his first. He was pilot-in-command and the hours in his logbook grew steadily. The flying was breathtaking and he loved being alone in the cockpit and watching the rugged beauty of the land stretch out beneath him. The Canadian Shield, a massive expanse of low-lying rock, lay across much of the North’s southern reaches. In winter it was an unending white wasteland, but in summer it was pocked and aglitter with rivers and thousands of lakes. Patches of muskeg—swampy basins of moss-covered water and decaying vegetation—were cradled between jagged outcrops of limestone and shale. In the east, the low-lying glaciated plain gave rise to mountains that reached heights of nearly 10,000 feet. Glaciers hugged the cols of these white giants and sheer, spectacular cliffs plummeted into deep fjords.
Though seemingly barren, the North was alive with wildlife ranging from bears and wolves to caribou and countless bird species. On one flight Erik spotted a lone grizzly bear running, its powerfulmuscles undulating under a rich coat of fur. On another he came upon a herd of caribou. Erik was 1,000 feet up when the landscape suddenly transformed into a moving mass with no beginning or end in sight. As far as his eyes could see forward, back, and to either side, there was only an ocean of caribou, their antlers bobbing like a briar of nude branches and their mottled beige bodies spread like a dappled fleece over the land.
That summer Erik flew almost every day as pilot-in-command, progressing from a 300-horsepower Cherokee Six to a Cessna 185, a big-tailed, six-seater—known as a “taildragger” for the small wheel affixed to the underside of the tail. He was twenty-one and literally and figuratively on top of the world. He had manoeuvred his way into the upper echelons of northern bush flying.
Bush flying originated in Canada. One of the first recorded commercial passenger bush flights took place in October 1920 after a fur buyer walked into the Canadian Aircraft Company in Winnipeg, Manitoba, and asked to be flown hundreds of miles north to his home in the settlement of The Pas. By land, the journey across bush, muskeg and bountiful lakes would typically have taken the man several weeks. He arrived in a day. Within a year bush planes were exploring the North to within a hundred miles of the Arctic Circle, opening up isolated areas of the continent.
Early northern bush pilots battled bitter temperatures, blinding snowstorms and the unknown perils of uncharted terrain. They were larger-than-life men with names like Wop May, Punch Dickens and Doc Oaks, and their exploits became the stuff of legends.
Wilfred Reid “Wop” May, one of the most famous, was credited with helping bring down the Red Baron during World War I. May was only eighteen and on his first patrol of the western front when thefeared fighter pilot, Baron Manfred von Richthofen, suddenly dropped in on him. May’s guns jammed and the German strafed his wings with machine gun fire, yet the young pilot managed to elude the Red Baron. So intent was the German ace on finishing the fight that he broke his own rule and followed May’s plane across Allied lines where another countryman, Roy Brown, helped bring the Baron down.
Like many veterans who wanted to continue flying after the war, May gravitated to the North where pilots faced different, but no less formidable foes. In January 1929, May was asked to deliver serum to a remote community battling a diphtheria outbreak. He flew for two straight days in the open cockpit of an Avro Avian biplane, the serum wrapped in a blanket at his feet with a charcoal heater. He arrived with his hands virtually frozen to the controls.
Today’s bush pilots maintain their vaulted position as courageous, self-reliant adventurers, providing a crucial lifeline to many isolated communities in the Canadian and Alaskan wilderness. While the planes may have changed, the pilots who fly them haven’t. Far from help if anything goes awry,
Though seemingly barren, the North was alive with wildlife ranging from bears and wolves to caribou and countless bird species. On one flight Erik spotted a lone grizzly bear running, its powerfulmuscles undulating under a rich coat of fur. On another he came upon a herd of caribou. Erik was 1,000 feet up when the landscape suddenly transformed into a moving mass with no beginning or end in sight. As far as his eyes could see forward, back, and to either side, there was only an ocean of caribou, their antlers bobbing like a briar of nude branches and their mottled beige bodies spread like a dappled fleece over the land.
That summer Erik flew almost every day as pilot-in-command, progressing from a 300-horsepower Cherokee Six to a Cessna 185, a big-tailed, six-seater—known as a “taildragger” for the small wheel affixed to the underside of the tail. He was twenty-one and literally and figuratively on top of the world. He had manoeuvred his way into the upper echelons of northern bush flying.
Bush flying originated in Canada. One of the first recorded commercial passenger bush flights took place in October 1920 after a fur buyer walked into the Canadian Aircraft Company in Winnipeg, Manitoba, and asked to be flown hundreds of miles north to his home in the settlement of The Pas. By land, the journey across bush, muskeg and bountiful lakes would typically have taken the man several weeks. He arrived in a day. Within a year bush planes were exploring the North to within a hundred miles of the Arctic Circle, opening up isolated areas of the continent.
Early northern bush pilots battled bitter temperatures, blinding snowstorms and the unknown perils of uncharted terrain. They were larger-than-life men with names like Wop May, Punch Dickens and Doc Oaks, and their exploits became the stuff of legends.
Wilfred Reid “Wop” May, one of the most famous, was credited with helping bring down the Red Baron during World War I. May was only eighteen and on his first patrol of the western front when thefeared fighter pilot, Baron Manfred von Richthofen, suddenly dropped in on him. May’s guns jammed and the German strafed his wings with machine gun fire, yet the young pilot managed to elude the Red Baron. So intent was the German ace on finishing the fight that he broke his own rule and followed May’s plane across Allied lines where another countryman, Roy Brown, helped bring the Baron down.
Like many veterans who wanted to continue flying after the war, May gravitated to the North where pilots faced different, but no less formidable foes. In January 1929, May was asked to deliver serum to a remote community battling a diphtheria outbreak. He flew for two straight days in the open cockpit of an Avro Avian biplane, the serum wrapped in a blanket at his feet with a charcoal heater. He arrived with his hands virtually frozen to the controls.
Today’s bush pilots maintain their vaulted position as courageous, self-reliant adventurers, providing a crucial lifeline to many isolated communities in the Canadian and Alaskan wilderness. While the planes may have changed, the pilots who fly them haven’t. Far from help if anything goes awry,
Similar Books
