Friday, October 27, 2006
A Cirrus Arctic Air Rally
Signing up
Although I had participated in local BFC (Buttonville flying club ) events this was my first Air Rally. The rally’s driving force and main organizers, Catherine Tobenas and her husband Camil spoke at a BFC meeting a few months before the event. The International Air Rally is the largest Air Rally in North America and has been running annually since 2001. Catherine and Camil spoke to the club for more than an hour, but it was Catherine who captured my imagination with a few simple words:
“The International Air Rally is an aviation adventure that takes you to places you would never dream to journey alone”.
Although I have been a private pilot for more than 10 years I had just gotten my IFR (Instrument flight rules) rating. Flying the Canadian Arctic sounded like the perfect test of my new all weather skills over a route that I would have never contemplated doing alone.
Although The Air Rally was not affiliated with the BFC, a least two of our members had participated every year from its inception. Paul Clark and Andre Turgeon , were also planning to participate in this years rally in Paul’s V-tail Bonanza. They explained the basics of the "sport" named Air Rally, as well as the challenges facing the organizing committee. I was advised to bring a flexible attitude and to expect delays due to weather.
The expected route, 4000 miles over a sparsely settled area of northern Canada, was challenging on its own. The Air Rally format would add additional challenges including spot landings and daily quiz’s. But traveling with a group of seasoned pilots also helping to reduce the risk and planning involved in going it alone. It was a challenge I felt ready for and so that night I talked my family into doing without me for two weeks in August. Myself, and fellow pilot David Steeves signed up the next week.
Figure 1: Our Plane, GOPX, a 2002 Cirrus SR-20 (Picture by Robert Sirley)
Prep time
Dave and I are part of the OurPlane fractional ownership system and we are proud part owners of C-GOPX, an 2002 Cirrus SR-20. We talked over our plan and its 30 plus hours of flying over sparsely settle northern Canada, with OurPLANE’s operation manager, Eric Schatzler. After a double check of OPX at Leggat Aviation, we were confident that the Cirrus was ready to go.
The rally organizing committee had planned out our route, pre-ordered fuel when needed, and made hotel, camping and entertainment arrangements. In theory, all we had to worry about was our own airplane and gear. Most of the route was over sparsely settled areas which included open tundra and the freezing Hudson’s straits. Therefore a robust survival kit, life jackets, extra oil, and a couple of spare lights for the plane were in order. As a back up to the Cirrus GPS driven moving map displays we carried dozens of VFR (visual flight rules) and IFR (instrument flight rules) maps covering the entire route. For added comfort both myself and Dave used online flight planning tools (I used AOPA’s real-time flight planner) to preplan IFR routes for each leg of the rally.
A cooler packed with frozen water bottles, a dozen kiwi fruit and two cantaloupes added some luxury. Two small crates of oranges were also added as gifts for the children of Kangiqsujuaq, an Inuit village on the coast on Ungava bay. Add in some camping gear, and our Cargo area overflowed into the entire backseat. Our final weight and balance put us 40 lbs under gross weight with full fuel.
The Plan
Although the Air Rally would start in Oshkosh, Wisconsin at the end of the annually Oshkosh air show, we were not planning on attending Oshkosh so we opted to fly only the Canadian part of the rally (about 95% of the total route).
Our final plan was to leave for Hearst on July 30 and be back at our home base (Buttonville Ontario) on August 10th. The route would cover a rough triangle, from Hearst Ontario, where we would join the Air Rally up to Canada’s newest provincial capital city, Iqaluit, then down the Labrador border to Alma and Charlevoix on the Saint Lawrence seaway in Quebec, before heading home.
Dave and myself agreed to take turns flying in the left seat so we could share the pilot/ co-pilot flying time.
Figure 2: The International Air Rally’s planned route. North bound
in red, south bound in green, blue is our entry and exit legs.
July 30th: Contact!
Dave graciously granted me the honour of the left seat of GOPX for the first day. (The pilot in command always sits in the left seat, co-pilot in the right). Getting airborne around 8:30 am from Buttonville, we flew GOPX IFR (Instrument flight rules) up to Hearst Ontario, refueling en-route at Sudbury. We joined the Air Rally around noon, two days after it started at Oshkosh.
Our arrival at Hearst was an event in itself, as we arrived in the middle of the pack with hundreds of people coming out to the airport to watch the Air Rally planes land. The spot landing zone was indicated by three orange cones on each side of the runway just after the runway numbers. It was my first spot landing and I planted the Cirrus just long of the last cone. Myself and Dave introduced ourselves to the other rally participants and ran into the other BFC team Paul and Andre who had started the rally in Oshkosh, and along the way had picked up a passenger, Ulrich Jank. Ulrich is from Hamburg, Germany and had crossed the Atlantic (on a 747) to take part. It was his second time flying as a member of Paul’s V-tail Bonanza team in the International Air Rally.
I grabbed a hotdog from an open grill in the airports parking lot and surveyed the packed ramp. The planes in the rally ranged from a Pilatus PC-12, and a Navaho twin on the high end to a pair of sub 100 knot husky tail draggers. Most were Cessna high wing’s. We were the only “plastic plane” in the rally. This was a surprise. In 2002 our Cirrus was one of the first imported into Canada, and turned heads where ever it landed. But by 2006 it had had become just one of a dozen new Sr-20, 22’s and Diamonds sharing the hanger space at Buttonville. After asking around I discovered that we were the very first Cirrus to fly in the International Air Rally. I contemplated the short gravel strips ahead.
