Training- Recurrent,real and simulated

Posted on June 16, 2008 by Heligypsy

I crossed over a few miles back. The man in the Canadian Customs uniform was about the same age as my second oldest son ,maybe 28 or 29. So,he asked, are you training or being trained? Perhaps my obvious age would beg the question was I a trainee or trainer? I like to think of myself as both based on my time in service and my varied experience, but in this case I was a trainee and fortunate to again be in the company of a very good Chief/ Instructor pilot.

I faced the problem that many pilots face this time of year. I was not really current but we needed to do a check ride that will assess my current abilities and return me to a proficient skill level.

The check ride went as expected and I am signed off for another year. One of the many benefits of check rides is to review and discover any areas that need improvement. Emergencies are always a subject of discussion and study amongst professional pilots but unfortunately we get very few opportunities to practice those emergencies. Not actually putting my emergency training to practice is just fine with me but I think we all wish we could get more training in emergency procedures.

The company is getting a simulator and its very welcome news. The senior pilots are getting to be a senior group indeed and in a few more years there will be a lot of fresh young faces hired. These new hires are very likely not going to be as seasoned as we were when we hired on some years back. I hired on with about 10,000 plus hours more than 10 years ago and I was one of the more junior pilots. Shortly after that less and less experienced pilots were hired. A less experienced pilot may very well be a better pilot in every area except the one area that he or she can’t change. Experience and the benefits that having been there and done that will give you can never be ignored. Giving pilots the ability to simulate bad situations and practice not getting into the situation or getting out with the aircraft and its contents intact is such a great innovation and advantage that its value can never be calculated or fully appreciated.

I look forward to working with many new hires and helping with what ever I can to make them better pilots,just as others have mostly done for me.

I say mostly, because,unfortunately some senior pilots either can’t or won’t pass on the benefit of their experience. I remember those pilots and the others who while not actually teaching at least provided a horrible example of what not to do.

I believe if we are honest with ourselves we would have to admit that many of us have fit into both categories of instructor and bad example on occasion. The fact that we continue to strive for improvement and are willing to share our good and bad experiences is part of professional development.

A certified smart guy and consummate teacher, Leonardo Da Vinci wrote about the value of experience.

“To me it seems that those sciences are vain and full of error which are not born of experience, mother of all certainty, first hand experience which in its origins, or means, or end has passed through one of the five senses.”

A simulator allows a pilot to experience amongst other things ,the flights we never want to have.


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Cinco de Mayo?

Posted on May 6, 2008 by Heligypsy

I don’t doubt it was May 5th today. I just don’t know where the last half of April went? The transition from Belize and Mexico time to U.S.A. and Canada time seemed to accelerate all of our days.

When I last wrote anything, way back on April 14th, we had just arrived in Bishop CA. and started our mad scramble to get the Belize backlog of tasks tackled. A week later with taxes, sales, meetings, chores, mail and visits completed we convoyed out of Bishop to Reno Nevada. It had not been our intent to drive both RV’s North but thats what happened. Our little Belize Motorhome had not sold, so with the promise of a buyer in Oregon we drove north to our address in Tumwater Washington. Oregon was on the way and Oregon meant a stop in Central Point to talk to some old friends and new bosses who are in fact the same people.

The Oregon sale fell through on the RV. I was hired or rehired or welcomed back to fly for big Orange again. I must say, I really like the direction the company is trying to go these days.

We convoyed on up to Washington and got our business done there as well. All good, except no sale on the little Motorhome which I used to motor on up and over to Nanaimo B.C. Good to see the Canadian operation of Big Orange and visit with some great folks. The weather reminded me why we spent the winter flying in Belize. Rain, snow,sleet, hail, bigger hail and lightning in 90 minutes followed by sun and light breezes as I sat waiting to hop the Duke Point ferry back to the mainland.

Next day was pack up and store day. The little Motorhome can sit in Tumwater for the fire season. We will use it again on September 12 or so when my second oldest boy gets married just a few miles south in Vancouver Washington. Later it can begin its journey south to Bishop CA. and standby till my next time off when the snow in the mountains whispers that its time to slide south.

