FLYING THE HIGH ARCTIC
A Northern family grieves
I know many pilots who fly with Air Canada – some for thirty or more years. Sometimes, I would ask one of them: “Do you know my friend Jeff Foss?”, “Have you ever paired with an old buddy of mine, Karl Kjarsgaard?”, “Did you ever run into a guy named Dave Hadfield?” Inevitably, the answer is no. With thousands of pilots on a wide range of different equipment, the airline is too big to function as a social structure. But in the North, where communities are small, where pilots share crew houses, where crews are often hunkered down to wait out weather, even the largest airline, First Air, is a social construct with strong bonds. Despite hundreds of pilots, aircrew and maintainers, First Air is a family. The shared challenges of operating aircraft in the High Arctic bring aircrews, maintenance engineers and ramp crews together to find solutions to problems that don't ever impact big airlines, and certainly not their flight crews.
To attract crews to the difficult challenge of flying in the North, a system of two weeks on and two weeks off allows them to continue their lives in the South. Crews live together in crew houses in Iqaluit, Nunavut and Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, while they fly all over the Arctic. Yellowknife crews fly the expansive and windswept tundra of the Western Canadian Arctic and roam worldwide with the C-130 Hercules, while Iqaluit-based crews operate primarily in the mountainous terrain, deep fjords and craggy archipelagos of the High Arctic and Baffin Island. Shared tribulations and challenges met have created a bond between crews that rarely exists in the South. Many smaller airlines in the North are seen by young pilots as simply another rung in the career ladder, a place to do time and penance before moving on to the posh wide-body jobs in the South. Not so First Air. Being a larger, scheduled airline, First Air is a place where a full career can be made, beginning on smaller aircraft and ending on the bigger jet transports like the B737 and B767. Young First Air crews can look forward to a lifelong bond with the company, moving upwards with skills and experience.
When an aircraft is lost through an accident in the North, it affects all aircrews throughout the Arctic who share a knowledge of the unique geography and the challenges of safe operation. But, if passengers and aircrew are lost as well, the effect is devastating to the remaining pilots and aircrew of the company affected. For the pilots and crew, the safe delivery of passengers is the prime directive and the total focus of their professionalism. Anything short of this shakes them to the core and hurts deeply.
In 2011, a First Air Boeing 737 on an Instrument Landing System (ILS) approach to the community of Resolute Bay, on Corwallis Island, struck the ground short of the runway in poor weather. The Boeing of First Air Flight 6560 was destroyed and 12 of the 15 souls on board killed, including all four members of the First Air crew. These four family people also left behind eleven children, seven of whom were very young. Overnight four families had lost a parent and a key bread winner. The blow to the wider company family was visceral. Lost in the accident, the cause of which has not yet been concluded, were Captain Captain Blair Rutherford whose wife was a flight attendant with First Air also, (with two children – a young daughter and son); First Officer Dave Hare (with three children – five and three years old and the youngest was 6 weeks); Purser Anne Marie Chassie (with two children, a daughter and a son, both teenagers); Flight Attendant Ute Merritt, her husband was a Hercules captain for First Air. Merritt had four older children, who requested that all donations be made to the seven younger children involved. That's the kind of family it was.
Raising a trust fund for the children of the fallen
Recently, fellow aircrew members of First Air decided to create and raise money for a trust fund for the future education of the seven younger children who lost a First Air parent in the accident. One of the ideas that came to mind to help raise money was to design a 12-month calendar of First Air aircraft in operation in the North and sell it throughout the North as well as worldwide to airline and aviation enthusiasts. All photographs would be shot by First Air pilots and crews when on real operations in the North.
365-Day Tribute- First Air/Bradley (FAB) Children's Charity 2013 Calendar
Vintage Wings of Canada strongly encourages subscribers to Vintage News to check out the 2013 First Air Calendar and purchase a copy (or more) to help raise the money that will guarantee that the children of our lost comrades will have a strong future without both of their natural parents. In return, for just $20.00, you will receive a beautifully printed full-colour wall calendar with 12 beautiful images of aircraft operating in the most demanding environment on the planet. To check out a few images from the Calendar, to gain insight into the challenges of flying the North, and learn about the professionalism exhibited by the First Air aircrews, read on.
