Arcturus, Missing Hours and Fate - By Chuck Ellsworth

Finally after over a week of just plain tough flying weather the stars came out and we would depart Johnston Point on Banks Island for what should be an easy flight. This flight would turn out to be remembered forever as one of the closest calls I have ever had in almost fifty years of flying. The year was 1975, late February. We were flying supplies to a cat train that was shooting seismic lines for oil exploration on Banks Island in the high Arctic.

Johnson Point, an oil exploration base camp with a paved runway, was the main airport for supplying the western Arctic. In these very high latitudes winter means total darkness for months and navigating in that very hostile environment is difficult at the best of times. We had just gotten our first twin otter equipped with a new navigation aid called Global Navigation System. G.N.S. was based on very low power radio transmitters located in various parts of the world. In order for the computer to be able to navigate it had to acquire at least three G.N.S. transmitters.

Latitude and longitude had to be entered, for both our departure and destination points, in the computer. This entry was done with little wheels to select the numbers and other information for each trip. A further limiting factor with G.N.S. was that we had to have accurate positions or the computer to navigate to wherever we set it. Cat trains are always on the move, consequently requiring a navigator with each train to take celestial shots whenever he could to accurately keep track of their new location.

Once the G.N.S. stations were acquired and the trip was set up it was so accurate we could fly several hundred miles and then return to our parking ramp at the airport without a hitch. To us G.N.S. was like having died and gone to heaven. Being able to navigate so accurately in the high Arctic, where the magnetic compass always points strait down, was a "god send". This particular trip to the seismic train was uneventful with no cloud cover at all just the stars from horizon to horizon. After the last week of flying all our trips from takeoff to landing on solid instruments while relying on two radar altimeters one in front of each pilot for our landing decision height this one had been easy. The only visibility restriction we had was the complete loss of forward visibility in the snow which blew up when we went into reverse to stop on the short runway, which had been ploughed for us, on the ice.

Sometimes these strips were not much over 1000 feet long due to the location of the cat train at that time therefore, reverse was a necessity to stop before we ran off the landing strip. With clear weather and no rush to get back to Johnson Point we went to the cookhouse, had a leisurely meal, listened to the tape recorder playing music such as North to Alaska, which we of course changed to South to Alaska. Finally, off to the airplane we went where we decided to hell with waiting to reset the G.N.S. Instead, with such a clear night, we would fly back to home base using the astro compass. After lighting up the two P.T.6's we taxied back to the runway and lined up with the flare pots. We got the almanac out and shot Arcturus. It is one of the easiest stars to identify and shoot due to its position and brightness in the sky. Arcturus is the first bright star out from the handle of the Big Dipper. We read our heading on the astro compass, set our direction indicators (gyros) and off we went for Johnston Point. Once leveled off in cruise there was nothing but the sound of the engines and the big canopy of stars that ended in a faint white blur which was the endless Arctic snow just barley visible below us in the faint starlight.

Sitting in the warm cockpit with only the sound of those dependable turbine engines and no sense of movement through the dark night I slowly became aware that something was wrong but could not quite figure out what it was. I remember asking the co-pilot to see if Johnson Point was showing up on the A.D.F. After a few minutes he had no luck, now I came wide awake and said, "This doesn't look right. Let's get another shot on Arcturus.". Once more I gave him the time and he read the almanac to set the astro compass. Again there was no change in our D.I. settings. All of a sudden a possibility came to me and I asked him what time he had. When he read his watch we both knew we were really in trouble as there was almost three hours difference between our watches. I will never forget the feeling of real fear when I realized that we had departed the cat train with a D.I. setting that was almost forty-five degrees in error.

The sudden realization of just how serious our position was made it very difficult to convert the position of the stars versus what I figured they should look like. Now there was no doubt, in my mind, we were far off our track for Johnston Point, so far in fact I knew we might never be found.

Time was now critical. We had to decide which watch was right. Making a quick position guess based on nothing but the time we had flown on this heading and instinct we turned ninety degrees to the right starting a slow cruise climb for better fuel burn. All we could do now was wait and hope.

In this part of the high Arctic, at night, there is absolutely nothing but endless white, to try to recognize any feature below you is hopeless. Now both of us were really worried, questions and doubts started. Whose watch was set wrong? Had we turned the right way? Why had we not noted the runway heading after landing? Why had we not written the heading down so as to be able to confirm our star shot? Why did we not check both of our watches, especially in that the clock in the airplane did not work which in these temperatures was normal? Radio reception was so poor we could not raise anyone on H.F. or V.H.F. then all of a sudden the A.D.F. came alive and there was the Johnston Point N.D.B. strait ahead. Soon we could see the lights of our destination on the horizon. For some time I had been quite concerned about our fuel state. Seeing the lights in the distance was just to good to be true. However, to be on the safe side we stayed at eleven thousand until we could definitely make the airport as distances can be so deceiving at night in the high Arctic.

