"An adventure that
changed my whole perspective about flying."
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The 20,000 members of the Canadian Owners
and Pilots Association enjoyed a very well written story about a fabulous
winter flying adventure.
17 year-old Douglas Fleck, instead of airlining
it to the warmth of Florida, spent his School Break flying the family's
ski-equipped Challenger ultralight around not just Southern Ontario but
also Northern Ontario.
Another Challenger inspiration for young
and old to come out of their cabins and enjoy winter!
(Remember to click images for enlargements!)
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1,500 miles of beautiful
countryside
Arriving at Larry Dugan's place in Lakefield.
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Five o'clock in the morning is usually a
most disagreeable time to wake up, however, this morning as my alarm clock
beeped I jumped out of bed rather quickly. ...
I immediately ran downstairs to get the latest terminal area forecast
and of course tune into the weather channel only to find my father, Robert
Fleck, had beaten me to it.
After he handed me the TAF's I slowly worked my way through the script
deciphering in my mind just what all the letters and numbers meant and
trying to remember just how far away we are from Greenwich.
As I finally began to understand the weather for CYOW (Ottawa) was
not expected to be great, I was immediately disappointed at the thought
of having to postpone the departure of our journey another day.
However as I waded my way through the Toronto TAF's a flicker of
hope ignited. Although the weather in Ottawa was expected to close in later
in the day, the Toronto weather indicated that it would be clearing.
As we slowly worked our way along the Toronto VNC punching in all
the identifiers we could find between Ottawa and Toronto we got the bigger
picture that there was some weather moving through. We calculated we would
be able to cross through it before it got too bad (nobody minds flying
out of bad weather towards good weather). Our plan however required that
we leave immediately.
Our airplane, a Challenger ultralight 2 equipped with skis for winter
operations, is kept about an hour and a half drive north of Ottawa on our
family farm near Kazabazua. To further complicate matters, the road that
leads into the farm is not maintained during winter months and therefore
requires us to park the car and walk the last couple kilometres in order
for us to reach our airplane.
Having had a pretty good start we were able to reach our airplane,
fuel, preflight, and drag the airplane out of the hanger for warm up by
9:00 hours. We had a long day ahead of us, as we wanted to get our adventure
started, so we slipped the surly bonds and set a heading of south.
Heading out on course.
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About an hour flight time later, we were overhead Mississippi Lake
and our good friend Keith Sabiston's house. After topping up our fuel,
a quick cup of tea and a couple minutes admiring his beautiful de'Havilland
Beaver on floats that he was storing for the winter just in front of his
house, we took of once again.
With full tanks and warm toes we set our sights west and began the
first big leg of our journey, as well our first time exploring this new
countryside.
After another hour of flight time the tea consumed earlier began
to work its way through our systems and we were becoming very anxious to
get rid of it. Since our plane is equipped with skis we simply picked a
remote lake did our business and were soon on our way again.
Having crossed some very isolated areas we were a little more comfortable
once we began to reach some civilization again. We picked up the Trent
Severn water system near Stony Lake and followed it up to Bobcaygeon, were
we happened to find a very suitable lake for landing right beside a gas
station.
Once we landed and walked over to the gas station, we found out the
only jerry can they had to loan us was a cute little 1/2 gallon one. Having
no other choice we made numerous trips back and forth between the airplane
and the gas station until we had a satisfactory amount of fuel.
Airborne once again, we continued along the canal system to Lake
Simcoe. Flying over the lake was an experience I will not soon forget.
There was numerous ice fishing houses littered across the ice surface -
made one wonder how the fish survive.
Doug and his ski-equipped Challenger on Lake
Simcoe.
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Once across Lake Simcoe we followed highway 89 to Mansfield, where
our friends Ralph and Margaret Chambers were waiting with a mouth-watering
dinner.
Upon arrival, the field which was deemed suitable for landing a Challenger
untralight was suspiciously smaller than previously described and at the
approach end resided many large deciduous trees.
