A Big Trip in a Little Plane - by Dave Skelhon

Having flown across Canada in a Zenair 601 Ultralight two years ago, a relatively short hop from Victoria to Kamloops to bring home my recently acquired Chinook didn’t seem like too big a deal. However, having been exposed to a bunch of pessimists over the preceding two weeks I was beginning to have doubts. “Across The Straight in that thing - you gotta be kidding” remarked one surprised Cessna pilot. “And you’ll have a rough ride through the mountains, specially this time of year” he added, pointing to the grim, black vapours hanging around the coast mountains to the east.

OK, so I was getting a little worried. My experience in this aircraft amounted to a couple of hours of test flying and the engine, an HKS 700E 60HP four cycle had less than 10 hours on it. “Well“, I told myself, “I can always put down at Delta Air Park or Chilliwack if the going gets tough“. From there I could eventually work my way home. Even so, my nerves were becoming a little jangled.

I had already spent 3 days at Butler’s Field, a rather unique grass strip in Saanich, which can be located on the Vancouver VTA chart by the notch in the southern part of the Victoria International CZ. Within this concession, pilots of small aircraft can depart without the need to speak to anyone - providing they head south and don’t climb above 1000’ asl. The natives had been very friendly and helpful as I played about with radios, propeller pitch and engine tuning but my preparations were just about finished and I was longing to get back home.

The problem was that the weather had been wet and windy with little hope of a break in the days ahead. Sunday, 7th April started out looking promising - much better than forecast. A system had gone through during the night leaving the Lower Mainland wet and shiny.  From the Island I could see towering cumulus popping up to the east but the pressure was rising and  I hoped by early afternoon that the air might have dried out enough to make the trip possible.

A call to Vancouver flight services at noon suggested otherwise. “Not today you won’t” came the assertive voice of a flight service specialist - “Abbotsford is reporting hail and ceilings are 1500’ with showers in Hope”.  Time for a Burger at Smitties I thought - at least I might be able to get some more test flying in later in the afternoon.

By now my stomach was beginning to object to Smitties burgers - good as they are. Living away from home is not always kind to the gut but as it turns out I would be glad of the calories later. By the time I returned to the field I could see that the clouds were thinning over the Lower Mainland.  Another call to flight services confirmed the change.  I was off!  I started making serious preparations, loading a very comprehensive survival kit into the rear seat and topping up the tanks with a full 10 gallons of premium gas.  As luck would have it, a well-wisher at Butler’s Field suggested that his friend, Cliff,  who was returning to the Lower Mainland that evening, could take my Isuzu Trooper across on the ferry to Vancouver, where I could collect it the following day  - saving me a bundle of time in the process.  Without hesitation I handed a total stranger my keys, and watched him disappear with my truck.  I was now most definitely committed.

I filed a flight plan to cross into US airspace.  I would cross the southern Gulf Islands and hit the mainland close to Bellingham, from there I would turn north.  I hoped that  the Chinook’s unusual wing tanks wouldn’t be mistaken for bombs by hyper F16 pilots in this post  9/11 world.  “Please let our friends south of the border know I am friendly” were my parting words to the flight service guy.

By the time I had strapped on my life jacket, Butler’s Field was becoming a frenzy of activity.  A traditional Easter Egg drop for kids was about to take place from the front cockpit of a rather beautiful Pietenpol Air Camper and I was rather sad to be leaving before the big event.

I fired up the HKS, it’s deep growl scattering the crowds as I taxied to the end of the strip.  The very first time I departed Butler’s Field I was checking myself out in IFHR and was surprised to find 100’ near-vertical drops on the other side of the earth berms alongside the strip.  Indeed, Butler’s Field is an isolated piece of land in the middle of an active quarry.  If you want to visit, do it soon, as the runway is being eaten away.  Two hundred feet disappeared from the end last year.  As one pilot, resigned to the impending closure of the field remarked, “Him with the best brakes flies the longest”.  It was a sad thought for such a friendly and thriving grass roots airfield.  However, the unusual terrain makes operations very tricky in a crosswind and getting in and out of this one way strip is as close as we Ultra-light Jockeys can get to landing on a aircraft carrier.

