The Plane...
The good thing was that the plane was powered by Pratt and Whitney's legendary PT-6. The problem was that there were two of them; and more insulting was the fact that they were mounted to a low wing! Then there was the retractable landing gear and tiny tires (added just to salt to the wounds, I'm sure). And we won't mention the fact that the plane had a private lav in the back...no...not plastic bottles with re-sealable lids...this thing had the real deal.TP and all! This bird was so not "backcountry" that the owner required pilots to undergo "Gravel Training" in an effort to prevent the props from getting nicked. It would use gravel runways that see 737-200 service (that thing is a backcountry plane...more on that later...bear with me here). So a bush plane; the King Air C90A is not. In fact, I'm quite sure the "C" in C90A stands for "Civilized" and the "A" stands for "Aristocrat". But, it's all we had and we were not about to blame the instrument for any poor performances. We were going to take this city slicker airplane into some of the most remote "backcountry" in the world...places where the entire population of many of its towns would fit comfortably into the average suburban city block. We were going to Canada's High Arctic.
Our Backcountry Bird...the King Air "Civilized" 90 "Aristocrat"
"Off to the Arctic, Boys."
Those were the words spoken by my boss as he came into my prison cell of a cubicle one Monday morning. I and a fellow worker, who is also a good friend, were to spend two weeks in Canada's Nunavut Territory with the King Air to accomplish some work that my employer, the Government of Canada, had deemed to be important. Now of course this is Government so there had to be hoops to jump through before they just handed us the keys. In addition to the "refresher" training on Gravel Operations (there are only two paved runways in all of the Nunavut Territory) we also needed "Northern Domestic Airspace Training". This was essentially figuring out how to select the GPS to Degrees "True", free the HSI from the remote compass, and importantly, how not to get intercepted by CF-18 Hornets when entering and leaving the Northern Air Defence Identification Zone...I paid close attention to that last part. We touched on how to use the little whiz wheel in the plane to determine the sun's true bearing...but it was a team effort between us and the instructor to figure it out.
Once we had the boss's blessing we started planning the trip. Basically we were going to fly from Winnipeg Manitoba to Rankin Inlet Nunavut, circumnavigate Baffin Island and, after a few days of doing work along the route, we were then going to head to Resolute Bay (with a few work related stops along the way), swing by Cambridge Bay, and then return to Rankin Inlet.
Sounds simple enough...and that's how you have to plan in the Arctic...simple. Unfortunately nothing is simple in the Arctic.
We had to make arrangements for fuel by calling ahead and confirming that fuel would be available at each stop; that we had an account with the fuel supplier and; that a fueller would in fact, be available on the day of our arrival. In the Arctic, if the hunting is good, it can be difficult to get anyone to show up for work...they all go "out on the land" to hunt...not for sport...hunting is serious business up there. It's better to be out hunting seals, caribou, or whales rather than be at work. Groceries are expensive in the Arctic. A big bottle of soda costs $10 but a caribou costs only a few bullets and some hard work. The economic math is simple. Skip work-go hunting. Finding a fueller could be a hit and miss affair if the hunting was good!
It hardly gets more remote than the northern territory of Nunavut, most of which is well above the Arctic Circle, which lies at roughly 66° North lattitude.
Accommodations were the next challenge. For the most part we managed to arrange decent accommodations but getting regular meals was going to be a bit of a problem. We planned to take a "camp kit" with enough gear and food to get us through a pinch should we miss one of the fixed meal times due to weather or work. This saved us from going hungry on a few occasion. The only real problem we had when planning our accommodation was during our second week in Rankin Inlet. The Big Boss decided to surprise everyone and show up in Rankin Inlet at the same time. He booked every room in town!!! Every room!!! Now...I should clarify...the boss I'm referring to was the Prime Minister so I guess, as my boss's boss boss boss, it's his prerogative to book as many rooms as he needs (I'm just glad I didn't have to file his travel claim! Mine was confusing enough!). We did manage to book a couple of rooms in a rundown part of a hotel but the rooms ended up being so rough that my co-worker decided to spend the night in the plane. He had the right idea. I seriously considered joining him in the plane...I did however elect to sleep in my sleeping bag on top of the hotel bed...just to be sure. Never travel in the Arctic without a good sleeping bag!