The little C-Sport is a perfect Baja cruiser and with a 3 and 3 rotation we can maybe even get down to Sayulita or Lake Chapala. Belize will happen again too, but its a fly and drive or fly and sail only when your window is 3 weeks. Its all good.

The sunset was a good one here tonight. The RV park that we rolled the truck and 5th wheel into isn’t the kind of place you would vacation but it will do. Its been great the past 4 1/2 days traveling with the two of us in the same vehicle. Paula shares the driving, googles interesting places to stop on the computer and we pick the places that interest us and check them out. I like the high tech geeky travel. We have the GPS going, the road Atlas for backup. The computer uses cell coverage for highspeed connection about 90% of the time. Paula has roadsideamerica.com up for attractions, mapquest, google earth, weather, RV sites and cell phones or skype telephone. The Moms and siblings sometimes get on the video chats and we yack along with the back drop of the Cascade Mountains or the Black Hills flashing by as we cruise down the Interstates and Highways.

The route has been Washington, Idaho, Montana, South Dakota, Wyoming(wee bit), Minnesota, Wisconsin and now we’re about 30 miles west of Chicago, which is in Illinois as most of you know. Some cool places visited, including the Little Big Horn Battlefield and tomorrow, Toledo Ohio!

Even our friends who we are visiting in Toledo asked why anyone would come to Toledo? To visit friends who happen to live on the way to my Mothers house was the answer, and to drive on to Cleveland where I have always wanted to visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. There may be other reasons to visit Cleveland but I can’t think of any. The tourist info for Cleveland tries hard to get you interested but I am not much of a sports or nautical history guy. So, I’ll limit my local history to Rock and Roll. Next week its Williamsburg, Richmond, Mt. Vernon, the National Mall, the Smithsonians and all that. American History of the highest order in Washington D.C and area.

After that its back to Canada and a visit to Ottawa and the Parliament buildings. History and Politics weeks with the Borderline gypsies. Hope to see more of you all this spring and summer. Did I mention we will be in Italy this summer. Come visit us. Italy is Bellisimo !

Posted in Belize, Friends and Family, Mexico travel, RV Travel, U.S. Travel | 1 Comment

Landing on boats

Posted on April 14, 2008 by Heligypsy

I have written previously of some of the stupid student tricks we pulled while self training at Skyrotors, where I some how managed to become a commercial helicopter pilot.

Landing on moving trains and transport trucks was pretty dumb, but it actually served as a good primer for some of the ship board landings I was to make years later. My first landings to ships were on to the fan tails of World War Two destroyers. Now before you start thinking I am more ancient than the old man in the sea, I should mention that these ships were converted by the U.S. Navy to operate as remote controlled target or experimental ships. The Navy modified the ships that we landed on in the 70’s and 80’s and may still use them to this day. It was all secret stuff and I can talk about some of it now, I think? I didn’t know what we were doing most of the time, and had I ever landed on any of the Russian ships that followed us they could have told me more about my mission details than I knew. I was never that curious.

I had the very good fortune to have an excellent Chief Pilot instruct me in the timing and judgment required to place a small helicopter into the confined aft deck of a ship moving, sometimes sideways with a quartering tail wind, in a heavy swell. The ships we flew to were often dead in the water and sideways to the swell. The only folks who could get the ship going again were sitting quietly beside you hoping that this new pilot, (Me) didn’t dick up the landing and ruin everyones day.

But this was all fun that came later in my career. My first ship landing was some years prior. Instructions for landing the helicopter on my first ship included where to buy a few hundred feet of rope to lash the helicopter to the deck of the ship after I had set it on the top deck.

The ship was one of the largest ferry boats in Canada and sailed a regular route between North Sydney, Nova Scotia, and Port aux Basques Newfoundland – a journey of about 90 some miles across the chilly North Atlantic. It was safer riding the boat than crossing single engined without floats, although some pilots did fly rather than take the ferry.

I was happy to be landing on the solid steel decking of a ship in port and not moving. It was an easy landing and an hour later I had my rope purchased and rigged. I can only imagine some of the comments from the crew as they watched my efforts to secure the helicopter and guarantee my continued employment.

