Digits goes North

[digits]

21st of July: To Repair or not to Repair

This morning, Aziz informed me a spare part that might fit arrived by plane. This little chance of getting airborne again made me optimistic. I walked over to the airport (about 7km, nothing else to do) and looked up the mechanics. They informed me they wouldn’t/couldn’t install the part, since apparently it wasn’t an official airplane part. Great. They were however very helpful again and made some calls. They contacted the mechanic of the owner of the plane and started looking for possible part numbers that would fit. Next, they looked for said parts. In the end, they found a salesman in Canada who had the required part and was willing to deliver it by himself at the airport, to make absolutely sure that the part would leave that day on the first First Air flight to Resolute Bay. The part was scheduled to arrive on Saturday. This time, the estimate looked a lot more believable.

I took advantage of the situation to pick up a bit of extra clothing from the airplane and got to know the ATC ‘controller’. Turned out his girlfriend painted the white rocks on the big famous “Resolute Bay” mountain.

On my way back I was picked up while hitchhiking a ride to Aziz’s hotel. I noticed a strange rock with some strange moss on it. The driver explained with a smile that he was trying to find out if something would grow on the rock if he left it in his car… It was a hobby project while in Resolute. He also tried to learn how to paint, but apparently the rock was more interesting.

One delicious meal, again thanks to Randy, later I went to bed. Dreaming of flying.

To be continued ...


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, loosely based on a true story. This is not an official report in any way. All rights reserved.

 

[digits]

22nd of July: Company
This morning started off a bit better as before. A group of adventurous people, who went on a 2 week hiking trip in the North of Canada, arrived in the hotel the previous evening. And today they had some time to kill before getting on their flight back. We spend our time chatting about the beauty of the Arctic area while walking towards the camp side and the numerous plane wrecks. We passed some old rusty vehicles that looked like the babies of a car and a snow mobile. Although the outside appeared very old and about to collapse, it actually had a new engine, which gave us the impression it was still being used – when there is snow of course.

Once again, I visited the old Inuit camp. This time there was no garbage truck to unload, hence reducing the entertainment factor a bit.

This very wild and exciting walk was concluded with seeing the carcass of a big black bird. Such adrenaline…

Time for bed again. Hoping tomorrow my plane would finally be repaired.


To be continued ...


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, loosely based on a true story. This is not an official report in any way. All rights reserved.

----------
Is it a car ? Is it a snow mobile ? Is it something else ?

Cockpit door

Camping underneath whale bones

Big birdie

 

[dash8pilot]

En? Werd de kist de volgende dag gerepareerd?

 

[digits]

Excuses voor het lange wachten. Hier het vervolg, hopelijk volgende updates wat sneller nu.

----------

23rd of July: Repair ?

The first thing I did this morning, was contacting the mechanics. The part arrived late in the evening the day before, and they could clear their schedule to install the part. My enthusiasm levels rose again while I rushed to the airport. When I arrived at the airport, they were already working on the plane. Half an hour later the part was installed and it was time to test it! I looked for the keys of the airplane (I didn’t have to use them for quite a while now) and put them in the ignition. A thumbs up from the mechanic and the battery switch was on. As I did countless times the past few weeks, I pushed in the mixture, primed the plane and with a very nervous gesture engaged the starter. Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened. All the enthusiasm I gained that morning was drained away as quick as a horny polar bear.

The magical technicians brought back their stuff and started measuring the electronic circuits again. Their conclusion was that the battery was (almost) dead as well. Although my faith in them had fade a bit, I had nothing to lose by letting them try to refill it. They drove off to their work shop in their cool red truck. This gave me time to socialize with the ‘tower’ controller of Resolute Bay. It turned out his girlfriend was the artist who painted the white rocks that displayed the name of Resolute so proudly for everyone to see. I admired their Patience score board, saw some pictures of other airports in the North, read some maps.