After several low approaches I decided it was indeed possible to
make a safe landing on the field. I set up on final and came in low. Once
passed the trees I executed an aggressive front slip to drop us down into
field. The slip however proved to be slightly too aggressive and the underside
of our left wing just clipped a stray branch I hadn't seen.
We landed successfully although sometimes one wonders if there isn't
a way to put some sort of braking system on skis, as it may sometimes prove
advantageous in giving you a comfort zone.
Once we taxied and shut down, closer inspection revealed the branch
I had hit caused a minor tear to the fabric on the underside of the wing.
A little aluminium tape and all was fixed.
We fueled and put all the covers on the plane, then enjoyed good
food and great company thanks to our friends Ralph and Margaret who have
devoted their lives to the world of aviation.
I rolled out of bed the next morning around 9:00 and looked out the
window to see clear blue skies. After a hearty breakfast cooked up for
us by our hostess, we dressed up in our flying clothes and headed out to
the airplane, only to find it was covered in thick frost.
We dragged the airplane into the sun and after lots of scraping and
rubbing we deemed the aircraft ready for flight. We took off from the field
without incident and headed back towards Lake Simcoe.
Doug Fleck being serious.
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We rendezvoused with my sister Heather at Jackson Point where she
met us with gas to top off the tanks. We did a quick crew swap; she jumped
in the front seat, I in the back this time, and we took off leaving my
dad on the ground to ponder what adventures we might have.
As my sister steered us north, I sat in the back feeding her all
the navigational information needed to get around Muskoka airport. Once
clear of their zone we dropped down to view all the spectacular cottages
on Lake Muskoka and the surrounding area.
Once we were on the northern tip of Lake Rosseau we landed and took
a short break to stretch our legs. I then climbed back in the front seat
and my sister in the back. We flew back down around the Muskoka control
zone and headed east for Lakefield where another good friend of ours, and
long time Air Canada pilot Larry Dugan lives.
Since he lives right on the canal system we simply picked up the
river and it led us right to his place. The ice in front of his place was
solid, but a short ways down from his house was open water since there
is quite a current in that particular area.
Although I was at all times within easy gliding distance of a safe
landing spot the idea of side slipping over open water in a ski equipped
plane still has a very unnatural feeling to it.
After landing we taxied towards shore where our father and friends
were anxiously awaiting our arrival. Once the airplane was tied down and
all the covers put on we went inside to quench our thirst and listen to
old military stories told by my father and Larry.
Four-legged friend Jewel greets visitors.
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We awoke early the next morning to drag the airplane into the sun
to help melt off all the frost and then headed into town for breakfast.
Afterwards we said goodbye to Heather who had to return to Toronto to attend
class and then began to prepare the airplane for the long day of flying
that lay ahead.
We had decided we were going to try and make Timmins by nightfall
where good friends and warm beds awaited us. The first leg was to Parry
Sound where we would stop for gas.
We took off from the river and headed east only to work our away
around the Muskoka control zone for a third and final time and up Lake
Muskoka. Since dad had not yet seen all the cottages on the lake he was
anxious to view them and get some ideas for our cottage.
Once we reached the north end of Lake Joseph we headed west to Georgian
Bay and followed the shoreline north until we hit Parry Sound. The one
thing that we did not have completely figured out was our gas situation
in Parry Sound.
We were not sure if there would be an appropriate field to land in
that had a gas station near by, we figured however, there must be something
that would work rather nicely. We were wrong.
The only gas stations we saw seemed to be right in the middle of
town and seemed miles away from any suitable landing spot. We finally decided
to pick a lake that was about a kilometre away from the nearest gas station.
Once we landed we realized that right beside the lake were train
tracks and as soon as we were ready to head to the gas station a never
ending freight train sauntered by. Our mood was beginning to deteriorate.
When the caboose finally rolled by we trudged up the huge embankment
that was between us and the parking lot of the nearest store, in waist
deep snow. We then paced to the gas bar only to find they didn't have a
jerry can they could lend us due to insurance reasons.
We were left with no other choice but to buy one. We filled up our
new jerry can and began our journey back to the plane. After our fourth
trip and a large delay, we had enough gas to reach our next stop.
