I Love the Smell of Avgas in the Morning

We spent 3 more days stuck in Chibougamau while a stationary Low pressure system had its fun swirling around in the North Atlantic bringing a mixture of freezing rain, low cloud and high winds in Northern Quebec.  In the meantime my colleague and I found a bar in town that served fantastic ribs and $5 pints.

Finally the weather forecast clears enough for us to take a shot at going north.  The weather in Kuujjuaq is currently showing the ceilings at 3500' with an improving trend, but the forecast still says its going to drop to 1500, but no freezing rain is forecast like what has been common for the past few days.  Thirty-five hundred feet is plenty, and I wonder if the forecast is wrong as it has been made several hours ago, even if its not it should still be enough to get make it in, even with the rising terrain in the surrounding area.  We have also found a good place to stop for fuel about halfway in between Chibougamau and Kuujjuaq.  On the suggestion of another colleague we found an airstrip belonging to a hunting lodge.  They had fuel and rooms available in case we had to stay overnight.  That meant if we stopped for fuel there we would have enough range to fly to Kuujjuaq and then come back to the lodge if the weather turned sour.  The runway at the hunting lodge was a 3500' gravel strip.  Under the current conditions our performance charts list the landing distance as 2500' under ideal conditions, which means 3500' is long enough to get into, but you also don't want to waste any time getting on the ground when landing, especially on a gravel strip where there will be limited braking effectiveness.

Before we take off I call to make sure someone could meet us at the airport to give us fuel.  The CFS notes to overfly the lodge prior to landing to alert them of the arriving aircraft.  I'm slightly disappointed when the woman I'm talking to assures me that won't be necessary and she'll make sure someone is there at the time we expect to arrive.  Two hours later and the airstrip comes into view.  We fly overhead first to check the windsock to determine which direction to land in.  The winds were pretty light, in the 5-8 knot range, 90° to the runway.  On final I shave 5 mph off our normal approach speed of 120, and tell myself if I'm not on the ground in the first third of the runway, we'll go around.  It always helps to remind yourself of the options, and review the actions you'll take, that way it will take less time to process and make the decision if you have to.  Hesitating at those moments is what leads to accidents.

The key to remember during short field landings, is that the landing flare always results in landing long of where you aim the airplane during your approach.  So if you want to touch down at the runway threshold, you have to start your flare slightly prior to crossing the threshold.  A flare is the process of trading in your last bits of excess airspeed (kinetic energy) in exchange for slowing the loss of altitude (potential energy), so naturally this will carry you further down the runway.  So I aim for 50 ft before the runway begins, and I smoothly pull the power off as I clear the last few trees.

Most of the runways we've been landing on this summer have been 10,000 ft long, so up until now I've been enjoying the extra space to try and finesse the airplane down with as little bump as possible.  To do so you leave a little bit of power on into the flare which gives you more time to find the sweet spot before your last bits of airspeed bleed off and the airplane stalls onto the runway.  I've been getting pretty good at it if I do say so myself, but I use up a lot of runway in the process.  This time however, the priority is not about greasing the touchdown, but to get the airplane down as close to the runway threshold as I can.  A power off flare means the airspeed diminishes rapidly and you have less time to find the sweet spot in the flare.  I manage to nail my target touchdown point, and the touchdown itself is not too bad either.  The next concern now is to keep the controls pulled back as much as possible to keep the nose of the airplane high and the props from sucking up bits of gravel.  The props on this airplane are brand new from the overhaul shop, and my boss would have my head if I put a ding in them from improper gravel runway operations.  Since I've managed not to waste any runway I can also keep the braking to almost nil as well, which also helps to keep the nose up.  We keep the airplane rolling (another technique to prevent gravel being sucked into the props) until we pull up onto the concrete pad at the fuel pumps.  I get a nod of "very nicely done" from my colleague, and we shut down.

Its cold here, we've gone from a crisp winter air in Chibougamau to a biting winter cold here in the interior of northern Quebec.  I was wearing my running shoes, but decide its time to put my boots on.  Winter has arrived, or I suppose more accurately we have arrived where it is winter.

