In the end, I will be surrounded by misfits, autistic savants, and high functioning alcoholics.

Moose Jaw Officer's Mess

A friend of mine recently visited.

He lives in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan with his wife and baby daughter. We met while we were going through phase II of military pilot training. I grew up and got a real job. He was good enough to stay and instruct future students. 

Moose Jaw is many things. There is a sign as you enter the town that says “Moose Jaw, Culture Capital of Canada 2007.” I am not sure what that means.  I do know that Moose Jaw was the ‘Tick Capital of Canada’ for 18 consecutive years. Last year they lost that title to a SPCA shelter in Yellow Knife.

Cheese. In more ways that one.

There should be a sign that states “Moose Jaw, the City where grown men cry.” It has been a focal point of Canada’s military pilot training for 40 years. Countless dreams have been forged and crushed under its prairie skies. I am not ashamed to admit that I had a hard time. I wasn’t a natural ‘hands and feet’ pilot. I worked like a man who had nothing left to loose.  My effort and my friends got me through and in the end, I was good enough.

My friend was much better than I was. He was asked to stay and instruct future Canadian Forces pilots. I was asked to get as far as one could get from the pilot training system.

Autistic Savant on the left, me on the right.

When we were going through Moose Jaw, we belonged to Apache Flight. It was a rag tag group of misfits, autistic savants and high functioning alcoholics. Somehow in the crucible that is Moose Jaw all of us forged a pretty tight bond. They say a friend will help you move, a good friend will help you move a body. I know that to be true.

Anyways, my friend visited. It was the third time in a year and a half he stopped by. He didn’t really come and see me or enjoy Eastern Passage wine. He came to see a friend of his who was battling cancer. The first time he came out, his friend was just completing chemotherapy and the cancer was in remission. He introduced us to his friend at that time, and I remember being careful about touching things. I didn’t want to give him my cold. I spent the night with my hands in my pockets. Cancer is a shitty disease and makes us feel like fools.

One of many misfits and my daughter.

A couple of weeks ago my friend visited for a second time. He came at the request of his friend’s mother. The cancer had come back, and doctors gave him weeks to live. He dropped everything and came to help the best he could. He spent long hours sitting beside a dying friends bed, waiting for him to come back into consciousness. He argued with him, even in his friend’s sickened state, so that others would be allowed to say their peace. He arranged video conferences between friends across Canada and in Afghanistan. He said and heard things that no twenty-something should have to endure. 

His second visit happened while I was at sea. He stopped by late one night to say hello to my wife. They talked and consoled each other. When he left, he hugged her on the front porch and said goodbye. They didn’t worry about what the neighbors might think.

High functioning alcoholic.

This past Friday my friend visited again. He brought his lovely wife (she is way too good for him) and his ginger baby girl. He was going to his friend’s funeral. We offered our place for as long as he needed, and made it clear that we wanted him to stay as long as he could. He was apologetic that he was only staying one night. The funeral would be in a town a couple of hours from our place and he needed to help his late friend’s mother with the funeral.

Yesterday, my wife received an email from his wife. She thanked us for letting them stay. She also said that the funeral was postponed because of a medical emergency, and that they had been staying in a hotel room for the past three days. The baby had caught the flu.

Last night my wife and I were talking about everything that had happened. She said, ‘Its so sad.”

I said, “He isn’t in any pain anymore and it gives me comfort.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know that no matter what, if something ever happened to me, he would be here for you.” I also know that standing beside him would be a group of misfits, autistic savants and high functioning alcoholics.

Godspeed Matt.

We are called Kings for a reason.

A very good friend of mine just left his wife and young daughter. He gave them 30 hours of notice before he packed his bags and left. I wasn’t there when they hugged and kissed their goodbyes, but I know how it went. It wasn’t the first time he has dropped everything and left, not knowing how long he was going to be gone. The last time he left, he was sailing to an earthquake ravaged Haiti. This time he is going to Libya.

I wish I as going with him.

We fly Sea King helicopters for the Canadian Forces. The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) has a fact sheet about our aircraft that they use from time to time to augment their stories which we may play a part. 

