Floatplane Training, Canadian Style
Lane goes the extra kilometer to get her float flying wings north of the border.
By Lane Wallace
Photographed by Jeff Timms
December 2005
 As I start the engine, close the door and steer away from the shore, navigating gingerly around a submerged tree trunk and the last log in the rugged breakwater a few yards away, the butterflies in my stomach advance from a jittery dance of anticipation into something more akin to a whirling dervish frenzy. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. Eighteen years, to be exact. And if I screw it up, there will be no one else on board to save me.
It’s that last part that’s causing the butterflies. For aside from that, the task facing me is at least vaguely straightforward. Taxi out into the main portion of the lake while performing my pre-takeoff checklist and engine run-up, and then turn into the wind, remembering to retract the water rudders just before adding full power. Then all I have to do is execute a safe takeoff, taking care to head quickly toward the edge of the lake as I climb, hugging one of its steep, densely forested mountain slopes until the canyon widens enough for me to turn, then complete the circuit, remembering everything on my pre-landing checklist, and successfully touch down into the wind again ... at least five separate times.
It’s a simple and yet completely intimidating maneuver known as a first solo. And the last time I soloed a completely new type of aircraft was April 28, 1987, when I flew my newly purchased Cessna 120 taildragger alone for the very first time. The aircraft in question this time around is a 1959 Cessna 182 floatplane. And I’m soloing it because I’ve been doing my floatplane training in the wilds of British Columbia, where they have the odd notion that a proven ability to safely handle the aircraft by yourself should be part of any worthwhile training program and check ride.
So why did I come all this way for floatplane training, when I could have gotten a rating more simply and cheaply at any number of places in the United States, where no stress-inducing solo would be required?
Well, maybe it’s because very few people get the opportunity to solo a floatplane in a breathtakingly gorgeous mountain lake, undisturbed by all but one floatplane, one fishing boat, a ranger station and a few eagles. Or to learn floatplane flying in such a challenging but stunning variety of real-life conditions, from mountain lakes and wilderness fiords to ocean bays, crowded harbors, and isolated islands in the Georgia Strait. Or to learn from a working floatplane charter pilot/instructor and guide, who’s seen the best and worst that floatplanes, weather and nature in these parts can supply. Or to see so much country and have so much fun, all in the name of training.
If I had all of these opportunities, it’s because sometime last year, Mike Seib, the enterprising and enthusiastic owner/operator of Island Air, in Courtenay, British Columbia (halfway up Vancouver Island, on the eastern side), got frustrated with just teaching floatplane flying in a few local spots around home. Sure, you could do it that way, but he knew he was sitting in the middle of one of the most beautiful and diverse natural and floatplane environments in North America. How much better it would be in terms of training, and how much more fun it would be, to take people as deep and far as he could into the wilds of Vancouver Island and the fiordlands of British Columbia’s western coastline. They could explore, fish, wander remote islands, and get a real taste of what floatplane living could be like, in addition to getting a wide variety of training challenges.
Of course, being a married man himself, Mike also realized that a lot of families might not take too kindly to a spouse going off for a week of adventure and fun by themselves. So he decided to put together a package deal to encourage friends or families to come enjoy the training and adventure, as well. You and your friend/spouse/family pretty much own Mike and his airplane for a week of floatplane backwoods flying adventure and fun, during which time he also manages to impart a heck of a lot of knowledge and skill in practical, real-world floatplane flying.
Not having a spouse or family right at hand, I managed to twist the little pinky finger of my buddy Jeff to come along with me. Mike picked us up in Vancouver in his 182 and flew us over to Vancouver Island, where he put us up at a beachfront cabin resort not far from the floatplane base. Then, each morning except the one where it poured down rain and wind, we got up and headed out with Mike to explore the water wonderland of British Columbia.
Discuss this article in our forums
|
Copyright @ 2009 Bonnier Corp. All Rights Reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without permission is prohibited.
