razon, who once again expertly led the event, ensuring everything ran smoothly from start to finish.
This year, the competition attracted 19 pilots across all five categories, showcasing a full range of talent. Among them were seven members of the University of North Dakota’s Aerobatic Team, led by their experienced coach Michael Lents. UND’s strong presence added a fun edge to the event and their performances didn’t disappoint. Representing a northern school, an equally large group of Harv’s Air pilots rose to the challenge, adding an exciting element to the competition.
Aerobatics has long been a passion of mine, and I continuously advocate for it as the ultimate way to enhance a pilot’s skill set. Many of the participants were students from our professional pilot program, where we emphasize the importance of aerobatic training alongside Upset Prevention and Recovery Training (UPRT) during commercial pilot preparation. Aerobatic flying sharpens precision, decision-making, awareness and control—qualities critical to professional pilots. This year was a milestone for Harv’s Air, as our students and staff were represented in all five categories, a testament to their dedication and skill development.
On a personal note, I made my debut in the Unlimited category, the highest
level of competition in classical (Aresti) aerobatics. Competing at this elite level was already an incredible experience, but what made it even more special was the fact that I was flying head-to-head against my own coach, Aaron McCartan. Facing off with the person who has mentored me throughout my aerobatic journey was both thrilling and humbling.
The weather over the weekend held up well, with clear skies dominating our Friday practice and registration day. The sunny conditions set the perfect stage for the intense performances that followed. From novice pilots to seasoned competitors, the weekend was filled with challenging manoeuvres and tight competition, making this year’s
Canadian Nationals one for the books.
Saturday marked the first official day of competition, and while the skies remained clear and the temperatures high, strong upper-level winds in the aerobatic box added an extra layer of difficulty for our pilots. Regardless of their competition level, every pilot is required to fly three sequences. Despite these difficult conditions, we successfully conducted nearly 40 graded flights in front of our judges, showcasing the skill and precision of the participants.
The Canadian Nationals in Steinbach enjoy a unique advantage compared to many competitions in North America: a large group of enthusiastic volunteers who make the event run more smoothly and enjoyably. Our most experienced judges and leaders in the sport travel all the way to us from Alberta, and their expertise is vital to the success of the event. The dedicated student pilots and staff from Harv’s Air Flight School who volunteer each year truly make this event exceptional. We are also fortunate to have dedicated judges join us from Minneapolis and Iowa.
Sunday began with great promise, offering just enough favourable weather to allow the final rotation of advanced and unlimited pilots to complete their third flight. However, a low, overcast layer of clouds soon moved in, forcing us to call an early conclusion to the championships. In this scenario, final scores are determined by the total points each pilot has accumulated up to that point. Such are the realities of planning an aviation event — weather is always a factor that can shift plans in an instant.
For me, this competition was particularly meaningful. After more than eight years of steadily moving through the categories — starting with Primary, then progressing through Sportsman, Intermediate, Advanced and now Unlimited — I finally felt ready to embrace the unique challenges that the Unlimited category brings. It was a significant milestone in my aerobatic career, and I finally made my debut competing at this level, an
experience I had long worked toward. The leap to the Unlimited was not an easy one for me. The figures become exponentially more complex and demanding, both technically and physically. Earlier this year, I attended a training camp in Iowa to work closely with Coach Aaron in preparation for this transition. One of the most intricate and physically challenging manoeuvres I had to master was the vertical ascending snap roll, in all its various forms. In the Unlimited category, pilots must also execute negatively loaded snap rolls, which add a massive layer of difficulty.
For those less familiar with aerobatics, a snap roll is an accelerated stall where autorotation is induced by sharply applying the rudder. This manoeuvre is first introduced in the Intermediate category on a horizontal line, usually with a full 360-degree rotation, or as part of a manoeuvre known as an avalanche, where the snap roll occurs at the top of a loop. In the Unlimited category, however, snap rolls are performed in every attitude, including vertical lines, where pilots must execute 1/2, 3/4 or full 360-degree snap rolls. To make things more demanding, these rolls must be performed with either positive or negative loading.
Mastering these complex figures requires a precise, structured approach. The variety of figures in the Unlimited category is incredibly vast, and each one demands persistent practice and focus. It has been a rewarding challenge, and I am eager to continue improving as I tackle the many nuances of this highest level of classical aerobatics.
In the end, I finished first in Unlimited, though I made several errors that I need to work harder on to overcome. The pursuit of perfection in this sport is truly endless, and that’s what I love about it. It constantly drives me to avoid complacency and always strive to fly better than I did the day before — a mindset that carries over into every aspect of my flying and life.
Next up, the Rocky Mountain House (CYRM) contest and then the U.S. Nationals.
great article suggestions and post alerts when new issues become available.
On May 16-17, 1943, the Royal Air Force Bomber Command’s 617 Squadron (variously called “a one op squadron” or “the old lags squadron” or “the sniper squadron” and “the suicide squadron”) flew a mission to destroy the Möhne, Eder, and Sorpe hydroelectric dams in Germany’s heavily industrialized Ruhr River Valley. Twenty-nine of those 133 men, nicknamed “Dam Busters,” were Canadian. Operation Chastise involved three waves of aircraft — nine Lancasters in the first, five in the second and five in the last. All Lancasters were modified Type 464 ships to accommodate the 10-ton spinning and bouncing bomb (designed by engineer Barnes Wallis) that each carried in its bomb bay.
Author Ted Barris begins in the late 1930s, when the idea was first brought up by Britain’s Air Ministry and RAF Bomber Command to target German military-industrial infrastructure to thwart German aggression and then later to try to end the war quickly. Once war was declared, plans and training for the Ruhr River Valley attack began in earnest. The technical and scientific details of the bombs’ development and the crews’ training might be difficult to follow, but Barris makes the complexity of the situation for the engineers and crew clear.
The attack marked the first time the Allies tactically took the war inside Nazi Germany. Hand-picked and specially trained in secret in Great Britain (and Canada, the hub of military aircrew training), the Lancaster crews flew at treetop level (and sometimes lower) to the industrial heartland of the Third Reich and their targets: the Ruhr River dams whose massive water reservoirs powered Nazi Germany’s military production.
Each Lancaster carried the 10-ton bomb which, when released just 60 feet over the reservoirs, skipped across the water’s surface towards the dam, sank to its base
and exploded. The raiders breached two dams and damaged a third. The resulting torrents devastated and ripped away enemy power plants, factories, submerged Luftwaffe airfields, flattened towns and killed 1,400 people (including foreign slave labourers) a hundred miles downstream. Every airman on the raid understood that the odds of survival were low.
Of the 19 outbound bombers, eight did not return. Operation Chastise cost the lives of 53 crew, including 14 Canadians.
Of the 16 RCAF men who survived, seven received military decorations. Based on interviews, personal accounts, flight logs, maps and photographs of the Canadians involved, Dam Busters recounts the experiences of these young Commonwealth bomber crews flying 30 tons of attack bomber at nearly maximum speed, at nearly minimum altitude, in nearly complete darkness in the middle of Germany and back.
Every aspect and detail of the raid is described in Dam Busters, including the heavy losses. Barris introduces the
REVIEW BY RENÉ R. GADACZ
individual Canadian crewmembers from selection, training and flying the mission, often in the first person, so the reader feels each death acutely. The ruin inflicted on Germany, including 11 major factories destroyed and 41 others severely damaged, was presented as evidence of the raid’s success. However, the dams were out of commission for only 79 days, and it was questioned whether Operation Chastise was worth the loss of nearly half of 617 Squadron. Still, the British government’s loud and public celebration made it clear that a morale boost was a tangible benefit of the mission.
The surviving crew continued to play a role in the war, participating in a failed raid on the Dortmund-Ems canal (Operation Garlic, September 14-15, 1943) and an operation (in cooperation with the Royal Navy) in advance of D-Day, known as Operation Taxable (May 2, 1944), where they used “low and slow” flying (mimicking a naval convoy) to fool the German high command into expecting an invasion east of the actual Normandy landing sites. Over the course of these operations, 617 Squadron lost 14 of 28 aircraft and crew, an attrition rate of exactly 50 percent. Other missions involved disabling V-1 and V-2 rocket sites in Germany and bombing German E-boat pens in France until the war’s end.