One old hand walked by, surveyed my lattice work of rigging smiled at me and said, “that ought to hold her, there by”. I could see his shoulders heaving as he walked away, but I didn’t care. I made a mental note to be up early in the morning when the ship docked. I knew some of my knots were going to be tough going after a night in the rain. I was ready. I checked the battery was disconnected a second time and said a little prayer that it wouldn’t be too cool in the morning. The battery had given a slow start when I fired the helicopter up and I had watched the ammeter drop down after several minutes on deck but I didn’t like it. On second thought, I pulled the battery out and took it to the warmth of my cabin for the night crossing.

The ships horn was sounding and after confirming the time and a quick glance out my port hole I rolled out of my bunk, dressed and grabbed my bunk mate. A warm and hopefully capable helicopter battery.

Stepping on the top deck with my battery clutched close to my heaving chest I was a little dismayed at the view. There wasn’t any. Dark, wind whipped rain and wispy fog to greet me after my morning climb up four flights of stairs with my 30 lb. battery. I decided to leave the battery in the warm stairway while I undid my riggers nightmare of ropes. In 15 minutes I was done. Done ever tying a helicopter to the top of a ship. Done ever tying another bolen/granny knot in wet weather. And done ever thinking that a leather flight jacket was suitable rain gear.

The ferry was bumping up against the dock as I tossed coiled ropes in the back of the helicopter and sloshed over to the stairwell to fetch my battery. The battery was in and preflight done but the weather was no better. I could see lights from vehicles off loading through the rain and fog five decks below me to what must have been the parking lot of the ferry terminal. Welcome to Port aux Basques at 06:30 on a rainy, foggy dark and cold September morning, Keith. Where was I going to land? From photos I had seen of the harbor I knew that everything around me was higher and rocky with the exception of the harbor and heading out to sea seemed counter productive and unlikely to improve my current situation. I would recon the parking lot and terminal on foot and find an area that had little or no vehicle access. I had better do it quick because the turn around time was about 45 minutes I had been warned.

Within a few minutes of searching the terminal area in the rain and fog I located a fenced off part of the port that was accessed by an unlocked gate. There would be no time for permission. Jogging back to the ship, I noticed that it was almost empty. The Port aux Basque vehicles would be loading shortly. I was breathing hard from the five deck climb as I untied the blades climbed in leaving the door open so as not to fog the interior and hit the starter button. It took about 4 seconds for me to confirm what I really knew in two seconds. That battery was never going to start this helicopter.The clock was ticking loud in my brain as i ran down the stairs out past the trucks loading onto the ferry. I ran to what looked like the maintenance shop at the terminal. After a very abbreviated explanation and plead for help I was given a 24 volt truck battery and some booster cables. Don’t worry about getting them back to us they said as I lugged the 70 lb battery and cables off to the ferry. I’m sure the crew man who met me at the top deck stairwell could hear me panting up the stairs long before he spotted me. Walking through the door he held open I explained my situation between gasps. He would indeed make sure that the battery and cables got put away. I didn’t have any room for them in my helicopter. I was packed to the ceiling.

The boost was enough to get a start and I walked unsteadily to the front of the helicopter on the pitching deck and disconnected the truck battery. The crewman took the battery and cables as I strapped in. With a quick wave I pulled pitch and moved sideways off the deck and clear of the ship which passed by me as I hovered above the sea at a height I could not gage.

Forward visibility was not much but I could follow the ships prop wash and after a long minute rock cliffs loomed ahead and surf crashed against it. Left or right ? I guessed left. Another minute of hovering along the shore downwind I was rewarded with the unmistakable pilings of a pier. Above me was the terminal and as I hovered up into the fog I could see the glow of several light standards below me. I had no way of determining my position in the terminal area. I opened my door and looked down at the glow of the lights in the fog The door banged against my helmet as I very slowly lowered down between light standards. It took me three tries to find an area clear of parked vehicles and equipment. With nothing around me I settled into the parking lot. There were trucks moving around some distance away and nobody seemed to pay me any mind as I shut down the helicopter.

I would have to get another boost when the weather cleared but right now I was just happy to be anywhere.

I would have breakfast at the terminal right after I called the Chief Pilot to request a new battery and relate my mornings adventures. The Chief Pilot promised another battery on the next ferry and mentioned the fact that it may have been better to have landed on one of the ferry’s trailers and have them drive me on and off the ferry.

