MISSING - NOT REALLY LOST!

                                                Missing - Not really Lost !

“Well at least it’s a beautiful morning for the flight, not a cloud in the sky.” Fred said as the three of us, bleary eyed, stumbled out of the taxi.

“Oh man, smell that cool, sweet, fresh air.” Said Ken, as he took in a huge breath and went into a drawn-out coughing fit.

We had been in Edmonton the past four days, playing in the Canada wide, Air Traffic Controllers hockey tournament.  The final banquet had been last night and we had got to bed somewhere around 3 AM. It was now about 5:45 so we hadn’t had too much sleep.  I was piloting a Cessna Cardinal RG that was a four place high wing retractable aircraft with a cruise speed of about 170-mph, and a range of about 800 miles.  We were departing from Edmonton municipal airport, and planning to go direct Rocky Mountain House, then direct Vancouver BC.

“Yeah, and it’s my turn to be first officer.” Ken said after recovering from the fresh air attack. “You were up front all the way here.”

Ken was our team manager; thus he was not suffering from quite the same level of fatigue as Fred and I. Nor I dare say, had he drunk as much beer the night before.  Ken had had a flying license several years ago.  Thus, he seemed like a very good choice to sit in the right seat, which incidentally in the airplane world, is the Co-Pilot position.

“Sounds good to me.” Fred said as he curled up in the back seat, wrapped the extra blanket around him, and fell instantly asleep.

As I did the run up, the thundering engine and my head seemed to pound to the same beat. The sun rising over the eastern horizon burned holes into my eyeballs.

“I’m not so sure about this you guys. I think we should go back to the hotel and get a few more hours sleep.” I said.

Fred made some sort of a grunt from the back seat.

“Naw, don’t worry Larry, I know you’re tired and maybe just a touch hung over, but don’t worry we’ll be fine. Once you get us safely off the ground, and we are in the climb you can let my fly and have a little nap.” Ken said. “And besides I’m on evening shift at 3, so we have to leave now.”

“Well, OK we’ll see how the weather looks after we get off; if it’s good I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“The weather is perfect, not a cloud in the sky. I phoned the weather office and they said it was going to be clear all the way to Vancouver.” Ken said confidently.

“Right, but from bitter experience in light aircraft I don’t trust weather men.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous.” Ken said.

“OK, just remember if we all get killed it’s your fault.” I said

“Muni Ground, this is Cardinal Foxtrot-Hotel- Romeo- Papa, at the tie down area, on VFR Flight Plan Vancouver, taxi clearance please.”

“Fox-trot-Hotel- Romeo- Papa, Ground, its runway 30 the wind is 270 at 15, latest altimeter is 2983, temperature 1C, cleared to taxi. By the way aren’t you guys up awfully early after the big bash last night?

“Roger Ground, check runway 30, 2983 on the altimeter. Yeah seems just a tad too early for me too, but our team manager is on shift this evening in Vancouver.” I replied

So we taxied out to the active runway, and I completed the pre departure checklist. When completed I took a deep breath.

“ Muni Tower this is Cardinal Foxtrot-Hotel- Romeo- Papa, Runway 30, ready to go. Will you open our VFR flight plan direct Vancouver?”

“HRP, Edmonton Tower, cleared for takeoff runway 30, wind 280 at 15.”Said the Tower Controller. “Your flight plan is open.”

I pushed the throttle full forward; we started rapidly down the runway. At 80 MPH I rotated, accelerated to 120 MPH and began the climb to our planned altitude of 12,500 feet. 

Ken was right. It was a perfect morning for a flight. It was cool and crisp. There was not the slightest bit of turbulence, and clear as far as the eye could see.  Mind you these eyes couldn’t see too far.

We had been off for about 30 minutes and were just approaching our cruising altitude.

“When are you going to let me fly?” Ken said looking at me with his best hang-dog expression.

“Oh I’m not feeling too bad now; maybe I should just keep control. Remember Ken, you haven’t flown for several years, and never a relatively sophisticated aircraft like this.”

“Don’t be silly after all I am an Air Traffic Controller. I do know something about navigation, besides you look like you are falling asleep.”

He shouldn’t have said that.  No sooner were the words “falling asleep” out of his mouth than my eyes seemed to shut and not want to open.