Descending through one thousand feet the low fuel light came on telling us we had eleven minutes of fuel left in the front tank. I really don't remember how much fuel remained in the rear tank. Of course, how much fuel there was in the rear tank is now a mute point. It really doesn't matter, because like in Earnest Gann's great book "Fate is the Hunter", that night so many years ago the hunter did not find my young co-pilot, whose name I cannot even recall, and me. Had we turned left instead of right we would have been so far off course it is possible no one would have ever found the airplane or us in those millions of square miles of ice and snow. After landing and going into the Atco Huts, that were our accommodations, we finally found out it was my watch that was wrong. To this day I do not really know why I chose to make the decision it was my watch, even stranger the damn thing worked just fine after this what should have been an uneventful trip.

That just leaves fate as the best explanation for my decision to turn right that night. Isn't it strange how words like Arcturus, Missing Hours and Fate can have such chilling meaning when flying airplanes?

Out of Africa - Four days in a Cat - By Chuck Ellsworth

Day One

The sun was just rising as I finished scraping the frost off the windshield of the P.B.Y. Catalina with a credit card. This is not the picture one would have of Africa, however it is Thursday July 22/99 and it is winter in Johannesburg. After eighteen days trying to find the cause of a high oil temperature in our right engine and fixing some other mechanical problems the decision has been made to leave so as to have a chance of making the Oshkosh Airshow.

Today's flight will be six and half-hours to Lilongwe Malawi and we have an all up takeoff weight of twenty seven thousand nine hundred pounds, including a crew of five, fifty four hundred pounds of fuel and nine hundred pounds of oil. Lanseria Airport is forty five hundred feet above sea level with ten thousand feet of runway, with the temperature at two degrees C. take-off poses no problem.

The weather en-route is excellent and we have filed V.F.R. for to-days trip. Whenever possible I have found it easier to fly V.F.R. in most of Africa due to the difficulty with radio communications at the altitudes we normally fly this type of aircraft. The terrain from Johannesburg is sparsely settled with low mountain ranges through Zimbabwe, Mozambique and into Malawi. The dense jungle we think of associated with Africa occurs only in a relatively narrow band at the equator, A lot of Southern Africa is quite barren until you get into the central part of the continent.

A highlight of this trip was crossing the Zambezi River half way through Mozambique. Not only is the Zambezi famous for its Victoria Falls but it was especially important to both me and my wife Pene who was with me on this ferry trip. We had canoed part of the river In Zimbabwe two years previous to this flight. We arrived Lilongwe at three fifteen in the afternoon and two hours later finished fuelling and had cleared customs and immigration. We had no trouble finding a cab, however finding a hotel was another matter.

In the end all we could find was a very poor quality cheap hotel and when we asked if there was a restaurant nearby the desk clerk informed us the hotel had a restaurant just outside next door. Judging by the quality of the hotel we thought maybe we could wait and eat the next day, hunger finally decided for us and it turned out to be the best meal of the entire trip. It was a Korean restaurant and the food was diverse and delicious, you just never know until you try sometimes.

I have been in over twenty countries in Africa and Malawi is by far the best, the people are not only very friendly but everywhere you go it is absolutely clean unlike most of Africa there is no garbage or junk anywhere. As well the plants and trees are very colourful and well looked after in the city.

Day Two

After the easiest customs, immigration and fee-paying routine I have experienced anywhere in the many countries that I have flown in we were airborne For Nairobi Kenya at seven thirty A.M. Once again we had perfect weather for our trip which took us up through central Tanzania.

Shortly after departing Lilongwe we flew across Lake Malawi which is famous for its diverse species of fish. There cannot be a better way to sightsee than from the big blisters on the P.B.Y. Catalina the view is spectacular as you can see not only ahead and behind but straight down as well. Again the countryside is similar to the previous days flight. We decided to take the Eastern route into Kenya so as to see Mt. Kilimanjaro this however was not to be as most of the mountain was hidden in cloud cover. Approaching Kilimanjaro we contacted their arrival controller to position report and were advised to report ten minutes prior to the Kenya F.I.R..