Yes, I agreed that would have been a much safer solution. “Why had nobody told me of that less exciting option?” I asked.

“It was about $165.00 more to use the trailers.” he said.

I hung up the phone. It would be easier to claim that we were cut off than to remain on the line and make a job terminating remark. Time for a coffee if my hands would stop shaking.

Posted in Contract helicopter pilot, Flying Stories, Helicopter Pilot | Tagged | 2 Comments

Career Paths

Posted on April 7, 2008 by Heligypsy

What makes a person jump from a perfectly good airplane? If you skydive you know the answer. The question is of course, an attempt at humor on the part of a person who would never likely understand your reasons to skydive. I am not sure I ever fully understood my desire to skydive except that it was an opportunity to experience flight in its purest form. The fact that the human body in free fall has the glide ratio of a wing clipped chicken means nothing. Relative to other bodies falling we were in those very early days of the late 60’s and early 70’s in my case, able to fly over and hook up with each other. Not a lot was known about technique and some free fall “relative work “was more work than it needed to be. Closing speeds, relative to each other could exceed 90 mph and God help you if you hit another falling body at that speed differential. It seldom happened but collisions did occur and people were hurt and killed, but not often.

I can still remember most of the people I skydived with about 35 years ago and a couple of years back I returned briefly to the place I first learned to Skydive.

Tom was there and recognized me which took me by surprise until I remembered that I had sent him some stories and photos of my recent activities in my career as a helicopter pilot. Tom McCarthy is as close to a legend in the skydiving business as anybody is allowed to get in any sport in Canada. Canadians are funny about sport icons. I have lived in the U.S.A.just long enough to find it funny that people are not recognized for their accomplishments in Canada to the same extent they are in the United States.

I saw Norm that day as well. We all really liked Norm. He was the pilot we looked up to and he acknowledged the fact I had become a pilot as well, but then added that he was surprised I had become a helicopter pilot and had always thought I was a wimp.

I laughed at Norm’s comment but it hit me as hard as it would have back when I was 17.

You never know how you touch people’s lives and I am sure I have made more than my share of thoughtless insensitive comments as well.

I was looking at some old skydiving photos the other day there was one of a bunch of us at the drop zone after a jump of some distinction? There were about a dozen of us in the photo and a younger Norm was standing there as well.

That’s when it hit me. Four of us in the photo had gone on to be helicopter pilots. I don’t ever remember any of us ever talking about wanting to be pilots of any description let alone fly helicopters. Not bad for four wimps, huh Norm?

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Fitting In

Posted on April 3, 2008 by Heligypsy

California, Ontario, Manitoba, B.C., Washington, Idaho, Quebec, Oregon. Just a few of the license plates on the vehicles at our beautiful beach front campground. RV’s of every age and size. Its a hotel/campground actually and the place is split by a little dirt road that goes through to the beach. Two hundred and fifty feet wide and about a mile long crescent shaped beach suitable for swimming, surfing, boogie boarding, sea kayaking and you name it. Dogs are supposed to be leashed but that would be the gringo dogs, I guess, because the local dogs run free.

Sayulita is a lovely little town with a huge plaza built on two levels and tree covered like the rest of town. Dirt streets for the most part and bicycles, ATV’s, horses and trucks and cars all take their time. No rush. Cool artisan shops, some very good restaurants with fresh seafood and produce priced from local to tourista. Even the very best restaurant that we had my Birthday supper at would be a great place to dine in any country. English is spoken all over but its appreciated when you converse in the native tongue.

Our only disappointment here is that we have to leave some day. We will have to drive north again and cross at Nogales for Tucson, Prescott, Las Vegas and on to Bishop. It will be another 10 days getting to Bishop and there are people and things we look forward to seeing again.

The highways will be better but busier stateside and our little Class C motorhome will get turned away at some of the “upscale” U.S. RV parks rather than being oggled as a palace on wheels as it is down here. In the states its very much about size and money for a lot of folks when it comes to RV’s. People spend a million or more on some of these motorhomes and then drive them down here to Mexico. When you encounter one of these forty plus foot land yachts after being in Mexico for some months a lot of thoughts run through your noggin.