Our shiny composite Cirrus with its tricycle gear might seem to be a poor choice for a bush plane but it had several features that I was counting on. The first was its 2-blade Hartzell metal prop. With a wooden prop, a small gravel-induced ding in the leading edge could grow into a crack that will result in a catastrophic prop failure. Unlike the wooden prop found on the new diamond aircraft, or on older light planes, a metal prop can take some serious abuse. Also a metal prop can always be filed down in the event of damage. The second was the composite skin of the Cirrus. In theory it was much more ding resistant than a metal surface covering. Time would tell.
The last of two dozen planes to land at Hearst was flown by Camil Dumont, who together with Catherine had first sparked my interest in the rally with their presentation at the Buttonville Flying Club. One of the other pilots referred to Camil as the General, for his ability to take charge of any situation. Not a bad quality to have, especially for herding headstrong pilots around. He did a low and over showing off his Cessna 185.
I was quickly introduced to two other key members of the Air Rally organization committee, Alan Matson, who, as directory of flight ops, I would be talking to on a daily basis and jack of all trades Mark Helseth. The organizing team all wore black golf shirts that earned them the nickname “Men in black”. At the airport Catherine provided each of us with four white tee-shirts, each with the Air-rally logo, and a name tag. We pulled these on and were officially welcomed to the rally.
With everyone on the ground and the planes tied down we joined the 60 other participants in a white tea-shirted sea waiting for a yellow school bus shuttle to the ‘Le Companion’ hotel. There we were entertained like royalty with a welcome reception and pig roast.
July 31st, Running scud to Moosonee
After a hearty breakfast, we fell into what would become a familiar routine. Fueling the planes and reviewing the weather. With no other weather station or airport between Hearst and our first refueling stop, Moosonee, more than 200 nm (Nautical Miles) north of us, the weather became an issue of debate. For most of the trip the weather forecasters we talked with at flight services in London Ontario, or Montreal Quebec, would rely heavily on satellite pictures and the graphical area forecast from Nav-Canada. We quickly learned that, with weather reporting stations often a 100 to 200 miles apart, the weather forecast from flight services for Canada’s sparsely settled areas was far less accurate than what we had grown accustomed to in southern Ontario. Today would be our first introduction to this problem.
It was Dave’s turn for the left seat and after a final weather briefing the planes took off VFR (Visual flight rules), one after the other, for Moosonee just after 10 am. Once airborne all of the pilots were instructed to closely monitored radio frequency 123.45 (AKA the kindergarten frequency). We listened in on the weather reports from the leading planes and gave position and weather reports of our own. The weather turned from VFR to “scud” (pilot jargon for low clouds and rain) almost immediately after takeoff. Several aircraft rightfully decided to turn back to wait out the weather. Some diverted east and were able to follow the Moose river, others dropped to a 1000 ft and pressed on. As Moosonee was reporting good VFR weather we elected to go "VFR on Top" to get over the cloud deck.
We strained our eyes into the marginal visibility, both giving and receiving weather and position reports, as we weaved our way around several slower Cessna’s that had taken off before us. An hour later, as we approached Moosonee, the clouds broke up and we landed in bright sunshine and parked on a huge ramp area in front of an A frame shaped terminal building.
After refueling, we joined several other teams on a yellow school bus tour of the town. Lunch was a hamburger from the “hotdog shack”. We got airborne again around 2 pm, destination Wemindji, airport identifier CYNC. It was VFR weather, and we flew at 2000 feet along the shore line of James Bay admiring the raised beaches and total wilderness. A dozen other planes from the rally were also in the air and we began working on our radio and traffic spotting routine. With dozens of planes all following roughly the same route, the sky was surprising full.
The Cree village of Wemindji is one of nine Cree communities along the Quebec (east ) coast of James Bay. It was easy to spot from the air with a stunningly PINK 3500 ft gravel runway. Dave landed slightly long for the second of our four spot landings in the Air Rally. He carefully maneuvered on our very first gravel runway, holding the nose high and slowly applying power when needed on the taxi to avoid sucking stones into the prop. After engine shutdown, a quick review showed no chips on the prop or dents on fuselage. Way to go Dave!
Figure 3: Our "Plastic Plane" on pink gravel
We found Wemindji to be a town full of surprises. From its pink gravel runway to neat rows of bungalows and first class recreation center, it didn’t fit into the image of the isolated reservation dramatized on the six o’clock news. The people were warm and friendly and helped us out at every turn. Although given a choice of staying for free in a traditional Cree teepee lined with fur tree branches, we opted to stay at the local eight room hotel. Our logic was that the time for roughing it would come later, best enjoy a hot shower and mattress as long as possible.
Before dinner we introduced ourselves to the pilot of a local turbo Otter amphibian and, together with eight other members of the rally, set out to Gray Goose Island in search of polar bears. With the help of local knowledge and some ultra low flying we managed to spot five full grown polar bears and two cubs. It was an amazing experience to see these bears in the wild.
Figure 4: polar bears on Gray Goose Island
By the time we returned, dinner, which was smoked white fish, fried perch, cooked goose and caribou stew had been mostly consumed by our peers. I stuffed myself with smoked fish and deep fried bread known as bannock. It was cooked on the spot in a pot of boiling water over an open fire. Bannock reminded me of a fresh oversized doughnut! I had three… enough said. Karaoke singing was the organized entertainment for the night with points given to the teams that participated in either singing or dancing.