“OK, OK.  Ken we are now level at 12500feet, keep it there, and stay inbound on the Rocky 215 radial until we get to Rocky Mountain, then track out bound on the airway radial. Wake me if you any trouble.”

“Will do.” Ken said as he studiously scanned the instrument panel, and the snow capped Rockies, we were steadily approaching. I cranked my seat as far back as it would go and fell instantly into a rather troubled sleep.

I had no idea how long I had been sleeping.

“What should I do now Larry?” Ken said shaking my shoulder to wake me.

I sort of half woke up. All I could see was (what turned out to be) the ceiling of the aircraft. It just didn’t compute.

“What?”

“I think you had better have a look.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Well no wonder, you’re lying on your back looking at the roof. Sit up you idiot!” Ken said rather curtly.

I tried to sit up; it was next to impossible with the seat all the way back.

“What’s wrong with you? Crank up that stupid seat and help me.”

“OK.”

I finally got upright and more or less orientated.

“Do you want to fly into these clouds or go over them?” Ken said pointing straight ahead.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. A few miles ahead were beautiful white cumulous clouds, topped just above our altitude, and stretching as far as the eye could see.

My head was aching again, but even worse my brain didn’t seem to be firing on all cylinders either. I struggled to comprehend what was going on. Nothing seemed to make sense.

I glanced at the instruments.  The ADF (Automatic Direction Finder) was dead.  The VOR (Visual Omni Range) didn’t seem to make any sense.

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know.”

“I thought you were going to wake me if you had any trouble.”

“I didn’t want to wake you. You looked like you needed the sleep.”

Theoretically, a pilot is supposed to either have oxygen available above 10,000 feet, or be breathing it above that altitude. I had often flown at the 12500ft level with no ill effects. However with little sleep, and just a smidgen of alcohol the night before, I was a bit concerned before we departed. But I was planing to stay at 12500 or below for the entire trip.

“I’ve been going over and around clouds for about an hour, I’m totally lost.”

As Ken said this I noticed two things virtually simultaneously. The altimeter said 17700ft. The operational ceiling of this aircraft was 18,000 feet. I looked down and to the rear, all I could see was cloud and the odd snow capped peak in the distance. My eyes didn’t want to focus on the instruments.

“Why are we headed 290 degrees.”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t paying any attention to headings; I was just trying to stay out of the clouds.” Ken said rather loudly and just a tad hysterical.

“Well at least on this heading we are probably out of controlled airspace, at least if we stay below Fight Level 180 (18,000 feet).”  I said trying to pretend my brain was working.

I gathered we had been flying around at the vicinity of 17000 feet for about an hour.  There was no doubt in my mind that we were all suffering from hypoxia (oxygen starvation). I was pretty sure I was. Fred, who was about ten years older than me, and had drunk much more beer the night before should fare worse. The altitude should affect him much worse. I glanced in the back.

He looked dead.

That’s interesting, I thought, as he seemed to fade in and out of my vision.

We had been working the Edmonton Air Traffic Control Centre when I went to sleep.

“I’ll call Edmonton and see if they still have us on Radar.” I said, as I tried to focus on the instrument panel.

“I doubt if they can still see us, the Transponder isnt giving any indication it is being interrogated.” Ken sort of mumbled.

“Edmonton Centre, this is Cardinal HRP on 132.3 do you read?” I called in what I thought was a firm and confident voice.

“HRP Edmonton Centre go ahead.”

“Uh, roger Edmonton, do you still have us on Radar by any chance?”

“No Fellas, but we were wondering what you were doing. We tried to tell you that you were well off course to the south of Rocky, but we didn’t get any reply.”

“OK Centre thanks.”

“Are you having any trouble HRP, you don’t sound too good. Too much food at the banquet last night?”

“No, no, Centre, everything’s fine, just the radios acting up a bit, thanks.”

“There is a chance Calgary might be able to pick you up on Radar, give them a try on 120.5.” Edmonton Centre advised.

“Roger, will do, thanks Edmonton.”

We were just clipping the tops of the clouds, still at 17700. I did a slow circle to see if there were any holes in the cloud. Nothing but white below.

“Well Ken, the way I see it we have to head back toward the flatland and get under these clouds. Take up a heading of 080, which should take us somewhere in the vicinity of Calgary. I will try to get something on the ADF.  Pass me that Flight Supplement will you.”