As we have stated, the First Air operations in the North are divided between bases at Yellowknife and Iqaluit. The photos taken by Iqaluit-based Douglas Fleck show us mostly the flying in the mountainous, fjord-riven landscapes of the Eastern Arctic. The story is the same for the pilots and crews of the Western base and destinations in the tundra and boreal forests of the Western Arctic.
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To fully understand the allure of flying in this extreme environment and why aircrews share a bond akin to a family, we think taking a look at flying in the Arctic through the photographic eye of one of its hard-working pilots would help explain how the extremes and wonders of the North serve to forge these bonds. We think one look at these images and you will begin to grasp the gravitational pull of the North.
A Demanding Environment for Centuries
For centuries, European and North American explorers were drawn to the rigours and challenges of the inhospitable Arctic environment. There were two powerful dreams that fuelled the imaginations and the expeditions that made the first tentative European forays into the land of the Inuit people – the discovery of the mythic Northwest Passage and the extreme physical and metaphysical challenge of reaching the North Pole, to stand on the metaphoric “Top of the World”. The physical demands and mortal risks involved in the journey to the Pole are so extreme, that it is often referred to as the “Horizontal Everest”.
While European and American adventurers risked and sometimes sacrificed their lives to achieve these two goals, all the while the Native peoples were not only surviving in this environment, but they were living harmonious, contented, and cultural existences in the world's most extreme environment - a frozen desert and mountainous landscape, devoid of ordinary vegetation, yet teeming with marine and ungulate life. Only today, with warming global temperatures, is the Northwest Passage safely navigable for short periods, but rarely still achieved. The reaching of the North Pole, a white man's ambition, is still as difficult on foot or sledge as it ever was, perhaps even more so given the shorter winters. But, with aviation, life has changed in the high Eastern Arctic of Canada forever.
The small, extremely isolated communities that hunker down on the flat landscapes of the interior or cling to the very edge of the continent, sheltered deep in the fjords, are now connected, reachable, and sustainable thanks to modern aircraft operators like Ottawa-based First Air. In operation since 1946, Bradley Air Services/First Air is one of the most experienced, most respected, best equipped and longest running airlines in the North. Operating a well-maintained fleet of passenger and cargo aircraft that run the gamut between short-haul airliners like the Aerospatiale ATR-42 and the massive Boeing B767 converted to cargo configuration.
Weather Challenges – met with professionalism and knowledge
Captain Douglas Fleck is an ATR-42 pilot with First Air. He is also one of Vintage Wings of Canada's cadre of pilots flying the venerable and diminutive de Havilland Tiger Moth. Douglas has learned a lot, in his young career, about flying in the challenging North, with its capricious weather and its navigational challenges. We asked him to put down some thoughts about flying in the High Arctic. Douglas tells us:
“Typically the weather isn't as good as you see in these pictures. Lots of the time it's downright awful. The worst is the late fall to December. Nothing is frozen yet, and you're well into the dark season. Basically, until everything freezes up, you're dealing with lots of fog, icing, and low ceilings.
Once things freeze up, it gets a lot better, with the best weather coming in March and April. Everything is still frozen and you are getting some prolonged sunlight back, although it's still super cold in March. Once the ice starts to break up, you're back into the crappy weather until late July. I suppose this is because the air has heated up a bit and it can accept a little more moisture, but you still get some serious fog. Early fall isn't too bad, with some decent days, but with winds off the ocean, as they are at this time, you can always expect fog.
One good thing about the dark season is, as you lose daylight, runway lights naturally become more effective. At some destinations, the bad weather might keep you from landing during daylight, but it becomes more achievable the more the daylight diminishes, because the effective visibility of the runway lights increases.
You can arrive on a perfectly fine VFR day in March, but because it gets super windy down at ground level, you run into a lot of blowing snow and difficult whiteout conditions. It's not at all uncommon to see the weather down to 1/8 mile visibility with the skies reported as clear. The whiteout condition can be as shallow as 10 ft, but if you can't see the runway, it will put a damper on your day.
When flying to remote destinations in mountainous locations, a crew must remain wary of mechanical turbulence. We learn to read the mountains and watch how the snow is coming off of them, or what kind of clouds are forming near them. These give good indications of what the wind is doing. It can be just five knots, but if it's from the wrong direction, you can get rocked around pretty good.
I've also learned to read the snow the same way a float plane pilot reads the water to see what the wind is doing. We don't always have reliable weather reports, or reliable weather reporters for that matter.”