We had to get moving if we wanted to make Timmins by nightfall, so
we hopped in the plane, warmed it up and took off. Once in the air we simply
followed the shoreline north. On this leg of the flight we witnessed some
spectacular scenery, and incredible cottages I will not soon forget.
Much of the Northern Ontario landscape consists
of beautiful lakes.
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Before we knew it, we were upon the French River and it was time
to leave the rugged and majestic shore and have our first real taste of
the great Canadian wilderness. We trudged along north until we ran into
Sudbury. Again, our predicament was the same, nowhere to land that had
adequate proximity to required fuelling services.
Having circled over Sudbury and surrounding area for well over 30
minutes I began to feel the need to choose a spot and commit to it, but
dad begged to me fly north a little to Azilda where there was a float plane
base.
It was a long shot as all the waterdromes we had passed so far in
our travels had been closed for the season, however, I agreed that it was
worth a try.
On arrival in Azilda we were completely blown away at what we found.
Two marked and groomed runways along with several ski planes and a very
distinct gas pump complete with fuel hose. Best of all there were people
there! To us this was a godsend.
We landed and taxied up to the pump. Once we shut down and got out,
a smiling face that turned slightly to shock when he learned we had come
from Ottawa in that little rag covered ultralight greeted us.
Nonetheless he seemed very happy and quickly pointed out who to talk
to about fuel. It was not until later that we learned this man was not
only happy to see us, but he had just completed his first solo flight earlier
that day. Imagine, a place where you can learn to fly without ever going
to an airport.
Once inside we met a pleasant man who again was slightly shocked
to learn where we had started from, but mostly happy to help us. We filled
up our tanks and had a quick look at the map, then at our watches, then
again at the map, and finally one last look at the watches.
We had two and a half hours flying to do in only two hours of daylight.
All the extra time spent refuelling in Parry Sound and the time we spent
flying around Sudbury looking for a place to get gas had really hurt us.
After trying to justify racing the clock into unknown and might I
add extremely isolated territory, we finally realized it just wasn't a
good idea to push Timmins today. We opted instead for New Liskeard. A more
safely attained goal.
Cold country evening en route to Timmins.
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We powered off into the evening feeling confident in ourselves about
the decision we had made in the name of safety, and excited with a sense
that we were now becoming ever closer to being real bush pilots.
After flying over seas of green crested with white, we approached
our destination just as the sun was saying its last goodbyes to the horizon.
We flew over New Liskeard searching for a convenient place to land and
sleep.
As luck would have it, there just so happened to be a nice little
hotel right on the lake shore. We landed just as the center of the suns
disc was approaching six degrees below the horizon. We taxied up to the
hotel and put the airplane to sleep, checked-in and had dinner at the local
restaurant.
I was lulled out my dreams of clear blue skies to awake to the idle
chatter of the weather channel. I found dad staring into the TV screen
studying the maps of the weather moving across the country.
Through a small opening in the curtains I could just make out the
colour of white. It was low overcast and lightly snowing. Not only is this
bad weather for flying VFR, but also it is especially fertile grounds in
which you can very quickly find yourself in white out conditions.
We lazed around for a while watching TV and waited for the weather
to clear. We got dressed and went to breakfast, by the time we were finished
the weather was getting better and we decided it was good enough to fly.
We got the airplane ready and fuelled it with the help of our new
jerry can. We took off and since the weather wasn't the best and the territory
unfamiliar we decided to follow the highway up to Timmins.
We were starting to get far north now and the temperature showed
it. As we left New Liskeard the temperature was around -8C and as we reached
Timmins the temperature had dropped to about -20C. We were determined,
however, and as we got closer excitement grew.
We finally located our destination of South Porcupine Lake. The lake
was especially distinguishable due to the large group of people standing
in the middle of it and waving to us.
We landed and were greeted by another good friend, Bob Childerhose
and his family, who were in turn, visiting their family. We tied down the
airplane and were rushed inside for a warm cup of coffee and some baked
goodies.
That evening after a wonderful home cooked meal, it was decided we
were to be introduced to the world of snowmobiling. We were suited up in
the latest flashy wind resistant gear and seated upon the newest fastest
snowmobiles.