They are known as the "ancient" Sea Kings, the "geriatric" Sea Kings, the "venerable" Sea Kings. They have been called "flying coffins." Purchased with considerable fanfare by the federal government in 1963, when they turned heads with their impressive exploits, the Sea Kings are now a sick, aging fleet, with pieces literally falling out of the skies...

The glory days of the Sea Kings are in the distant past, yesterday's heroes, now burdened more with a reputation for embarrassing crashes than for saving lives or finding submarines.

I have only been part of the Maritime Helicopter community for a couple of years, so my experience is rather limited. In those two years, this is what I have witnessed.

Counter piracy operations in the Gulf of Aden.

http://www.airforce.forces.gc.ca/v2/nr-sp/index-eng.asp?id=8762

"Major James Hawthorne's outstanding composure as the Crew Commander of a Sea King helicopter was essential to locating and interdicting armed pirates in the Gulf of Aden on 18 April 2009.

http://www.theepochtimes.com/n2/content/view/27281/ 

A skiff carrying seven pirates who attacked Norwegian tanker Front Ardenne in the Gulf of Aden races toward the Somali coast with Palomino 16, the CH-124 Sea King helicopter from HMCS Winnipeg, in pursuit, April 18, 2009. The pirates later surrendered when their skiff was seized by an HMCS Winnipeg boarding party.

Drug interdiction operations in British Columbia.

http://www.rcmp-grc.gc.ca/gazette/vol70n2/partnr-eng.htm

A former sailor in the Canadian Navy, Rompré has experience working with the military and has great respect for the Air Force crews with whom he now flies.

“You can ask them anything and they can push their machine and their crew to the limit to get the job done,” he says.

http://www2.canada.com/nanaimodailynews/news/story.html?id=28e3f2bf-cb2e-45d3-a647-76cedcb7e9ed

Although the RCMP says it locates grow-ops year round, police normally step up their efforts in late summer when the plants are budding and may soon be harvested. An RCMP helicopter and two Sea King helicopters will be involved in the crackdown,

Drug interdiction operations in Nova Scotia.

http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/nova-scotia/story/2010/09/07/ns-marijuana-grow-ops-raid.html

A military helicopter is used to spot the grow-ops, then officers head to the field or woods to seize the plants.

Drug interdiction operations in the Caribbean.

http://pr-usa.net/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=630642&Itemid=33

The ship, aircraft and their crews return home following a month-long deployment with the U.S. Joint Interagency Task Force South (JIATF-S), during which 68 bales of cocaine, amounting to approximately 1 650 kilograms, with an estimated value of $33M, were intercepted. 

Hurricane relief in Newfoundland

http://www.citytv.com/toronto/citynews/news/national/article/94779--soldiers-help-with-hurricane-igor-relief-in-newfoundland

The Sea Kings have been tasked to meet urgent transport, heavy-lift, night-flying and supply needs... Three naval ships and Sea King helicopters helped deliver essential supplies to isolated coastal villages.

http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/newfoundland-labrador/story/2010/09/26/forces-set-to-aid-926.html

He said Sea King helicopters delivered aid to communities that were isolated by hurricane damage. King's Cove, Knight's Cove, Stock Cove and Keels all had supplies dropped in by helicopter.

Search and Rescue

http://www.canada.com/story_print.html?id=3794201&sponsor=

A Sea King helicopter deployed by the Joint Rescue Co-ordination Centre in Halifax that had been part of the search was called off earlier Sunday because of low visibility and heavy winds

http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/nova-scotia/story/2010/09/13/ns-missing-vessel-search.html

The Joint Rescue Co-ordination Centre launched the search on Monday morning. A Hercules aircraft from CFB Greenwood, a Sea King helicopter from Shearwater, and a Transport Canada plane scoured the area along with three coast guard vessels.

http://www.thecoastguard.ca/News/2010-10-30/article-1911622/Helicopter-rescues-injured-Barrington-hunter/1

Due to the rough terrain EHS was unable to transport the injured man out of the forest and arrangements were made with the Joint Rescue Coordination Centre to have a helicopter airlift the patient out. He was transported to Yarmouth Regional Hospital with non-life threatening injuries.

Air to air interception- G8-G20 Summit

Operation Hestia, Haiti earthquake relief

http://www.airforce.forces.gc.ca/12w-12e/nr-sp/index-eng.asp?id=10401

I am so proud to fly Sea Kings.