Anyway, with the logistics planned, flight planning complete, and our work tasks assigned, we were ready to head out.
Northward
A beautiful August day greeted us as we arrived at the Winnipeg Airport to start the trek north. The forecast was excellent and temperatures in Rankin Inlet were forecast to be 8 degrees Celsius...nice and warm for late August.
Our route to Rankin Inlet saw us fly over Lake Winnipeg, and into the Canadian Shield of Northern Manitoba. Out over the western part of Hudson Bay we decided to drop down to 1000 feet and have a look around. The blue-green water of Hudson Bay extended to the horizon in one half of the windows. The water had a very "cold look" to it. I scanned the engine instruments looking for any sign of trouble...numerous times. The other half of the cockpit windows were filled with the rugged, treeless shore line that leads to Rankin Inlet, 300 miles north of where we let down. There was not a sign of another human being for those 300 miles. No boats, no cabins, nothing. It occurred to me that there was no debris washed up along the shore. No logs (where would they come from? There are no trees.), no flotsam, no debris; nothing. After 8 years of flying float planes along BC's West Coast, I was used to seeing all kinds of debris washed up on the shore. In fact, landing our wheel planes on the West Coast beaches for an afternoon of beachcombing was a regular pastime. Not here in the Arctic. The shorelines were completely clean...it was eerie. It struck me...not that I found the pristine beaches eerie, but rather, sadly, that I had subconsciously never felt isolated along the vast BC Coastline...as long as I could see man made debris washed up on the beaches.
Not a hint of anyone around for miles...and miles...and miles...and miles....
50 miles outside of Rankin Inlet we dropped down to a more reasonable 300 feet as the shoreline calved small chunks of rocks and the rocks in turn, spawned little islands. Soon we were over more land than water. On the horizon we could make out what we thought were structures at a fair distance away. Sure enough, buildings from an old hunting camp took shape as we closed the distance. This was "optics lesson one" for us in the Arctic. If you see something way out on the horizon and you suspect that its manmade - it is. I can see how the Inuit's use of the Inuksuk (stones stacked up to look like a human figure), was so effective. "Optics lesson two" occurred 25 miles outside of Rankin Inlet. The time was coming to be a bit more responsible and climb to a respectable altitude for our arrival into Rankin Inlet. As the "pilot not flying" this leg, it was my job to run the checklists. When we came to "Rad Alt" on the list, I asked my buddy "without looking at the dials, how high are we?" He peered outside at the vast, deep green tundra going by at 210 kts and replied "an easy 1000 feet above the ground". Wrong answer. The radar altimeter had us showing 250 feet AGL steadily with slight variations due to the terrain. The reason? We were used to flying over a sea of green formed by 75 foot trees. Now we were flying over a sea of green formed by ankle high Tundra Brush with nothing but a flat horizon to go by. The illusion was fascinating...and potentially dangerous! We agreed that we would not attempt any visual approaches in marginal VFR weather without being lined up on the center line; we would maintain IFR published altitudes, and that the Rad Alt would be set to no lower than 500 feet at anytime during VFR flight for the duration of our trip. It was an interesting lesson. It shows that two pilots with a combined experience of about 21,000 hours still have things to learn!
Checking in with Rankin Radio from 10 miles back we reported our position and our altitude as "Flight Level 040". Yep...Flight Level 4000 feet. We were now in both Northern Domestic Airspace and the Standard Altimeter Setting Region. All aircraft altimeters in the Arctic are set to 29.92 outside of control zones and as such, all altitudes are reported as a "Flight Level". It was interesting to hear a Cessna 180 on floats report "Flight Level 025" just ahead of us as we arrived into Rankin. Landing at Rankin Inlet we were met by the folks we would be working with for the next couple of weeks. The North has a reputation for hospitality and these folks, who normally hold us "government types" in low regard, welcomed us and made sure we were settled in and fed.
Once settled in we checked on the weather for our next day of flying...remember when I mentioned that nothing is easy in the Arctic?