When IFHR left the ground it was about 2.30 pm.  The air was clear and the sun strong as I climbed in steps beneath Victoria Terminal Airspace and headed east across the Georgia Straight. My planned  altitude was 5,500’ but  the cloud base prevented me achieving that.  With a 10:1 glide angle the Chinook would easily be able to make land from 3,500’ so that’s where I stayed, lazily watching the boats below ploughing green furrows in a sparkling sea   - between focused instrument scans of course!  My borrowed life jacket was so huge I couldn’t see my feet and whilst fumbling with the GPS I dropped it on the floor.  After searching around unsuccessfully with my fingers for a couple of minutes I resigned myself to the fact this would be a plain, old fashioned, seat of the pants experience. Besides, most of my instructor training out of Boundary Bay had been performed in nearby airspace and I knew the area very well. This southern route is clear of controlled airspace and the chain of islands below me supported several airfields.

Fortunately, there were no thermals over the ocean.  Once over the land it was a different story.  The air was still moist and very unstable and the VSI on the electronic instrument panel was recording vertical speeds in excess of 1200/min.  I followed the coast north to Blaine, crossed the border by the Peace Arch, then continued NE over Langley to the Fraser.

I had planned to stop in Chilliwack for a piece of the famous airport pie but the Smitties’ burger was still heavy on my stomach.  In the hour and a half since leaving the Island, I had only used about 3 gallons of gas despite the 75MPH cruise speed.  I figured I had a small tail wind component and  enough fuel to make Kamloops with about an hours reserve. I called Abbotsford Radio for a weather up-date and amended my flight plan. The mountains were now closing in and there were showers around, falling as snow above about 3,000’- not great but my route still seemed open.  Once I got to Hope I would check out the Coquihalla Highway - I liked the idea of following a very long thread of asphalt should things turn nasty.

As I approached Hope I was kept busy avoiding a dozen or so para-gliders soaring on a ridge and also several gliders and tow planes operating out of the airport.  Ahead, unfortunately, the Coquihalla valley was choked up with cloud and so I decided to stick to “Plan A” and follow the Fraser Canyon. Thankfully, the wind was light and the turbulence seemed to come from strong thermals.  I would bet that the view from the Chinook’s cockpit is better than any other enclosed cockpit - other than perhaps a Bell 47! It is an awesome perch to say the least!  I felt totally insignificant as I made my way between the towering mountains and glaciers.  For once they seemed very, very real indeed. Cloud and occasional light snow showers kept me below 3,500’.  I had a fantastic view of  the tumbling Fraser and felt particularly proud giving the position report “Ultra-light India Foxtrot Hotel Romeo over Hell’s Gate at thirty-five hundred feet”.

The cloud base lifted as I progressed north and soon I was able to establish a more comfortable cruising altitude.  From time to time there was unsettling turbulence.  But then the Chinook is an ultra-light - and ultra-lights have light wing loadings. At any rate it didn’t feel unsafe - but one has to be aware of the limitations of such a light aeroplane.

The fuel situation still looked good but I was beginning to feel the cold, as with no heating  and no sun the temperature was hovering  around freezing in the cockpit.  As I approached Lytton I decided to climb to 7,500’ and head direct to Kamloops over less rugged terrain. I advised Kamloops Radio of my intentions and set out on course. The outside air temperature was -6C and there were still some light snow showers dotted around.  I passed just south of the huge earthworks of the Highland Valley Copper mine about 700’ AGL and then found my  route blocked by a heavy snow shower in the vicinity of Greenstone Mountain.  A diversion north, close to Tunkwa Lake was necessary.  Here it became a little more exciting as light snow brushed past the Lexan panels.  However, ahead I could see shafts of golden sunlight streaming into Kamloops Lake. It felt very good to cut the power as I crossed the ridge behind Cherry Creek. The sun broke through and provided welcome warmth to the cockpit. The HKS burbled away as I swooped down the hillside hugging the terrain, dodging the eagles and watching life in motion below. This is what Ultra-lighting is all about! 

Its also about affordability, and when I touched down in Kamloops less than 3 hours after leaving Butler’s Field I still had 2 gallons of gas remaining!

And yes, when the Greyhound dropped me off in Tsawwassen the following day, there was my Isuzu waiting in the parking lot and I hadn’t doubted for one minute that it wouldn’t be! Thanks Cliff!