August 1st, Goofing around in Wemindji
The plan called for a day of sightseeing in Wemindji including boat rides and local flights. Due to high winds and modest temperatures only a few hardy souls opted for a ride out into the bay and most remained grounded. After a walking tour of the town I joined a large group of locals and a sea of white tee shirted rally participants at the local gravel pit to try my hand at riding an ATV (all terrain vehicle). It was the first time I had ridden an ATV since being a teenager. I managed to keep it upright which was more than some of the other pilots. The son in a father-son team from South Africa managed to tip over an ATV twice in five minutes!
Later I struck up a conversation with Robert Sirley. A professional photo-journalist from France, Robert had been on several past Air Rallies. He was doing his best to capture our poor ATV driving on film and shot some amazing pictures. He graciously shared these and other photos with everyone after the rally.
Figure 5: The rally’s all female “Ribbon of hope team” goofing around.
(Picture by Robert Sirley)
After another delicious teepee dinner we finished the evening off in Wemindji’s impressive community centre. It seemed almost new and included a pool and gym. We watched airplane movies and played pick-up basket ball against the local teenagers. We lost.
August 2nd, Into the heart of Drama
The next morning started with a very early morning wake-up call at 5 am and a gathering around the cooking teepee. Its all-night cooking fire provided hot coffee to wake us up for a pre-sunrise ritual with a peace pipe, wishing us well on our trip north. Led by one of the community spiritual leaders, prayers were made to the four directions (N, E, S and W), the earth, the sky and then finally to the creator. The pipe was lit and passed around the circle of pilots, followed by hugs for all, wishing each good health and a successful journey ahead.
Figure 6: Wemindji spiritual leader praying with a peace pipe.
It was my day for the left seat. Again the weather did not cooperate and it was 11 am before conditions turned VFR and we bid Wemindji farewell for a short hop to LaGrande (CYGL), and fuel. With such a short distance (54 nm), the greatest challenge for the Rally teams was the converging aircraft of all speeds, all trying to land at the same time. Add in a controller not accustomed to so much traffic, a couple of local pilots speaking French, which many of our America participants, did not understand and you have a receipt for premature white hair. In a combination of patience and skill everyone landed safely and lined up for fuel.
Refueling is definitely one of the major challenges when traveling with a pack of two dozen GA aircraft. To quote Dave, “it felt like being queued up at the local corner gas station”. He used the time to help one of the other teams with their maps and a GPS they were unaccustomed to. I used the time to double check the weather. The second and final leg of today’s flight would be especially challenging and take us into the heart of sparsely settled northern Quebec to a private hunting camp. The airport was unregistered and we had only a Lat and Log location, and a general description to guide us. To add to the tension it was over 100 nm to the next “real” airport should we be unable to find it, or if the weather turned ugly.
With only a granola bar for lunch we finally got airborne, flying almost due east at 3500 ft. As we flew into the heart of northern Quebec the terrain began to change noticeable. The solid pine tree forests of the James Bay coast became broken by hundreds of small lakes and the occasional grouping of hills with bare jagged rock surfaces. The awesome La Grande Rivière flowed beneath us but many of its rapids and waterfalls were smothered under reservoirs created by multiple earth and concrete dams and their service roads. It was all part of hydro-Quebec’s huge La Grande complex that covers 176,000 km2, scarcely 6% of which is flooded.
Figure 7: Into the heart of sparsely settled Quebec
While en-route the first real drama of the rally unfolded. Listening in on 123.45 we overheard a distress call from one of the crews. It was the ribbon of hope team flying a Cherokee 140 calling for help. They had started off with a flight of four other planes but had become separated.
Figure 8: The Ribbon of Hopes Cherokee 140
They were having problems with a hand held GPS and had done a 180 degree turn to avoid low hanging clouds at the crest of one of the ridges. They were now disoriented and off course under a low ceiling in terrain of nameless lakes and rocky hills. Under normal conditions in the south this would mean a quick set of radar vectors from air traffic control. But out here, 100+ nm from the nearest airport, they were beyond the reach of radar and all calls on the flight services frequency went unanswered.
With intelligence and humility the pilots in question immediately asked for help from their fellow pilots. My heart leaped into my throat as the drama unfolded. In addition to the two pilots on board, their team also consisted of a breast cancer survivor and her young daughter Haley. At 8 she was the youngest member of the entourage and had quickly charmed everyone, earning the name “Propwash” from the adults.
Figure 9: "Propwash" the youngest Air Rally participant.
Two planes from their flight turned back and quickly located them. While this was unfolding I realized how spoiled we were. Two IFR rated pilots in a new Cirrus with its dual Garmin 430’s and 12 inch, moving map display. In case all else failed we were also carry dozens of paper maps.
Finally, after 300 nm, a gravel strip sprung out of the wilderness, our home for the night was a hunting/fishing camp on the Caniapiscau reservoir.
The Explo-Sylva hunting camp had two unforgettable traits; the roughest gravel runway on the trip, and Bugs! From the moment we popped the hatch, to stepping inside the bunk house, mosquitoes were everywhere. Luckily we had been forewarned, and in addition to Deep Woods Off, had purchased full bug jackets in Wemindji.
Figure 10: Dave in a bug jacket
After a dinner of caribou stew we retired to the bunk house with the camps most redeeming feature, BEER. A case of beer, our first since Hearst, had been purchase at a premium from a local entrepreneur. With Beer in hand a vigorous debate insured over the days events. The main topics were the wayward teams navigation issues, how to avoid congestion on landings and the challenge ahead. Around 10 pm I notice the camp staff moving about so I nipped outside in the twilight to ask for some fuel for the plane. To my amazement I discovered that the temperature had dropped from a day time high of 20 C to just above freezing. With the drop in temperature into the single digits the plague of bugs had disappeared.
