I love that character “Tattoo.” “Bozz, Bozz, d’plane, d’plane.” Those four words opened my eyes to the world of little planes (small aircraft, I mean).
When I was little, I lived in a little town called Miri. Miri is 60 miles south of the Sultanate of Brunei, whose ruler was once the richest man in the world, that is, until Bill Gates came along and made silicon more desirable than black gold (oil). Miri boasts the first oil well dis-covered by the British Shell Company in the deep jungle of Borneo.
Borneo, in my youth, was primitive. I grew up without television. Naturally when I arrived in Canada back in 1975, and discovered that television was as common as a couch, I got myself a TV, brand name Quasar. Why? Because the tagline on the box said, “The quality goes in before the product goes out.” Some of you may remember this. As a person from the land of no TV, I had to get the one with definite qual-ity. Taglines sell! It was the kind of TV where you actually had to haul your butt out of the Lazy Boy chair to change the channel. Some of you will also remember that there were only 13 channels on the dial. I only had 3. I could not afford “cable,” and Mr. Roger then, was “unhackable,” so that meant, “No pay no say!” (An old Chinese say-ing)!
And so it was that with my TV I explored the world beyond my imme-diate surroundings, which in the early years of my existence in Canada were pretty limited. Today we try to limit our intake of “tv-itis” be-cause there are better things to do out in the real world than watch TV … like going to a real airport and flying a real plane. But in my younger days, TV was my teacher.
And so it is that I got to learn a lot about planes and flying boats and crafts from watching TV. The documentary Wings over Canada still remains a very entertaining and educational, as well as an eye-opening show for me because not only does it enlighten me about flying but it truly opens my eyes to the fact that:
“WOW … there are places in Canada that are truly GORGEOUS.” There are places in Canada that are only accessible by float planes and by small planes, kind of like the small plane that flew over Tattoo’s head while he pointed at it and yelled, “D’plane, d’plane.”
Last time I said I would talk about some of the most beautiful places I have seen in our Province from the air. Well, I am going to try, but words will do them great injustice. I will try anyhow.
On a cold February morning, Sparky (his real name) Imeson, my mountain flying guru and great friend, and I decided to fly to Gimli, Manitoba, to fetch my new acquisition. It is a 1975 Cessna 172, a four-seater small plane, like the one Tattoo pointed out; like those that are constantly buzzing over your head and house while the pilots in them learn how to land at Pitt Meadows airport in what they call “circuit training.” (Next time you hear a sound of a small aircraft, do like Tattoo did; run outside, drop what you’re doing, look up and point at it and yell, “D’plane, d’plane,” as loudly as you can. I promise you, it is most therapeutic and if you have a bad neighbour you want out of your neighbourhood, it might work!)
I am famous for getting off topic … alrighty then, back to Gimli, Manitoba. Gimli is the site of a strange landing that occurred back in July of 1983. An Air Canada Boeing 767 actually glided to an unserv-iceable runway making an off-airport landing because it ran out of fuel. You can Google “Gimli Glider” on the internet and read more about it if you like.
The day Sparky and I attempted to fly out of Gimli, Manitoba; the temperature was minus 40 degrees Celsius. THAT IS COLD. For a tropical bird like me, it is cold beyond description. Cussing did not help. I had to drop in at a local Sally Ann store to buy an old beaver-pelted coat just to keep my skin from cracking. Now I know why the Hudson Bay Company people became fur traders up North in the good old days.
My newly acquired Cessna with a new engine refused to start. The mechanic was called in to help crank the engine up. Finally we were able to get airborne after a long run up. Everywhere I looked the ground was white and frozen. Flying across Lake Manitoba was a complete “white out.” The lake was frozen; the clouds were low so visibility was poor. Sparky flew IFR (that’s Instrument Flight Rules for non-aviators). Without IFR we would not have been able to fly out that day.
The weather started to clear towards Regina. All the way west to-wards Regina and Medicine Hat, the flight was as boring as the ter-rain were flat and non remarkable. A dramatic change in scenery happened just as we approached Lethbridge, Alberta. The Foot hills of the Rockies were awe inspiring as you get to see the terrain slowly rise. The ridges and mountain tops were sprinkled with snow and punctuated with glaciers. As we approach the mountain ranges, we could see frozen lakes and blue lakes which just appeared as though they were suspended in the valleys and between mountain ranges. Blue Hawaiian punch bowls I thought! The cold dry air in the plane made me thirsty and I looked down from 1000 feet above ground level to see a Hawaiian punch below me … reminded me of the ancient mariner saying: “Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink!”
The Kootenay lakes, the ski hills of Big White, Apex, and even to the North, the Silver Star Mountain of Vernon were clearly visible as we pressed westbound on our journey home to Pitt Meadows. Runways below us enroute were easy to spot, contrasted by the white snow-covered surroundings. I started to apply some of the “Mountainology” knowledge I had learnt from Sparky. Like, how to cross a ridge at 45 degrees angle; how to dive over the ridge; how to “feel” where the updrafts and downdrafts were coming from by watching the vertical speed indicator; and how to tell from the snow deposits on the side of each mountain where the prevailing winds was coming from. Now, that is a lot more interesting than flying a flat terrain, any flying day, I’d say! Most of all I learned how to manage the fuel mixture and engine performance in high altitude and low temperature.
The most incredible sight was seeing Okanagan Lake and Skaha Lake appearing before us as we neared Penticton. All of a sudden the Snow and white gave way to more greenery and darker waters. The terrain had changed quite a bit. And then there was a change in temperature. It became a lot warmer.
We made our gradual descent into Penticton for runway 34. To fly the final leg to this airport in a small aircraft with the water so close as we approach over Skaha Lake and then gliding over the beach onto runway 34 has become a thrill for me up to this day. I still take off to Penticton from Pitt Meadows some mornings just to recreate that thrill. Often as I near Penticton I pray the wind will be blowing from the North, which it usually is, just so I can fly over Skaha Lake to land on runway 34. I know how much fun float plane pilots must have each time I do that! Someday I’ve got to get myself a float plane too.
For now, I have to leave you again. I shall continue my journey in the next issue of this awesome rag. Until then, this is ERISSA from COBALT AVIATION saying, ADIOS. To all the pilots and future pilots, I wish you blue skies and safe flights.
For tips on mountain flying techniques, if you plan to venture into the mountains this winter, please check out Sparky Imeson’s book : The Mountain Flying Bible (Revised edition), available at Cobalt Aviation. It is a life-saver. Short of having him actually in the plane with you to tell you what to do in a “tight,” the book is your next best bet!
If you are not going to be a pilot –in- command flying into the mountains, perhaps you can call COBALT AVIATION @ 604-465-3328 and book a sight- seeing flight and leave the flying to us while you enjoy the breathtaking views of our coastal mountains ( in that plane that we flew in from Gimli)!
Making a final approach into Runway 34, Penticton
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