The Dam Busters raid is well known to military history buffs and the public alike. More than a dozen books have appeared over the past 75 years, beginning with Wing Commander Guy Gibson’s 1946 personal account. Paul Brickhill’s definitive 1951 book was adapted into the 1955 feature film. The 1990s and 2000s saw versions by academics and military aviation historians, including memoirs by some of the surviving 617 Squadron crew. “All well and good,” wrote journalist/historian Barris, who
felt that the Canadian perspective had gone missing from the story. This book aimed to redress that omission, that “a retelling of the Dam Buster’s story… was fitting and necessary.”
The Canadian perspective is fully realized in the last chapters of the book. These pages focus on the creation of the 2010 Bomber Command Museum of Canada in Nanton, Alberta, the purchase and laborious restoration of Lancaster FM159 to be housed there, and how some of the airmen’s descendants fought to regain precious war memorabilia from an unscrupulous collector. Barris provides clear narrative and reminiscences by sons, daughters, cousins and close family members of the fallen crew, many of whom still live in Alberta. The highlight of these personal accounts is Barris’s the interview with front gunner Fred Sutherland of Rocky Mountain House, Alta., the last surviving Canadian Dam Buster. His was the last Lancaster that delivered the final blow that breached the Eder dam on May 17, 1943.
Barris’s fierce advocacy for the respect we owe the Canadian flyers (who comprised nearly a quarter of 617 Squadron’s three operations in the war) and veterans and their families continues to inspire. Dam Busters, and Barris’s other books on Canada’s military contribution and sacrifice in the First World War, Second World War, the Korean War, and even Afghanistan have earned him not only praise from military leaders, military historians and veterans, but awards such as the 2014 Libris Award (Best Non-Fiction) shared with astronaut Chris Hadfield, the 2018 NORAD trophy for “the preservation of Air Force traditions, history, and heritage.” Ted Barris was inducted into the Order of Canada in 2022.
Dam Busters: Canadian Airmen and the Secret Raid Against Nazi Germany
By Ted Barris
Harper Perennial, 2018, 415 pp., index. (Foreword by Peter Mansbridge, pp. xi-xiv.)
Available from The Aviator’s Bookshelf (aviatorsbookshelf.ca).
According to NASA, spins (autorotation after an aggravated stall) come in four flavours: Steep, moderately steep, moderately flat and flat. The classification depends solely on the angle of attack (AOA) after the spin becomes fully established. Steep spins, e.g., nose pointing straight down, fall within the 20- to 30-degree AOA range, while moderately steep spins feature AOAs up to 45 degrees. Flat spins occupy the next 45 degrees of the potential AOA range, up to 65 degrees for the moderately flat spin and up to 90 degrees for the flat spin.
To recover from a spin, we must first stop the autorotation generated by unbalanced lateral levels of lift and drag before recovering from the stall by reducing the AOA to below the stall AOA, about 15-18 degrees for most aircraft. The latter is clearly easier to do starting from a spin AOA of around 20 degrees than from a spin AOA greater than 65 degrees.
Any pilot who watched videos posted on social media on August 9, 2024, showing Brazil’s VoePass Linhas Aéreas Flight 2Z2283 swirling straight down to the ground with its nose close to the horizon knew that the flight crew became powerless once established in that type of spin. No amount of hand-and-feet skills (using aileron) could help them get out of their predicament. In fact, both Chuck Yeager and famed stunt pilot Art Scholl amongst others have proven that. Yeager survived a flat spin by ejecting from his modified Lockheed F-104 Starfighter; Scholl perished with his Curtis Pitts aerobatic biplane.
Some pundits may talk about getting in and out of flat spins. The flat spins they are talking about are moderately flat spins in single-engine airplanes with no passengers in the back. Stabilators or elevators are simply not designed to produce enough lift to pitch the nose downward 65-plus degrees.
Understanding an aircraft’s interrelated force moments (rolling, yawing, pitching and balance between aerodynamic and inertia moments) is essential to safety in general. Awareness of these is critical in preventing spin casualties. For most aircraft, the thrust/drag couple combined with the weight/lift couple yield a downward return-to-earth moment whenever thrust or lift ‘glitch.’
Stalling induces one of those ‘glitches.’ It reduces lift production significantly, provokes a backward shift of the centre of lift and lengthens the arm of the weight — where then weight has a more significant effect on spin behaviour. The result is an innate tendency to pitch down to get out of the stall. If that does not happen, as is the case for a flat spin characterized by an increasing AOA after the initial stall, then the root cause must be that the forces’ balancing act is upset.
One way things can go wrong is for the thrust/drag duo to produce a nose-up moment stronger than the weight/lift nose-down moment generated by the stall. Very high thrust levels along with high-speed airflow over the tail could potentially yield that. However, it would still require a shorter-than-normal centre of gravity (CG)/centre of lift (CL) arm to
also weaken the more powerful weight/ lift duo. When thrust is the culprit, powering to idle and neutralizing ailerons is recommended in most stall recovery procedures and should make the stall recoverable. However, if the root cause for an overall nose-up moment upon stalling is an inappropriate weight/lift duo, then the fix is more problematic. Short of physically shifting weight, little can be done.
Stall/spin survival probability is not so much a matter of skills as it is a matter of astute aircraft loading. Whether an aircraft certified in multiple categories is authorized for spins or not depends on a combination of CG location and weight limitations. For example, a Cessna 172 might spin nicely when loaded within the utility category but misbehave fully loaded with a CG near the aft envelope. It would not take much of a backward shift in loading during flight to turn an inadvertent stall into a nearly irrecoverable spin. In fact, although nobody knows why Art Scholl found himself in an irrecoverable flat spin after successfully performing a moderate one for a film he was working on, investigators suspected that one of the mounted cameras might have become dislocated and moved back, causing the flat spin.
CG movement is an inherent part of every flight. The normal task of burning fuel affects the location of the CG. So can load displacement during inclement weather, pilot-induced turbulence, parasite drag, unusual icing accretion or even aircraft component ‘departure.’
Flying is addictive. I believe the addiction is closely related to the sense of ultimate control we experience as pilots. It should not come as a surprise that losing control is our ultimate fear. Watching VoePass Flight 2Z2283 plummet to the ground was a reminder to all of us that the magic of flight depends on managing the delicate balance of multiple forces that keep us airborne and allow us to return to ground under control when we choose.
Physics will always take advantage of us even in a momentary lapse of skillful management. A competent understanding of principles and careful planning can make physics ‘our friend’ should we experience a performance ‘hiccup.’
We often hear about the romantic aircraft of the Second World War, those whose exploits we come to read about in the air history of that war; the Spitfires, Hurricanes, Mosquitoes, Mustangs etc. But we seldom hear about the fragile fliers and trainers of that era. Those aircraft in which future pilots of the war would learn to fly and get their wings. In this case, the trainer aircraft might have been the Fleet Model 16 (Finch).
The general Canadian public or even pilots then and now would likely have never heard of the plane. From 1939 until 1941, 447 of these aircraft were built by Fleet Aircraft in Fort Erie, Ontario. Based on an earlier 1930 design, the airplane progressed until the Royal Canadian Air Force accepted the current design in 1939 and, with modifications, 431 were built for RCAF, of which 431 were used for elementary training during the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan (BCATP).
The Finch was a tandem, two-seat tail-wheeled biplane. The fuselage was of welded steel-tube (Warren truss sides) and fabric construction with wood used in fairings, ribbing, etc. Whereas this airplane was meant to be flown by pilots in training, the Fleet design endeavoured to make the Finch design a plane with builtin features such as a cambered left side of the vertical stabilizer to offset the P-factor generated by the spinning prop. The stabilizer was trimmable. The ailerons were of Friese design pivoting at some 25 to 30 percent behind the leading edge instead of being hinged from the leading edge.
The Fleet Finch was originally of open cockpit design but, owing to the winters in most of Canada, a removable canopy was added to give student pilots and their instructors some protection from the prop blast and slipstream howling along the fuselage. The engines on the various Fleet Finch models
ranged from 100 hp to 160 hp powered by various Kinner 5-cylinder radial engines, although the majority (404) of the RCAF’s Fleet aircraft, the Fleet Finch model 16B, were powered by the 125-hp Kinner B5-R. The remaining 27 Model 16Rs were powered by 160-hp Kinner B5-2 engines.
The typical Fleet 16R had a crew of two; a pilot/instructor and a student. It had a 28-foot (8.53 m) wingspan with the top and bottom wings having a total area of 194.4 sq, feet, (18.05 m2). Its empty weight was 1,222 lbs (509 kg) with a gross weight of 2,000 lbs (908 kg). Maximum speed was 104 mph (167 km/h) and a cruise speed of 85 mph (137 km/h). It had a range of 300 miles (483 km) and a service ceiling 10,500 feet (3,200 m).
