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 Previous Item - And now, the FBI...
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And then there are all the rest....... |
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Chris Vernon-Jarvis - Nov 08,2003
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The thing about flying is there are good days and then there are all the rest……….<br /><br />I guess today qualifies in all the rest. We have had ten days of brilliant sunshine, but with minus 5C and cold winds I looked at Green Lake and thought “What if…? “ This is a very cold lake. Friday it has eased a little and Christine is beginning to ask why I have a plane if I don’t play with it. By 1.30 there were no excuses left so I grabbed the logbook and maps and headed off to Pemberton.<br /><br />I think I have mentioned this before. For three or four months over the Winter Pemberton Airport does not see the sun, it is hidden behind the mountains. The ground is semi permanent frost, getting out of the car is like stepping into a freezer. When I arrived I suddenly thought “I don’t want to fly in this, I’ll check the plane and go home.”<br /><br />Of course the plane, a hangar queen for five weeks, was behind two others but the first person I ran into was the owner of the Champ, “Going flying Chris?” “Well, ahem, maybe.” The I ran into Guy, (“Ghie,” he’s French,”) “Going flying Chris? It’s smooth as silk.” I looked around. Pemberton’s wind is always different to everywhere else. The sock hung limply. I lifted my face and smelt the air. It barely stirred. “Well, if it’s that good I guess I might.” I looked at the sun on the mountains, when I got up there it would be beautiful, it seemed a shame to waste it.<br /><br />Guy and Kevin helped me pull the planes out and put the Champ and the Cessna back. I should have brought gloves, by now my hands are cold and doing the preflight they get colder. There’s a safety wire gone on the exhaust springs and I struggle to fix it, It took fifteen minutes instead of five. I checked the oil. None! None?, how’s that possible? I hand turned the engine. Still none. I turned it some more, five or six full turns, still none. I trapse back to the hangar in the cold, grab a half can of oil, trapse back. With the added oil she was half way up the stick.<br /><br /> I get on board as a police rescue helicopter arrives. Even 70 or 80 feet away it is a cold blast. I pull the choke, “Clear” and grind the starter. Nothing. I do it again. Still nothing. Full throttle no choke for five seconds. Let it stand for a minute. Throttle closed, choke advanced steadily while I turn the starter. Nothing. <br /><br />It is time to get out and have a look. Of course there’s nothing visibly awry. I tug at sundry cables, jab at the plug covers I’ve already checked. Look at the ignition leads, they’re well away from anything else, nothing is out of place. I get back in and do up the straps again. “Clear” Grind, nothing. Throttle open, no choke, five seconds. ( I have owned a lot of old sports cars!) Nothing. Throttle closed, choke pulled, grind. Nothing. OK. One more go and I’m going home. It’s cold. I’m miserable and this is no fun. Choke. Grind. Brrrrm…… She goes.<br /><br />Sitting in the profound shadow of the mountain Jemima does not seem to come alive as she does starting in the sunshine. Her voice is hesitant, stilted. We sit together while she warms up. Idle is down two hundred revs and she won’t pick up cleanly, she actually stalls a couple of times. I shut her down and go for a screwdriver. One flat on each carb. I get in, strap up and start her again. Now she idles at 1700 and picks up almost cleanly. I do the honours on the radio to an empty sky and back track on two four while I wonder if I am being sensible.<br /><br />One thing about cold days. You’re gone before you know it. A hundred feet down the runway, I have barely made full throttle and we’re airborne. Seconds only and we’re at three hundred feet. I trim down. Nothing moves. I try again. Nothing. It worked in preflight. Suddenly we’re all over the shop, nose up, wing down, nose down, ASI up to 80Knots, down to 55 Knots. Steady VJ, fly the plane. Forget the damned trim, forget the flaps, just fly the plane. <br /><br />That’s just when my 57 year old prostate cuts in. I blame the cold but it’s irrelevant. The fact is I need to pee. I really need to pee. I don’t get those “Life flashes before your eyes” thoughts, I get “ What the f++k is a fifty seven year old low time pilot doing here sitting in an ad for heamorroid ointment with his 57 year old prostate, no trim and 22 deg of flaps when he could be in a nice warm bathroom at home. <br /><br />Slowly things return to normal. It gets a little calmer, I get a little calmer, I raise the flaps, I ease the throttle, jamb down the trim and pump the stick. She trims out just as we emerge into the sunlight. It isn’t calm but it ‘s Ok. I point Jemima downwind over Lillooet Lake and a couple of minutes later we’re in calm air. I realize I’m pushing with all my might on both pedals and it takes an effort of will to relax. My legs are shaking. It must be the cold, yup, it is still damn cold. I do a couple of turns at 30 deg. I do a couple more at 45 deg. Better, but I decide I’m not going down to Whistler, not going to Green Lake. I turn back towards the airport and we literally dive back into the shadows.<br /><br />The air gets bumpy again in the circuit, it’s bumpy all the way to the ground, cold and bumpy, the sock taunts me, hanging limp as I pass it at the threshold. As I taxi in Guy opens the big hangar door, he has a charter for the JetRanger. He helps me push Jemima back into her hangar. “Nice up there?” “Hrrrmph, I can use the plane again.” To add insult, when I check the oil it way up at the top of the dipstick. <br /><br /> As I get in the car and turn the heater up full I think of the fine days of flying this Summer, the view of the city in the warm sun, puddling in the lower mainland lakes with Fred, laughing at my diversions with the peanut gallery, and then there are all the rest……………<br />
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Dan Nickens - Nov 08,2003
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The wicked thing about flying, Chris, is that all the rest are forgotten so soon. In fact, I've forgotten them already after the enormous pleasure of reading your tale. Now there's nothing left to do but go flying!
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John Robert Dunlop - Nov 08,2003
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Just a fine yarn Chris!
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don bosco - Nov 10,2003
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Enjoyed it, Chris. You made me feel I was there with you.
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Frank A. Carr - Nov 18,2003
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Chris,<br />This is a marvelous story. My empathy for all, especially the cold and the prostate. Now, if you added an autopilot, you could use a 'Little John'-- except it would probably freeze. Dan has serious competition in the writing arena...
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Greg Spires - Nov 19,2003
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Frank, correct me if I am wrong, but I believe that my father, in the P-51 had a PR tube (pilot's relief tube). I imagine one could be easily fitted into a SeaRey with a holding tank or just a release to nature.
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Chris Vernon-Jarvis - Nov 20,2003
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Great idea Greg, I'll let it drain out thru a small hole under the seat.
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John Robert Dunlop - Nov 20,2003
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Chris, if you drill the hole through the side of the hull just ahead of the windscreen pillar, there should be enough suction even for those with prostate problems..
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