We then proceeded to scream down trails at excessive speeds with
reduced forward visibility. It may sound scary, but it was a most thrilling
experience.
By the time we returned it was quite late and I was seriously ready
for some sleep.
Morning departure from Timmins.
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I was awoken far too early for my liking, but we had a long day ahead
and some serious miles to put behind us. We went out for breakfast and
then returned to the airplane to pre-flight and fuel.
After some careful flight planning and few phone calls our plan was
in place so we jumped into the airplane and thundered off into clear blue
skies.
Our first stop for fuel was Temagami, so once we were airborne we
set off directly for it. We covered some beautiful countryside flying through
the heart of the Canadian Shield. For a brief two hours we discovered this
great land of ours and learned what it must feel like to be a real bush
pilot.
We landed in Temagami only to crawl out of the plane and realize
it was exceedingly warm. Having acquired local knowledge before hand about
fuel we were happy to see there was a gas station not more than 50 metres
from the ice.
We refuelled and enjoyed the sun for a few minutes before getting
back in the plane. We lifted up into perfectly clear skies and set a course
east for the Ottawa River. We flew down the river and admired a new side
of it that we had never before experienced. The only slightly concerning
thing was the lack of ice on the surface of the river.
Captain Doug and Co-Pilot Dad.
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Having flown down the river for some time, Dad was getting a little
restless in the back and wanted to stretch his legs so we landed for a
break in Deep River. We explored the town for a bit before grabbing a cup
of coffee and quick bite at a local restaurant.
We returned to the plane for our final leg of our journey. We rose
above the trees and continued down the river, a short while later we began
to find ourselves in familiar countryside.
As we turned east near Fort-Coulonge, we found ourselves back on
our own turf. We knew every stream, lake and town as we headed cross-country
and it felt good to be home at last.
As we crossed the last ridge our little haven, which is our farm,
emerge from the sea of green. After a couple quick passes of the farm to
absorb its beauty, I set up on a very familiar final. I executed a slip
down in between the trees that I could have done with my eyes closed and
straightened out just at the precise moment to arrest my rate of descent
and have the skis kiss the snow as if they were lovers once parted and
now returning to each other's arms.
Back on Danford Lake. Home Sweet Home.
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I taxied back to the hangar and shut down. This truly marked the
end of our voyage. We pushed the plane back into the hanger and put it
to bed. With the door closed we said goodbye to our eager craft with which
we touched the face of god and promised it we would soon return to fly
again.
We walked the distance back to our car and began the drive back to
the city. Only then did it really sink what we had done. I thought a lot
during that car ride. I thought of what we had seen. I thought of we had
done. I thought of all the good lessons I had learned.
Flight planning is as essential as execution, no matter what the
situation the PIC is responsible for the crew and craft. Don't push a situation
you're uncomfortable with, it's ok to say no, and you must always have
utmost respect for the weather.
But mostly, on that long drive home, I thought about the opportunity
I had been given. The idea that I, a mere 17 year old, had the chance to
first of all obtain a pilots license, use it to fly our very own ultralight
and then use that ultralight to have an incredible adventure that took
me across the province.
An adventure that changed my whole perspective about flying, perhaps
even how I perceive the world. I know when I returned to school and exchange
stories; it was be impossible to explain to my friends just what I had
experienced.
When it was all said and flown, I logged more than 23 hours of flight
time, covered more than 1,500 miles of beautiful countryside, visited old
friends and made some new ones.
But most importantly, I had an experience I will remember for the
rest of my life.
Webmaster's
Note: Doug and his father Rob started their winter flying adventures on
a modest scale - working up from local flights around cottage country to
flying to the last several Challenger Winter Rendezvous at Chateau Montebello.
This recent March Break trip obviously elevated
them to a higher plane (pardon the pun). Our spies tell us they have a
worthy summer flying adventure in the works - stay tuned!
Webmaster's PS: This photo of the Fleck's Challenger
II C-INEW was taken at Montebello and reminds us of the view of a 747 from
head on! Okay, we admit to an active imagination!
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