I flew out of Stanley Airfield in Hants County East, Nova Scotia for years. During those years the Stanley Sport Aviation members became more conscious of its history. And, to some small degree, began to identify with it. During the early years of the Second World War, three runways were laid down over a bog. A large hangar, the iconic green wooden and green-shingled hangar (dubbed the Big Green Hangar by Stanley members), which identified RCAF bases and training schools all over Canada, was erected. Rudimentary barracks, classrooms, mess and other out-buildings were built. The base was completed in March of 1941. Its official designation was RCAF Station Stanley. Its purpose was to train young men to fly basic aircraft. The training section was known as Elementary Flying Training School (E.F.T.S.) No. 17-Stanley.
The trainee would learn to fly in Fleet Finch 16s or the DeHavilland Tiger Moth. There was a mixture of the two aircraft, totalling 24. Eventually, removable canopies were added for cold-weather flight training. No fancy electronics were included in these trainers. The students endured the weather, the hazards of flying, engine failures, etc. and, as a result, the odd Finch 16 was lost to noseovers upon takeoffs and landing. Sadly, some trainee pilots lost their lives in these accidents.
Once their training was completed, those who passed would be transferred to more advanced training facilities across Canada. There they would train on heavier aircraft, such as twin-engine Ansons and single-engine Harvards, preparing them for bombers and fighters. Some would train to be navigators. Stanley was running four classes a day, each with 30 students. Thousands were trained until the base was closed in January 1944.
It is likely some Finches were passed on to other bases, but a sad story was related to me in the late 1980s while I was working around my Cessna 172 in the Big Green Hangar. A retired RCAF Aero Engineer who worked at Stanley until it was “struck off strength” told me that new, freshly crated Finches and Tiger Moths were stored in this very hangar. He told me he was informed that all the trainers were shipped from Stanley to Scoudouc, New Brunswick. Long trenches were dug out. The crates were laid in the trenches, run over by tractors and buried. This was familiar to me from an event related with one of our members back in the 1980s. Rod Bays was an exchange pilot on a US Navy aircraft carrier. He was flying the Vought F4U Corsair. He had taken off during the day to check out this aircraft because his designated Corsair had received bullet strikes and was in the lower deck hangar for repairs. He finished his wringing-out flight, landed aboard the carrier and went down for lunch. While there he heard that the war with Japan had ended. That afternoon his Corsair and others were brought on deck then pushed over the side into the sea. The allied governments had signed agreements with the private aircraft companies not to flood the aviation market with what could be cheap used trainers and fighter aircraft. After the end of The First World War hundreds, if not thousands, of training biplanes such as JN-4s were released to public vendors. In some cases, they were sold in their original crates, some for as little as $50 each. This hampered the private companies trying to sell their product to the public and stunted innovation. And so it goes.
NOT WHAT YOU THINK
Midway through 2024, aviation insurance provider Allianz Commercial released a report highlighting some of the most important trends and challenges that it sees impacting the aviation industry. From a rising number of runway incursions to the growing concern over GPS interference to the possible effects of artificial intelligence on aviation, Allianz is the bearer of a surplus of data from within the flying sector. It is, thus, well-positioned to monitor currents wafting through the industry.
Insofar as it concerns claims in general aviation, Allianz has observed a significant increase in certain pilot error claims. Specifically, what has been noted is a greater number of high-time commercial pilots trending towards flying light aircraft in their spare time. The latter is by no means an issue. What is an issue, according to the Allianz data, is that such pilots are pranging aeroplanes in takeoff and landing phases of flight. Essentially, they’re falling off runways.
Why might this trend be occurring?
These pilots, states the Allianz report, often have high hours on commercial aircraft but low hours on light aircraft. This sounds a lot like the issue that arose when the light sport aircraft (LSA) category was introduced into the U.S. a couple decades ago. The accidents then were, surprisingly, showing that it was not the inexperienced pilots spiking the insurance claims related to these aircraft; rather, it was the experienced pilots stepping down from highperformance aircraft who were spiking the LSAs into the ground.
This matter to which Allianz brings attention is clearly not new. Nevertheless, it may act as a reminder of an important lesson regarding transition training to new aircraft. That lesson may well be the following: never make assumptions on how previous training and experience might qualify you to operate, with immediate competence, a different aircraft from the types to which you are accustomed. Further to this admonition, don’t
think that moving down to a lesser performing aircraft will be inherently easy. Clearly, it’s not.
In pilot training as well as in the exercising of licensed pilot privileges, pilots tend to be focussed on transitioning upward: from low performance aircraft to high performance examples. However, too often the idea of moving down to an aircraft of less performance is given short shrift. The assumption that moving down is less demanding not only isn’t true, it’s also, as identified by Allianz, potentially hazardous. Every aeroplane has its own characteristics, and the categories into which aeroplanes fall differ greatly one from the other. A master of an Airbus A320, for instance, shouldn’t assume that a Piper Cub (or, for that matter, any of the Cub’s LSA equivalent clones) is a cakewalk. Avionics are different, systems are different and, crucially, performance and handling are different.
Weight is considered the dominant factor that catches out pilots transitioning
from high to low performance. Lighter aeroplanes have a lower wing loading: that is, they have low weight but a large area of wing. This means that the aircraft will generate lift exceeding its weight at a comparatively low speed. Compared to a similar but heavier aircraft, it will climb at a lower speed and may do so at a steeper angle.
With the above noted, a low wingloaded aircraft will get airborne at lower speeds on takeoffs, and it will tend to float on landing if its speed is too high. Also, at lower airspeeds, crosswinds will have a stronger effect on lighter aircraft thereby requiring that pilots apply greater finesse on the controls, particularly when landing. Manhandling the aircraft onto the tarmac — which may be a practice of pilots familiar with heavier aircraft — doesn’t go well in a lighter example. Of course, too, a low wing-loading also means reduced stability. Turbulence bounces lighter aircraft around as well.
A lighter aircraft’s power loading — that is, its weight divided by its horsepower — impacts its performance too. A low power loading will result in more acceleration and greater climb performance. Combine this with the nimble handling characteristics engendered by the low wing loading, and you have an aeroplane that’s more like your uncle’s Lotus than your grandfather’s Cadillac.
The Allianz report is raising a flag to the fact that the higher-time pilots who fly the heavier iron are getting caught out as much today as they ever were when transitioning downward to lighter birds. Interestingly, those at Transport Canada who study general aviation accident trends have noted that runway excursions are on the rise. It could be that one of any number of reasons for this has to do with pilots transitioning downward in aircraft performance. Whatever the case, it would seem that the familiar altimeter setting meme of “from high to low, watch out below” could also well-serve as a warning to seasoned pilots transitioning from higher performance aircraft to those of a lower persuasion.
BY ROBERT S. GRANT
father and son walking on a waterfront watched de Havilland DHC-2 Beaver
Killin enrolled in a vocational automotive program in Terrace, 149 miles northwest of Ocean Falls.
CF-EYS settle into Cousins Inlet at Ocean Falls, 349 miles northwest of Vancouver. Raymond Killin lifted his captivated five-year-old high as the floatplane taxied toward them before the radial engine clicked into silence.
Peter G. Killin never forgot that morning in 1956. No one in the roadless timber town of 3,000 would have predicted that the little brown-haired boy would one day command a behemothic Martin JRM-3 Mars weighing 24 times more than the dripping floatplane before them. Decades later, he flew the final flight of what became a Canadian aviation icon.
“I never considered any career other than flying,” Killin recalled. “Growing up in an isolated community was reason enough to want to fly. We had no other way out to civilization and Albatrosses, Gooses, Mallards or Widgeons were kings and float planes of all kinds dropped in every day.”
When not soothing pinched fingers or battery acid burns, flying lessons commenced before relocation to Nanaimo in 1974 introduced him to a first solo in Cherokee CF-PFM. A year later, he obtained a Piper J-3 seaplane rating. One step during his early 20s included professional dishwashing on a ferry boat until moving to Kelowna, where he purchased Cessna 150 C-GASR and blessed himself with marriage to Norma Lecaine in 1978. He became a shipper-receiver for a trucking company, yet his mind longingly drifted far beyond shop floors until his employer fired him.