August 3rd : Due North to the tree line
After a great night's sleep we packed up the remaining beer, dumped our gear back into the plane and walked across the runway to the main bunkhouse for breakfast. Over breakfast, we reviewed the weather and exchanged gossip. To help out the navigationally challenged team, the rally organizers placed a professional pilot, originally hired to fly in the media, at the disposal of the wayward crew. The weather looked VFR and after taking on fuel, we were once again airborne. This time we were one of the first planes up, and as Dave was back in the left seat I did my best to pass on weather observations to the planes following behind us.
We headed almost due north towards our next destination, a refueling stop in Kuujjuaq, Nunavik (435nm away).
Along the way the trees began to thin, huddling together in small clumps in a landscape of smooth barren rock and unnamed lakes of all sizes.
After 3 hours we landed at Kuujjuaq and refuel. While taxiing to the ramp, the controller asked us to come up to the tower. This is normally not a good thing and usually involves busted airspace or some other gross violation of transport Canada regulations, and voluminous apologies . As it turned out, they had not received the group flight plan and were uncertain as to type and number of aircraft en route and the expected time of arrival. Dave worked with ATC while I checked the weather and headed back to the ramp.
Figure 11: Kuujjuaq air traffic control tower, Three guys with a great view and a few choice words on our groups untimely arrival.
There were so many planes inbound that they closed off one of the runways so we could park on the adjacent taxiway.
Over the next two hours the entire pack arrived and after the usual refueling challenge, we gathered inside the local FBO (Fix Base Operator) for some group think on the weather. Our goal was to make it to Kangiqsujuaq for the night. There was no satellite picture available today and we had only one reporting point between us and our destination over 250 nm to the north west. The weather briefer gave us direr predictions but admitted that he just didn’t know if it was VFR or not. They did not have any satellite shots or pilot reports and all we had to go on were three widely separate “eye ball reports”. One of these included low ceilings and sea fog along the coast of Ugava bay.
It was a tough decision with each team adding fuel to a debate that lasted for more than an hour. Dave later referred to this part as a classic case for an MBA course in group dynamics. The Air Rally’s organizing committee did its best to try and come to a group decision, but it was like herding cats. The bottom line was that the weather between here and our destination was mostly unknown. Despite multiple talks with the flight services weather briefer (many of us called) he stuck to his marginal forecast with a vague “there be a low pressure system about”. I had a suspicion that this is what is written on the edge of all weather maps, replacing the old seadogs phrase “There be dragons here”. There was only one way to resolve the issue and that was to go have a look for ourselves.
We volunteered to be the scout aircraft. With both myself and Dave IFR current, and flying a state of the art Cirrus we felt able to handle IMC conditions if they occurred. Our plan was to radio back weather reports to the other teams to allow better decision-making. Away we went flying under the clouds at about 2000 ft above the ground, reporting back along the way.
We found the conditions to be generally VFR with only one point were it went marginal, about 30 miles north west of Kuujjuaq. We were now definitely above the tree line, with snow (in August!) beginning to appear in shelter nooks and valley in the terrain.
Around the half way point we spotted the first bank of sea fog. For the next hour our biggest concern was that this encroaching fog would move inland from the Hudson strait and obscure our destination.
Figure 12: Sea fog creeping inland from Ugava Bay
Finally after almost two hours in the air the gravel strip at Kangiqsujuaq materialized. It was a sight right out of a national geographic magazine, perched on a cliff above the town nestled in a fjord.
Figure 13: gravel strip at Kangiqsujuaq
We had made it with time to spare. But would the aircraft behind us be able to land in time or would the sea fog move inland and force them to turn back? I made our last weather call to the planes behind us as Dave put it down on the picturesque gravel strip.
Figure 14: The lone Kangiqsujuaq controller. He juggled our flock and an Elt emergency with a cheerful demeanor.
As we were the first plane in, Dave went in to introduce ourselves and give the controller a list of planes and what help he could while I tried to workout how to park everyone. Parking was a challenge as the ramp space was small and a large Sikorsky helicopter was already taking up part of it. It had been there for months, so I felt the best thing to do was to box it in with our aircraft. After six more planes had landed, including the Swiss PC-12, Dave re-appeared with an ashen look on his face. The controller had just received a call from Gander flight service. A satellite had detected an ELT emergency beacon along our flight path. This could only mean one thing, a plane, most likely from the Air Rally, had crashed. Dave briefed Alan Matheson, who had just arrived, and together they scurried about trying to sort out who might be missing. This was no easy task as some of the pilots that had heard our initial marginal weather report had decided not to depart. This included Team 13, the other team from the BFC, Paul, Andrea and Urik.
About 20 minutes later we received a follow-up call confirming the beacon identification. It was from an Air Inuit twin otter aircraft (not in our group). It had made a hard landing at a mining camps tundra strip and had accidentally set off its ELT. Within minutes the last of our group called in for landing and sighs of relief were in order.
Our luck held and the fog did not move inland until even the slowest 172 had made it safely in. In all 17 planes made it into Kangiqsujuaq. The rest parked their planes in Kuujjuaq for the next three days, awaiting our return.
A crowd of mostly children had gathered at the airport to greet us including Mary the towns mayor. She helped to distribute our two crates of oranges by throwing them into the crowd. Other teams did the same with the goodies brought from home for the local children. Orange peels and candy wrappers were everywhere in the wake of the crowd. We dropped our bags at the eight room half star co-op hotel. It looked like a school portable but It turned out to be surprisingly functional. We walked up to the community center to join the festivities organized in our honor. It was an amazing experience complete with demonstrations of traditional arctic games and a feast of raw and cooked caribou meat, arctic char, and various stews.