My first thought is why would you want to drive that fiberglass whale on these narrow streets and highways. The rule of thumb for any RV in Mexico is keep it to a reasonable size. One veteran RV traveler told me, “don’t get anything bigger than a Coke truck. The Coke truck gets everywhere and so will you.”

The other thought that occurs is that many of these monster RV’s have more value than most of the buildings and houses in the entire village that they are passing through.

Don’t flaunt wealth. Most people in Mexico are law abiding, friendly, courteous and tolerant of touristas and our lack of ability or even attempts to speak their language in their country. If you have to drive an ostentatious example of your success at least have the good sense to be friendly and what ever your opinions may be of Mexico’s short comings, S.T.F.U. You are a guest in Mexico.

My last thought on these huge RVs concerns the fact that you get stopped and searched frequently here in Mexico. We have been stopped and searched at least fifteen times by the military, customs, federal police and some others whose uniforms I did not recognize but whose automatic weapons were sufficient credentials for me. I would say that we have been waved through more stops and check points than we have been detained.

In all cases the persons stopping us, questioning, searching and in two instances confiscating food items have been friendly, courteous and not overly intrusive. We have only been asked for a “propina”one time and Paula’s simple no was greeted with a smile and advice not to pick up hitchhikers. Good advice that we didn’t follow. I picked up two women one time and a Mom and her two kids another. A low risk kindness.

I would love to know what happens when the very rich looking RV’s get stopped. Theoretically we should all be treated equally but human nature is such that we can all understand if not condone the occasional acts of a Robin Hood or Zorro.

No sense making yourself a victim. Get a Coke truck.

Posted in Dining out, Mexico travel, RV Travel | Tagged | Leave a comment

A better place?

Posted on March 30, 2008 by Heligypsy

We are driving up Mexico Highway 200 again today. Its the main highway up the west coast of Mexico. It meanders through villages and roadside clean up consists of the random burning of garbage and brush. Its a low or no budget program that has collateral damage when the fire gets away and climbs into the trees and sometimes orchards. The orchards are usually one or more of the five kinds of mango I have seen, or tamarinds, or passion fruit. The fire rarely burns the coconut palms more than a few feet on the trunk.

Its a financially poor coastal area by our standards, but people are well fed and happy looking. When you have an abundance of fruits and vegetables, fresh seafood, water and a mild coastal climate you get by without a lot of crap. I’ll bet few people here have any debt.

It got me thinking about so called subsistence living and how the standards of the dominate society can either improve or ruin the way of life of subsistence living communities.

The conclusion I have reached is best described by the phrase “everything in moderation”.

A little bit of money can improve peoples lives but a lot of money ruins more lives than it improves. Where ever I have seen an idyllic location, whether its an island, beach front harbor town or lakeside mountain village, big money and the boom times it creates brings good times for a few and the end of life as it was for most.

Its a natural progression that we have all seen and some have experienced. Better to live in a fairly nice place than paradise. We stopped into Zihuatanejo, a few miles back. A beautiful harbor and beach. Must have been paradise in the 50’s. Its now wall to wall resorts and time shares, fabricated in an architectural style that reminded me of a Disney depiction of Sorrento Italy. Fake and crowded the beach was closed to swimming by Mexican authorities due to unsanitary sea water. People swam anyway. The water smelled bad as we walked gingerly along the shore past the last resort on the beach.

It reminded me of a song by the Eagles with that same title. “The Last Resort”

There is a line that sums it all up for me. “You call someplace paradise…kiss it goodbye “

Posted in Mexico travel, World Travel | Tagged | 1 Comment

Cold Feet

Posted on March 20, 2008 by Heligypsy

The alarm sounding on my watch only verified what I already knew. It was time to get up.

04:30, dark, cold and I had been awake for the last half hour trying to convince my bladder that if it let me get some more rest, my cold tired body would be better off. It was about to tell me to go piss myself, when the alarm beeped. I staggered over to my jeans and slipped the stiff dungarees over my legs. I was shivering too bad to get the button fly done up and I couldn’t find my socks. They were in the bottom of my sleeping bag I remembered but where the heck were my boots. My feet were freezing. No matter, I opened the door of the cabin and walked an appropriate distance to the backside of a big cedar tree.

When I got back into the cabin, Howard was up coughing and swearing and laughing all at the same time.