“He said, ‘Pete, you should be at the airport,’ so I went to Kelowna Custom Air, a small sales and service business owned by Tom Connelly and Denis Dumaresq,” said Killin. “They’d sold me the Cessna 150, so I said: ‘Give me a job so I can pay for it’. They agreed.”
“Growing up in an isolated community was reason enough to want to fly.”
Pathway determined, young Killin began navigating into the realm of aviation. Pilots and maintenance engineers had become his idols and, in his growing years, provided inspiration to push forward. After fire destroyed Ocean Falls’ high school, he resided with a sister in Clatskanie, Oregon and returned to Canada three years later. Enthusiasm undiminished, training costs presented seemingly insurmountable barriers.
After a commercial licence in 1980, Killin submerged into every aspect of aviation he could find, although the Mars, except for a brief glance in 1960, had not yet entered his personal picture. Persistence drove him to Pacific Rim Airlines’ Cessna 185s at Tofino. Ocean gales and mountain sides slamming into salt water became a refreshing but challenging atmosphere. Mosquito-bitten tourists, inebriated lumbermen and dampened mail made up the loads when not pumping floats or spitting salt water. An offer from Vancouver’s Harbour Air arrived.
While expanding experience in Beavers and Otters with Harbour Air, Killin became part of a search for Twin Otters that reached to Kenn Borek Air. As an appreciative gesture, air service co-owner Keith Fraser provided twin training, and soon Killin commanded his first multi-engine airplane. Unknown to him, the time drew nearer when the Mars would become the capstone of his life.
After five years of white shirts and gold stripes, Killin shifted to Larry Langford’s Vancouver Island Airways (VIA) in Campbell River to fly Beechcraft 18s and miscellaneous Cessna or de Havilland types. In 1981, he added an AME licence to his credentials. Occasionally, a Mars thundered overhead. Aviation zealots followed the aircraft’s civilian history since pioneering pilot Dan McIvor had convinced a timber consortium to acquire four ex-US Navy Mars and 35 spare engines in 1959.
The former American-designed troop carriers Hawaii Mars and Philippine Mars splashed into Patricia Bay at Victoria where they became CF-LYL and LYK. Fairey Aviation of Canada installed 6,000 imp. gallon tank systems and two ventral water pick-up probes. Wherever they went, the 200-foot wing spans and 2,500-hp Wright Cyclone 18 R-3350-24WA radials “making power” with 144 sparking spark plugs attracted attention. Killin needed the 28-foot Mars flight deck; his 6-foot, 185-pound frame barely fit the airplanes he flew. Forest Industries Flying Tankers (renamed Coulson Aircrane on April 13, 2007) hiring minimums stipulated 7,000 hours as well as what coastal pilots called “terrain familiarity”. Life in eastern flatlands counted for little for those who manipulated what aviation author Dirk Septer labelled the “Gods of Rain.”
“I applied back in 1999 and got a nice letter putting me on file and then interviewed the next year, but just missed the cut by one guy,” he recalled. “Then, in 2001, they needed a bird dog pilot for a Cessna 185 on wheels.”
After the initial suppression season, FIFT kept Killin labouring in company shops helping overhaul complicated Curtiss electric propellers and intricate R-3350s. He graduated to first officer and became a component in a close-knit band, including two flight engineers and 12 ground specialists who performed inspections and fueled the 6,485 imp. gallon hull and wing tanks.
From the top: Peter Killin
a master at Beech 18 handling and logged 3,500 hours pilot-in-command on type.
Killin melded well with the high-time veterans whose multi-ton chariots needed firm handling in unwelcoming mountain terrain, smoke and turbulence. No autopilots. Elevators and rudder received help from Baltimore-manufactured Vickers Power Boost Controls, but ailerons demanded Norseman-like muscle. After 80-knot touchdowns, 25 second pick-up runs brought aboard one ton of water every second. Initial full power runs at 54” Hg and 2,700 rpm from Port Alberni’s Sproat Lake meant a 162,000-lb gross weight with fuel consumption pegging at 780 gph. Drops took place at 120 knots and 150 feet above treetops. A sedate 165 kt with 30 Hg and 2,000 rpm cruise consuming 360 gph never came across as “sundering the sound barrier.”
“I spent 17 years on the same base and it wasn’t excitement-packed most of the time, and kind of boring in summertime,” he said. “But when the fire bell goes and the siren goes, then it’s action. But for the most part, it was just logging in the months.”
In 2004, at age 51, Killin became captain. Duty days changed little and seasons averaged only 100 hours a year. When sirens shimmered coffee cups, romance novels smacked shut and lawn chairs clattered away. Bird dog airplanes burbled bluish exhaust and a crew boat foamed out from the dock. Nothing could be worse than falling into the lake — photographers haunted the premises.
A grand accomplishment occurred when the Coulson crew landed Hawaii Mars at Oshkosh on July 23, 2016 after a 9.6-hour flight. The logistically challenging project mesmerized crowds exceeding 600,000 when the “Big-ass bird,” as Americans called CF-LYL, emerged from American haze. Spectators gasped in unison as loads of Lake Winnebago liquid cascaded white the instant Killin pressed the drop button. The demonstrations and the flight-suited crews aboard reminded the world that Mars water bombers still “packed a punch.”
Sadly, short-sighted bean counters and civil servants in Victoria’s legislative buildings paid no heed to the professionally operated example of Canadian ingenuity. Jobs kept and timber harvested would have compensated for a working pair of four-engine water birds. Nevertheless, contracts terminated in 2016.
The close-knit band of aviation masters inhibited engines and installed cool season furnaces inside before unemployment sent them elsewhere. Prepared, Killin continued with Killin Aircraft out of a 38 x 24-foot Campbell River hangar. Wise in fabric techniques refined during winter work on the aircraft’s 5,850 square feet of Stits Poly-Fiber, he re-covered 90 airplanes, overhauled engines, taught seaplane handling and ferried across the country.
After a Piper PA-18 drop-off at The Pas, 323 miles
northwest of Winnipeg, Killin encountered Noorduyn Norseman CF-ENB owned by Big Sand Lake Lodge. An aviation history devotee, Killin had hoped to fly the legendary classic. After accepting a job offer from the lodge, he enjoyed five contract years in countryside without jumbling tides or mountains sheathed in rock-hard tree trunks. However, in spite of a vast background hauling passengers and freight, the horrifying morning of July 18, 2019, would remain with him forever.
With throttled reduced to turn inbound for glassy water, CF-ENB decided to stall and smashed down in a splash comparable to a dropped houseboat on a barge. The black-backed propeller foamed the surface and snapped to a halt. Fabric split, algae-flecked Manitoba water overwhelmed the cylinders and Killin found himself gurgling and choking under the Norseman’s instrument panel. Stunned, nostrils filled, eyes bulged outward like a pebble-skinned swamp frog in a heron’s throat. Fighting to stay alive but trapped by propane bottles, camp supplies and a freezer, he kicked, punched, pushed and twisted toward the contorted tail.
“I was underwater and figured I’d held my breath for about two minutes before reaching the back doors which had been hit by a propane bottle, and opened an escape route,” he recounted. “After I surfaced, three fishing guides showed up an hour and ten minutes later and got me into a medevac Beaver to Thompson — another glassy water story.”
Killin recovered within a month from a damaged spine and went back to business, owning 25 aircraft over the years. Since the Mars shutdown, the Coulson crew remained in touch while owners Wayne and Suzan Coulson canvassed the local and international aviation industry for whatever could bring their two-airplane Mars fleet to life. In exasperation, they donated Hawaii Mars to the British Columbia Aviation Museum (BCAM) at the Victoria International Airport in Sidney, 17 miles north of Victoria. Asked to participate, Killin and co-captain Rick Matthews welcomed the final flight.
When BCAM announced the project, aviation addicts and media followers went wild. Anyone slipping on a Mars hat or showing a T-shirt logo became an instant celebrity. Television and podcasts featured Killin and Matthews while Continental and European press tracked the hand-over process on August 11, 2024. Crowds watched as the re-united team prepared for departure of Hawaii Mars.
Ready for takeoff, Killin increased power to raise the hull onto the step position and blasted back four-foot wells. Matthews adjusted and flight engineers Roy Copeland and David Millman soon sensed 3,686 sq. ft. of lifting surface helping them “arise with precipitation.” Southbound, flight mechanic Mike Johnson monitored
“When BCAM announced the project, aviation addicts and media followers went wild. Anyone slipping on a Mars hat or showing a T-shirt logo became an instant celebrity.”
the gray-painted internal macrostructure. Every pine cone, spruce needle and driftwood branch passing under the 120-foot hull meant CF-LYL would never again attack hot spots nor would flames feel frustrated as tons of foam-filled water snuffed their lives.