One of the games, One foot high kick, involved performing a high kick to hit a stuffed sealskin ball suspended on a string. Starting from a standing start with both feet together on the ground, a player must jump up to kick the hanging target with one foot and then land on the same foot that kicked the target! To me it seemed to be an impossible task but one of the local men was successfully kicking up to eye level. The most painful game appeared to be the cheek pull. You start by hooking your finger into your opponent's cheek, then you pull. The first one to give in loses.
A few in our group tried the high kick but no one dared attempt the cheek pull.
Figure 15: Our hosts demonstrate the cheek pull. WOW!
August 4th: The Dead zone.
The following morning, we gathered at the community center to plan the leap over the Hudson straits, 90 miles of iceberg chilled water and then on to Iqaluit. Using the community centers phone we discussed the weather with flight services in Montreal and began a waiting game. The weather had gone from ground fog early in the morning, to marginal VFR during the mid morning and then finally around noon it was looking VFR. But low ceilings were expected and the freezing level was at 6000 ft so ice was a possibility if we filed IFR. This was a problem as most of the teams had planned to make this leg at 9000+ feet. The idea was to fly as high as possible to reduce the size of the “dead zone” in the middle of the straits.
The dead zone is a term used by single engine pilots to describe a zone over water in which you are unable to glide to either shore should you have an engine failure. Crossing at three to four thousand feet would mean a dead zone of 60 nm or more for most of the planes. Of course the airplanes did not know that they would be flying over water and the chances of an engine failure is remote even for the oldest Cessna. But the pilots knew and as we waited for an updated weather forecast we swapped stories on water crash landings.
No one in the rally had crash landed in water, but each seemed to have their own “I heard from a friend who heard it from a friend” story. The favorite was one that happened last summer. A pilot ferrying a Cessna 182 from Ireland to Canada had crash landed right beside the Hibernia Oil platform in the icy waters off Newfoundland. He had landed perfectly and had been seen waving from the wing of the sinking Cessna wearing a full cold water survival suit. In 45 minutes the oil workers had fished him out. He was stone cold dead from hypothermia. The Hudson straits would be even colder.
The message was that a forced landing in the middle of the straits was a death sentence, regardless of the survival equipment on board. We carried life jackets in the Cirrus, and many of the other teams had life rafts as well, a few carried full survival suites. I knew that it would make no difference, even in a full body suit, the icy waters would take their due long before search and rescue showed up.
The mood turned even more serious when we learned of a tragedy in the local community. The previous night, after we had gone to bed, the young man who ran the community center had met a tragic end. He had a bit too much to drink and had backed his van off of the dock into the bay. He was immediately fished out but was pronounced dead. That was all the details we had heard. Had our arrival triggered the drinking party that had led to his death?
With sober thoughts it was decided we would try the straits in the afternoon. This would allow daytime heating to raise the cloud layer as high as possible. It would also give everyone time to refuel. Perry Burtford and Laurie Nadeau coordinated the refueling from a cache of 55 gallon drums ordered for the Air Rally. This involved using a single hand pump, a group of eager volunteers, and more than a little bit of guess work on how much fuel was being pumped. By the early afternoon everyone had been refueled at a cost of $12.72 a gallon ($700 a drum ).
In order to insure that each plane attempting the straits had at least one IFR rated pilot myself and Dave teamed up with the team from the Windsor flying club. Perry joined me in the Cirrus and we once again scouted ahead, relaying weather reports as we went. Dave joined Denis in the Windsor flying clubs Cessna 172 and led a flight of three other similar aircraft across the straits. He jokingly called them the three stooges as the crews were flying the slowest aircraft to attempt the straits.
Figure 16: icebergs in the Hudson straits
We crossed at 4500 feet and spotted multiple icebergs. For 25 minutes we were in the dead zone and my ears strained listening to our single engine. Funny how your mind can play tricks. Was there a slight change in engine pitch? I made myself busy spotting icebergs and showing Perry some of the SR-20’s features.
Figure 17: Feet Dry on the other side of the Hudson straits
In no time we were feet dry across the Hudson strait on the shore of Baffin island with only a low mountain range between us and Iqaluit. The scenery was the most impressive yet. With only 1000 feet between the clouds and the mountain tops we had a good close look. Due to the overall lack of energy in the Arctic weather, turbulence, or mountain wave effect was never an issue.
Iqaluit was larger than I had expected with a single huge 8600 ft runway splitting civil aviation ( on the east side ) from a small military base on the west that housed a few CF-18 interceptors plus modified dash 7’s used for ice patrols. The ramp area was huge, No parking problems here! We were met by a reception committee that included local “Polar pilot” Bert Rose, and a helpful airport staff that refuelled the planes for us with an electric drum pump… what a luxury! Also on the ramp was the other BFC team, they had flown directly from Kujjuaq beating everyone else in.
I waited along with many of the other pilots until everyone was safely across the straits and down and park in a neat row. Dave and his flight of slower Cessna’s was one of the last groups in. The Pilot from Switzerland, Aurel, opened up the back of his PC-12 and severed champagne right on the tarmac, even bringing out some exotic ordure’s for all. A classy, very European end to a tense flight.
We stayed at the navigator Inn in Iqaluit which turned out to be a real hot spot. I mean that literally, our room never dropped below 30 Celsius. Even in the 3 am twilight (the sun never sets in Iqaluit in August), with the tiny hotel room window wide open, we could not get the temperature below 30 C. Unusually hot weather (it was 20C outside), plus heavy insulation of the hotel and a furnace that was built never to be turned off made our two nights in Iqaluit a sweltering experience. Hello global warming!