Airplane gassed up, and we're ready to go again on our second leg.  We manage to quickly check the weather at the lodge, and its now saying 1700' overcast - looks like the forecast came true after all   The lodge airstrip here is in the highest terrain, pretty much everything from here on to Kuujjuaq is downhill to Ungava Bay.  The clouds here are also still pretty thin, and high enough not to pose a problem.  We shouldn't have any problems with the terrain rising to meet the cloud layer, and hopefully, not visa versa either.  I decide to continue on.  Turns out not so much.  Much of our flight is spent descending lower and lower.  The terrain is descending, but so are the clouds, and at a faster rate.  Fifty miles from Kuujjuaq and we find ourselves scud running at less than 500' agl and weaving around freezing rain patches.  In built up terrain like southern Ontario this would be a no-no as there are restrictions on how low we can fly over built up areas and other property and people (except during survey where we usually have permits to do so).  But in remote, uncontrolled airspace like northern Quebec, our only requirement is to remain clear of cloud, so from a legal standpoint we're still ok.  From a safety standpoint if it came down to it we could climb up through the clouds if we absolutely had to.

Finally as we near Kuujjuaq the last bits of higher terrain fall away and we find ourselves back at a reasonable altitude.  We made it, finally.

Contingency Plans

We have a short survey to do up in Kuujjuaq, QC.  For those who don't know where that is, its on the southern tip of Ungava Bay in Northern Quebec.  Its really a bad time of year to go up and do a survey there, but our client is in a bind, so we're going up anyways.  It has not been a good start.  We got out of Toronto ok, and met up with the 206 crew in Val-d'or for the night, as they had some parts in the van that we needed to take with us.  The next day the weather was good enough to get to Chibougamau, which is only about an hour flight NE of Val-d'or, but beyond that the weather had turned sour.  So we stayed here for the night.  A little progress at a time is better than none.  Our next hop however is going to have be in one go all the way up to Kuujjuac, which is 540 nm, or about 3.5 hrs, the only airport that is even remotely in between is La Grande-4 (CYAH) - you know, the one next to Lake Katatipawasakakamaw.  Yes that is a real lake, and the spelling is correct.  Anyway that's not even really a real airport, just an airstrip to service the generating station.  There's certainly no Avgas available..  But it looks like we're going to be hanging out here in the "Chiboug" for a bit as the weather for the next few days is going to be crap.

We actually had a CHANCE that we could have made it into Kuujjuaq yesterday, and I'll elaborate on that in a bit, but first I'm going to change topics.

I've started reading a book recently called Bravo Two Zero.  Its about a British SAS team behind the lines in Iraq, and their mission to go blow up some SCUD sites and communication lines.  I'm only about a third into it now, and up until this point its just been build-up, mostly about planning the mission.  He goes into excruciating detail on how they did their mission planning, and I actually find it quite fascinating to learn how they operate.  He describes how they have a contingency plan for every possible scenario.  If some of their guys go missing on patrol, they will rendezvous at such and such a place at such and such a time and wait for a defined period of time.  If the RV isn't made by the deadline, they have further procedures laid out to follow.  The order at which they exit the helicopter is preplanned so when they get dropped off they are able to follow certain procedures in case they end up unloading under fire.  They even have procedures to follow in case they have a communications failure with home base - they will RV with the helicopter at a specified time and place, down to the details of how the team leader will approach the helicopter and exchange radios and the signals to be used in case the heli has an urgent message for the team leader.  They have a plan for every possible scenario.

I'm sure by now some of you may see where I'm going with this.  Flying is done in much the same way, especially IFR flying - every possible contingency is planned for.  In IFR flying we try to plan for every possible contingency with the assumption that nothing is going to go right.  With IFR of course the assumption is always that the weather will be IMC (Instrument Meteorological Conditions).  So what if we have an emergency immediately after takeoff, such as an engine failure or fire, or other malfunction?  Of course we won't be able to return for a landing visually, so we better already have our Nav instruments tuned so that we're ready to conduct an instrument approach to land at the airport we just departed from.  That way there's no scramble to re-tune everything in what is already going to be a hectic cockpit environment.

There are also standard procedures laid out for a communications failure at any phase of the flight so that both pilot and controller already know what to expect from the other.  Controllers when they issue instructions or clearances, such as a hold, they'll include a statement at the end that says, "... expect further clearance at [time] (for example 12:36)".  That is more than just for the pilot's convenience, it is so that if a comm failure happens at some point following the last issued clearance, the pilot will then know for how long to continue his hold for before he can then automatically continue on to the next step, and he can do so knowing that ATC is expecting this.