Lost in contemplation, the crew looked beyond the instrument panel and realized they had become centre-stage as Canadian Forces Snowbirds on each side honoured them. After 3.3 hours cruising coastlines on both sides of Georgia Strait and allowing residents a last chance to feel R-3350s, the Mars alighted on Patricia Bay. The logbook of the awestruck boy from Ocean Falls showed 1,000 hours on type in his total 21,000. A long journey from his father’s shoulders.
Peter G. Killin has not reached the twilight of his fulfilling livelihood. An unknown writer once wrote, “The best never rests,” and so it applies. Seaplane students continue sampling his expertise and delivery flights take place. He drops into Sidney from time-to-time where a silenced red and white single tail airplane no longer splashes in sunshine. Nevertheless, CF-LYL recognizes him. They are old friends.
NOTE: CEO Wayne Coulson announced Philippine Mars CF-LYK will be handed over to Tucson, Arizona’s Pima Air and Space Museum. Killin and crew will deliver the aircraft in late October or November, 2024.
As a 10-year-old kid growing up in the 1970s, one of my favourite movies was The Gumball Rally, a crazy, action-comedy about an eclectic group of drivers and cars racing across the continental U.S., and based loosely on a real life, unsanctioned car race that ran five times beginning in May 1971. My young mind thought it was Oscar worthy at the time.
Perhaps drawing their inspiration from the real-life race and looking to create a memorable event that would garner Canada-wide attention to mark their province’s centennial, organizers of the British Columbia Centennial celebrations in 1971 conceived of a similar race, but with airplanes, to publicize that province’s place in the Canadian Confederation. The idea was that an air race commencing in England, the historical home
By Ed Das
of international air races across the Atlantic, and with stops across the Canadian continent, would highlight both the province and Canada as a significant player on the world stage of aviation events. Air rallies have been popular since the first international meet was held in Reims, France in 1909, when local vintners decided to cash in on the excitement of Bleriot’s recent France-to-England cross-channel flight, the winner of which was awarded the Gordon Bennett Aviation Trophy, named after the ostentatious American owner of the New York Herald.
The first international air race to be sponsored and organized by Canadians, which would come to be known as the Great London to Victoria Air Race, would not come until some 60 years later, the winner of which would receive the Prime Minister of Canada trophy. Secondary trophies included the (British Columbia)
The Air Race flight line with a Piper Aztec, a PA-23-160 Apache (flown by S. Gelzer of the U.S.), a Beech Bonanza, a Beech Staggerwing and a Howard DGA-15P (Race #40, flown by D. Ireland and M. Meeker of Canada, which placed 6th in its class).
Premier’s trophy and the Air Canada trophy for the best performance of a Canadian team (to ensure a Canadian winner, in true Canadian style).
The Great London-Victoria Air Race, as it became known, would see 125 pilots in 57 competing aircraft races from the starting line at Royal Air Force Station Abingdon in the U.K. (departing from a major international airport was deemed too problematic on account of the interruptions it would create with regular commercial traffic) to Victoria, British Columbia where the red carpet awaited.
The race would attract an eclectic group of professional and amateur pilots, all competing for a chance to win a portion of the $170,000 in prize money (at the time, one of the richest purses in aviation race history) across five stages of an almost 6,000-mile course.
Among the racers were 22 Canadians along with oth-
ers from the U.S., Sweden, Australia, Finland, Ireland and Germany. To maximize publicity for the event, Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau and his cabinet had travelled to Victoria for the July 1st Centennial celebrations and, along with Premier Bennett, officially started the race for its eagerly awaiting participants at RAF Abingdon on the other side of the ocean. It was no mean feat to coordinate a trans-Atlantic telephone link-up in 1971, but the then-popular P.M.’s real-time participation ensured that the event would receive maximum radio and press coverage. The official schedule for the air race indicates that the race was to start between 18:29 and 18:30 (plus or minus 30 seconds) and, in the absence of radio link, Canada’s High Commissioner onsite in the U.K. would start the race at 18:32. Accordingly, at 18:29, Prime Minister Trudeau announced:
“To all competitors in the 1971 London-Victoria Air Race, I send good wishes on behalf of the Canadian people. Appropriately, the first aircraft to take off will be piloted by British Columbian Claude Butler. Mr. Ritchie, our High Commissioner in London, is poised at the edge of the runway complete with Verey pistol [a flare gun that fires a bright green flare]. So, without further ado, join me in the countdown, Mr. Bennett: Five-fourthree-two-one-FIRE!”
Claude Butler was a prominent businessman in British Columbia who, despite being permanently handicapped by a boyhood woodcutting accident (which saw his leg tendon irreparably cut), was known for his can-do spirit that would serve him well in his various business and personal pursuits. Besides a love for flying (he learned to fly in the 1940s by paying for lessons from earnings as a pianist in a
purpose-formed band called the Mel-O-Tones), he also enjoyed motorcycle and hydroplane racing when he wasn’t busy inventing the world’s largest off-highway logging truck for his Sooke County logging operation, a massive 45-ton diesel capable of hauling 268,750 pounds of logs.
Butler had helped open a number of airfields across the island and was also known to frequently offer his flying services, helping search for lost boatmen or offering his Cessna Aerostar 601 turboprop business plane to carry seriously ill patients to off-island medical clinics. A newspaper article of the time recalls the story of how Butler’s wife packed for him several cheese sandwiches prior to his heading off for an air search for a boater who’d turned out was marooned on a small island; upon spotting the lost boater from above, Butler dropped his lunch of cheese sandwiches to the sailor who, it turned out, had not eaten in three days.
Several municipalities across the region had even made Butler their citizen of the year, so it was only logical that the president and lifetime member of the Victoria Flying Club should be selected as the Canadian to be honoured with the pole position. Butler and his copilot would be first to reach Quebec City in his Aerostar in 15 hours and 40 minutes, but they would ultimately not place since their aircraft was handicapped against slower aircraft in the race.
The rest of the field was comprised of pilots of various backgrounds and flying experience, flying everything from a Second World War-era Harvard trainer to Learjets, an Expeditor, Beech Bonanzas, Piper Cherokees and a Dassault Falcon. There was even a Canadair CL-41A jet trainer, the aircraft most Canadians would today recognize as the RCAF CT-114 Tutor, currently flown by the Snowbirds. However, it was technically considered a non-competitor as a military trainer, much to the chagrin of its Canadian aircrew. After flying uneventfully across the Atlantic, millionaire Canadian businessman Chuck Rathgeb’s CL-41A would be unceremoniously eliminated from the race
while stopping at Kenora airport, when a handkerchief got sucked from a local mechanic’s pocket into the CL-41A’s air intake and ruined its engine. Rathgeb’s influence must have extended to the Canadian military since he was able to receive a replacement CL-41A later the same day in which to finish the race.
Statistically, the odds were high that, in a field of so many light aircraft attempting a trans-oceanic flight somewhere along the way, an unfortunate and possibly life-endangering event might occur. Aircraft were subject to examination prior to the race start, but in order to qualify, one only required an aircraft and an instrument rating. Canadian Aviation magazine would later recount a harrowing ditching by Canadians Paul Gilmore and Bill Snyder in Race Plane #2 (a Vickers Viking 60), who were blown off course while flying on standard fuel tanks. The two pilots were flight-planned to land in Narsarsuaq, Greenland, a small outpost at the end of a fjord where much-needed avgas awaited. Running into bad weather, the two were unable to locate the NDB navaid for the airport and were forced to make the decision to ditch the plane after getting lost in fog.
Fortunately, Race Plane #1, flown by some fellow Canadians, picked up their Mayday calls, as did four passing airliners, who were able to forward their distress calls. Soon, a Super Constellation and a Douglas C-54 from the Royal Danish Air Force were on site and dropped flares to mark the unlucky aviators’ position. Gilmore recalled later how he decided to throw out anything loose before ditching in the event the plane flipped, but in their haste to rid the cabin of items, accidentally threw away $1,000 in cash they had tucked away in a shaving kit. In any event, good fortune prevailed, and appropriate survival gear provided to all the entrants by Garrett Manufacturing company (including a floating location beacon) would ensure that the two men were plucked from their life raft within a few hours by a Sikorsky S-61 from Greenlandair, which just happened to be in the area. Coincidentally, the two Canadians ditched their plane 34 years to the day that Amelia Earhart and her copilot went down in the Pacific with a less fortunate outcome.