An hour and a half later a red truck drove back to my airplane. The refilled battery -apparently it lost some acid (?) – was installed and I hopped into the airplane. Switched the battery on, reset all the switched and prepared the key. The technicians told me to keep the engine running once it started. I found their optimism comforting. My fingers were shaking a bit as I started to turn the key. Normally, when you start the plane, there is always a very short time between turning the key and actually noticing any effect. This takes about one tenth of a second, but it felt like an eternity this time. But then, although hoped for yet unexpectedly, the starter engine started making sounds. A few rotations later, the engine was running.

The engine was running.

A bolt of joy was rushing through my veins. Ten minutes later I received a signal that the battery was charging normally and the alternator was working as it was expected to. I shut down the engine and secured the airplane. The cowling was reattached and the plane was ready to fly. It was around 3 o’clock in the afternoon so I decided to stay in Resolute for one more night and leave the next morning.

The technicians guided me to their office so I could pay them their hard-earned money. The office was occupied though, which gave me the pleasure of joining a pilot meeting of the local company. I must have looked like a very trustworthy person, since nobody asked me to leave or even acknowledged my presence there. It took 45 minutes of curious looks and glaring before the boss coun’t stand it anymore and asked in a truly Canadian accent “Who the hell is this guy ?”. “Don’t worry, it’s the Cessna pilot” was the technicians response, Followed by general laughter and some weirdish looks. Until today I still don’t know if that should have been interpreted as a compliment, a pity laugh or an insult.

When all the paperwork was done, I hitchhiked back to the hotel. Tomorrow I would finally leave this place. A few days earlier, I received an invitation on the Avcanada bulletin board from a beaver pilot in Cambridge Bay. He was impressed by my trip and offered me a ride in his airplane if I would come to Cambridge Bay. Normally, the plan was to return via the east coast of the Hudson Bay. However, the fuel consumption was higher as anticipated and I was getting a bit tired and starting to long for familiar faces, so I recalculated my route and decided to plan a trip to Cambridge Bay. I found some friendly people on the almighty internet willing to offer me a bed there. Only one problem: I had no real name of the pilot, and he never replied to my message that I was coming to visit him.

Those were worries for tomorrow. Now it was bed time.

To be continued ...


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, loosely based on a true story. This is not an official report in any way. All rights reserved.

----------

 

[digits]

24th of July: The Crash
I woke up with a very big smile on my face. I removed the improvised iron plate (that served as a curtain) from the window and saw a nice blue sky with some layered clouds. During my strong breakfast, Aziz told the cook to prepare some sandwiches for my flight. It was going to be a rather short flight, only 4 hours of flight time was expected. The fuel handler in Cambridge Bay (CYCB) was informed of my arrival, the plane was repaired, the bill for my rather long stay in Resolute Bay was settled with Aziz the day before.

Now it was time for goodbyes. I thanked Aziz for his hospitality and resourcefulness, wished the house keeping lady all the best with her further plans in the Canadian North and collected my rather big lunch pack from Randy. I did not realize it at the time, but this was a very special goodbye.

Although I am realistic enough to know that chances are slim I will ever see the people I met on my trip again, there was one person I am unfortunately absolutely certain about that I will never see him again. Randy would die in a plane crash one month later, while returning to Resolute. In total, 12 people lost their lives in the accident. When you consider how small a community as the one in Resolute really is, it is almost impossible to imagine what a shock it must have been for all of the people in the North.

On the 24th of July, none of this had happened yet, so my mind was only filled with positive thoughts and the sense for adventure. After arriving back at the airport, I started my normal routine: fuelling the plane and loading it with all my gear. I said goodbye to the local controller, and paid off my debt with 2 bottles of coke.

A few minutes later I was airborne again. I climbed through some clouds and waved goodbye to Resolute. Gradually, I saw the ice making room for the dark blue water and the rocks were changing into gravel and little lakes. A lot of little lakes. About 4 hours later I had Cambridge Bay in sight. Finding the town was easy, finding the airport not so. I saw another airplane approaching the airport, which made it a bit easier to spot the runway. I made a smooth landing and I was very happy that this brought me one step closer to home.