Next we were given a handoff frequency for Nairobi radar, we were unable to raise Nairobi due to our low altitude and the distance I gave this no thought at the time as I had not expected an answer at that altitude. Crossing from Tanzania into Kenya we were able to identify many kinds of wildlife from our altitude of fifteen hundred feet above ground, the minimum allowed when flying over the African plains so as not to disturb the wildlife. From this height the bigger game such as Giraffe, Rhino, Buffalo, Zebra, Elephant etc. are easily identified and plentiful on the vast plains such as the Serengeti and once again the Catalina is perfect for sightseeing.

Our arrival at Nairobi's Jomo Kenyatta airport, elevation 5300 feet was uneventful until ground control advised me that arrival requested I go to their radar room as they wished to talk to me. Before leaving the airplane I told the rest of the crew that this might take some time as I suspected this would be another typical African shakedown. Sure enough the controllers wanted to know why I had not reported the Kenya F.I.R. on their frequency, when I explained the altitude problem they asked why I did not call on H.F. I informed them I did not have H.F. however I had brought my overflight and landing clearances for all the Countries we were fly into or over including their airport.

I never did really understand exactly what obscure rule of theirs I may have violated resulting in their threat to charge me and seize the airplane. One only has to understand the game being played which is finding a way to receive forgiveness for your stupidity in having done whatever it was they decided you are guilty of. In this case after over an hour of arguing, pleading and going around in circles one of the controllers went for a walk with me. In return for a gift of one hundred and fifty U.S. dollars to show how happy I was with his decision not to charge me I was free to go.

I couldn't believe how cheaply I had gotten away this time; I must be getting good at the game. Kenya is one of the most corrupt countries in the world; it is everywhere especially the police. We better hope that some of our Canadian politicians do not decide to vacation there, as they will really get a chance to polish their skills in how to extort money out of us. Allow me to diverse for a moment while I am on this subject and compare the police in Africa versus British Columbia where I live.

The way I see it in Africa the police extort money holding an A.K. 47, in B.C. they are holding a radar gun, just a slightly different method. We had planned on a one-day layover in Nairobi before continuing on to Djibouti our next fuel stop. This became a five day delay due to the first officer deciding he was returning to California and several days later Dudley Lieveaux our engineer had to return to South Africa due to the time restraints on his being away from his maintenance business in Cape Town. I was really sorry to lose Dudley as he was a very experienced pilot and engineer and we would have to wait until London to replace him.

We now had several days to spare so Pene and I decided to take a day Safari and see more of Kenya and its wildlife, it was really worth the three hundred and fifty U.S. dollars as one never sees too much of Africa. All of the African game guides have an incredible knowledge of their country and its wildlife and vegetation, there is no better way to explore the country. On Tuesday five days after arriving in Nairobi our new first officer Richard Maier arrived from Johannesburg . We were unable to depart the following day due to a low ceiling which prevented us from navigating the route V.F.R. as it is very mountainous to the North East of Nairobi. It was not possible to file I.F.R. as the M.E.A. is 21,000 feet and the P.B.Y. will not reach this altitude. Our greatest concern now was the new overflight and landing permits running out as the time frame is four days after which you must reapply for the entire route. In our case this would include Kenya, Ethiopia, Djibouti, Yemen. Saudi Arabia and Egypt. Not only is there a lot of time involved in getting the clearances for the route it is very expensive costing several thousand U.S. dollars each time one goes through the process and this would be our third set of clearances.

It did not help knowing that at this time of year Nairobi can be low overcast for weeks at a time. But we were to finally have a change of luck as the next day dawned clear and no wind.

Day Three

We were up at four A.M. checked out of the hotel hoping to get all the paperwork and fees paid in time. For the first hour it went good we managed to pay the landing, parking and departure fees, then it was off to the weather and flight planning a walk of about half a mile. Weather was no real problem typical Africa, very little weather available for our route, so you take what you get and go. Flight planning is where we came up against the mind numbing stupidity of the African system. We were asked for our landing permit, I told them in the process of dealing with the air traffic controllers it got lost, the last time I saw it the controllers had it. Furthermore it was a departure clearance we were after today, we landed a week ago.

No amount of reasoning moved them, no landing permit no departure permit so another half mile walk back to the airplane and a search of every conceivable place it could be. Finally I found it in the Malawi file how the hell it got there I have no idea.

Half way to the control tower I see Richard coming, and he said lets get out of here I have the permit. What had happened is he had called the person in charge of Kenya C.A.A. and solved the problem paid the two hundred and fifty U.S. dollar navigation fee and lo and behold we had our departure permit. By now it is coming up on eight A.M.