Ya we are old, and we leak. We break on occasion and the the media loves to ridicule us. But the simple fact is, when something bad happens in the world, Canada turns to us to help fix it.

We are a Cold War Antisubmarine aircraft with a heart of gold.

Godspeed Paul, and Charlottetown. We all wish we were with you.

We are like manatees

I went to visit my folks in Florida. They are renting a mobile home in a “Gated Community for People over 55.” It is located just outside of Orlando, in a town called Tornado Alley. Actually, I’m not sure what the town is called, or if it even has a name. I think it is just a collection of golf carts, garden gnomes and American (and Canadian) flags. The only reason why it is called a town is because a Walmart and an International House of Pancakes are located 15 minutes away.

This is the second winter that my parents have migrated to the sun of Florida and seem to have found a home away from home. They haven’t yet joined the community’s Shuffleboard league. My mom says it is too competitive and has lead to bad feelings within the park. Apparently there is a big rivalry between those seniors who live inside the fence, and those who live outside the fence. My father is a retired senior officer in the Canadian Forces. During his career he faced off against Soviet submarines in the North Atlantic and dueled with fighter jets at the speed of sound. Shuffleboard against 80 year olds from ‘across the fence’ is too dangerous.

My parents are starting to evolve into full fledge retirees. They know that the ‘all you can eat’ lunch buffet is cheaper than the all you can eat supper buffet- and if you arrive at 3:30 and are patient to sit for a half hour you can one for the price of the lesser. 

Nothing says flea market than knock-off Disney hat and ugly shirt.

The most stressed I saw my father on our visit was the morning he was going to take us to a flea market 45 minutes down the interstate. It was the Monday morning flea market and he was worried that all the free parking spots would be taken by the time we showed up. We would be forced to park in either the $2.00 or $3.00 lots. 

Box of socks.

When I lived in Zanzibar, the best time to go to the market was the day after the new moon. Fishermen would use fire to light the surface of the water during their night expeditions and as a consequence it would bring in the really big catches. I once saw a 16 foot tiger shark eviscerated during one of these big catch days. The best time to go to a flea market in Florida is Monday morning. All the tourists are gone and the peddlers are ‘desperate’ to sell their stock. My wife bought 3 Louis Vitton purses for $60- the sellers must have been really desperate, Louis Vitton purses in the stores cost over 500 bucks each.

Something symbolic about this picture, but I am not articulate enough to say it.

Before I took my kids to Disney, my parents took us to a coal burning electricity generation plant.  There we were with all the other families of Canadian snowbird retirees, huddled under the smoke stacks gawking at manatees. For those that are not marine biologists (or almost marine biologists like myself), manatees are the unluckiest of the marine mammals. They are slow, and their tricks aren’t very impressive. They are kind of like retired hairless seals. 

Rumour has it that 17 century sailors thought that they were half women half fish. I understand how the myth of a mermaid came about- sailors aren’t that bright, and being at sea for long periods of time does make one see things that aren’t there.

After a year at sea, I can understand how this would turn you on.

One thing did strike me as we huddled under the majestic clouds of the smoke stacks. It was how similar we were to manatees. The have found a solution to the cold winter weather, they huddle in the warm effluent of the power plant- and so did we.

Manatees- also know as sea lumps

Haraka haraka haina baraka

When I worked in East Africa, I learned swahili. I wasn’t fluent, but knew enough to negotiate a taxi cab fair, or ask for consular assistance when I was arrested for stopping my bike in a “No stopping your bike” zone. I knew how to order beer, pizza and malaria tests.

I knew how to ask ‘how are you doing’ at least fifteen ways. In Zanzibar, it usually took me a half an hour to say ‘good morning’ to the person selling my breakfast samosa. I was told that I had a very good accent- not just for a mzungu, but for a Tanzanian. I managed to become a Zanzibari resident and my Canadian passport was appropriately stamped to reflect my dual status.

When Disney’s the Lion King was released, I had a number of critiques of the movie’s portrayal of life on the grasslands of East Africa. First, the protagonist was a lion cub named Simba. Simba in swahili is lion. You can see how creatively this lacked imagination, and practically would cause a great deal of confusion to the rest of the members of the pride.