Again, it was time to start the fuelling process. This was my last fuel stop before returning to the heavily populated civilized world, so I decided to once again put two barrels of fuel in the airplane. I was parked close to some big airplanes. And as Murphy likes it, the big plane was parked between me and the fuel drums. In the typical friendly and helpful Canadian style, one of the maintenance/airport crew helped me to roll the drums I bought to my airplane, underneath the big jet’s running APU, which was quite hot and extremely loud. Business as usual in Canada.

This time, the fuel drums were only expired for 3 months (instead of 3 years as was the case in Eureka). So yeah, fresh fuel ! The fact that this was the last time I had to refuel from barrels gave me the strength to carry on and endure the finger cuts, fuel spills, itchy skin, bruised head (because of bumping into the wings multiple times) and the mosquitoes once more. Only one hour later, the fuelling was completed. It was time to call my hosts now.

The friendly people I contacted via the Couchsurfing website picked me up and drove my house. Your house? Yes, my house. Apparently, there was a very friendly Canadian Ranger living in Cambridge Bay. When he is away travelling (which happens frequently apparently), everybody can use his house and make themselves at home. Taking hospitality to a whole new level! The Ranger left all kinds of notes everywhere. Containing valuable pratical information regarding the operation of the appliances in the house and information about rental services, taxi service, fuel delivery etc.

I was settled in, so now I could turn my attention to finding the beaver pilot who offered me a ride. After a brief search I found the landing place of the beavers. After waiting about an hour, I saw the pilot landing. I introduces myself as the crazy pilot from the AvCanada board and he was surprised I showed up. The Beaver was a beautiful airplane. Quite difficult to climb in though. He gave me a quick introduction to the instruments and how he usually flies it. While I was sitting there, he loaded the plane with barrels. The general message from his tales was that flying in the North was beautiful, but could also be dangerous. You had to pay attention all the time, because something could always go wrong. Prophetic words… He didn’t have time tonight to take me for a ride because he had to work, but he would try to work something out with his boss for the next day.

I thanked him for the tour, took a quick photograph, and he asked his colleague to drive me home. We saw him taxiing over the water, starting his take-off roll, rotating, floating above the water, and then silence, followed by a splash in the water a few seconds later.

My driver turned a bit paler and looked for his binoculars. The plane had come to a stop just before the shoreline. The pilot climbed tried to start the engine again to taxi back to the airport. We heard him try about a dozen times, without success. In the mean time an improvised rescue attempt was made and two motorboats were rushing over to the plane. They towed the plane back. The driver dropped me off and rushed back to the airport. I decided to stay out of their way and walked back to my house.

I took some food from my many bags and improvised a dinner. This was the first time I wasn’t sad that I missed a flight. The next morning I would try to get a hold of the pilot and try to get an explanation about what happened. But first, time to sleep.


To be continued ...


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, loosely based on a true story. This is not an official report in any way. All rights reserved.

----------
Airborne again !

The last ice

Gravel and lakes: earth and water

Cambridge Bay from the sky

One big plane. With a very loud apu

More company, it's a busy day

 

[digits]

Fuelling time again

Expiration date

Cambridge Bay center

Me & the Beaver

"My" house

 

[dash8pilot]

Kan niet voor de rest spreken, maar ik ben in ieder geval benieuwd hoe het verder gaat?

 

[digits]

Kan niet voor de rest spreken, maar ik ben in ieder geval benieuwd hoe het verder gaat?

Een gestolen laptop heeft roet in het eten gegooid. Verwacht binnen 2 weken alles hersteld te hebben. Het vervolg komt er zeker nog aan!

 

[digits]

25th of July: ATV Fishing

Today was a rainy day. Rain was very rare in Cambridge Bay: usually it snows, or it is dry. So in a way, I felt privileged to experience the Rare Rain. It was time to have some fun on the ground. What better way than exploring the surroundings of Cambridge Bay by ATV (or a quad as we Belgians use to call it).
I found a friendly ATV renter (who found it hard to believe I was a tourist and not connected to a company). The first stop was the tourist center (yes, it exists!) in Cambridge Bay. There I got a paper that said I was an Arctic explorer, since I crossed the 60° latitude. Woohoo!