Jumping Off...Sort Of
August is fog month on the east coast of Baffin Island. The weather reports and forecasts were poor for the next several days. A change of plans was in order. Seeing as we had a few days of work in Rankin, we decided to amend the schedule so we could do the work while we waited out the weather. After a few days it became obvious that the East side of Baffin Island was not going to get visited by us anytime soon. The commercial air carriers had cancelled numerous flights and there was just no getting around the fact that we would not see much of Baffin Island in the time we had available.
Auyuittuq National Park, Baffin Island Photo: Rick Derevan @ Flickr
Flexibility is the hallmark of a Northerner so in an effort to fit in, we changed our plans. We now planned to head north to Resolute Bay with stops at Cape Dorset, Kugaaruk, and Arctic Bay. The next day we departed Rankin Inlet in sunshine and headed north for Cape Dorset. We flew to Cape Dorset on an IFR Flight Plan to avoid any issues with the CF-18 Hornets I mentioned earlier. That far north, all IFR flights below Flight Level 270 are uncontrolled so it's more like flying VFR. We saw our first sea ice half way to Cape Dorset. Sea ice is not white. It's blue. I think the white you see is a million shades of blue all hitting you at once and the brain can't handle the spectacle so it shorts out, and you're left seeing white...That's my theory and I'm going with it after seeing the blues of the Arctic! The ice in the Arctic is nothing like the ice down south. It can't be described...not by me at least...it just has to be seen. Huge icebergs pass along the rocky beaches with ice fields marking areas of rock in the tundra. The air is so clear that you have the impulse to suck it through pursed lips and into your lungs, like you're sucking it in through a straw. Looking at the scenery through that air is like watching a big screen, Hi Def TV from 3 feet away with the volume on max!
A tiny, tiny glimpse of the fabled Northwest Passage and its August ice.
Some of the flight to Cape Dorset was above a cloud layer and only until we got within about 150 miles of the airport did we see much terrain. It's all water, rock and a bit of tundra. I wondered how it was that those three components, combined with the sky, could make for a scene that you never get tired of watching.
Arriving in Cape Dorset we were surprised to find an RCAF Cormorant Helicopter on the ramp. The crew was on an annual Arctic exercise and their mission was to fly the helicopter from Resolute to Shearwater Nova Scotia, a trip of some 2000 NM, stopping only for fuel. They were being followed by a CC-130J with a second crew and they would swap crews on a pre-arranged schedule. The idea was to test the feasibility of long distance Search and Rescue (SAR) Missions in the Arctic. There is significant pressure to have a full time SAR base in the Arctic but its cost prohibitive. The RCAF is testing ways to deploy SAR resources to the Arctic in a reasonable time frame and the Cormorant Crew was part of this test. They were tired...and looked it...but they were determined to complete the mission in the best possible time. It's quite amazing the resources Canada puts into SAR. Way more impressive are the folks who do it for a living!
Stretching the legs of both the crew and the Cormorant in Canada's Arctic
Leaving Cape Dorset we did some low level flight seeing along the coast for several miles before climbing to the flight planned altitude. Once at our planned altitude we completed the cruise checks and log entries before diving into our lunch buckets. Flying along eating my sandwich and watching the fantastic scenery go by reminded me of those few times when, as a little boy, I was allowed the rare treat of eating my supper seated in front of the TV while being mesmerized by some TV show. That same feeling came back to me on the flight deck as we pushed our way north! I knew I was getting to do something rare...something special!
The sites and scenery stunned us into silence. Not a word was spoken until the call for the "Descent Checklist". Arriving at Kugaaruk we flew a visual approach under sunny skies into an airport nestled in between two rocky hills. There we met a local teenager at the airport. Like most Inuit folks he was quick to smile and visit. He asked if we had seen any caribou on our flight. When we answered "no", he paused and asked "How 'bout whales? I like caribou meat better but whale is OK too" he said with that classic Inuit smile! After answering his questions and listening to his story about his brother catching his first narwhal the day before, it was time to get going. Settling into the right seat of the King Air beside me, my Buddy quietly, and almost reverently said, "Well Toto...I hope you like Narwhal meat...'cause we sure ain't in Kansas anymore." We sure weren't. We were still in Canada and at that moment, there in Kugaaruk, I realized how varied and wonderful Canada and her people really are...I straightened up the tiny Canadian Flag pin on my jacket, paused, and said..."Go ahead the Before-Start Checklist. We have more of this great country to see!"
