Background

This is a short story of 3 guys who went on a fishing adventure and got way more than they bargained for. The outcome could have been tragic. Fortunately, everyone worked together and stuck together for a great outcome and after all was said and done, one hell of a fishing story! As a disclaimer, this in no way downplays the gravity of the situation we wound up in, instead I hope that people can take away a few lessons from my mistakes of that day.

I've been flying since 1991, starting with my Private certificate, then pursuing my Commercial. I never did land that coveted flying job; as we all know in the aviation world, life gets in the way. I have owned a few airplanes over the years, starting out with a Cessna 140 and later buying a J-3 Cub on floats which was my intro to the backcountry wilderness areas of my southeastern Manitoba backyard! Like many other aviators before me, after many years of tearing up the local skies at the break neck speeds of 75-85 mph, I wanted more airplane.

Same old story— need bigger, better, and faster! After a great deal of weighing my options, I finally decided to take the plunge and step up into C-FMEM, a nice 1960 C-180 on floats, and get my feet wet flying a real airplane! After a short period with C-FMEM, I opted to sidestep into a partnership on another: C-FJNO, a 1955 model that was an absolute jewel of a find.

And that's where my story begins.

C-FMEM, a 1960 C-180, was the first Skywagon I had purchased as a sole owner.

Flight into Bushey Lake

I had just entered into a partnership on a 1955 float equipped Cessna 180, the dream machine for fishing adventures in the Precambrian shield backcountry of southeastern Manitoba and northwestern Ontario (my backyard.) A few days prior, as part of his float endorsement training, my aircraft partner had flown C-FJNO with the previous owner into Bushey Lake, which was known for its abundant walleye population. Prior to the flight into the lake, it was agreed that my partner would fly us in and I would do the return leg home in the afternoon as this would give him the much needed training time for insurance purposes.

C-FJNO, a fine specimen of a 1955 C-180 that I purchased via a partnership agreement. I sold C-FMEM, my solely owned bird, to fund the purchase.

The day began at 5:30am, checking weather, preparing and ensuring all the appropriate equipment was in place and ready, for what was anticipated to be a great day of fishing at a remote lake. I sat left seat, my aircraft partner in the right. Another friend of ours occupied the rear seat. All three of us were members of the local volunteer fire department, trained in emergency response – a detail that may have played a role in how we fared the events to come.

We departed Bird River near Lac du Bonnet MB (CYAX), on the morning of May 23rd 2015 at approximately 8:00am, flying a direct route to Bushey Lake, which sits roughly 70 nm north of our departure point over some beautiful lakes and remote backcountry.

The flight into Bushey Lake was calm and uneventful, with severe clear skies and silky smooth air. We touched down on our destination lake at approximately 8:50am with just a slight breeze to eliminate the glassy water effect. It took us a little over half an hour to moor the airplane and get the cached boat ready and troll out to the sacred fishing hole, an area where the river flows into the lake creating the ideal habitat for the Walleye we were intent on filling our limits with.

The fishing was incredible with tons of great photos taken, which are still in the camera at the bottom of the lake! We had a great shore lunch and almost perfect weather all morning into early afternoon.

Later in the day, there was some distant thunder to the north/northeast and what looked like CB clouds building, so I strongly suggested that we pack up and leave before the weather got too close for comfort and we end up stranded for the night.

We loaded the plane, all occupants donned the manually inflated CO₂ PFDs (not the auto inflatables) and we taxied out onto the lake with the winds light from the north/northeast, making it a fair taxi distance to the south end of the lake. With all pre-takeoff checks complete, the nose was turned into the wind, rudders up and full power applied. In what seemed like seconds, the wind picked up with a force I had never witnessed in such a short span of time. We were already part way into the takeoff roll and I had convinced myself that we would be airborne in a second or two and we would fly out of it... WRONG!

The gale force winds bore down on us during the initial takeoff roll, lifting the left wing high enough that it caused the right wing tip to contact the water surface and in turn causing the aircraft to roll over and flip onto its back.

With the combination of low forward speed and high headwind speeds encountered, the aircraft ground speed was low enough that the impact forces inside the aircraft seemed far less damaging and violent than they could have been had we been going a little faster over the water.