The map I got in the tourist center showed me one road, leading to Mount Pelly: a slightly higher formation of rocks. It was a very nice ride on a surprisingly nice road. It also gave me the opportunity to see my first real wild life: a family of muskox (the Arctic version of a big fat goat) were running in the fields. The road drove me closer to them, which was fun at first, seeing them running away from me. Until they decided to change the roles and I became the hunted. Luckily they were no match for my ATV and I drove off to safety. Next to the road I saw the occasional shed. Every now and then a car would come out of nowhere, drive by and proceed into no man’s land.

Once I reached Mount Pelly, I was a bit worried about the amount of fuel left in the ATV, so I returned back to the crowded city of Cambridge Bay. There I started looking for fuel, which I found in the local supermarket for a rather democratic price. With the ATV fully fueled it was time do some more exploring.

I started my ride in mild sunny weather and drove eastwards. I passed the airport and soon left the small civilization behind me once again. The coastline made a turn which gave access to a new scenery: the small rocky beach was filled with a row of small cabins. These were used by the locals as a holiday/weekend house. The situation had a certain humoristic aspect: the people lived in a small community about 600km from the closest other city, yet they felt the need to build a cabin to get away from it all in the weekends… Oh, and the cabins weren’t water proof. Since it hardly ever rains there. Yaj!

The coastline was now facing the wind, which caused a lot of pack ice to drift up to the shore. A few brave seals popped up their head through the ice. I stopped a few moments to enjoy the scenery. When I tried to start the ATV again, it didn’t make a sound. I was very happy a local man came from his holiday building and managed to start the ATV again. This allowed me to continue my little journey. Because of the ice, the wind temperature dropped very suddenly and I had the feeling I was driving through a freezer. Half an hour later the road stopped. I had a beautiful view of the Northwestern passage and the Beaufort Sea. The clothes I was wearing were too thin for the icy winds, so I drove back.

Back in ‘my house’, I learned that the reason for the crash of the Beaver pilot the previous day, was that the local children stole fuel from the fuel drums to drive their ATV’s and replaced the fuel with water. The pilot apologized that he couldn’t take me for a flight (since he’d gotten the day off). I didn’t mind.

During the evening I joined my Couchsurfer contact in his visit to the weekend cabin of one of the local ‘elders’. The elders were older local inuit people who had gained a bit of a guru status in the Cambridge Bay society. The plan was to go fishing in the fishing boat, but due to the ice (as mentioned before) this was not possible. No problem for the fisherman: one takes an old piece of wood, a piece of iron wire/rope and a hook, one assembles a self made fishing rod, one jumps from one icepack to the other, while avoiding slipping into the water, one throws the fishing rod into the water, wait for 40 seconds and one catches a fish. The fish was too small so he threw it back, and repeated the previous chain of events for 8 more times. He didn’t catch a big enough fish so gave up and prepared another fish in “the typical western way”. Apparently this meant ruining the fish by adding flower and other stuff, chopping it into pieces and creating some kind of improvised fish sticks. Outside the local speciality (Arctic Char) was hanging to dry. I was offered a quick bite of the freshest sushi I ever tasted. It was much better than our fish cooked in “the typical western way”.

There were 4 people living in the cabin. The exact family ties were unclear to me, but there was one baby that was related to no one. It was common there to watch out for children of other people. The baby was put to sleep in a clever original way: you put them in some kind of bag pack and rocked asleep.
With this very lovely sight I longed for my own bed. It was time to go ‘home’.

To be continued ...


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, loosely based on a true story. This is not an official report in any way. All rights reserved.

----------
Muskox family

Seals in the ice

ATV on the road

ATV with no raod

Me on the ice: safe at the coast

Fishing fishermen on the pack ice

Fresh sushi!

The cabin

 

[digits]

26th of July: Revisiting ‘old’ friends

The day started with a lot of clouds gathering over Cambridge Bay. I returned the ATV to its rightful owner and got picked up by the aforementioned friendly pilot. It became soon very clear this would be my first IMC departure. From an uncontrolled airport without radar coverage. Luckily the surrounding hills were almost flat which greatly improved the safety of said departure.