Of course I also have to mention the contingencies that are in place regarding carrying extra fuel.  Even though IFR flying is intended to give the ability to fly and land at your destination in bad weather, there still exists the possibility that the weather will be SO bad that we won't be able to sight the runway even if we're flying an instrument approach.  In this case before we even take off we've included in our planning an alternate airport.  This alternate airport must have weather that is forecast to be significantly better than what would normally considered to be IFR weather minimums.  It is for this reason that the regulations state that we must carry sufficient fuel to:

1)  Fly to our destination
2)  Carry out an instrument approach, AND a missed approach (which is the procedure to overshoot and climb back to a safe altitude if the runway isn't visually spotted)
3)  Fly to our alternate and carry out an approach there
4)  Fly for an ADDITIONAL 45 minutes

These requirements are actually pretty restrictive, but its all designed so that we have a plan in place for every possible scenario, which is key in managing unforeseen circumstances that are out of our control.  In Southern Ontario or most of the United States these fuel restrictions would actually be no big deal most of the time, because your options for finding an alternate are many, so chances are you'll be able to find an airport that's not too far out of your way that has good enough weather to land, and also has gas available to refuel.  In the north however, airports are few and far between which means your alternate is going to be a LONG way away, and you better call first and VERIFY that they have fuel available, cause many times even though its listed as having fuel in the publications, it may be in drums.  If it is you better be carrying a pump with you.  Even still they may not even have some in stock.  This ain't no USA where you can land anywhere and have your pick of where you buy your fuel.  Planning is even more critical in remote areas like Northern Canada.

There's FAR fewer legal restrictions on VFR flight planning.  We only legally require to have an extra 30 minutes of fuel onboard, and much more is left up to the pilot's best judgement in regards to how to handle communications failures and the like.  This means much more freedom, but also requires an equal amount of more caution and good judgement.  In our case at this moment, if we were to file IFR to Kuujjuaq, we'd be able to penetrate the weather that is grounding us right now, but we wouldn't actually be able to carry the legal minimum in fuel.  At our current weight we're only able to take 5.2 hrs of fuel with us, but to file IFR we'd need 3.5 hrs to get to Kuujjuac, roughly another 0.3 to complete the approach and missed approach, and then from Kuujjuac the best alternate I can come up with at the moment that has fuel (just by taking a quick look) is 315 nm away, which is another 2.2 hrs of flying including the approach, and then add on our 45 minutes reserve fuel.  That's a total required fuel load of 6.8 hrs!  Almost double what we're actually going to burn, and WAY more than we can physically carry.  IFR isn't always a feasible option.

Of course the flip-side is that if we fly VFR we can legally make the flight without having to have enough fuel to go somewhere else - that's a big extra freedom - but we better be dang well sure we're going to be able to land when we get there, because the fuel we'll have left in the tanks won't be enough to take us to the next nearest place that has avgas available.  So its nice that we have the freedom to do that flying VFR, but it requires that we play it extra conservatively with the weather.  Which brings us full circle all the way back to yesterday:

When we landed here in Chibougamau yesterday and checked the weather, the Kuujjuac weather was reporting 1 1/2 miles visibility with 400 ft vertical visibility (not a cloud ceiling but snow that was thick enough prevent visual contact with the ground above 400 ft).  That's certainly not VFR.  The weather forecast however was saying that by the time we got there it would have cleared up to marginal VFR weather conditions, which would allow us just enough leeway to land.  BUT - without enough fuel to go somewhere else, do we put all our cards on the weather forecast and bank on it clearing up?  I think not.

Oh You're a Pilot?

I just recently met a friend of my girlfriend, who had been told by her that I was a pilot and that I was leaving for deployment again shortly.  We talked for a bit and she mentioned that my girlfriend had told her I was a pilot, but she was confused because she didn't understand why I would be leaving for somewhere else for a long period.  To her a pilot just flies back and forth from A to B, so there would be no need for me to leave for extended periods.  It was an innocent assumption made by someone who isn't aware of all the different amazing things you can do with an aircraft.  You could see the light come on as I explained the type of flying I do, and why it now made sense that I leave for extended periods

Its actually a fairly common scenario:  Somebody asks what I do, and I tell them I'm a pilot.  Invariably the next question is "Who do you work for?".  I dislike that question, as I would guess at least 95% of every other pilot out there does - we've all had it.  Its an innocent question, but the chances are that whoever is asking will have never heard of the company we work for.  When they ask it, they're expecting one of three answers: Air Canada, Westjet, or Porter (or insert any other well known regional airline that is common to the area).  But what they don't realize is that those airlines really only represent probably less than 10% of the entire pilot workforce in Canada, and unless whoever is asking actually works in the Aviation industry, I can guarantee they've never heard of the company that comes as the answer.  So I think most of my fellow aviators including myself are expecting the blank stare that comes when we answer their question.