We are running out of time to make Djibouti with some safety margin before dark, I will not fly in that part of Africa V.F.R. after dark it is bad enough running the risk of being shot down without adding another problem to the flight. We start up and ask for taxi clearance only to be told there was no departure permit for our airplane. We informed the tower we had the permit and they said not for that airplane, so I get out of the seat and get the paperwork give them the permit number and the problem was solved, our airplane was N9521C they thought we were N9525C so off we go.

Now we are in the holding bay for the runway and ask for take off clearance, only to be told we could not depart as they needed our landing permit number.

Lucky for us I had it and we were cleared for take off.

The usual radar vectors to clear their terminal area and good bye Nairobi and our friends in the radar room. The flight from Nairobi to Djibouti is planned for seven hours and thirty minutes, we now are in the most dangerous part of the trip. Due to the many local wars only one route was available to transit central Africa. We had to stay on the flight planned route or risk being forced down or shot down. Our route was through central Ethiopia and less than an hour into our flight low stratus started to form and soon it was at our altitude 7,500.

Eventually we were able to remain on top at 11,500 where we remained for the next four hours. With the help of high flying airliners we were able to report our position, altitude and estimates to Addas Ababa. The further we flew into Ethiopia the less our choices of where to go became in the event of an engine failure or any other problem that could force us to land. To the west of our track were the central mountains of Ethiopia and the southern Sudan, which is at war and a no fly zone. To the east is Somalia also a war zone not to mention the airplane we were flying was painted in U.S. Navy colours with a big U.S. star on it, to land in Somalia would be suicide.

Just prior to Djibouti we were approaching Eritrea another no fly zone. The Ethiopian controllers monitor the last one hundred miles into Djibouti and they allow zero deviation from the airway and are continually asking for estimates for the fixes ahead of us. Finally the cloud cover disappeared and we once again could map read. Our airway passed directly over Ethiopia's biggest military airfield and they were the controllers we had been talking to. After we passed the airfield Pene came up and asked us if we saw all the Jet fighters on the airport we just passed and we said yes, they looked like Russian Migs but at least they knew who we were. Prior to our arrival Djibouti we received the landing information and as expected the temperature was 42 deg. C. now we find out if our engine oil temperature problem is still with us. It was, by the time we were parked it had already climbed into the caution range.

We had fuel drums waiting for us and wouldn't you know it their hand pump quit after three drums, we left for town after dark not knowing when if ever we would get our fuel out of the drums. The taxi ride to the hotel was Pene's first real introduction to the real Africa first it ran out of fuel just out side the airport, he had a small can with enough fuel to get us to a gas station. The cab was a real beauty no door handles and no lights except one parking light on the right front. But all was not lost as Pene saw her first two camels, the driver slammed on the brakes and lo and behold there they were two camels we had just barely missed them. Djibouti is about as run down as any country can get and still have people live there, the hotel was a Sheraton the best in town, dirty run down and only one tap had water in our room.

We were to stay two days in this hotel waiting for our fuel. There was no thought of sightseeing as it is very unsafe for foreigners even in the daytime especially if you have a white woman with you, but she wanted to go on this trip so caused us no real problem. By dark on our second day in Djibouti we had our fuel and were ready to depart at sunrise.

Day Four

Up at four A.M. and the usual run around to finish the paper work and pay the charges we had not paid the day before. The plan was to get airborne when the temperature was at its lowest just at dawn. We had talked to the tower people and they agreed to allow us to depart with no delay so as to keep our oil temperature as low as possible.

This was our last problem with no fly airspace all we had to do was fly 65 miles east to an airway intersection then follow the airway up the middle of the red sea. Once again we must stay right on the centerline as we can see Eritrea just off our left wing and it is for sure a no fly zone. Somehow Eritrea has Mig 29's and all kinds of missles it is amazing that these countries have very little food or any other necessities of life that we here in North America take for granted, yet they are armed with the most modern of weapons. The right engine oil temp was a real problem but using minimum power with it we managed to get into cool air at 9,500 feet after one and a half hours of slow climbing.

The red Sea has the most beautiful coral reefs that extend for miles and miles just prior to entering Saudi Arabian Airspace. Our fourth day ended in Jeddah Saudi Arabia temperature 47 deg. C and once again no fuel available until tomorrow. We have done it in four days of flying, we are through the entire difficult airspace in Africa. This was to be the end of our trip to Oshkosh, we could not get fuel until three P.M. on our second day in Jeddah. When we departed at dawn the next morning the air temperature was over 30 deg. C. shortly after take off the right engine oil temperature could not be controlled leaving us no choice but to shut it down and return to the Jeddah airport. We stayed a further four days, we were on a general declaration visa which has a seventy two-hour time limit.