I started flipping through the Flight Supplement to find some place with a beacon or a radio station we could home in on. If I could get 2 or more I could find out where we were within 20 miles or so.

“What am I looking for?” I said after a few minutes.

“I don’t know, you’re the Captain of this ship, don’t you know?”

“Are you heading 080 like I told you, looks more like 130 degrees to me?”

“OK,OK I didn’t realize I had turned.”

“I have the Supplement open but I can’t seem to make any sense out of it. What was I looking for again?”

“I think you were looking for a radio frequency.”

“Oh Yeah.”

I looked intently at the pages; they seemed to be bouncing and blurry.

“I can’t read this thing, everything is bouncing around and blurry, and can’t you fly any better than this?”

“Hey everything just got clear, what was I looking for again?”

“I forgot. What was that heading you wanted me on?”

“Oh it doesn’t matter.”

What am I saying?”

“You know Ken we are both getting this hypoxia thing bad. We have to get lower or we are in big trouble. I think Fred is unconscious or dead.”

“Are you going to Call Calgary?”

“Good idea. What’s our heading?”

“Looks like about 150.”

“I may be pretty confused Ken, but I sure a hell don’t think that will get us out of the Mountains. I think the idea is to head somewhat east.”

“Maybe I will try 090.” Ken said as if he had made a brilliant discovery.

“Calgary Terminal. Calgary Terminal, this is Cessna Cardinal, Hotel Romeo Papa on 120.5. Do you read?”

“Aircraft Calling Calgary Terminal say again.”  Sounded faintly in my headset.

“Roger Calgary, this is Cessna Cardinal Hotel Romeo Papa on 120.5, squawking 1200, believe vicinity of Rocky how do you read.”

“HRP, read you three by three, go ahead.”

“OK, Calgary we are on flight plan to Vancouver, off Edmonton, Cancel our flight plan please, and could you give us Radar Vectors to our nearest airport.”

“HRP, Calgary, are you declaring an emergency?”

“Negative Calgary, just a little help.”

“OK, HRP, what is your position.”

“That’s what we were hoping to get from you.”

“Roger HRP, Squawk Ident on 1400.”

I reached for the transponder change code knob. Unfortunately turned the off knob.

“HRP, Calgary, Did you receive that last transmission?”

“Roger, Calgary.” I mumbled as I turned the transponder back on, and tried to dial 1400.

“HRP, Calgary, are you guys OK, Edmonton just called, said you sounded a little confused.”

By now I had dialed in the code and squawked Ident.

“HRP, Calgary, Radar identified fifty miles north west of Banff.”

“Roger, Calgary, would you give us Radar Vectors to the Banff airport please.”

“Roger HRP, take up heading 160 degrees.”

“Roger Calgary, turning left 160.” HRP.

“HRP, Calgary, be advised the Banff airport has no snow clearing equipment, the winds in that area are variable and gusting to 30 knots, and the runway is short with mountains on all sides.”

“Roger Calgary, check your remarks.” I replied.

“So, Ken, what do you think?” I said as I more or less held a course of 160. I looked at Ken, he looked at me. His eyes were vacant.

“Huh.”

“On this heading it looks like the tops are getting lower, the quicker we get down the better I think. Let’s try for Banff, if we can find it.”

“OK.”

“Calgary Terminal HRP, we are descending through 14,000, can you give us another heading for Banff.”

Silence was the stern reply!

“OK, Ken it looks like we are on our own, but at least we are getting lower, we must be getting a little more oxygen.” I said looking for a hole in the clouds. We were now getting down to around 13000 feet, still on top of a cloud layer. One of our major problems was that most of these clouds were rock filled. Many of the rocks in this area all went up to ten or eleven thousand feet; we definitely didn’t want to get into any clouds.

So we continued on a heading close to 160deg.on top of cloud.  About then Fred seemed to rise from the dead in the back seat. He leaned over the front seat and slurred.

“Where are we?”

“We’re not lost”

“Looks like we’re above lots of cloud.”

“But we’re not lost; we just don’t know quite where we are.”

“OK.” And Fred fell back into the fetal position in the back seat.

We had to level off at about 11,500 ft to stay about the clouds, and peering down it sure didn’t look like any openings in the cloud.