A typical Arctic Hamlet. This is the whole town! The next closest town is almost 300 miles away! This photo was taken standing on the edge of the airport's apron. Geography makes airport construction a real challenge!
Photo: Lisa Moffatt @ Flickr
We were in cloud almost all the way to Arctic Bay. We didn't see any ground the whole way up and the weather forecast was for things to really go downhill. The approach into Arctic Bay brings you down a long inlet that is ringed with red tinged hills. We broke out of a strata layer in light rain and flat wind. The water in the inlet was glass. The runway itself is carved out of the flattest piece of ground available but it's still quite the uphill taxi to the apron. The rock is red...very red...and the dust from the rock turns into red clay that tracks into King Airs very, very well! The airport itself was opened a few years ago. It replaced the old hilltop airport that required a 45 minute drive to get to. The length of the road of to the old airport, one way, was about five times as long as the total length of all the streets in town! We grabbed some fuel and headed into the terminal to get out of the rain and cold. It soon became clear that Resolute was out. The weather at Resolute was down to 1/8th mile and 200 feet...below minimums...and it was forecast to get worse with freezing rain already starting. All flights to Resolute had been cancelled for the day. There were no accommodations available in the tiny hamlet of Arctic Bay and the forecast was suggesting that we could be there for several days if we didn't make a decision soon. With no de-ice facilities the decision was easy. File for Rankin Inlet...we're done here. Not being able to de-ice in August made the decision to leave Arctic Bay an easy one!
Departing Arctic Bay gave us a good view of the little hamlet located along the edge of a perfectly round cove. The buildings were so close to the water at high tide that their images reflected in the still waters of the bay. The reflections were disturbed only by the ringlets of the falling rain. If 400 folks lived there, I'd be surprised. Picturesque doesn't describe the place. Resilient, strong, beautiful...and perhaps a bit lonely might describe it... Anchored in the harbour was a Royal Canadian Navy patrol ship. Apparently, from what we were told at the airport, the crew was in town on "shore leave". Shore Leave in Arctic Bay...Bet that wasn't in the recruiting video! Hopefully some of the young sailors from the ship would see the place the way I did...either way I'm sure the words "friendly; hospitable; resilient; and kind", will be used by the sailors to describe the folks they met in Arctic Bay.
A modern Arctic Explorer parked at Arctic Bay...just before the freezing rain started.
Several hours later we arrived back where we started in Rankin Inlet. Again we were met by the local folks we were working with and they took us to the hotel where we enjoyed a well deserved rest. It had been a long day and we covered some serious, barren, real-estate. We had more work to do the next day. The next morning came with favorable weather for a trip to Cambridge Bay. The hamlet of Cambridge Bay is a result of the Cold War. NATO put in an early warning radar station there and they often employed "locals" to provide support services. A small hamlet with a store, post office and Territorial Government Office soon sprang up.
Cambridge Bay's future is secure because it lies on the Inside Passage route. The route is already being used for commercial shipping and climatologists believe that a year round, ice free shipping route is not too far off (by "ice free" they mean that the ice is not thick enough to require much in the way of ice breaking services for shipping...there's still ice...even in the summer). As it was, there was a cruise ship anchored in the harbour (Arctic Tourism is getting big) and there were a half dozen jet skis anchored out. Yep...Jet Skis. Some jokers figured they could take Jet Skis through the Inside Passage. They had to be rescued twice and they finally quit...Wimps...