My second major critique was the catchy tune ‘Hakuna matata.’ Everyone everywhere whistled this African philosophy. Translated it means ‘no problem.’ There is a problem however, no one in East Africa says this. The correct phrase is ‘Humna matatizo,’ which means ‘there are no problems/concerns/worries.’ I’m sure it doesn’t bother the average person out there, but for those of us Swahili grammar-philes this is like nails on a chalk board.

I have forgotten most of my swahili. Recently, however I did say “Haraka haraka haina baraka,” to my co-pilot. He was flying an approach to a busy airport and was getting uncomfortable close to a small airplane that was landing ahead of us. Understandably, he looked at me like I was speaking in Tongues. 

‘Hurry hurry has no blessings,’ I clarified. “Slow down.” He did, and I managed not to make the evening news.

I recently returned from Disney’s Animal Kingdom, where lions eat ‘lion food’ and snakes eat ‘snake food.’ It is a place where the circle of life has been sterilized. Naked mole rats are ‘cute’ and cat-eating frogs are ‘neat’.

Surprisingly, my favorite part of the Disney experience was Africa. They managed to cram all those countries onto one street and remove all the negative things that appear on the evening news. 

My first experience of Africa was formed while I huddled under a blanket on the floor of a Nairobi taxi cab while Kenyan students clashed with riot police as they tried to overthrow a thirty year military dictatorship. To be honest, my first experience of Africa was the goat dinner I had with the taxi cab driver I met at the Nairobi airport when I arrived earlier that morning. That taxi cab driver kept me safe from looters, tear gas and police. The next day we went for breakfast.

My daughter’s first experience of Africa was being swallowed by a Nile crocodile. 

Actually, her first experience of Africa was playing Bao with a nice lady from Botswana. The lady spent time teaching my daughter the strategies of this traditional game. She was patient and kind and funny. She let my daughter win. They played together for twenty minutes- and in a Disney amusement park twenty minutes is forever. I guess that is the magic of Disney.

Golden, Purple- Canada's Winter colours.

I’ve just spent the last two weeks on the road- or rather over the road, bush, forest, lakes, mountains, farm fields, of this great land. Ferrying a 45 year helicopter across Canada in the winter is something everyone should do before they die. 

For those unfamiliar with Canada, it is the big purple country in the upper left corner of most six grade maps. It is coloured purple to reflect the skin tone of its citizens. Nothing brings a country closer together than the fear of freezing to death.

I understand that flying a Sea King across Canada is a time consuming event. It isn’t like P90x, where in 90 days you are transformed into a middle aged man with misguided motives. No flying a Sea King on a winter cross country takes a lot of prep work. 

First, you have to get tethered to a mortgage in a small Newfoundland town, get laid off from your government job, refuse to bump someone from their job out of principle, convince your wife that you want to join the military during a war, have her quit her permanent job and move the family to Moose Jaw only to then tell her you want to fly the oldest aircraft in the Canadian inventory. Then you have to be the only Aircraft Captain available at the squadron when an aircraft has to be brought across the country.

A lot of the swiss cheese holes have to line up in order for someone to have this opportunity. So, allow me to describe what it is like.

The Canadian Rockies are beautiful, when you can see them from the ground. When you are in the air, trying to fly between them in marginal weather conditions only to be diverted off the flying route due to avalanche blasting, they are a bitch. They are very big, and yet surprisingly are easily hidden by clouds and snow showers. My most significant command decision to date was made trying to get through the mountains and was prefaced with “This is stupid.” I turned around.  

On my second attempt through the mountains, we made it through and arrived in Golden, British Columbia. The town of Golden was named after the first Aircraft captain who had to take a Sea King through Roger’s Pass in the winter. When he arrived the town’s people asked how he was feeling. He replied “Golden.” The town’s people thought his radiance was a nice description of the surroundings. The pilot’s crew knew he had just pissed himself.

After the Rockies everything else was pretty much a blur. I do vaguely remember doing a Gear Up Low Approach pass in Moose Jaw Saskatchewan. In hind sight it probably wasn’t the best decision I have ever made. The Canadian Aerobatic demonstration team, the Snowbirds, call Moose Jaw home. There is nothing like having Snowbird #2 critique your fly by on Facebook.