I was able to release my lap and shoulder belt before we were completely inverted and locate the door handle, open the door and then kept it open, as I was taught during egress training. Once the door was opened, the aircraft filled up in what seemed like seconds. My front passenger was able to release his belt and was right behind me, the passenger in the rear had some difficulty freeing himself as the belt from his inflatable PFD had caught on something. He had to slip the life preserver off his body, and then somehow managed to break it free just as he exited the aircraft.

I was fortunate in that I had just taken the Aviation Egress course about 3 weeks prior and am convinced that the training was a big factor in all of us getting out of the airplane without incident.

The capsized aircraft filled with water, and proceeded to turn turtle, submerged but suspended by the buoyancy of the floats.

What do we do now?

So there we were, sitting on the inverted floats in the middle of the lake with the winds howling and gusting up to what I would say was approximately 60-70 km/h (35-45 mph), soaking wet and shivering. All we had were the soaking wet clothes on our backs, inflatable PFDs we were wearing, a 100' rope, 2 paddles, 2 Bic lighters, and facing a swim of approximately 700 m (about 3/4 mile) to shore in water that was roughly 50-55°F. The briefings in the Aviation Egress course had touched on this now proven survival fact that what you have in your pockets is pretty much all you will have for survival.

A sight no float pilot ever wants to see.

Everyone maintained their cool, we all discussed a game plan and agreed to wait until the storm passed and the sun could at least warm us before attempting the swim. It was approximately 3:30pm when the incident occurred and it wasn't until 5:30pm that the sun came out and the winds died down enough for us to set out for shore.

We formed a chain as I had been taught in the egress training and made our way to shore. The swim took roughly a half hour, and by the time we made landfall, we were all exhausted and mildly hypothermic. The sun was now out, the wind had died off and the air temperature began to warm us. We were able to use the 100' rope as a clothesline to dry everything out. The Bic lighters were laid on the warm rock to dry out and we had a fire going within an hour or so.

There was an endless supply of deadfall, so we spent the next few hours (until dark) collecting firewood to last the night, as we didn't want anyone wandering around looking for wood in the dark and potentially causing injury.

We were fortunate in that the ambient temperature that evening stayed above 12C (55 F) with no precipitation making it a reasonably comfortable night.

Meanwhile back at home, a flight itinerary/note had been left with a friend who was familiar with the location of the lake, as well as the route we had flown. He had all the information required on the aircraft and occupants and began making calls when we didn't make contact at the time stated on the flight itinerary.

That friend was, in my opinion, the best guy to entrust with such a responsibility. He was a Provincial Conservation Officer who was extremely well versed with Search and Rescue operations and knew what to do and who to call.

The first contact was to the local RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police) detachment, who then called the Canadian Military Joint Rescue Coordination Centre (JRCC), who then deployed the C-130 Hercules and crew from Winnipeg, Manitoba at approximately 3:30am. We were located by the SAR crew of the Herc at approximately 4:45am. Being awakened by the sound of a C-130 at the earliest hour after an unplanned overnight is a truly wonderful sound!

A floatplane from a local carrier with a base in Bissett, Manitoba (approximately 25 miles southwest) was deployed and picked us up at approximately 6:30am. The Herc circled overhead until the floatplane arrived and picked us up and got us airborne. The C-130 flight crew and SARTECHs are an incredible bunch and I can't thank them enough for the tireless work they do!

A few weeks after the accident, we managed to arrange a meeting with the flight crew and SARTECHs at 17 Wing in Winnipeg. We toured their facility, thanked them for the life-saving services they provide, and bought them pizza for lunch as a small token of our appreciation.

Aside from being a little tired, cold, and hungry, everyone was okay and escaped without injury. C-FJNO was a total loss as you can see by the photos, but after months of searching, a replacement was found: a 1956 C-180, of which I am now the sole owner.

The good news is that C-FJNO was purchased from the insurance company by a local business owner who planned to completely refurbish the aircraft, though I'm not sure its status today.

C-FJNO making the flight of shame.

Lessons learned

Some of my lessons learned from this experience:

There too many lessons learned from this experience to list them all! Flying is a rewarding endeavor, however not a forgiving one. I consider myself extremely fortunate!

Enjoying life with my new Skywagon, C-FOZR, at Beauchemin Lake, Manitoba, with my two daughters, ages 10 and 11.