The preflight checks were completed. The apron almost deserted. The little skyhawk veered to life for a 7 hour flight. A smooth take-off and a slow climb (as expected) followed. I entered the clouds around 500 ft and exited at 4000 ft. I was flying between two cloud layers, something I find a bit depressing normally. Not a very good visibility, grey everywhere, not a spot of blue sky. Yet, on this flight, it felt quite comfortable. It gave an illusion of safety: a small cocoon of safety around my tiny cockpit bubble. The sun slowly evaporated my cocoon. I burned more and more fuel, so I could again fly a bit higher. The layers of clouds started to break down, accompanied by the occasional rain shower. This was followed by a mixed blue/white sky and some isolated CB’s (thunderstorm clouds).

648 NM later, the familiar sight of Churchill was visible at the horizon in the perfect blue sky. I made a smooth landing (without thunderstorms this time) and phoned my hosts I left behind 2 weeks earlier. This time they showed me a different side of Churchill: the green fields with the streaming water and the beautiful lakes. I wanted to fish in them! But not tonight, tonight was reserved to watch ‘Friends’. Oh yes, one can travel to any corner of the world, and yet, everybody knows Friends.

I went to bed and relived the trip in my mind. As much as Churchill was a turning point of leaving civilization when going north, it was now a clear turning point of re-entering it.


To be continued ...


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, loosely based on a true story. This is not an official report in any way. All rights reserved.

----------
Clouds 1

Clouds 2

Blue sky

Beautiful sight

Churchill runway

Churchill airport

 

[digits]

27th of July: Polar Bears

I was enjoying my late breakfast, when my hosts greeted me very enthusiastically and told me to drop everything and get into the car. A polar bear was spotted in town! Soon, half a dozen cars were closing in on the source of the shot gun noise, like a swarm of bees attracted to your fresh summer cocktail. Our cocktail started to move and in true Hollywood style we started the pursuit. We were rewarded with a glimpse of a polar bear, trying to escape all the hussle while swimming (!) away in the Hudson Bay. A good start for the day, but I wanted more.

Before noon, they drove me around past a lot of creeks and beautiful landscapes. We visited the museum and learned about the history of the Fort of Churchill. A very strong settlement, which was surrendered when the first enemies knocked on the door.

To thank my hostess (and partially because she knew where the Polar Bears were living), I took her for a flight in the afternoon. She vaguely showed a rather large area where the polar bears ‘might’ be. We made sure the shot gun was within reach. Started the engine, shat down the engine again to remove the pitot heat cover (good impressions!), restarted the engine and flew into the blue sky. No need to worry about the weather, which is good in an area where the closest alternate airport is 3 hours flying away.

Her absolute certainty – “There WILL be polar bears !”- from earlier diminished with every mile we came closer to said area – “Usually there should be polar bears somewhere around here”. Phrases as “Once you see one, you will see many” didn’t really comfort me that much. Since it was impossible to buy decently priced Avgas in Churchill, it was important to keep the duration of the flight under an hour. It was about time to turn back when we saw the mighty white creatures we were looking for. They were spread across the coast line, trying to cool down a bit, since they were after all permanently wearing a thick furry coat. We flew down a bit to make better pictures. It was quite unexpected to see them laying there, completely unaffected by our presence.

Suddenly, we saw another airplane at the horizon. Another small single engine plane was dropping by to take a look at the polar bears. We cleared the area and set heading for Churchill. My passanger asked to go see the Beluga whales at the other side of the bay, but unfortunately this would take up too much time. On our way back we noticed a ship wreck. Apparently it was too expensive to dismantle it or destroy it, so they just let it be. It’s not every day one gets the chance to inspect the hull of a ship from an airplane, so we gladly used this opportunity. This had a pleasant side effect: a big school of Beluga whales was swimming around in that area. Quite unexpected and wonderful to see. Every now and then a white fin would emerge from the water.