I still haven't figured out how to best explain what I do in a succinct, clear answer.  How do you explain in one or two sentences in a casual conversation what I do as a low-level geophysical survey pilot?

Sometimes I also get the question "What do you fly?"  This is a little better question to ask.  At least if they don't know what a Piper Navajo is I can easily explain that its a twin engine propeller plane that normally holds about 8 people.  That's enough information for most people to imagine something that's pretty close to a Navajo.  When I flew the 206 that was even easier, because everyone knows what a Cessna is.

And then there's the "Are you still building hours to become an airline pilot?"  I usually have fun explaining that I'd NEVER want to become an airline pilot.  There's so many better and more interesting options to strive for than airline flying, at least in my opinion.

Its a shame that people equate airline flying as the only pinnacle to a successful flying career, and associate flying a small single engine piston plane with a low-experience entry level job.  While those both can be true - a good airline job CAN be the pinnacle of a successful flying career and flying around a small single-engine piston is OFTEN for entry level pilots, its not always the case.  Some airline pilot jobs are the lowest paying jobs in the industry, and some light piston plane jobs can require some of the highest most refined skill level of any pilot.  Some good examples are the small speciality flying charter companies that operate in and out of super-short unimproved strips or ski-plane operations that take hunters into and out of half-thawed lakes.  They may be flying the same aircraft that a low-time private pilot would be flying, but what they do certainly takes the skill of a high-time professional.

As Aviatrix mentions, a better question to ask after you find out that someone is a pilot is not who they work for but "What kind of operation is it?"  That's a question that will impress us, and we'll also enjoy talking about it.

Courtesy. Professionalism.

Eighteen miles Northeast of the field. Two other aircraft have reported inbound already, I'm about to be the third. One will land well ahead of me, but I didn't catch the position of the other one.

Val-d'or airport is equipped with an MF radio service, which is halfway in between a tower and an uncontrolled airport. With a radio service there is at least one person, sitting somewhere, monitoring and communicating with traffic going in and out of the airport. They could actually be physically sitting in a tower at the airport, or even be located off-site somewhere. The main difference between a radio service and a control tower however is the principle that they do not provide controlling instructions to aircraft, but are only an advisory service. They are able to assist in the safe separation of aircraft as well as provide reports on current weather conditions. Sometimes they are radar equipped, like at Thompson, MB, but usually not, so they keep track of current traffic by asking for pilot position reports.

I make my report, "Val-d'or radio, this is XXX, 18 miles to the northeast of the field, 2100 ft, inbound for landing estimating the field in 8 minutes.".

I remind myself to use proper terminology and speak clearly and directly. I'm speaking English over the radio in Quebec, and even though the radio operator's english is very good, it is still clearly his second language. Radio communications can have enough clarity issues before you introduce multiple languages into the mix.

He responds and advises me of the location and estimated arrival times of the other two aircraft. The first one as expected will land well ahead of me and won't be a factor. The other one however, a Dash 8, is reporting 30-something miles north-east as well, with an estimate to the field at the same time as myself.

My spidy-sense tingles as I recognize my level of situational awareness is going to have to be elevated now that there could be a potential traffic conflict. The Dash 8 is making an approach onto the south facing runway despite the winds favouring the north direction. Its probably for instrument approach reasons. I choose to land in the opposite direction which means I'll join a straight in right-hand downwind.

The radio advisor asks me to slow it back and remain to the east to land number 2. Technically speaking since I'm the aircraft that is closer to the airport and at the lower altitude, I have the right of way to land first, but as a courtesy I comply and confirm that I'll slow it up to give way to the larger, faster, and thirstier aircraft. Not that the 206 already doesn't fly painfully slow, but its all relative. I pull the throttle back a hair and start to set up for joining my downwind leg.