Luckily the local legion was only a short walk away and we had been given honorary memberships. Everyone was happy to lean that the Beer was cheaper than the aviation gas in Kangiqsujuaq. To our surprise, the AV gas in Iqaluit was just over $4 a gallon, Cheaper even than at Buttonville in southern Ontario. In a quirky chain of events the gas had been pre-ordered by Catherine last summer when the price was 40% cheaper. Her planning had given everyone a huge bonus!
August 5th, Pangnirtung troubles
In the morning Bert organized a bus tour of the town and surrounding areas. Iqaluit is growing rapidly and there are even plans for a new deep water port. I was surprised to find out that a building lot cost $100,000 plus just to lease! The Nunavut people are everywhere in the majority and exude a sense of confidence that you would expect in a boom town. In the afternoon the Air Rally committee gathered a few planes to fly to the beautiful small fishing town of Pangnirtung. Myself and Dave joined in with our Cirrus, having cleaned out the back seat for a passenger, George Erickson. George was a old time float pilot, and author of the book True North: Exploring the Great Wilderness by Bush Plane. We were about half way there when the lead plane (Paul in his V-tail Bonaza ) called the weather undoable and turned back.
I considered this rather odd at first as Paul is IFR rated and one of the most experienced pilots I know. Then I looked at the IFR plate for Pang. It was a sight to behold with a minimum decent altitude 2000 feet above the runway. It is also the first and only time I have seen this warning listed in the Canada Flight supplement, “only pilots with considerable experience in area should plan on using this airport.” After a brief discussion myself and Dave agreed that 24 hours on Baffin Island did not constitute “considerable experience in area”. George politely remained silent while we concluded the obvious.
We turned back, to do some sight seeing along the north coast of Frobisher bay.
While taking some photos at 500 ft over an iceberg in the middle of the bay our alternator failure light went on. Dave (who was flying left seat) cycled the alternator while I doubled check the POH checklist. Our Cirrus has two full alternators, each able to carry the plane on its own so an alternator failure for us, more than a hour from the nearest airport isn’t as devastating as it would have been for a Cessna or Piper pilot, but still it was a worry. We snapped a few more shots of the Grinnell glacier on the other side of the bay and turned for home.
Figure 18: Were the Ice joins the sky to the sea. Grinnell glacier is shrinking every year due to global warming. Dave submitted this picture in the Air Rallys photo contest on global warming and won!
After landing we talked to a Bob Harrold who was with one of the other teams. Bobbie is a grey haired certified AEM ( aircraft mechanic ) from Butler Indiana and owns both his own 3000' air strip and aircraft repair business. Bobbie has been an aircraft mechanic since the Korean War and had seen it all. He went out of his way to help everyone and refused to be paid for his work. He was everyone’s new best friend, going around filing propellers, fixing broken seats or checking on engine problems like our alternator. Bobbie sacrificed part of his afternoon to have a look at our Cirrus and confirmed that Alt one was dead. The good new was that we were still legal to fly IFR on the one remaining alternator. For the rest of the trip we would fly with only one alternator, just like a Cessna!
That evening, as I sat enjoying a slide presentation from George Erickson about his travels in the Canadian North, I did the math in my head. Had we pushed on to do the approach into Pang the alternator would have failed somewhere around short final. How fast would we have reacted? Would we have done everything right or would the distraction, plus the low visibility been enough to guide us into the side of a mountain? It’s called the accident chain, and it is the root cause of most aviation accidents, a series of unrelated events coming together at a single critical point to overload the flight crew. We broke that chain by making the right call on our experience and the weather. Thank you Paul for the weather call , CFS for the warning and Dave for keeping his head screwed on right in the left seat!
August 6th, Southward bound.
On August 6th we gathered for breakfast in the navigators restaurant and the usual weather debate. Around noon we were once again heading back to Kangiqsujuaq. This time Denis was flying with me in the Cirrus and Perry and Dave led a group of slower planes in their Cessna 172. Once again we did our best to scout out the weather and relay it back to the slower planes.
As Kangiqsujuaq has no restaurant, Our evening meal was a group effort led by Catherine. Not sure what the locals thought about letting a hungry pilots take over their community centers kitchen, but the end result was Spaghetti with caribou meat sauce! Bet you can’t find that in a pasta recipe book.
After dinner a volley ball tournament, ping pong and a pool table rounded out the evenings entertainment. My aging muscles, hand eye coordination problems and grey hair were all forgotten in an impromptu return to long lost youth.
That evening we stayed in the local student dorm and were awaken around midnight by the sound of a car horn. For about an hour some of the local teenagers played several pranks on us including placing a twobyfour over a car horn and locking the car. After Dave figured out how to disconnect the car horn they resorted to throwing pebbles onto the tin roof. Around 1:30 am one of the elders came out to break up the fun, or maybe they just lost interest. I don’t know what the cause was, although one of the other pilots mentioned that we were suspected of supplying the alcohol that had caused the tragedy on our first visit. Despite this I would return to Kangiqsujuaq any day, if for no other reason than to try the nine hole golf course someone had industriously staked out on the tundra and to watch the growth of a dynamic community.
August 7th, south to Kawawachikamach
Our hopes for an early departure were dashed by ground fog. While we once again waited on the weather, myself and Dave spend our time having a look at traditional winter clothing created by a local designer. It is the same family that had invited the ribbon of hope team to stay with them in their home.
