The skills and ingenuity of the pilots were often put to the test on this job. Few of the lakes in the initial area had suitable landing spots due to the heavy underbrush around them, although in the spring the nearby meadows made excellent landing sites. However, by mid-summer the grass had grown significantly, creating problems for the tail rotor-blade tips. This problem was overcome by having the helicopter hover over the grass while a surveyor used a machete to cut a 10-foot (three-metre) circle to allow the helicopter to land with the tail rotor in the centre of the circle. On one occasion Carl had to land on a tiny, isolated patch of ground just west of the Nass River. Unfortunately, the ground sloped away from it at a 45-degree angle, so the full weight of the helicopter could not rest on its wheels. Always resourceful, he had his passengers move to the front of the helicopter, then while it was in a hover, he guided it another foot forward to take the rear wheels off the slope. Afterwards, the front wheels had to be blocked to prevent the machine from rolling backwards.
The biggest challenge was the weather. At first widespread morning cloud and fog at high levels made it impossible to operate in the early hours of the day. But by mid-June the temperature rose to 100ºF (38ºC) each day, creating problems for the helicopter at high altitudes, and flights had to be restricted to early morning or evening. In July and early August they were plagued by winds and extreme turbulence, especially from late afternoon until dark, and at one point, all flights had to be suspended because landings were usually in tight spaces, often on the edge of a precipice. Fortunately, by mid-August the winds had dropped and flights could be resumed, but over the course of the project, they had lost 21 days on the job due to weather.
The season ended with the helicopter carrying out work on former survey stations and making reconnaissance flights to assist with planning for the following year. On August 17 the last crews were moved into base camp, and the following day the helicopter left for Prince Rupert. The machine had racked up 294 flight hours including ferry flights. Some days it had made as many as 25 mountain landings with 950 of the total at 4,000 feet (1,220 metres) or higher; the highest was at 6,700 feet (2,042 metres).
From Prince Rupert, Bill moved the machine to the Palisade project where he kept the “elevator service” to the dam site moving ahead of schedule and also managed to free up time to take on additional assignments. The dam contract was a resounding success, and the water board began considering a similar project at Burwell Lake north of Vancouver.
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As Carl was nearing 50 and knew his flying days were coming to an end, he began looking for a pilot to replace him. His choice was D.K. “Deke” Orr, an experienced fixed-wing pilot who had flown charters on the BC coast. After Deke was checked out as a helicopter pilot on May 31, his first job was on a mining contract near Hope, BC, about 90 miles (150 kilometres) east of Vancouver. This is where the Reco Copper Mining Company was developing some claims on a mountain ridge above sheer rock cliffs that dropped 1,000 feet (300 metres) to the valley floor. Jock Graham, who went with Deke to carry out the maintenance, recalled:
When this mining promoter asked us for a quote and we said $100 an hour, he thought it was absolutely crazy. We pointed out to him that we were going to take 300 pounds [135 kilograms] in every 20 minutes, 900 pounds [410 kilograms] in one hour, which worked out at 11 cents a pound. That didn’t sound too bad.13
The scenery was beautiful, but the mine site lay between the jagged, snow-covered peaks of mounts Cheam and Foley on one side while Wahleach Lake and wooded hills separated it from the Fraser Valley to the southwest. As a result, everything the mining company needed had to be airlifted in, including a bunkhouse, its furnishings and supplies, mining equipment and crews. Deke, at the time still a novice helicopter pilot, had to deal with downdrafts and updrafts along the ridge as well as the fickle nature of the local weather conditions. Until almost the end of the year he shuttled back and forth every day the weather permitted, and in that six-month period, he flew approximately 80 hours, made about 200 landings and moved 35 tons (31.7 metric tonnes) of supplies, all of it to and from a helicopter platform located at the 6,500-foot (1,980-metre) level.
Two years later the project was still ongoing with a new pilot, Leo Lannon, who as a charter pilot had experience in the North and on Vancouver Island and was used to dealing with weather changes. As the mine had become fully functioning by that time, there were some changes in the type and volume of freight, though the procedures remained much the same. In 1952 Lannon submitted the following report describing his day’s work:
Off to an early start, the helicopter is loaded with 6 cases of dynamite, a 400-pound [180-kilogram] load for the first trip. The pilot hovers for a moment to check the load balance and then is away, climbing close in to a hillside searching for an assist from any updrafts. The air is unstable and turbulent. Up on the peaks, clouds seem to be moving in towards the landing spot. The weather is not very promising. Carburetor ice has been a problem in this area, and the pilot must be constantly on the watch for it. The helicopter, climbing steadily, is now in close to the glacial ice and snowfields with the cloud-ringed peaks towering above. The pilot is heading for the tiny landing spot on the top of the ridge at 6,500 feet [1,980 metres] where it joins Mount Foley in a sheer cliff. At 6,000 feet [1,830 metres] he passes below the landing spot and, glancing up, sees a man standing with his arms extended and his back to the wind. It is a reassuring sight. The pilot runs past a short way, makes a short 180-degree turn, still climbing. When getting close to the 6,500-foot mark and the final approach is made, the pilot gets set, ready for split-second action, slowing speed and gradually decreasing height. The helicopter arrives over the landing spot with inches to spare . . . All that is visible is the tall slim pole of the radio telephone antenna. The house that shelters the miners is more than 30 feet [nine metres] high but has long been buried in snows of another winter.
The landing spot has to be shovelled level by the men after each snowstorm and is only a shade bigger than the skid gear of the helicopter, the four corners of it being marked with something dark—10-gallon [38-litre] drums or anything handy. The snow has been so heavy this past year that the helicopter is now landing 20 feet [six metres] higher than the roof ridge-line of the house . . . The tail rotor of the helicopter is suspended out over 4,000 feet [1,220 metres] of space as the snow and mountainside drop away at a 60-degree angle. Two or three feet ahead of the helicopter, the snow and mountain also drop [a]way 3,000 feet [915 metres] at a 40-degree angle.
When unloaded, the helicopter lifts an inch or two and once more slips out into space for a downhill run for another load. The round trip from base to the mine site is 20 minutes. The cost runs 8.33 to 10 [cents] per pound to move freight into an area which is inaccessible to anything but a helicopter.14
Because the landing site was next to the Trans-Canada Highway, many people stopped to watch. For most of them, it was the first time they had seen a helicopter.
*
In July 1950 Carl received a phone call from W.G. Huber, president of BC International Engineering Company, to announce that the aluminum smelter project at Kitimat had been approved and to discuss a contract with OAS to provide helicopter support for the engineering staff who were to complete the previous year’s survey and install test towers for the power line. Carl was also assured that, once the main phase of construction began, OAS’s services would be required to support construction. At last he had a contract to take to the board to back his argument for more resources, especially more helicopters.
The Alcan project was made up of five massive construction sites, stretching across 5,400 square miles (13,985 square kilometres) of watershed from the Nechako River south of Vanderhoof to the Coast Mountains. It would link several large and many small lakes and rivers to create a series of dams and a giant reservoir. From there the water would be channelled into a 10-mile-long (16-kilometre), 25-foot-diameter (7.5-metre) tunnel through the mountains, dropping nearly 3,000 feet (915 metres) to a powerhouse blasted out of a mountain. The entire project depended on the successful construction of the transmission line linking that powerhouse at Kemano to the smelter at tidewater. While the data from the previous summer’s survey had pointed to a promising route, engineers were still concerned that the towers and cables would not be able to withstand winter conditions in the area, and they planned to construct a test line, which had