I'm mid-downwind now, directly abeam the runway. From here under normal circumstances I would be on the ground in less than two minutes from now, but I know I'm probably going to have to extend my downwind a little bit for the Dash 8. Val-d'or radio advises me that the Dash 8 is now on 10 mile final. What?! Still? If his initial estimate to the field was accurate he would be just touching down by now. Its not an uncommon scenario actually - highly optimistic reports for eta to landing made by faster aircraft. Its all really a result of lazy airmanship from the pilots. The initial eta reports are made when the aircraft is in their descent phase at a high rate of speed. At 220 knots and 30 miles from the field the GPS is going to tell them they'll arrive in 8 minutes, but they're not going to be flying all the way into the airport at 220 knots. At some point between when they make that report and landing they're going to have to slow down to approach speed - 80 to 90 knots slower! As they slow down obviously their eta is going to increase significantly, which they didn't bother to account for. Meanwhile waiting for them to land, I've extended my downwind leg so far now that I've almost cleared the 5 mile control zone out the other side!

The weather was a VFR day, which for them as an IFR flight, still means they have to conform to VFR traffic rules in and around the airport. If an IFR aircraft is cleared for an approach into an airport by their IFR controller, it is still the responsibility of the aircraft to conform to the rules regarding VFR traffic separation. Unfortunately its been my experience that airliners don't tend to play nicely with VFR traffic, and they'd almost rather just pretend that we don't exist so they can continue to fly like its a purely IFR environment. In this case it seemed like they were happy to let me take the entire responsibility of getting out of their way, despite the fact that I technically had the right of way.

I could have easily landed and cleared the runway well before the Dash 8 if they had made a proper eta report, because I was actually almost 5 minutes ahead of them. But now I'm forced to go way out of my way as a courtesy to them. The least they could have done was hurry it up a little. Finally I land, and the radio service operator thanks me sincerely for my cooperation. That dissolves my annoyance significantly.

Its amazing what a thank you can do, but ultimately my annoyance is not with the radio operator, as he was only operating with the information he was given, and I have only ever experienced excellent service from all of those guys/girls. It is the Jazz Dash 8 pilots who displayed lazy airmanship because of the discourteous assumption that the little guy in the Cessna will let them go first, even if they're actually 5 full minutes behind him. Next time I'm half tempted to assert my right of way to land number one, but that wouldn't be courteous, nor by extension, professional. I'm sure going to rant about it on my blog though.

Airport Hassles

I'm just coming off a rotation from flying the 206 for the last couple weeks, its been a whirlwind of small jobs and moving on to new places.  We completed the job in Gander, and since moved on the Wabush, finished that job in one flight, and we're now in Val-d'or (from henceforth to be known as Valdor since the proper spelling is incredibly annoying to type out).

Valdor is a much nicer airport to work out of compared to the last two we came from, which were both highly frustrating due to the security measures.  Gander did not have ground-side access to the FBO we were stationed at, so to get out to the plane we had to call ahead for an escort, and then wait with our car outside the gate for someone to come and let us in, and then escort us in our vehicle over to the FBO.

Wabush was equally as frustrating to get airside to the aircraft, as we had to notify security and then would go out and unlock the gate for us, but the problem was that security was never around when you needed them, we once waited for a half hour wondering if security would come back to their desk just to so we could ask them to open the gate and let us out to our airplane.  I'm glad both of those places were only very short surveys there.

Valdor is wonderful in comparison.  They have a real FBO with friendly people who are always there, a beautiful pilot lounge, and most of all private ramp separated from the security nonsense of the airline world.

I arrived a day before my operator was able to get here on an airline service (another reason why flying a personal aircraft beats the heck out of airline travel), so rather than wait for him to get here, I figured hey, I know how to operate the survey equipment, and I know how to fly the airplane, I might as well go up and try an FOM by myself!  It ended up paying off, the FOM result was a pass and by the time my operator arrived we were one step ahead of the game and all we had to do was set up our base station and we were good to survey.

Doing the job of two people in the aircraft was a little extra workload, I just had to take it slow and be deliberate in my actions to make sure I didn't miss any flying related tasks or any technical steps required to set the survey gear up for flying the FOM.  After the survey gear is set up, there's isn't much else for the operator to do during the actual manoeuvres, so I could purely focus on the flying aspect.

As for now, I'm on my way back home as I write this, flying home Air Canada.  The other pilot arrived yesterday, back from his vacation, so we spent the day getting him back up to speed before I handed over the airplane keys and wished them luck.