Figure 19: On the ramp at Kangiqsujuaq waiting on weather and fuel.
The Helicopter in the background is moving fuel drums out to a mining camp.
After refuelling out of drums for the last time we are finally airborne after lunch. Southward bound, we retrace our route to Kujjuaq for fuel then on to Schefferville for the night. For the Kujjuaq leg I teamed up with Perry in the Windsor flying clubs 172 along with the three other planes that Dave has christened the Three stooges, as they were the slowest in the rally. I am confident in my IFR skills but not the equipment in the 172. I was unable to get its aging ADF to function and relied instead on VOR’s and a hand help GPS. As I fiddled with the aging equipment the tree line slowly reappeared over rugged landscape. Thankfully there is no drama this time and the weather is VFR.
In Kujjuaq, while everyone is refuelling a debate once again started up about the weather. Ceilings of three to four thousand with intermittent rain showers and wind gusts are reported at Schefferville. We could file IFR but decided to wait an hour and help out the VFR folks again if needed. Our wait stretched into the afternoon but finally there is strength in numbers and a decision is reached to go for it VFR. Myself and Dave are back in the Cirrus. We pair up with a Bellenca flown by Ron and Shirley from Texas. Ron has worn a white Cowboy hat the entire trip and is easily one of the most likable characters in the rally. His Bellenca is surprisingly fast with a 300 hp engine and a light wooden wing and structure. Half way there a weather report from the twin Navajo flown by the Sylvain’s confirms that the weather is now VFR at Schefferville so we split up. To our surprise the Bellenca pulls away from us, even with our SR-20 going flat out at 155kts, beating us into Schefferville.
Figure 20: The Bellenca passing us
At Schefferville we are met by the sight of huge open pit mines, a damp runway and a town with a rundown look. At the airport I noticed that even the local automatic teller requires a special steel cage for added security.
Figure 21: Open pit mine at Schefferville
This is a town that has seen better times. Luckily our hosts from the Kawawachikamach first nation show up with a yellow school bus and a Van to ferry us out to their community. Our luggage is loaded into the back of an opened pickup truck and with some delay (we diverted with the Van to pick up a team that had parked its float plane on a local lake) we finally made it to the Naskapi Nation of Kawawachikamach. It is a First Nation community with a population of approximately 750 located approximately 16 kilometres northeast of the airport. Much to everyone’s relief it shares none of the run down look of Schefferville. We were hours late and by the time we arrive much of the food was gone or is cold. But the people are friendly and given the rainy weather we are offered the community center to stay over night as well as a tee-pee site with tents already pitched. Unfortunately there is not much time to meet the locals before sleep beckons. It had been a long day.
Dave found a couch in front of a large screen TV, I noticed Bobbie sleeping under a table (AME’s normally sleep under wings, but in a pinch a table will do) and I found a quite corner of a gym with my sleeping bag. By Midnight the community center is littered with the bodies of sleeping pilots. In the morning showers were available in the local pool house and a well stock kitchen provided coffee, toast and orange juice.
August 8th, Fighter town and Blueberries
Around 9 am we hopped onto a local yellow school bus packed with pilots and kids. Dona, from the ribbon of hope team, showed off her singing voice and extensive knowledge of camp songs for the ride into town. Some of the pilots distributed the last of their candy supplies and once at the airport most of the teams gave impromptu tours of their planes to several dozen local children. Our plastic plane with its large TV screen and side mounted control stick was a hit! The kids were all well mannered and curious. Hopefully one or two will want to take up the torch and become pilots one day. Too bad we didn’t have time to take them for a ride.
Figure 22: Our new friends in Kawawachikamach
After the usual weather discussions and a call to flight services I file VFR to Alma Quebec via Wabush Labrador(It was my turn for the left seat). For once the weather is cooperating and we are off more on less as planned. In no time we were over Wabush at 6500 ft and decided not to land as we had enough fuel to make it to Alma and did not need a bladder stop.
The next leg of the trip would be a bit tricky as our planned route would take us close to two military operations areas. Both are associated with the Bagotville fighter base located only a few miles south of Alma. Bagotville is one of the main CF-18 operational bases so this was one place we expected to be carefully watched. Climbing to 10,500 feet we had a partial view of the huge Manicougan meteor crater lake but then had to descend to get under one of the restricted airspace zones. We passed over the Manic-5 hydro-generator station, one of the largest in Quebec, before descending into Alma.
Figure 23: The Manic 5 hydro-generator station.
Alma is situated on the southeast coast of lake saint-jean as it flows into the Saguenay river about 175 miles north east of Quebec city. We did a low and over to check out the spot landing markers and then lined up for our third spot landing. I did my best, but once again I was a touch long. The Cirrus lands flatter than most light planes and even side slipping, its tough to safely hit a spot landing when the markers are right at the start of the runway. Still my landing should be better than most, or so I hoped.
Once on the ground we were greeted by friendly girls and a set of gifts from the local chamber of commerce. This included blueberry beer (a bit flat but great tasting!) and fresh Blueberry covered chocolates, the most amazing chocolates I have ever had! I ate half the box before I dare offered Dave any. Sorry buddy but me and chocolates go way back. We waited for the rest of the pilots to land and then posed for a group picture taken by Robert Sirley, our photographer extortionate. He even used a local helicopter at one point, talk about a perfectionist.
Figure 24: Group picture in Alma, The PC-12 on the right was the plane intercepted.