“Jesus, Keith,” he said, “this sure is a glamorous job this helicopter flying business.”

Howard was my boss and mentor. He was 54, I was 32. Howard had flown just about everything there was in the aerial spray business, from Pawnees to TBM’s and Bell 47’s to Sikorsky 55’s. Thats what we would be flying this morning. The Sikorsky S55.

Round motors, radials. Howard’s had a Pratt & Whitney 1340 and mine had a Wright Cyclone 1300. They would be tough to start this morning. It was just above freezing and those old radial engines didn’t turn over too well without preheat in the cold.

We grabbed a couple of coffees to go and hopped in the forestry pick up and drove quietly sipping our coffees listening to the squawking bearings in the defrost blower.

Howard lit a cigarette and said, “Its close this morning. See how we have to use the wipers for the dew as we drive? The humidities high, temps are low we should probably wait till we get some sun on our spray block.”

“You think it will hang?” I asked, meaning the BT we were spraying for the spruce bud worm.

“Damn right it will, but these sons a bitches from the Ministry are gonna send us out anyway, and if the wind comes up before the sun does there will be hell to pay when the BT drifts into the lakes.”

“So what happens if the sun warms it up before the wind gets going?” I asked.

“Well then my boy,” said Howard “you had better keep an eye on those lakes for us. I am flying lead and you keep in tight on my right side but also keep an eye on the water. You see fog coming off those lakes you tell me and we will head for the barn.”

“Ok, will do,” I said.

The sun was just lightening the eastern horizon. “What do you think Howie? No wind, lots of dew, seems a little colder.”

“Its coldest just before the dawn,” replied Howard. We launched in formation fully loaded with Bacillus Thuringensis and just enough fuel to spray the block plus maybe twenty minutes reserve.

The spraying was going good. Long two mile runs booming off and on passing over numerous lakes. Pretty country that with any luck would still have healthy trees growing around the lakes in the future. The sun was just starting to make the east bound spray runs a little tough when I spotted the fog coming up and off the numerous lakes we passed.

“Howard,” I said into the radio.

“I see it” he said. “Boom off, punch some flags and lets go.”

I was now following Howard in a climbing turn as the fog ascended to our altitude. Nothing but white below us and I had only a vague idea where our base was.

“Well, what now?” I asked Howard.  “I mean, what do you usually do when you get stuck in this kind of weather?”

“Well my boy, its weather like this that kills pilots like us” he said.

“I was hoping for something more encouraging than that Howard,” I said.

“You still have me in sight Keith?”

“Yes I do,” I answered.

“Ok,” Howard said, “the base is about 5 minutes on this heading, we fly to that point and if we don’t see the airstrip, which we won’t, we call them and ask if they can hear us overhead. When they tell us we are overhead or close you alter course 45 degrees right and I’ll go 45 degrees left. You time your outbound leg for 5 minutes and I’ll do the same. Look for anything sticking up outta the fog. We call at 5 minutes or when we have found something.”

I still don’t remember how many minutes I was on my outbound leg past the base when the weather started to clear but it was long enough to have run out of ideas.

Howard managed to get back to the base before me and by the time I landed it was fuel, load and go again. The danger had passed. We had both learned or relearned a lesson. Howard said it best later that morning.

“We should have waited to see what the weather was going to do Keith. Because, my boy, its a lot better to be on the ground wishing you were in the air, than in the air wishing you were on the ground.”

Posted in Flying Stories | 2 Comments

Leonards Chores

Posted on March 18, 2008 by Heligypsy

We followed the blood spatter trail from the clinic entrance to the dirt road that lead down the main street into town. The doctor and I had made the mistake of leaving our patient on his own for a couple of minutes while we prepared the helicopter litter for transporting the injured Leonard.

Leonard was from the Carrier Tribe in the little Northern British Columbia village, Takla Lodge. My contract helicopter job had begun a few weeks earlier and the company was contracted with the Province to perform medevacs. I had grown to dislike medical evacuation flights for a number of reasons. Leonard had just added another reason to the list.