Earhart, of course, was a pioneer in women’s active participation in aviation and was a participant in the first Women’s Air Derby, often referred to as the “Powder Puff Derby” by organizers who (being in the 1920s and 30s) insisted that female entrants could only fly in aircraft of horsepower deemed acceptable for female aviators. One of the participants of these early derbies was even made to acquire a less powerful aircraft than the Beechcraft Travel Air which she already owned and flew.
At least some progress had been made by 1971, such that aircraft Number 3 of the Great London-Victoria Air race would be piloted by two women, Margaret Mead and Frances Bera who, combined, had won over a third of the Powder Puff Derbies since Earhart’s third-place finish in 1929. Mead was an accomplished aviator, having flown together with the wife of astronaut Gord Cooper to win the 1970 Palms to Pines Air race, and Bera held the world altitude record in class C1D.
“Cockburn was a local B.C. favourite, a 25-year-old flying instructor from Sidney on Vancouver Island and therefore a severe underdog ...”
The pair would place a very respectable 11th in their class (twin-engine, piston) amongst a field of 25 male competitors. Their PA-23-25E was sponsored by the Virginia Slims cigarette company and named after that company’s ad campaign (designed to laud the women’s liberation movement and attract young women) — “You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby.” I’m not so sure this slogan would carry the same panache as it did in 1971, but the company’s promotion of the event was apparently very successful.
Other women who participated included Louise Sacchi from the U.S. who flew the entire race solo, and placed second in the single-engine Class A to claim $5,000, and Gill Davidson from Toronto, who flew copilot with her husband in a quintessentially Canadian entry — a Turbo Beaver in which they won first place in Class C.
More than 50 years after the event few people remember the historic air race despite the organizers’ best efforts to garner international attention. Perhaps the most international interest came when one of the aviators, Roger Hannigan, beat up his copilot before leaving him unceremoniously behind — tossed out on the runway in Scotland — and then flying on to Quebec City solo where he met an attractive young Montrealer who became his copilot for the remainder
of the flight. But even this story was eclipsed when, upon returning to his home field in Portland, another aviation story, that of the famous D.B. Cooper hijacking and bail-out and originating from the same field Hannigan returned to, eclipsed all interest in the Canadian air race.
Most of the pilots who competed in the Great London Victoria Air race have also since passed, but one Canadian pilot, Rick Cockburn, still vividly recalls the race as his “great adventure.” Cockburn was a local B.C. favourite, a 25-year-old flying instructor from Sidney on Vancouver Island and therefore a severe underdog, who nevertheless decided to enter with the aforementioned Harvard despite knowing that the odds of winning the record prize money were slim due to what he thought was an unfair handicap applied to his aircraft.
Plastered with enthusiastic local sponsors’signs (Dick’s Gradall, Classic Car Museum, The Butchart Gardens, local broadcaster C-FAX to name a few) and the rear seat stuffed with an auxiliary 60-gallon fuel tank, Cockburn devised a plan that, although a long shot, could put him in the prize money and aviation fame.
In the next issue of Canadian Aviator, the story of airrace legend Rick Cockburn and his dash for the cash.
AFTER 70 YEARS, BOTH THE MiG AND ITS PILOT ARE STILL PERFORMING.
By Victor Neskorozheny
“Flying
it is a cross between excitement and tension,” says Richard Cooper as he shares his experiences piloting the legendary MiG-15 fighter jet. “The airplane is very critical in its requirements. It’s exciting to fly, but you have to concentrate all the time. With many aircraft, you can relax during the flight, but with the MiG, you really can’t. You must maintain high attention all the time. It’s just the nature of the beast. It is designed to go fast; you don’t go slow. And if you are too slow, it tells you right away. It’s exciting but intense.”
Cooper bought his Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-15 in Reno, Nevada, in 2013. While there, he performed two introductory training flights with the previous owner of the aircraft. When the owner felt that he was adequately trained for all possible situations, Cooper flew the jet himself across the United States back home to Canada. The MiG-15’s range is just over 540 nm (1,000 km), so he had to make several refueling stops along the way. One of his most memorable experiences was that at every airfield he landed, curious people would approach him and ask about the aircraft. They recognized it as a fighter jet but had never seen one like it before.
The MiG-15 was developed in the Soviet Union in 1947 and gained wide recognition during the Korean War. It became the most mass-produced jet fighter in aviation history, with over 18,000 units built. The MiG-15 was in service with many countries around the world. The MiG-15 served in the Albanian Air Force until 2010 and, even now, 75 years after its first flight, around a hundred of these aircraft remain in service in North Korea.
After special tests in 1950 to recover the MiG-15 from a spin, a white vertical stripe was painted on the centre of the instrument panel to help pilots find the neutral position of the control stick. This stripe was unique to the MiG-15 because it had a peculiar characteristic: it would recover from a spin
but required strictly neutral ailerons. The stick had to be pushed forward exactly in the centre of the instrument panel; a slight deviation to the side would negate all efforts to recover, necessitating a fresh start. At that time, detailed procedures and manuals were not yet available, but flying was a necessity. Thus, pilots were given verbal instructions, and a white line was painted on all aircraft instrument panels as a reminder.
Like many of its predecessors, the MiG-15’s development started with its engine. During the Second World War, Soviet designers focused on improving engines for existing aircraft, leaving the Soviet Union behind its former allies in jet engine technology. In late 1946, a Soviet delegation went to the United Kingdom to select and buy the most promising jet engines from the Rolls-Royce company. The British were reluctant to sell them. Artem Mikoyan then proposed settling the matter over a game of billiards, relying on his high skill. He won, allowing the U.S.S.R. to purchase several dozen jet engines for
fighters and bombers. Working on the fighter project, Mikoyan chose an engine considered suitable for bombers and again succeeded, creating one of the world’s most famous first-generation jet fighters, eventually code-named “FAGOT” by NATO.
The pause in the combat use of fighters after the Second World War lasted only five years until November 1950, when the Korean War began. This conflict marked the start of many large-scale local wars that shook the world in the following decades. These wars were seen as testing grounds for new military technology, including jet fighters, reconnaissance planes and fighter-bombers.
The MiG-15 was an all-metal, mid-wing jet fighter with swept wings and tail. Its fuselage cross-section was round, with the engine air intake in the nose, flanking the pilot’s cockpit. The wings were single-spar with a swept transverse beam forming a triangular wheel well for the retracted landing gear. The wings had a 35° sweep, ailerons with internal aerodynamic compensation, and split flaps. To improve longitudinal stability at
high angles of attack, the wings featured four aerodynamic ridges to prevent airflow separation at the wingtips. The aircraft’s tail was cross-shaped. The control stick forces were noticeably higher than other aircraft, so later MiG-15 models included hydraulic boosters for the ailerons and elevators.
The Korean War (1950-53) was the first conflict involving the new Soviet jet fighter. Its main aerial rival was the North American F-86 Sabre. Both represented the first generation of jet fighters and had comparable combat capabilities. The MiG-15 was smaller and lighter by about 2.5 tons, but the increased weight of the Sabre was offset by its more powerful engine. Their thrust-to-weight ratios were almost identical, as were their maximum speeds at sea level — around 1,100 km/h or 594 kt. At high altitudes, the MiG-15 had advantages in acceleration and climb rate while the Sabre was more manoeuvrable at lower altitudes and could stay airborne longer due to its ability to carry 1.5 tons more fuel.
The introduction of jet engines and the latest aerodynamic designs enabled aircraft to operate effectively at near-supersonic speeds. Fighters reached the stratosphere, with the Sabre having a ceiling of 12,000 m (39,400 ft) and the MiG-15 of 15,000 m (49,200 ft).
The main difference lay in their armament. The MiG-15 was equipped with one 37 mm and two 23 mm cannons, while the Sabre had six 12.7 mm machine guns. Despite the similarities, technical specifications alone couldn’t predict a clear winner; only practical combat could provide answers. Early battles showed that, contrary to expectations, technical progress hadn’t fundamentally changed the nature of aerial combat. Fights remained close-range, manoeuvrable and group-based.
One of the MiG-15’s strengths was its greater firepower, giving it an advantage in the attack phase of combat. At high altitudes, the MiG-15 also had the edge over the F-86 with its superior ceiling and turn rate, as well as better climb performance. MiG-15 formations often flew as high as 50,000 feet, 5,000 feet higher than the F-86’s limit, allowing them to disengage by climbing steeply beyond the F-86’s reach. Below 30,000 feet, the F-86 was more manoeuvrable, though the MiG retained its superior climb rate.