After two extensions we were deported to apply for a visa outside Saudi Arabia to fly the airplane out of the country when it is repaired. We flew to London stayed three days then home to Vancouver Island, I will return to Jeddah and ferry the airplane to London England where it will be stored until a sale is found for it.

The Highs and Lows of International Flying - By Chuck Ellsworth

I would like to share some of the experiences that I have had in my job as an international contract pilot with all the members of the Nanaimo Flying club. I am sure you will enjoy reading about the difficulties we have in the day to day flight planning and flying of these trips all over the world. Sometimes when dealing with the paperwork and paying all the outrageous charges we encounter I swear to god I will never do it again, then several months later I have forgotten that part and remember only the many sights, places and the people we have met on these trips.

I would like to offer some short stories for the N.F.C. monthly newsletter about the many flights I do in my job as a training and ferry pilot. Then maybe after reading these stories you will better understand my abhorrence of bureaucrat's and their mindless enforcement of rules. Then the next time you find me sitting around sounding like a nut case you will understand what drove me to this sad state of mind. The only difference here in Canada is that they do not intimidate you with guns. (Yet) In the last three years I have been to thirty-seven different countries in Europe, Africa. Asia and South America. It is interesting that of all these flights, outside of my regular Transport Canada Instrument flight check rides I have not filed one flight plan in North America for three years.

I will start with my last flight and work backwards for three years. On April 23/99 I received a call to ferry a French owned P.B.Y. Catalina from Sao Paulo Brazil to Oshawa Ont. For those of you not familiar with this type of airplane it is a twin engine heavy flyingboat. Some of its stats are as follows. Wingspan 104 feet All up weight 30500 lbs. Fuel capacity10500 lbs. Oil capacity 990 lbs. Will fly 20 plus hour's non-stop with full fuel I was to stop in Oshawa to pick up the journey log and a new battery for the airplane.

There were as usual delays and I did not depart Oshawa until Apr.27. I left Toronto at 10.00 p.m. and eleven hours later arrived Sao Paulo at 11.00 a.m. local time. After clearing customs and immigration with this big battery as part of my baggage I was met by a taxi driver holding a card with my name on it. He drove me into the city to the hotel that we stay at when in Sao Paulo, this was my fourth trip to Sao Paulo, and by then the desk staff knew me by name.

After a quick shower and change of clothes I went to Congonhas airport where the two engineers from England were checking the airplane for the ferry trip. These two engineers Clive and Mark Edwards have been part of our crew since 1996 starting in Africa where we did filming for the French Television company T.F.1 all over Africa.

The plan was to leave Sao Paulo the next day. On the following day after much wasted time with hydraulic problems we finally called for taxi clearance, I was advised that we had missed our slot and to call back in twenty minutes. When we next requested clearance we were advised the flight plan had been cancelled and we were to re. file. I had to file a V.F.R. flightplan as my Co-pilot pilot was the owner Franklin Devaux. He did not have an instrument rating, my regular Co-pilot pilot was not with us and this left me with the problem of how to depart an airport that was restricted to I.F.R. only.

We were expected to be at a military airbase north of Sao Paulo at 1P.M.for a publicity show connected with the Aeropostale Mail trip to S. America and there was a TV crew waiting. We had one of the military people with us so I had him contact air traffic control and he somehow got us a new clearance to depart Congonhas V.F.R. with an I.F.R. routing. The departure from this airport is quite interesting in that the airport is right in the center of the city and there are miles and miles of tall buildings in every direction. There are seventeen million people in the greater Sao Paulo area and this was the first time we actually got to see it as the four other times we departed Sao Paulo the weather was either I.M.C. or overcast so we didn't see much of the city and surrounding area. There was great difficulty in following the routing they requested as we were V.F.R. and I couldn't understand the place names the controllers wanted us to go to. I had the owner fly headings while I desperately searched the database in the GPS trying to find places that sounded like the names we were given.

Finally we were handed over to the military radar controller who spoke good English. This was the first attempt at flying V.F.R in South America and unlike the I.F.R. controllers these people were very difficult to understand, as they would seldom have to speak English with V.F.R. traffic.

The approach to Campo Fontenell was almost straight in to the right hand of two parallel runways. The airport is the main training center for the Brazilian Airforce and after the TV crews were finished we were given a tour of the base then a trip to town for dinner and free rooms for the night in the pilot barracks. The following morning we departed for Brazilia a short trip of three hundred and seventy nautical miles. The country is quite similar to Montana as it is in the highlands of central Brazil, Brasilia its self is thirty five hundred feet above sea level.