The Provincial emergency medical dispatch had requested I fly to Leonard’s village early Saturday morning. It was a welfare weekend and the checks had been cashed that week. Takla Lodge village was not a dry village, which is to say that alcohol was allowed in town. The free money and the alcohol had predictable results. There would be trouble and injuries or there would be a mystery internal ailment that required the “sick “patient be flown into the city. The city had a better selection of bars and entertainment so the “sick” patient usually recovered soon after arrival at the city hospital.

The doctor and I walked quickly along the dusty road. Spring meant thaw, and the smell of defrosting pampers tossed into backyards all winter long wafted over us.

“How far can a man walk with a bullet in his knee and an entry and exit wound in his front teeth and left cheek?” I asked the Doc.

“It depends on how bad he wants a drink.” was the doctors reply.

Leonard was where the doctor had predicted and I was not surprised to see that the bar had served a man who could only sip rye whiskey from the good side of his face while blood ran down his leg from his bandaged knee past his ankle (minus boot) onto what was probably a floor.

“Time to go Leonard,” said the Doctor displaying no emotion. “No, no beers to go. Lets the three of us get back to the clinic and get you a ride to the hospital.”

As we slowly made our way back to the clinic and helicopter we were joined by the nurse who would be flying with Leonard and myself. How had he injured himself, she asked Leonard. After spitting a big chunk of blood clot and gauze Leonard explained.

He had been told to take out the garbage while sitting, drinking and watching TV. Leonard had made it very clear in language I can’t write that his wife could take it out herself.

It was the wrong answer told to the wrong woman and she pumped two rounds from Leonard’s little 22 into him. The clip had been emptied but two had hit the flailing and fleeing Leonard. The R.C.M.P. would be around later this morning, nothing much would happen to change anything.

We got Leonard re-bandaged, wrapped, loaded and strapped into the helicopter. The flight back was through a Spring snow, sleet storm and the nurse and I chatted on the intercom about life in the North. Leonard moaned every once in a while and his leg twitched beside me up front.

I told the nurse that I was looking forward to some warmer weather and some different flying. Did I not like this work she asked?

“No,” I replied, “its just very discouraging” I said.

“Well, we do what we can” she said.

Posted in Contract helicopter pilot, Flying Stories, Helicopter Pilot, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

A tough way to start a career

Posted on March 11, 2008 by Heligypsy

I was talking to my current boss the other day about our early days flying helicopters. We were comparing notes on our first commercial flying jobs. We are about the same age and started our careers in similar aircraft like the Bell 47 and Hiller 12E. He flew in the Mountains of Guatemala and I flew in the Arctic and Rockies of Canada. We also both spent time flying in the relative flat lands doing agricultural spraying and both had our share of scares flying the equipment of the day with the attitudes that prevailed in those times.

We agreed that flying helicopters was a more hazardous occupation back then for two primary reasons. Ignorance and reliability. As pilots and mechanics we were ignorant to the hazards or accepted our high risk behavior as normal or standard operating procedure. The second reason that flying was more hazardous was that the equipment was not as reliable and our maintenance practices were not as sound.

Note:Statistics may show something slightly different from say 1978 to 2008 in that the accident rate spiked up in the 1990’s.

I still believe flying in the 70’s was definitely more hazardous. I have had 7 single engine ,engine failures and except for one they all occurred back in those bad old days. Four were piston engines and three were turbines and of the turbines two of them were the worst turbine engine ever placed in a helicopter, no, not the original LTS 101, but the Garret TSE331-3U-303. That engine only flew in the Sikorsky S-55T, thankfully. Another pilot friend of mine had eight engine failures in that model. I would have and did stop flying that model of 55T before my numbers got that high or my number came up.

When I think back to the old days I recall my first four Chief Pilots. Sadly, three of the four died in helicopter crashes and the fourth suffered a crash that left him alive but without a medical to continue his career.The fifth Chief Pilot I had drank his career and life away and was unfortunately not that uncommon a story for aviators in the far North at that time.

All things considered ,a career flying helicopters is a safer occupation than in past years. The equipment is a lot better,the maintenance is better and the pilots are trained with a greater respect for safe operating practices. The problem now is attrition and replacement. The old guard is retiring away, the military is hanging on to their people and there are not enough fresh faces coming to the helicopter world. I won’t go into all the reasons for the lack of new recruits. That is a whole other blog . What I do see coming is another upwards spike in the accident rate if action is not taken.