F-86 pilots often noted that some MiG pilots seemed reluctant to engage, likely due to their inexperience and the challenges of spotting aircraft from higher altitudes.
Fast forward to the present: out of the 18,000 built, only a little over a dozen MiG-15s remain airworthy worldwide. Among them, Cooper’s MiG-15 is the only flying example in Canada. A few others are in museums or private collections in the United States, while the remaining flyable units are in Europe. Richard Cooper, the proud owner of Canada’s MiG-15, is a well-known aviator with commercial licences for both airplanes and helicopters and has logged over 6,000 flight hours. He chose the MiG-15 for its incredible durability and simplicity of maintenance.
During the Second World War, Soviet aircraft production emphasized mass production and simplicity. The short lifespan of combat aircraft and the prevalence of low-skilled labor led to the production of straightforward designs, a characteristic shared by the MiG-15. Originally designed to operate from field airstrips, the MiG-15 had pneumatic brakes sufficient for large airfields. Cooper modified his aircraft with more efficient hydraulic brakes, allowing it to land on shorter concrete runways.
There is much more to tell about Cooper and his legendary aircraft. However, as the saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words. Therefore, a group of enthusiasts is preparing to film a documentary about Canada’s only MiG-15, covering the challenges Cooper faced in licensing his plane in Canada and his creative solutions.
Author’s note: Readers have a unique opportunity to become part of this epic project. To watch the trailer, learn more about the upcoming film and support the project, simply scan the QR code or visit mig15doc. com. All contributors will be mentioned in the film credits and receive additional prizes and privileges.
For over 80 years, the content of From the Ground Up as a literary benchmark that defines the multitude of theories associated to aeronautics. It describes the practices necessary to achieve the highest levels of distinction as safe, competent and skilled life-long aviators.
Through its evolving editions, many generations of readers have used this award-winning title as the foundation of their introduction to the concepts that require thorough understanding in advance of the sought-after hours of flying enjoyment that are the ultimate goal of all who seek to earn their wings and expand their knowledge of flight theory and practice.
The content of From the Ground Up may, at times, seem complex, but the pathway to learning the fundamentals of aeronautics is one that reaps much in the way of personal reward for all who pursue the goal of thoroughly understanding the subject. Indeed, it was by design that its original author, “Sandy” A. F. MacDonald — a man recognized as a “father” of what still stands today as the standard curriculum for ground school instruction — devised this aeronautical textbook to be comprehensive and current while conveying its material in such a way as to enhance the reader’s understanding of every written word.
Not one to permit his vast experience to allow for foregone conclusions, “Sandy” MacDonald’s meticulous care in the creation of From the Ground Up has become the hallmark for its widespread use and respect as the reference textbook of choice in hundreds of flying schools throughout Canada and around the world.
Its latest edition is the 30th Edition. A French-language version is also available under the title Entre Ciel et Terre Totalling over 400 pages of in-depth content formatted in a sequential, logical and easy-to-read fashion, the publication boasts over 360 graphics, charts, diagrams, illustrations and photos. An additional full-colour navigation chart and a sample weather chart are included.
All chapters are current in the latest technological and legislative aeronautical matters and cover such topics as The Airplane, Theory of Flight, Aero Engines, Aeronautical Rules & Procedures, Aviation Weather, Navigation, Radio & Radio Navigation, Airmanship, Human Factors, and Air Safety. From the Ground Up also includes an extensive index, glossary and a 200-question practice examination.
Since the 1940’s, virtually every student — civilian, military, commercial, recreational — who has ever learned to fly in Canada has used From the Ground Up as the primary ground school textbook from which they’ve learned everything one can learn about aeronautics, and about flying. Referred to as “the Bible” of ground school instruction, and updated with every frequent re-print, From the Ground Up has long been considered an essential resource for all with any interest whatsoever in the theory of flight, and in the practice of aviating.
Also available from Aviation Publishers
• From the Ground Up Workbook
• Canadian Private Pilot Answer Guide
• Canadian Commercial Pilot Answer Guide
• Canadian Instrument Pilot Answer Guide
• Instrument Procedures Manual
• Flying Beyond: for Commercial Pilots
• Unmanned: for RPAS Studies
• Flight Test Notes: for Flight Test Prep
For more information about all of our titles, visit us on the web or contact your local pilot supply
Your Source for Canadian Aviation Literature
In Our Youth explores the lives of 32 young Canadian military and civilian flyers viewed through the medium of archival photography. All these young men were pilots in the First World War, a time when flying was pure adventure and danger. Some of them were from humble origins, some from elite families, some became heroes, one was cowardly, and most have now faded from our attention. However, all embraced the romance of flight and the danger of war.
EDITED BY: Angus Scully
PRICE: $49.95 (includes shipping in Canada)
The Found family’s name is famous among bush pilots worldwide for having built a tough little freight-hauling aircraft designed for hard service in Canada’s wilderness. The author’s father, Sherman, along with his uncle Nathan (Bud) Found, and with financial backing from department store magnate John David Eaton, took on the Herculean task of gaining FAA certification for their dream aircraft.
AUTHOR: S.R. (Rick) Found
PRICE: $25.00 (includes shipping in Canada)
These are the adventures of retired pilot Glen Goobie, who flew countless missions in Newfoundland and Labrador and across Canada and the U.S. He completed his flying training in Moncton, New Brunswick, and his early flying career took him to Northern Ontario for a couple of years. Upon returning to Newfoundland, Goobie flew with Newfoundland Air Transport, Gander Aviation, and the provincial government’s water bombers until his retirement after 40 years as a pilot.
AUTHOR: Glen G. Goobie
PRICE: $26.95 (includes shipping in Canada)
The 1940 Ogdensburg Agreement entrenched a formal defence relationship between Canada and the United States. But was Canadian sovereignty upheld? Drawing on untapped archival material, Sovereignty and Command in Canada–US Continental Air Defence, 1940–57 documents the close and sometimes fractious relationship between the two countries. Richard Goette challenges prevailing perceptions that Canada’s defence relationship with the United States eroded Canadian sovereignty.
AUTHOR: Richard Goette
PRICE: $38.95 (includes shipping in Canada)
In 1950 a USAF bomber experienced catastrophic engine failures. Before the airplane crashed into a mountainside, the crew dropped their atomic bomb into British Columbia’s Hecate Strait. This book goes a long way to dispel the rumours and conspiracy theories that have surrounded this incident for decades by using declassified documents to demonstrate what really happened that winter. The author is a nuclear weapons specialist who has worked for the Departments of Foreign Affairs and National Defence.
AUTHOR: John Clearwater, PhD
PRICE: $24.95 (includes shipping in Canada)
One of the themes that runs through this book is the enigma of aircraft that disappear, sometimes within miles of busy airports and crowded cities. Sometimes wreckage is discovered decades later. On other occasions the aircraft simply vanishes, seemingly forever. How can such disappearances be possible? The answer is that a downed aircraft, especially in rugged countryside, can be incredibly difficult to spot from the air.
Author: Shirlee Smith Matheson
Price: $28.95 (includes shipping in Canada)
This true story began in August 1929. A group of eight prospectors, led by C.D.H. MacAlpine of the Dominion Explorers, flew into the Arctic in search of mineral wealth. Grossly underequipped, the expedition ran out of fuel and was stranded above the Arctic Circle. Within days, Western Canada Airways sent a rescue team, headed by Captain Andy Cruickshank, in what was to become the most extensive aviation search in Canadian history.
AUTHOR: Kerry Karram
PRICE: $29.95 (includes shipping in Canada)
It was a night that changed the Second World War. The secret air raid against the hydroelectric dams of Germany’s Ruhr River took years to plan and included the best airmen RAF Bomber Command could muster—many of them Canadian. It was a military operation that became legendary. Based on interviews, personal accounts, flight logs, maps and photographs of the Canadians involved, Dam Busters recounts the dramatic story of these young Commonwealth bomber crews tasked with a high-risk mission against the enemy.
AUTHOR: Ted Barris
PRICE: $42.95 (includes shipping in Canada)
One of only five Martin Mars originally built, the giant flying boat Hawaii Mars is destined to join the B.C. Aviation Museum after its final flight. Join us on a historical journey through 65 years of operations, from 1945 U.S. Navy transport to 21st century initial attack firefighting.