About an hour out of Brasilia the right engine started running rough it turned out to be on the left mag position. That was the first time the airplane had given us any problems in three years of flying. After landing we changed the plugs front to back to determine if it was plugs or the mag. There went our plans to spend the day touring Brasilia as by the time we finished working on the engine it was dark so we did not get to tour the city. Brasilia is the typical example of government stupidity. It was built in the middle of nowhere and is the most modern city in the world as it is only thirty-seven years old. The downside is there is nothing but government to support the city.

Sounds like B.C. and the idiots we have in government here. Day three started out good the weather was clear and we planned to fly the seven hundred and eighty nautical miles to Belem at the mouth of the Amazon River. That soon went to hell because while we were flightplanning I was asked to produce all the aircraft documents plus all our licenses. That was at seven A.M. After about thirty minutes I was told to go with two Federal police and was driven several miles to their station where I spent the next three hours trying to explain why I was flying in Brazil with an expired overflight permit. This was not the first time I have been detained by the police in these countries so after refusing to say anything until I had a good interpreter I played their game. I eventually convinced them that it was partially the fault of my company as they had the permit for four months in Oshawa.

Finally I signed a document admitting to being in contravention of Brazilian law. This resulted in a two thousand U.S. dollar fine and they issued me a new permit to exit Brazil by way of Belem in the next ten days. We now were into the worst part of the day for thunderstorms and sure enough were forced to land in a small town named Imperatrizon one of the thousands of rivers in the Amazon jungle. It was really a great experience to stay in a small town that far from civilization, not only was there not a decent hotel we couldn't even order food, as we of course could not find anyone who understood English or French. When our food did arrive, it was plain boiled spaghetti and bread and butter. Franklin the owner of the airplane was worried about malaria, as this is a really bad area for malaria.

The Edwards brothers and me have spent a lot of time in Africa so do not worry to much about tropical diseases, you either get it or you don't so why worry. The next morning was overcast at about five hundred feet so we took off and flew to Belem just above the jungle for about three hundred miles; it was one of the most fascinating flights I have ever done. The Amazon basin is so vast and diverse it is incredible, especially the flocks of bright coloured parrots we saw while flying at low level over the dense jungle. The shape and size of some of the trees is incredible no wonder it is so written about in books. We landed Belem and thanks to the help of the Brazilian airforce cleared customs paid our fees and managed to depart for Cayenne French Guyana just ahead of a major line of thunderstorms.

The flight to Cayenne was four and a half hours and was uneventful except for having to fly around several areas of thunderstorms, which is normal for that part of the world. We landed just before dark and spent the night in a very first class French hotel.

The following morning we went through the usual paperwork and payment routine and finally after four hours we were airborne for Fort De France Martinique via Paramaribo, Suriname. Georgetown, Guyana. Tobago, and Martinique. After departure we were given permission to circle Devils Island the French penal colony of Pappion fame in the book and movie.

After our tour of Devils Island were allowed to fly past the Aerian rocket center where France launches their satellite rockets it is very impressive, then we settled in for seven hours of boredom to Martinique or at least until we came to the island chain starting the windward group. On arrival Martinique we spent the night in another first class French hotel.

The following morning it was another three hours of paperwork fees and delays, finally at noon we were off for Grand Turk Island seven and a half hours away. The windward and leeward islands are really beautiful when viewed from the blisters of a P.B.Y. There is not a better airplane in the world to sightsee from than the P.B.Y. and as we fly with a crew of four we all get plenty of time for sightseeing. Before departure from Martinique we were given a notam that the volcano on Minstar was erupting and posed a danger to aircraft, as we flew past it we were offered a very close view of the activity during a large eruption, very impressive.

As we were passing the island of St. Martin the right engine once again started to run rough. After much discussion the decision was made to land at San Juan, Puerto Rico where we would have access to the airline flights from the U.S.A. to get our parts for the engine. This required us to ask permission to divert to San Juan due to engine problems, finally we were able to talk to American controllers, it was wonderful after all the problems with Portuguese, French, Dutch and Spanish controllers. It is of course true that airtraffic control is English all over the world it is just that some of them are hard to understand especially the Portuguese.

When we landed, I of course as the Captain of the aircraft had the privilege of writing the report of why we landed in a Country we were not flightplanned to, then fill out all the forms for Customs and immigration. After this was finished I returned to immigration only to find that the Edwards brothers visa for the U.S. was expired.This of course required another hour of paperwork and the magic of several hundred dollars and we were free to go park the airplane in an area where we could fix it. At last well after dark we checked into a hotel. Many phone calls and much work later we had a new mag and new plugs installed in the engine and after two and a half days we were ready to continue.

