A more modern story for a change…..

“wow, that was close”

In the fall of 1991 I went with a group of work colleagues to a fly in fishing camp for a long weekend of rest and relaxation. The camp is on Kipahigan lake, a fairly short 33 mile flight straight North of Flin Flon. We flew to the camp in a Beaver aircraft owned by Jackson airways, a local company that flies fishermen, hunters and mining personnel to many a remote lake in our area. Kipahigan lake is beautiful and remote, without road access it still has the ‘untouched by human hand’ look. The pilots for Jacksons fit into two categories, either very experienced or very young. The former are in short supply and are much sought after by charter aircraft companies, the latter are building up hours before they can move up to the next class of plane and possibly a job with a regional airline.



Jackson's air base in Flin Flon



I have flown in many float planes during my time in Canada’s North, and the first thing I look at is the age of the pilot, hoping that he or she is not straight out of flight school. This trip out we had a mid twenties pilot who we all knew from previous flights. What you don’t want is someone from the ‘Vietnam school of flying’ as we say around here. They are all the same, showing off their skills with late take offs, steep landings and ninety degree banked turns. Just what everybody wants! As it turned out the flight into Kipahigan in the Beaver was very smooth, a bit fast on the landing for my liking, but we all got there in one piece. Around here we have a saying, ‘any landing that you walk away from is a good one’. Seeing as we all walked away, it was a good one.



flying into Kipahigan



After three days of wilderness, fishing, bear and eagle watching it was time to go home. The wind was quite strong, with small whitecaps on the lake. The lake has an island and the camp is on the island, to be safe from bears, who thankfully really do not like to swim. We waited for the flypast, this is where the plane will ‘buzz’ the camp as a signal to get ready, then you make sure you have everything before it lands. We had no sooner heard the fly over when the plane was down and motoring towards the dock. The pilot jumped out and we all gasped, he looked about sixteen, but we all knew he had to be eighteen. “My buddy Jeff just said simply “God help us”

Loaded up we got in, the old Beaver aircraft has been a stalwart of Canada’s backcountry for many years. This one was loaded up pretty good, five men, five men’s gear, plus fish, a drum of fuel from a pick up he had just been on, plus pilot, it was full, and heavy. The interior of a beaver is very basic. Everything is made to be removed. Beavers spend more time flying freight in and out of mining camps than people, so the seats are bolted in and removed on a regular basis. The seats are what you would find in a world war two movie, no more than an aluminum frame and leather sling back and seat, with a basic seatbelt to keep you in it. I think that the only reason they have seat belts is in the event of a crash at least you would still be in your seat and easier to find!



Havilland Beaver



The pilot was young, very young, we were not happy campers. The take off is always into the wind, taking off on water takes longer when fully loaded, having to build up speed to lift the plane on its floats, build airspeed up and get the thing airborne. We taxied down the lake with the wind behind us, bobbing up and down on the waves. One thought has always come to mind when I do this, are boats really meant to fly? We turned and saw that the wind had picked up, producing decent waves. On land it would be perfect for a short take off, on water, who knows. We revved up and started the taxi. We went and went and went. Trying to build up speed, the shore came closer, and closer, the pilot tried to get us up but the plane could not free itself from the drag of the waves. All of a sudden it lifted out of the water and started rising, but the shore was very close, and the trees! How we missed the trees I have no idea, I closed my eyes, there was not a sound from what are normally loud men on a weekend trip. We all looked at the pilot, he was visibly shaken, turned to us with a relieved grin on his face and said, ‘wow” he said “that was close, didn’t think we’d make it”

A couple of weeks later the same pilot crashed on take off from an exploration camp, hitting the trees. Luckily he had no where near enough airspeed and was not killed, though the plane flipped and was obviously badly damaged. He walked away and was rescued by the mining company. Rumour has it that Bill Jackson, owner of the plane, picked the pilot up at the crash site, flew him back to Flin Flon, took him to his rented apartment and waited until he had packed, dropped him off at the bus depot and bought him a ticket to Winnipeg without saying a word. That was the end of his flying career in Flin Flon!