Winnipeg is cold in the winter. The “Friendly Manitoba” license plates are a gentile reminder to Manitobans not to be jerks. But I understand why they are like they are- they live in Winnipeg.

Just to let you know, it cost $150.00 and a case of 24 beer to open a hangar door in Thunder Bay, Ontario. My Mother always said if you have nothing good to say don’t say anything at all. That’s pretty much all I can say about Thunder Bay. 

If you are ever in Marathon, Ontario, you are probably lost or low on gas, or both.

Sault Ste Marie has a very friendly air traffic controller. The kind of voice that would make you want to get violated. Also, if you are ever passing through, please call Sandra at the cafeteria prior to your crew’s arrival. She would appreciate 24-48 hours notice in order to defrost more burger patties. I have her number.

You can get gas in Ottawa. Also, Challenger pilots have sheep skin covers over their seats. 

Fredericton is after Sherbrooke. Somewhere in between expect Nav Canada to loose your flight plan and initiate Search and Rescue coordination. Thankfully they found us, right where we said we would be at the time we said we were going to be there. Oh, the laughs we had once they realized they made a mistake and that we were not frozen to death in Canada’s purple expanse. 

Sunsets

I have taken a lot of pictures of sunsets in my life and as a result have become a bit of a connoisseur. They come in lots of different colors. 

There are the standard red ones.

The orange ones are fairly common.

There are the gold ones.

Not many people have seen the blue ones.

Rarer still are the black ones.

Sometimes a bird would sneak in and ruin the picture.

Sometimes an airplane would.

Sometimes someone will step in and make the picture.

Sometimes not.

I have been blessed to see them in all kinds of places. When I lived in Zanzibar I used to time how long it took the sun to dip into the Indian Ocean. It usually took the same amount of time as drinking two and a half beer. 

When I lived in the jungles of Guyana, the sunsets usually came right after the second rainfall of the afternoon. Parrots usually flocked and the mosquitoes came out. The sunset was a gentile reminder to put on pants and a long sleeve shirt. 

In Haiti, the sunset signaled the end of flying. For a couple of moments it allowed us to pause and reflect on those who had to endure the coming darkness. I didn’t like sunsets in Haiti.

Sunsets in Eastern Passage are nice. I don’t reflect or pause to consider greater truths. I enjoy them like I would a cup of tea. They do remind me however that I should lock my car door.

Gollum worked at FDC

I have turned into Gollum.

I used to be a fairly happy fellow. Content at home and at my job, I skipped and whistled my way through the day. People would often stop and say “Hey look at that really happy fellow. Wow, imagine if we were as happy as him.”

Birds sang for no reason when I walked by. They sang for the pure enjoyment of singing. They felt no pressure. They didn’t worry if they were off key or if I had heard the song before, because they knew I was carefree and without judgement. Sometimes they would just whistle or hum. A couple of times I heard them work on new material- experimenting with new rifts and tempos. 

I can’t remember now the last time I heard a bird sing.

I discovered something so powerful that Tolkien himself would not be able to comprehend. It has changed me- slowly but now completely. I was naive in the beginning, believing that this super human power would not affect who I was or how I saw people.

I now have the ability to force aviators to sit in aircraft for hours at a time and not fly. Usually these hours are after many of their friends have gone home. At the drop of a hat, I can pick a name, and force a person to sit in a dark room for three hours. Their only enjoyment would be a box lunch made by a company who's sole qualification was that it submitted the lowest bid. 

I can make people stand under a hovering helicopter for two hours holding a metal cable- two hours under a 20,000 lbs helicopter in -15 Celsius. ‘Their crime,’ you ask? I bumped into them in the hall.

Today, I actually said “Well tower can piss off.”

Never in the history of the English language have those words ever been grumbled together before. 

‘What was their crime’ you ask? They wanted to go home because of a snow storm, and I wanted to wait and see if the weather would improve enough to test an engine on a 50 year old helicopter.

I’d like to think that I had friends before this new found power. I walk into rooms now filled with my colleagues, and no-one makes eye contact. I am invisible, distorted, and insane just like poor ol Gollum.