The following morning severe weather on our intended route forced us to wait for an improvement. Franklin then decided he must leave for Paris as he had a very important meeting to attend. He decided to leave the airplane in San Juan and we would pick it up later. So Franklin left for Paris and Mark, Clive and I flew to Miami, They made a connection to London and I had to overnight Miami. The following morning I was on Air Canada for Vancouver via Toronto. So ended another international ferry flight. There are of course many more things that go into this type of flying such as the thousands of gallons of fuel that we pump into the tanks during the trip, we try to fuel up as soon as we land and clear customs and immigration no matter how long it takes as we know that the next morning will be spent going through the paper work, payment of fees and customs and immigration nightmare that one finds in every country on earth some worse than others. If all you people want me to take you from Paris to Santiago next month let John know. The routing was Paris via Spain, Morocco, Mauritania, Senegal, Fernando de Noronha, Brazil, Uruguay, Argentina and Chile. The trip was the Aeropostal mail route that France used fifty years ago. We flew it to celebrate one hundred years of aviation in France.

Then if you have not had enough I can take you on a tour of Africa flying for the French TV Company TF1 it was the most challenging and dangerous flying I have ever done with everything from Desert sand storms, to monstrous thunderstorms to filming in a war zone in the Sahara Desert and living with the Nomads for several weeks.

The Tobacco Fields - By Chuck Ellsworth

For generations the farmers of southern Ontario have planted cared for harvested and cured tobacco in a small area on the northern shores of lake Erie. Our part in this very lucrative cash crop was aerial application of fertilizers and pesticides better known as crop dusting.

At the end of the twentieth century this form of farming is slowly dying due to the ever-increasing movement of the anti-smoking segment of society. Although few would argue the health risks of smoking it is interesting that our government actively supports both sides of this social problem. Several times in the past ten or so years I have rented a car and driven back to the tobacco farming area of Southern Ontario, where over forty years ago I was part of that unique group of pilots who earned their living flying the crop dusting planes.

The narrow old highways are still there, but like the tobacco farms they are slowly fading into history as newer and more modern freeways are built. The easiest way of finding tobacco country is to drive highway 3, during the nineteen forties and early fifties this winding narrow road was the main route from Windsor through the heart of tobacco country and on to the Niagara district. Soon after leaving the modern multi lane 401 to highway 3 you will begin to realize that although it was only a short drive you have drifted back a long way in time. Driving through the small villages and towns very little has changed and life seems to be as it was in the boom days of tobacco farming, when transients came from all over the continent for the harvest. They came by the hundreds to towns like Aylmer, Tillsonberg, Deli and Simcoe, these towns that were synonymous with tobacco have changed so little it is like going back in time.

Several of the airfields we flew our Cubs, Super Cubs and Stearmans out of in the fifties and early sixties are still there. Just outside of Simcoe highway 3 runs right past the airport and even before turning into the driveway to the field I can see that after all these years nothing seems to have changed. I could be in a time warp and can imagine a Stearman or Cub landing and one of my old flying friends getting out of his airplane after another morning killing tobacco horn worms, and saying come on Chuck lets walk down to the restaurant and have breakfast. The tobacco hornworm was a perennial pest and our most important and profitable source of income. Most of my old companion's names have faded from memory as the years have passed and we went our different ways but some of them are easy to recall.

Like Lorne Beacroft a really great cropduster and Stearman pilot. Lorne and I shared many exciting adventures in our airplanes working together from the row crop farms in Southern Ontario to conifer release spraying all over Northern Ontario for the big pulp and paper companies. Little did we know then that many years later I would pick up a newspaper thousands of miles away and read about Lorne being Canadas first successful heart transplant. I wonder where he is today and what he is doing?

There are others, Tom Martindale whom I talked to just last year after over forty years, now retired having flown a long career with Trans Canada Airlines, now named Air Canada. Then there was Howard Zimmerman who went on to run his own helicopter company and still in the aerial applicating business last I heard of him. And who could forget Bud Boughner another character that just disappeared probably still out there somewhere flying for someone.

I have been back to St. Thomas, another tobacco farming town on highway 3 twice in the last several years to pick up airplanes to move for people in my ferry business. The airport has changed very little over the years. The hanger where I first learned to fly cropdusters is still there with the same smell of chemicals that no Ag. Pilot can ever forget. It is now the home of Hicks and Lawrence who were in the business in the fifties and still at it, only the airplanes have changed.

My first flying job started in that hangar, right from a brand new commercial license to the greatest flying job that any pilot could ever want. There were twenty-three of us who started the crop dusting course early that spring, in the end only three were hired and I was fortunate to have been one of them.