Ten minutes later, I was tieing down the airplane once again. Now it was time to try out a local dish: raindeer ! I expected a big chunk of meat, but was disappointed when some small stew was served instead. To complete my nourishment, I convinced my chaperones to try out the fishing rod from the airplane. It was meant as a part of my survival equipment. But due to circumstances, I never got around to actually using a fishing rod. After all, how hard could it be, right? Much harder as you would expect it turns out. I managed to get the reel stuck 2 times, broke the string 3 times, all without catching a fish. The mosquito’s did get a lot food though, as they managed to suck my blood through my t-shirt and even left red dots on that same t-shirt. I got sick of it all and we returned ‘home’ without a fish. For now…

Very itchy, the evening was concluded in front of the television once again.



To be continued ...


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, loosely based on a true story. This is not an official report in any way. All rights reserved.

----------
Scenery

Railway station (next to the museum)

You are now entering Polar Bear Area

Hi there

Hi again

Like a bird

The ship wreck

Belugas!

Right before the fishing adventure: full of energy

 

[digits]

28th of July: Pickle

This day was quite uneventful. I had a few options to go south: I could fly to Nakina, which I visited on my way up, or I could be adventurous and visit Pickle Lake. Pickle Lake was a bit longer flying, which meant that I would safe some time the next day, when I was hoping to meet my Canadian benefactor. I should have enough fuel to cover the distance. My lovely hosts executed their last friendly action and found me a hotel room in Pickle Lake. It was rather pricey since it was apparently a very popular holiday spot during weekends.

After this, it was time for the goodbye. It was one of the stops I’ll remember for a long time. They dropped me off at the airport and drove away, ready to work another day.

I felt like a local pilot walking through the security door in Churchill once again. I knew the security code by now and without any hassle I reached my airplane. I noticed another small airplane on the ramp. The pilot was on his way to Alaska. One of the rare adventurous (or crazy ?) single engine pilots out there. Filing the flight plan took a while. The following flight was uneventful, yet again a beauty. I had read in the news paper that Pickle Lake had been evacuated the week before due to forest fires. The hotel owner assured me that everything had been taken care off. I didn’t notice at the time, but the destruction of the fires is clearly visible on the pictures I took of the Pickle Lake area.

I was pleasantly surprised to notice a modern FBO in Pickle Lake. The last one I saw was just before the border crossing in the US. They provided me with reasonably priced fuel and drove me to my hotel. The view was nice, the air was pure and my stomach empty. Thus I headed to find the restaurant the hotel owner recommended. It was on this walk that I had my first unpleasant experience in Canada. A group of teenagers tried to start a fight. The shotgun was still in the plane, so I tried to blend in with the crowd. Which was quite hard when there are only 2 people on the street. The instructions of the hotel owner were a bit vague, which resulted in missing the restaurant. To avoid any violence with the local youth, I entered the first bar I could find. It looked a bit sleazy but the food was edible.

Back in my room, I inspected my mosquito bites from the day before. They had grown to unseen proportions. I tried to reach Kevin to inform him that I would be arriving the next day. A few missed calls, a couple of emails and forum posts later, the message got across. I was finally going to meet this total stranger who made such a significant contribution to my trip.


To be continued ...


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, loosely based on a true story. This is not an official report in any way. All rights reserved.

----------
Goodbye Hudson Bay

Clouds

Changing Scenery

Forst Fire Evidence

Pickle Lake

On the apron

Pickle Lake on the ground

The Lake of Pickle Lake

 

[digits]

29th of July: Last Canadian Stop

The morning consisted of the normal drills: packing my stuff, paying the hotel bill, fuelling the plane and preparing for take-off. I noticed a map on the wall in the FBO indicating the still burning forest fires. After take-off I paid attention to the surface underneath me, and saw the damage of the fires quite well this time. Another important task on this flight was to empty my ferry tank. It would be uninstalled in Muskoka. The pumps were using their strength to pump the last drops of precious fuel into the main tanks.

Until now, I was flying on an IFR flight plan today. When I was 15 minutes from my destination, I got a confusing message from ATC. My expected further clearance time was in 45 minutes, for an NDB approach while I had indicated I didn’t have an ADF onboard. Strange. It was a sunny day, so this was resolved quickly by cancelling IFR and switching to VFR.