I was perusing one of the helicopter job websites. It is obvious that the E.M.S. industry is experiencing a critical shortage of pilots. One ad caught got my attention. The company was looking for instrument rated pilots for their E.M.S. operation. The minimum qualifications were 1500 hours in helicopters and 100 hours of night flight. I noticed an asterisk after three of the seven positions listed. The asterisk denoted that at least 1000 hours of the helicopter flight time must be turbine engine experience.Did this mean that a 1500 hour Robinson CFI with instrument rating and no turbine time could be flying a single pilot IFR EMS helicopter in bad weather at night to the scene of an accident? For a pilots first commercial flying job it  suddenly reminded me a lot of the bad old days.

I hope the pilot hired with those qualifications gets transitioned slowly and with some extensive training prior to and during their probationary period at that flight operation. If not,it may be safer to wait for the ambulance with the six wheels.

Posted in Flying Stories, Helicopter Pilot | 3 Comments

Winter bag/ Summer bag

Posted on March 10, 2008 by Heligypsy

We travel most of the year. When asked where I live I usually say California, the Eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains in a high desert valley that is also the deepest valley in North America. Between Death Valley and Yosemite. That description usually draws blank stares and at that point I say Bishop California about forty miles south of Mammoth, the more well known ski resort town. In actual fact, Bishop is Paula’s home and last year for the whole of 2007 I spent a minuscule 9 days there. Four days at Paula’s childhood home and five days at the Highlands RV Park living in our 36′ fifth wheel trailer.

As a helicopter pilot flying international contracts, my work takes Paula and I around the world. This time last year I was completing a contract in the dry heat of southern Nevada and planning to start the next assignment in the slightly cooler Mediterranean warmth of Athens, Greece. That was the plan. Plans change and a week later we were hauling our 5th wheel out of storage and trucking up the West Coast to Vancouver Island, Canada. Grab the winter bag and check the contents. An extra rain coat might be handy and rubber boots can replace the snow boots. Two bags for two seasons. Thats how it goes when you work around the globe.

We are currently working in sub tropical Belize. Summer bag country in a place where the locals wear T shirts and pants and the tourists wear T shirts and shorts. You have got to like a country where the dress code means that you have to be dressed in something and the multi millionaire and the vagabond sailor are often one in the same person.

We will be returning to Bishop, California in about a month or so, driving up the west coast of Mexico and hitting the Eastern Sierra Nevada in springtime. Its a winter bag/summer bag time of year and is one of the reasons I love the Owens Valley and the Sierra Nevada mountains.

I remember my first flying assignments into Bishop. It was early Spring then as well. I often picked up hydrographers in the foothills of the western Sierras and moved them into the mountains for snow and water surveys or across the Sierras to their offices on the east side.

We must have been a bizarre sight to non local flat-landers as we climbed into the helicopter on a warm 70 degree rainy day wearing our parkas and wind pants. Climbing out of the San Joaquin Valley for Bishop a mere 70 miles east we would ascend into pelting wet snow, heavy flurries and freezing buffeting winds as we crested Piute Pass descending into the lake country above Bishop and minutes later break out into the sun and heat above the desert floor of Bishop.

Snow that had accumulated on the helicopter would be sloughing off and a melt pool settled on the helipad as we idled down in the 76 degree heat. Total flight time 35 minutes.

Bishop in early Spring is a very diverse climate. Mornings are frosty clear, hurt your eyes blue skies, as you climb the steep grade east on Line street into the Sierras and all that snow. Ski, snow shoe, tobaggon, slide or hike. A few hours later its a quick twenty minute downhill drive, throw on some shorts and have lunch outside sipping iced tea at 70 degrees in the sun. After lunch a swim at Keoughs, in the Olympic size hot spring pool, while you watch snow dump in the 12,000′ mountains almost right above you. The Eastern Sierra rain shadow keeps you in the sun and warm as just a few wispy clouds, their moisture spent in the Sierras, drift across the valley towards the equally high White Mountains.

Evening comes quickly in such a deep valley and its back to jeans, jackets and logs on the fire. Temperatures can range more than 40 degrees on many Spring days in Bishop. A winter bag/summer bag/winter bag day.

owens-valley.jpg

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