With the grand total of 252 hours in my log book I started my training with an old duster pilot named George Walker. Right from the start he let me know that I was either going to fly this damned thing right on its limits and be absolutely perfect in flying crop spraying patterns or the training wouldn't last long. It was fantastic not only to learn how to really fly unusual attitudes but do it right at ground level.

To become a good crop duster pilot required that you accurately fly the airplane to evenly apply the chemicals over the field being treated. We really had to be careful with our flying when applying fertilizers in early spring as any error was there for all to see as the crop started growing. This was achieved by starting on one side of the field maintaining a constant height, airspeed and track over the crop. Just prior to reaching the end of your run full power was applied, and at the last moment the spray booms were shut off and at the same time a forty-five degree climb was initiated. As soon as you were clear of obstructions a turn right or left was made using forty five to sixty degrees of bank. After approximately three seconds a very quick turn in the opposite direction was entered until a complete one hundred and eighty degree change of direction had been completed. If done properly you were now lined up exactly forty-five feet right or left of the track you had just flown down the field.

From that point a forty-five degree dive was entered and with the use of power recovery to level flight was made at the exact height above the crop and the exact airspeed required for the next run down the field in the opposite direction to your last pass. Speed was maintained from that point by reducing power.

To finish the course and be one of the three finally hired was really hard to believe. To be paid to do this was beyond belief. When the season began we were each assigned an airplane, a crash helmet, a tent and sleeping bag and sent off to set up what was to be our summer home on some farmers field. Mine was near Langdon just a few miles from lake Erie.

Last year I tried without success to find the field where my Cub and I spent a lot of that first summer. Time and change linked with my memory of its location being from flying into it rather than driving to it worked against me and I was unable to find it. Remembering it however is easy, how could one forget crawling out of my tent just before sunrise to mix the chemicals? Then pump it into the spray tank and hand start the cub. Then to be in the air just as it was getting light enough to see safely and get in as many acres as possible before the wind came up and shut down our flying until evening. Then with luck the wind would go down enough to allow us to resume work before darkness would shut us down for the day. The company had a very good method for assuring we would spray the correct field.

Each new job was given to us by the salesman who after selling the farmer drew a map for the pilots with the location of the farm and each building and its color plus all the different crops were written on the map drawn to scale. As well as the buildings all trees, fences and power lines were drawn to scale. It was very easy for us to find and positively identify our field to be sprayed and I can not remember us making any errors in that regard.

Sadly there were to many flying errors made and during the first three years that I crop-dusted eight pilots died in this very demanding type of flying in our area. Most of the accidents were due to stalling in turns or hitting power lines, fences or trees.

One new pilot who had only been with us for two weeks died while doing a low level stall turn and spinning in, he was just to low to recover from the loss of control. He had been on his way back from a spraying mission when he decided to put on an airshow at the farm of his girlfriend of the moment. This particular accident was to be the last for a long time as those of us who were flying for the different companies in that area had by that time figured out what the limits were that we could not go beyond.

Even though there were a lot of accidents in the early years they at least gave the industry the motivation to keep improving on flying safety, which made a great difference in the frequency of pilot error accidents. Agricultural flying has improved in other areas as well especially in the use of toxic chemicals.

In 1961 Rachel Carson wrote a book called "The silent spring. " This book was the beginning of public awareness to the danger of the wide area spraying of chemicals especially the use of D.D.T. to control Mosquitoes and black flies.

For years all over the world we had been using this chemical not really aware that it had a very long-term residual life. When Rachels book pointed out that D.D.T. had began to build up in the food chain in nature, she also showed that as a result many of the birds and other species were in danger of being wiped out due to D.D.T. Her book became a best seller and we in the aerial application business were worried that it would drastically affect our business, and it did.

The government agency in Ontario that regulated pesticides and their use called a series of meetings with the industry. From these meetings new laws were passed requiring us to attend Guelph agricultural college and receive a diploma in toxicology and entomology. I attended these classes and in the spring of 1962 passed the exams and received Pest Control License Class 3 - Aerial Applicator.

My license number was 001. Now if nothing else I can say that I may not have been the best but I was the first. Without doubt the knowledge and understanding of the relationship of these chemicals to the environment more than made up for all the work that went into getting the license. From that point on the industry went to great length to find and use chemicals less toxic to our animal life and also to humans.

It would be easy to just keep right on writing about aerial application and all the exciting and sometimes boring experiences we had, however I will sum it all up with the observation that crop dusting was not only my first flying job it was without doubt the best. I flew seven seasons' crop dusting and I often think of someday giving it another go, at least for a short time.