15 minutes later I was on final approach off Muskoka airport, needed to brake off and make a 360° to give way to a jet. 5 minutes later, I made a smooth landing with almost full tanks. It was a relief to be greeted by Dave and his crew. The “dangerous” (or let’s say “isolated”) part of the trip was now over. I gave them a short summary of my trip and thanked them for their assistance and their technical expertise.

And then, after more than 4 months of emailing, lots of messages and a few phone calls, I finally met the most trustworthy Canadian one could ever imagine: Kevin. It felt like we had known each other for ages. He offered me a place for the night, which I happily accepted. As I had been expecting, Kevin was a very easy-going and friendly man. A very experience hunter and a pilot as well. I spent the evening at his house, meeting his –at that time- normal looking neighbor, his lovely wife and one of his daughters.


To be continued ...


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, loosely based on a true story. This is not an official report in any way. All rights reserved.

----------
Forest fire scars

Beautiful lakes I

Beautiful lakes II

Muskoka airport area

 

[digits]

30th of July: Canadian Tourism

It was a lazy Saturday morning when Kevin’s other daughter barged in. She thought I was the computer fixing guy. Kevin borrowed me his truck so I could switch to real tourist mode once again. The high way took me from one little town to the other. All was well until I noticed the little red fuel indicator approaching the zero dangerously close. And that is how the big fuel adventure started.

Finding a gas station was not that hard, but boy was it crowded. And confusing. As soon as I was in one queue, it changed direction – and so did I. After 2 direction changes and lots of waiting, I was finally in the gas station spot. Then I noticed that my fuel cap was on the wrong side. One other thing that you should now, is that the ignition of the truck was a bit wiggly and had trouble making contact every now and then. For example, when one is parked at a fuel station. This time, I was making the queue while frantically trying to get the thing started. The fuel station manager jumped in and got it running again. Woohoo!

In the evening, I went fishing with Kevin and his neighbor. It was then that I finally learned how to fish. And after an hour I caught my very first fish. It was a beauty. Car trouble is apparently very common in Canada. When we came back his beautiful vintage Toros (with roll and pitch indicator, first time I’ve seen that outside an airplane) wouldn’t start. In Belgium we would call a mechanic, but not in Canada. Here we jump under the hood, wiggle some things, try to jump start it and hope for the best. And the beauty of it: it actually works!

Before bed time it was time for some midnight golf on an isolated golf course. The ideal activity to increase your sleepiness.


To be continued ...


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, loosely based on a true story. This is not an official report in any way. All rights reserved.

----------
A lake with a view

Pitch & roll indicator in a car

Caught a fish!

 

[digits]

Bonusfilmpje om de verjaardag te vieren: [YOUTUBE]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jSKqGGZM0wY[/YOUTUBE]

(link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jSKqGGZM0wY )

 

[fokkerkoning!]

Topfilmpje!

 

[Immortal]

Mooi filmpje, zie het nu pas.

Alsnog gefeliciteerd! :yeehaa:

Zijn dat chemtrails* waar je op 2:15 onderdoor vliegt?




* pun intended

 

[digits]

31st of July: Goodbye Canada

Today was a day of mixed emotions. On the one hand, it was a sign of success. I was leaving Canada to return to the US, with a successful North Pole flight in my logbook. On the other end, it marked the end of the Canadian chapter on my trip. I met a lot of wonderful, interesting people. Most of them I wouldn’t see again anytime soon.

Either way, it was time for goodbye. Kevin drove me to Dave, the mechanic. He stayed around for a while to help me prepare the plane. It was a lazy Sunday morning. The sun was starting to break through and heating the hangar. Once more I was ready to leave Dave’s protective care. This time there was no “see you in a few weeks”. It’s amazing to see how much an influence people can have, even if you only met them for a few days.

When I was about ready to leave, Kevin had to return home. We said the usual goodbyes and I saw him walking out the door, Probably unaware of how important his role was in my adventure. The door closed behind him.