AUTHORS: Wayne Coulson & Steve Ginter
PRICE: $30.50 (includes shipping in Canada)
To order, visit aviatorsbookshelf.ca or call 604-999-2411
Whether performing an emergency landing in darkness in Canada’s northern wilderness, rebuilding his plane’s engine with a rusty file, or zigzagging a bomber plane across the Atlantic Ocean during the Second World War, there was never a dull moment in Patry’s career. This book is Canadian aviation history at its best. Destiny uncannily placed Patry in the thick of the action, and he went from one adventure to the next without fanfare, pause or concern.
AUTHOR: H.J. Smith
PRICE: $31.50 (includes shipping in Canada)
A collection of true aviation stories that graphically demonstrate the almost super-human endurance and tenacity of aviators in life-or-death situations — examples include the two mid-winter medical evacuation flights pioneered by the intrepid crew of Kenn Borek Air and the continuing efforts by volunteers from CASARA to search for lost people and planes. All are remarkable stories, and most are little-known.
AUTHOR: Shirlee Smith Matheson
PRICE: $27.75 (includes shipping in Canada)
On June 2, 1942, when Japan launched an attack on US Navy facilities at Dutch Harbor, Alaska, the United States officially appealed for Canada’s help in the defence of the besieged Alaska and its Aleutian Islands, which were under attack and partially occupied by Japanese air and naval forces. Canada immediately sent 15 Squadrons of battle-hardened RCAF fighter and bomber reconnaissance aircraft. The Defenders tells the story of each RCAF Station or Detachment, both in Alaska and on the westernmost British Columbia coast.
AUTHOR: Christopher Weicht
PRICE: $65.00 (includes shipping in Canada)
The tragic fate of the British airship R101 — which went down in a spectacular fireball in 1930, killing more people than died in the Hindenburg disaster seven years later — has been largely forgotten. In His Majesty’s Airship, S.C. Gwynne resurrects it in vivid detail, telling the epic story of great ambition gone terribly wrong. She was the lynchpin of an imperial British scheme to link by air the far-flung areas of its empire, from Australia to India, South Africa, Canada, Egypt and Singapore.
AUTHOR: S.C. Gwynne
PRICE: $34.95 (includes shipping in Canada)
Record-breaking flights, falling aircraft parts, balloon and helicopter trips and northern rescues are among the captivating true stories in this book. Early flight schools, animal obstacles, hijackings, and unique landing surfaces are also chronicled. Canadian pilots and aviation enthusiasts share stories of first flights, aerial skills, adventures, joys, perils, assistance, humour, tragedy and success in this salute to the Canadian aviation industry and its people.
AUTHOR: Deana Driver
PRICE: $27.95 (includes shipping in Canada)
Aviation buffs, adventure travel readers, environmentalists, historians and anyone else who is concerned about our changing environment will love
Barrens. Like its predecessor True North, Barrens is a celebration of the North – its beauty, history and inhabitants. It’s a celebration lived by a knowledgeable author who probes the depths of the wilderness while having the time of his life.
AUTHOR: George Erickson
PRICE: $25.95 (includes shipping in Canada)
“Buffalo” Joe McBryan was talking about gold prospectors in the 1940s when he said, “They were all gamblers and fortune seekers. They did things on their own ... were independent people who wanted to be free to roam. They were good people but, of course, some were loners or escapists. They all depended strictly on their wits.” They were adventurers and pioneers, but also just men and women doing what was required to make a living north of the 60th parallel.
AUTHOR: Danielle Metcalfe-Chenail
PRICE: $34.95 (includes shipping in Canada)
This collection describes wilderness pilots, maintenance engineers, passengers and cargo hauled above Canada’s hinterlands in turbine air ambulances to radial-engine Noorduyn Norsemen. The solitary Junkers Ju 52 appears, and the author points out that this one-of-a-kind had a larger wing than Douglas DC-3s or Vickers Viscounts. During his 66year, 20,200-hour career (and not finished yet, he claims), Grant kept notes and photographs from around the world.
AUTHOR: Robert S. Grant
PRICE: $26.95 (includes shipping in Canada)
Gordon Bartsch recounts from a pilot’s perspective how he created an airline serving the Big Dipper Route in the Yukon Territory. The story’s heroes are a converted DC-3 (CF-CPY) and a young woman who earned the right to fly the Big Dipper Route from the left seat. Dawn and Gordon Bartsch shared a great adventure with a great airplane. Today, CF-CPY sits atop her pedestal in Whitehorse, turning into the wind, a testament to the Yukoners who did, and continue to do, what others said couldn’t be done.
AUTHOR: Gordon Bartsch
PRICE: $52.95 (includes shipping in Canada)
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Within this puzzle are the names of MurphyAircraft models (clues marked with an *). Allother answers are aviation related.
Within this puzzle are the names of Murphy Aircraft models (clues marked with an *). All other answers are aviation related.
BY GRAEME PEPPLER
1) Which of the following determines if a takeoff is permissible from an aerodrome on an IFR flight plan?
a) The presence of runway lighting.
b) The horizontal visibility at the surface.
c) The vertical visibility at the surface or the ceiling, whichever is the lower of the two.
d) The height of the lowest cloud layer.
2) For a multi-engine, fixed-wing aircraft, to what does the term “critical engine” refer?
a) To the engine that, were it to fail, would most adversely affect the aircraft’s performance.
b) To the engine that drives the alternator.
c) To the engine on the left side of the aircraft.
d) To the engine on the right side of the aircraft.
3) An aircraft flying at FL300 is flying at
a) 30,000 ft indicated, when the altimeter is set to the local atmospheric pressure.
b) 3,000 ft indicated, when the altimeter is set to 29.92 inches of mercury.
c) 30,000 ft indicated, when the altimeter is set to 2 9.92 inches of mercury.
d) 3,000 ft ASL.
4) Which of the following best defines fog?
a) A stratus cloud at ground level within which the visibility is less than 1 statute mile.
1 Mechanism used in the deployment of landing gear.
4 One of two ‘Dead Centres.’
6 It’s a sign used in mathematics.*
7 U.S. state hosting many aviation-related companies.
9 An American-branded, Italian-made 4 x 4 SUV soon to depart the North American market.*
13 Diamonds emanate from this country.
14 Planned takeoff time.
15 They set commonly used airfoil standards.
17 Climb.
18 Crème de la crème, perhaps.*
19 An Airbus model.
21 Old Crow territory.*
23 Federal dept. dedicated to military matters.
24 Common name for oversized light aircraft tire.
25 Nautical speed unit.
1 What a pilot might be required to do with noise.
2 Treated aircraft aluminum.*
3 304 and 316 are common grades of what (2 words)?
4 One of several typically found in an aircraft’s fuselage.
5 It’s the world’s tallest, largest and heaviest extant species of deer.*
6 He didn’t have a cause.*
8 A Ford compact car that debuted in 1970.*
10 Not magnetic?
11 What an ‘L’ means in a pilot licence.
12 First passenger SST.
16 Sometime status of an attitude indicator.
20 Where the only SST with canard wings was manufactured.
21 Soviet-era military aircraft ending in “52.”
22 Required to calculate true airspeed.
b) A cirrostratus cloud at ground level within which the visibility is less than 1 statute mile.
c) A stratus cloud at ground level within which the visibility is less than 1 kilometre.
d) An altostratus cloud at ground level within which the visibility is less than 1 nautical mile.
5) The width of a low-level VHF airway within 50 nautical miles of the navigation device is
a) 8 nautical miles.
b) 10 nautical miles.
c) 5 nautical miles.
d) 4 nautical miles.
6) Northerly turning and acceleration errors of the magnetic compass are most pronounced
a) the closer the aircraft is to the equator.
b) when flying west of the magnetic meridian.
c) the further the aircraft is from the equator
d) when flying east of the true meridian.
7) Which of the following is true regarding Transport Canada Civil Aviation standard weights for passengers?
a) In summer, males and Gender X (12 years and up) are 206 lbs, females (12 years and up) are 172 lbs.
b) In winter, males and Gender X (12 years and up) are 206 lbs, females (12 years and up) are 172 lbs.
c) In summer, males and Gender X (12 years and up) are 212 lbs, females (12 years and up) are 178 lbs.
d) In summer, children (2 to 11 years old) are 75 lbs, and in winter they are 85 lbs.
5 years old from Kelowna, BC
• Battling nervous system disorder, myasthenia gravis
• Started travelling with Hope Air in 2022 • 11 trips