Finding Banff appeared rather hopeless as we glided above this white blanket of unbroken cloud. I was beginning to try and think of another plan. Yes I do mean, “try”, the old noggin still wasn’t quite up to snuff. Suddenly as I was about to change our heading to due east I caught a glimpse of a rather large house almost right below us. I immediately made a 360 left turn to keep it in sight.

“Have a look over my shoulder Ken; do you see that house at the bottom of the hole in the cloud?”

Ken undid his seat belt and leaned over on me to see out my window.

“That’s not a house you idiot, it’s the Banff Springs Hotel, we found it.”

Well at least the easy part of our problem had been solved. Now all we had to do was get the aircraft down about 7000ft, through a hole in the cloud that seemed to be about three times wider than our wing span and surrounded by rocks imbedded in the clouds.

Piece of cake!

All the circling had waken Fred again.

“What are you doing, I’m getting dizzy?”

“We’re circling over Banff, Larry is thinking of trying to get down through this little hole.” said Ken

Fred looked out his right side window.

“All I see is blue sky”.

“Look out the other side” Ken Snarled.

Remember while this is going on I am flying a steep bank to the left, Fred was actually looking up. Fred Did.

“Looks like a small hole”.

“Yea and I think it is closing, we have to make a decision right now”. I said

“I say lets give it a try, what do you say Fred”?

“I just you guys to know, this isn’t giving it a try, we cannot get back up through the hole, we will definitely have to fly into the cloud, and you know what that means”. I said.

“Let’s go for it Captain”. Said Fred.

I dropped the Gear, put on full flaps and pulled the Carb Heat full out and set the pitch at full fine. As I was circling, the hole was looking smaller all the time. I was very worried, I had practiced this sever times, but never actually expected to do it in a mountainous area.

“Ok you guys tighten your belts here we go”

I leveled out and slowed to just above the stall speed. I then kicked the rudder dropped the nose and we started down. The first thing I noticed as we descended into the hole was it seemed smaller. To keep out of the clouds we had to keep tightening the turn. Almost immediately we were basically in a spin. The speed was building up, everything was happening so fast time meant nothing. Suddenly we were out of the cloud and plummeting toward that little house which now was growing into a large castle. I managed to level the wings, apply some power, lift a bit of flap, and level off before meeting the earth.

I looked at my two buddies; they both were as white as the snow (as no doubt was I).

Fred gave me a feeble little grin.

“Piece of piss”.

“OK now let’s try and find this so called airport, speaking of piss”. Ken said with just a hint of quaver in his voice.

We did find the “Airport”, it was up against the side of a mountain in a junction where it appeared three valleys merged just northeast of town. It was covered with snow, the depth unknown.  We would have never recognized it if there hadn’t been an aircraft tied up at one end. As we lined up on the east side of the runway on a heading of about 200 degrees it was apparent being in this confluence of valleys contributed to the turbulence, we were bouncing all over the sky. I was attempting to put us down close to the threshold, as the length was hard to tell and didn’t want to run off the end.

I managed to get us over the threshold relatively straight and level, glided and smoothly put us down. I certainly didn’t have to worry about going off the end of the runway.  As we gently settled down it suddenly felt like someone had throw a rope over the tail with a great weight attached.  We came to a stop within feet. Yes the snow was about a foot deep. But we were down, we were safe, (for now) and we were starved.

“Hey look they have sent us an escort”. Said Fred

We looked where Fred was pointing, and sure enough a beautiful RCMP car with lights flashing was slowly plowing its way to the side of our plane.

As we stumbled from the plane a young Constable jumped out of his patrol car beside us.

“Are you guys OK”?

“Yeah, we’re great now that we are on the ground”. Ken said.

“I saw you circling around town, figured you were looking for our little grass Strip, so I came here just in time to see you make that great landing”.

“Yeah I have always figured I was pretty good at short field landing but I’ve never landed that short before”.

“I guess you knew the strip is closed for the winter”?

“No, we weren’t planning on coming here; we are three Air Traffic Controllers from Vancouver. We are going home after playing in a hockey tournament in Edmonton.  The weather sort of boxed us in and we decided to land here.

“So what are you going to do now”?

“We sure would like to get into town first, and have a bite to eat”. Said Fred.

“I can sure help you with that at least, jump into the car and we’ll get into town, its rather cold standing out here”.

This is the end of this portion of our little adventure – more at a later time- larry