The airplane was restored to its former clean glory. In the sunny day I set course to Niagara Falls. I need a border airport to enter the United States, so it might as well be a good time to check out the famous waterfalls. The flight across the border took me over Toronto, where I had to hold around the famous Toronto tower to give way to traffic departing from one of Toronto’s airports. I took in the last views from Canada’s mainland and headed over to the Big Lakes, into the United States’ airspace.

Although the falls were a little less spectacular as imagined, flying over them was still a very nice bonus on this flight. As hinted by its name, the Niagara Falls airport was located quite closely to the falls. Upon landing, my airplane was inspected by the border patrol with a funny beeping instrument. It was used to detect if I had any radioactive materials on board. Luckily, my radiating personality didn’t set it off.

I packed my agenda for the day quite full, but I managed to squeeze in an hour to visit the Falls from the ground. The airport assisted in finding a taxi driver. Visiting the Falls was pretty straight forward, and quite impressive. On the way back, this same taxi driver insisted on showing me some other sights of the falls. This resulted in a weird photo shoot in all kinds of poses, including – but not limited to – climbing over some slippery rocks, smiling as he requested and taking into account the position of the sun. I was grateful there were some other people nearby, as a typical horror/slasher movie scenario started to play inside my head. After this detour, I arrived alive and well at the airport.

I got a lengthy weather briefing, modified my routing a bit due to forecasted thunderstorms, and headed for my next destination: Frankfort, Indiana. During the flight, I noticed there was one button my radios I’d never pressed before, and I had no idea what it was supposed to do. I pressed it a couple of times, and I thought nothing happened. However, after half an hour without radio transmissions, I noticed it messed up the frequencies. This resulted in my first transmission on 121.5 (the international distress frequency), which was promptly replied to with a frequency to contact.

A few hours later, I landed on a deserted airfield. The manager could be reached by phone and directed me to a hotel room and a taxi driver. The taxi driver strongly suggested to switch hotels and drove me to a motel with a very suspicious owner. He had no interest in my ID, but wanted to see my driving license. He looked at my Belgian license for 3 long minutes, while ignoring my questions about the room rate and if there was something wrong. Apparently he was afraid I wasn’t 21 years old yet. A simple question would have solved that issue instead of trying to memorize every square millimeter of my license.

I headed into town and felt very unwelcome. It had the atmosphere of a Zombie town. It was filled with elderly people who just never smiled. Fighting the nightmares, I went to bed.


To be continued ...


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, loosely based on a true story. This is not an official report in any way. All rights reserved.

----------
Toronto skyline

Toronto tower

Niagara falls airport

Scenery

Racing circuit

Frankfort airport

 

[Europe-American]

Fantastisch verhaal Digits.....we wachten met spanning op het vervolg.

 

[digits]

1st of August: Good morning USA

The last time I visited a mall was while gathering all my supplies. Now it was time to find something decent to eat as breakfast. McDonalds (really ?) chicken burgers did not fall in that category. Some bread from the desolated mall did. I survived the morning as well, and the same taxi driver as the night before, drove me back to the airport.

A rather short flight was planned today. Due to the high degree of humidity and the hot forecasted temperatures (> 34° C) it would still be a very tiresome flight. Visibility was poor due to the haze at the horizon. The flight was uneventful, and the landing smooth on the freakishly small runway.

I asked for a hotel room at the FBO, and as usual in the US, they took care of it right away. One little problem: the shuttle of the hotel was unavailable and so was the FBO’s shuttle as well. Problems are destined to have a solution, so I was handed the keys of their courtesy car: a fat ass brand new Ford Mustang ! No charge…

I drove first slowly, then fast, then slowly again to the hotel, missed the exit, drove a bit further and I didn’t mind at all. In the evening, I took my car to drive over to the local steak house (only 200 meters away) and to arrive in style.
A good juicy classic American steak with pepper gravy concluded this beautiful day.

To be continued ...


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, loosely based on a true story. This is not an official report in any way. All rights reserved.

----------
Hazy

Courtesy Car ^^

Steak House