While I’ve spent the better portion of my career in machines with two aluminum canoes hanging below as empennage, there were a number of years that I had the pleasure of driving a myriad of Beechcrafts finest in the Canadian north lands. Most of the flying was in the medevac role, with a bit of charter work and occasionally we would cover the scheduled flights to some remote communities. That seemed to happen more often than you’d think. Mother natures biting cold wrecks havoc on operations, airframes and those that fly and fix them.
Sent off to cover some of the scheduled flights kept a few of us “Beech” guys off the couch in the crew house and happily spinning the props for the day. The winds whistled away across the tundra, the visual was the usual light-blowing snow and temps hovering somewhere near finger numbing. The Pratt and Whitney PT6’s churning away smoothly had us both smiling and the light loads and mid range hops to the communities we serviced made the day zip by that much easier. After what we had figured was the last leg of the day, a smooth touchdown back at home base and with the engine tents buttoned down and buddy heaters plugged in, it all started to quickly unfold. Dispatch had completely missed a charter out of one of the neighboring communities. Customers were not happy and were expecting us ASAP! Thankfully we were only a short thirteen minutes away by air. As I quickly checked weather, put together a flight plan and filed for IFR, my partner in crime was busy peeling the engine tents off our still warm King Air BE10. Now flashed up and moving, clearance comes and we make the short hop from Inuvik to Aklavik on the banks of the Mackenzie Delta. The visibility is great and we cancelled IFR literally as the gear in transit light goes out. I can clearly see the strip from here. It was so close. Thirteen minutes? More like six without doing that pesky NDB full procedure approach. Straight in and perfect.
On the ground, the passengers are elated to see us and are eager to load up quickly. It is -30C (-22F) outside on the ramp after all. With the last of the bags in the belly pod, I realize the winds have shifted and have now blown windrows of snow across the relatively narrow gravel strip that is our runway. They’ll only get bigger as we backtrack for departure. It’ll just be a bit bumpier on the takeoff roll. We’re used to gravel, dirt and other surfaces and on the high float gear, shouldn’t be a problem. Off we go! Quick and easy back to Inuvik at only a couple thousand feet. Pre-landing checks as the gear goes down and wait…the brakes are too stiff. We both confirm it. They’re frozen! Must have packed a bit of snow and ice into the brakes on the takeoff roll.
Next problem, we’re in one of the few of our fleet of King Airs without brake heat! A quick discussion with each other and then FSS, a check for other inbound traffic, namely the other machine that should be inbound on a medevac and we’re told they’re already on the ground. Minds more at ease, we continue the approach, it’s my leg and we’re going to make it ‘firm’ to see if that will dislodge the stuck brakes. PNF jokes that it’ll be one of my ‘normal’ landings.
When the mains touch, one side frees up after a little bark, while the other side starts to squeal as it skids locked right up. Liberal use of differential power between our two trusty “Pratt’s” all we can do to keep the bird from taking out runway lights as we’ve now started an arc towards them. Shuddering to a stop on the runway just shy of those expensive little glowing orbs, there’s now no way to taxi off. We’re stuck. A hasty comment on frequency asking for a short delay and my cohort is now out the back air stairs door with a long screwdriver in hand to try and free up the offending brake. With the free side chocked and the props slapping away at the crisp air in feather, I can hear a discernible pop as the offending brake opens up. We taxi back to the terminal in shame, with that distinct lope of a flat spotted set of mains. One of our diligent AMEs is waiting to tell me with a chuckle that those tires were less than a week old! Looks like I’m buying coffees and donuts tonight.
About the Author
Michael W.
Just shy of 30, Michael has been flying since the age of 16 and commercially since 2005. Having flown all over Northern Canada, he has ferried twin otters and flew medevac in the arctic and floats on the BC coast where he still resides.