Cambridge Bay sees scheduled air service by what is arguably the biggest backcountry airplane going-The Boeing 737-200 Combi. This aging aircraft is the backbone for the aerial resupply network in the Arctic. While smaller Turbo Prop aircraft like the ATR 42/72 and Dash 8 play a critical role in supplying the North; the 737 is the undisputed king. The plane is modified with a large forward cargo door (passengers sit in the back) and a gravel protection kit. This kit includes a large "ski" mounted to the nose gear to deflect gravel as well as "vortex generator probes" that protrude in front of each engine. These probes use engine bleed air to generate a vortex ahead of the engine inlets. This helps prevent the ingestion of gravel or debris thus allowing for routine gravel operations. The 737-200 is the only large civilian jet in service that is certified for gravel operations. Gravel "kitted" 727s have all been retired and while the Russians do have jets operating on gravel, certification is an issue. I have had the privilege of training in the 737 with the gravel kit and it's a real pilot's airplane! They're perfect for the needs of the North but time is catching up with them. They're very hard on fuel (particularly at low altitude) and the stresses on the aging airframes require extensive inspections and repairs. Until a replacement comes along, the 737 Classic will continue to provide much of the heavy lifting for the people of Canada's Arctic. Ya have to admit...the 737-200 with a gravel kit is one serious backcountry bird!
The "Gravel Kit" is clearly seen on this 737 as it taxis in at Cambridge Bay, Nunavut.
The return trip to Rankin Inlet was uneventful. We settled into our hotel upon our arrival. We spend the next several days in Rankin Inlet preparing all the paperwork and reports from our work travels. We spent an evening observing airport operations in Rankin Inlet and we were amazed at the amount of traffic that passed through. While the hamlet of Iqaluit is the Capitol of the Territory, Rankin Inlet is the main logistical center because of it's port and it's proximity to southern transportation hubs like the cities of Winnipeg and Thompson Manitoba. In addtion to the cargo and passenger flights, medivac flights make up a significant amount of the air travel in the region. The small hamlets scattered across vast distances do not have hospitals. Nursing staff in the local clinics do an amazing job but sometimes there is no replacement for the services provided by hospitals. As such, air ambulances provide a critical service to the people of the Arctic. Air ambulance service is so crucial that most air ambulance operators have special authorization from Transport Canada to conduct IFR operations without an alternate aiport! The weather must meet certain criteria to use the "no alternate IFR" exemption but given the vast distances between airports and the fast changing weather of the Arctic; it's still a risky proposition.
With our work completed and our draft reports ready, we left Rankin Inlet for Winnipeg under clear skies the following morning. We stopped in Thompson Manitoba for fuel and a "bladder break" before continuing on to our base in Winnipeg. On this leg of the tripI was struck by a startling realization. Radio chatter...there was no radio chatter during any of our Arctic flights. None! The only folks we spoke to were the local hamlet Unicom stations (called "Community Aerdrome Radio Stations" in the Arctic). We spoke with only one other aircraft during all our Arctic flights! While our trips were conducted under IFR flight plans, they were in uncontrolled airspace...no ATC to talk to! That's a lot of ground to cover without any radio chatter! Now the radio chatter comming into Thompson, while routine and not too busy, seemed hectic! I guess I was spoiled by the silence in the Arctic! We arrived back into Winnipeg on a sunny Friday afternoon. It was hot! Or at least it seemed that way. Really it was only about 18° Cesius but we had become aclimated to the cooler temperatures of the Arctic. The warmth felt good and despite a fantastic trip, I was glad to be home. Winnipeg, however, now seemed crowded, loud, and too busy after two weeks of the tranquility of the Arctic...I had never noticed this before going to the Arctic.
We put the King Air into the hangar and while completing our log we agreed that the King Air had earned her stripes as a Backcountry Bird...Lav, low wing, tiny tires and all. The "C" in C-90A now means "Capable" and the "A" means "Adaptable". She might not be as cool as a Cub, Twin Otter or a gravel equiped 737 but she served us well...she just might be a keeper!
Winnipeg Airport. Our home base. The place seemed hot, crowded, loud, and just way too busy after two weeks in the quiet and stillnes of the Arctic!
Six weeks after completing the Arctic trip I was transfered to BC. I was very happy to be heading back to my home province! BC offers so many places to take my Pacer and it offers so much to do. Living in BC can be one big adventure...but I had one reservation...The transfer meant that I would likely never get the opportunity to fly into Canada's vast Arctic again.
I had seen and sensed so much during my Arctic trip that I was already looking forward to experiencing it again. I wanted to experience more of the Arctic's people and places. Every Arctic Explorer has wanted to return. It has been said that once you have been to the Arctic, you will always want to return. It's true...I want to go back.