While we were posing I found out that the Swiss PC-12 was intercepted by a CF-18. Most of the pilots assumed that they were just edgy ( a terrorist scare was underway in Europe at the time). I didn’t get a chance to talk with Aurel, the pilot who had so graciously share Champaign with everyone on the tarmac in Iqualit, or get the full story from anyone else, until after the rally. I sent an email to the PR folks at Bagotville and was told that he had violated airspace (cut the corner) and had not been on a know flight plan. As we were traveling in a group and often had problems contacting flight services, many of the pilots were opting for “flight itinerary’s” rather than filing flight plans so his answer wasn’t a surprise. It did make for a nice photo op.
Figure 25: A picture take by one of the PC-12 passengers of the CF-18 that intercepted them.
Catherine, who was riding in the back of the PC-12 offered this narrative:
“I was flying again onboard the Pilatus PC12 with Simone, Cesar, Aurel and my children. We were enjoying the scenery looking out the window, when to our surprise we saw an F18 plane positioned stand-still right behind the right wing. He was so close that we could see his helmet. I was impressed at first and very proud to show that our Canadian Air force was taking the time to salute a plane flying the Swiss flag ! Though when I realised that he was fully armed with rockets, Simone decided it was time to tell Aurel. To our surprise, Aurel had no knowledge of the presence of this impressive machine and started switching frequencies to finally get into communication with the “bird outside the window”. Finally the bird left us to our own destiny free of any pressure. We found out later about the terrorist scare in England and we had been intercepted for verification due to very edgy security conditions. Aurel was thrilled about the experience and will surely let all his friends back in Europe know about this great and very unusual experience.”
After the group photo we boarded another yellow school bus and headed to the local hotel for lunch and some downtime. I did a bit of sight seeing and Dave went off on a local tour arranged by the Chamber of commerce. I caught the same tour in the late afternoon with about twenty other pilots including Paul and Andre. We were treated to a tour of the town and of a park and museum focused around an old water town, one of the first in North America. Along the way we were given a quiz about the museum and presentation.
Then back onto the bus and off to the evening's events at a local lakefront. This included an awesome buffet that for the first time in eight days didn’t contain caribou. A well stocked bar, cheap beer, and a local DJ named Jello were the ingredients for an party that rocked until Midnight. Pilots sure like to dance, even on the tables and occasional with each other....
Figure 26: Marc, the pilot of the only float plane in the Rally, doing his walking on water impression.
Somewhere in the middle the results of the local quiz were announced. As myself and Dave had taken separate tours we had each filled out a “team questionnaire” on our own. To our surprise, Dave came in first, and I came in second. To keep the evil eyes of our fellow pilots in check we split up the gift baskets among the other teams and promised not to break up the “brain trust” in the future. We wound down at the local hotel with a late night pizza snack with Catherine and Camil riding shotgun.
August 9th: all good things must come to an end.
The final day of the Air Rally start out right, we were allowed to sleep in. Charlevoix, our final destination, was only 90 nm away. This area, from Alma to Charlevoix is one of the most breathtaking in all of Canada and part of it was declared a World Biosphere Reserve by UNESCO in 1989. naturally we took the scenic route down the Saguenay with thousand foot cliffs on each side, watching for whales and hydro wires. to fly down the Saguenay river and see if we could spot whales in the St-Lawrence River. Andre had informed us that the best spot for whale watching was were the Saguenay met the St-Lawrence. We were joined in flight by Camil and his Cessna 185 with Robert Sirley on board for some in flight pictures. He got some amazing shots (see Figure 2), thanks Robert!
Figure 27: in formation with Camil’s Cessna 185.
Right on cue the whales appeared, frolicking at the mouth of the Saguenay, seemingly oblivious to a boat packed with tourists steaming around them.
Figure 28: Whales at the mouth of the Saguenay River.
After half a dozen circles Dave (his turn for the left seat) took us out over the saint Lawrence and west to Charlevoix airport. The pattern at the uncontrolled airport was busy and somewhat in chaos as several of the Air Rally planes had misjudged the wind and landed with a tail wind. At one point planes were doing approaches to both ends of the same runway and at least one of them was NORDO (short for NO Radio, one of the planes had a radio failure). Dave wisely elected to do a few 360 until the confusion was cleared up and then lined up for our last spot landing, once again landing long.
The fence at Charlevoix airport was lined with sight-seers checking out our “spotty” landing techniques. The airport had recently been renovated and sported a beautiful conference room on which the organizing committee had placed a Pizza lunch and the Air Rally trophy. It was huge, would it fit in the back of the Cirrus or would we have to leave out luggage behind? After lunch we piled onto yet another yellow school bus for the trip to the Charlevoix Casino, and the Manoir de Richelieu four star hotel. Now that’s a way to end an Air Rally!
Some pilots hit the Casino. Myself, Dave, Andre, Paul and Urik settled into a prime spot on the terrace over looking the St Lawrence for a flight debriefing and beer. We made it!
Figure 29: Flight debriefing. Paul, Urik, Andre, myself,. Dave is behind the camera.
The awards dinner was held in the hotel and the results made official a few days later. Much to our amazement we came in third out of 27 teams that had competed. We were given the “Aero scout award” for helping other teams both in the air and with weather interpretation on the ground.
When I signed up for the Air Rally I expected to be challenged by the flight planning, precision landings and special trials. All of this came true. As pilots we had tested our skill, against each other, against our own demons, and against the only competitor that really counts, mother nature. Along the way I discovered that the real reward was the shared enthusiasm and experience of flying the Canadian Arctic with other pilots and most of all, the new friends discovered along the way. We had been welcomed with open arms and warmth by some amazing communities. It was an experience that I will never forget.
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