DC-3 Adventures: The restoration project
Posted: Sat Jan 10, 2004 11:32 amAhhh the life of a Bush pilot. Gotta love the great outdoors, and the ever expansive lands of no return if anything ever goes wrong.
Seems as though there has been a great revamp of the DC-3. All current upgrades, including GPS, up to date autopilot, CD player, and maybe even a Mr Coffee.Just need to get a refreshed paint job and an engine overhaul at Sinclair Memorial. I'm not too fond of the now defunct Emerald Harbor Air paint on her, so I have commissioned Jimmy J's Air to bring her up to speed in the near future. World famous midwesterner he is I tell ya.
At any rate, Art and I opted to take our beauty to Tony at Sinclair to shapen up her engines. Give them a new lease on life as they say. An old bird like Evenlyn here, needs to be stroked like a kitten and we really wanted her to purr. Needless to say her stroking was desperately needed.
We took off from our home base at Fisher's Depot. The fog was not pleasant. I tripped over Rudy the hound dog flea bitten scoundrel on my way to the bird. I swear I couldnt see him. Pea soup did not cut it as a proper analogy. More like dry cement. It was forecasted to be dense, but this dense?
Once we hit our cruising altitude of 10,000 feet, we were in the clear. Not an overly bumpy ride, and the coffee was good. Mildred gave us her famous coffee and breakfasts to go.
Seemed like this would be a picture perfect flight. We would make one stop along the way to Sinclair Memorial to refuel Evelyn and ourselves, but a couple hours into the flight, the starboard engine began to choke, sputter, and gasp. Smoke began pouring out of her
So this wasnt good. if the starboard side was in need of repairs that bad hopefully the other side would make it through pushing it over the limit. Right as I was about to shut her down, BANG the smoke came out faster than roaches in a slum facing gas.
Art radioed a mayday, and I gave as much juice as her other engine could muster. looks like we were going to make a necessary pitstop. Evelyn isnt exactly the easiest gal to get along with, and i guess she was not all the while happy about us blaring some good ole' Led Zepp in the CD player. hey gotta have a sense of humor amidst an impending crisis. I even spilled my d**n coffee. Know how hard it is to get Mildred to make another pot for you if you spill her "Nectar of the Gods"?
We began our decent and found out our closest strip was Old Crow (something Im probably going to have to eat plenty of due to my bet that Evelyn was a bird capable of getting us in business in one piece. The airport was about 45 miles out.
I tell you, when you are running on one engine, and you have a heavy load of cargo, its like driving a manual steering dump truck with one finger. She pulled, she growled, she spit. But within a few minutes of wrestling her, and letting her know it would be OK, as Art laughed, Old Crow showed herself. He then radioed the tower gave our position and our emergency.
Art lowered the flaps, and played throttle man while I muscled Ms. PMS inline. No easy task, but Evelyn knowing she was in the presence of greatness, knew she wouldnt win the battle, so with a bit of stroking the kitten (more like rabid tiger), she gently landed on the strip with a loud thud.
So once we had her shut down, we climbed out of her belly, and kissed the cold, wet ground.
Our gracious host at OC as he referred to it, was a fella named Byron Whipple. One of the old school good fellas with a lot of stories to tell.
Warm coffee, a hot shower, and a bite to eat was offered and graciously accepted, and actually tasted pretty darned fine. Not only are his tales of adventure inspiring, but he can cook too.
Thanks to his offer of the phone, I called Tony and told him what had happened. he agreed to meet us at OC and begin working on Evelyn here, and repair her enough to get her to his shop at Sinclair Memorial.
We hope.
Part two to commense once Tony fixes my bird!
Comments always welcomed
Seems as though there has been a great revamp of the DC-3. All current upgrades, including GPS, up to date autopilot, CD player, and maybe even a Mr Coffee.Just need to get a refreshed paint job and an engine overhaul at Sinclair Memorial. I'm not too fond of the now defunct Emerald Harbor Air paint on her, so I have commissioned Jimmy J's Air to bring her up to speed in the near future. World famous midwesterner he is I tell ya.
At any rate, Art and I opted to take our beauty to Tony at Sinclair to shapen up her engines. Give them a new lease on life as they say. An old bird like Evenlyn here, needs to be stroked like a kitten and we really wanted her to purr. Needless to say her stroking was desperately needed.
We took off from our home base at Fisher's Depot. The fog was not pleasant. I tripped over Rudy the hound dog flea bitten scoundrel on my way to the bird. I swear I couldnt see him. Pea soup did not cut it as a proper analogy. More like dry cement. It was forecasted to be dense, but this dense?
Once we hit our cruising altitude of 10,000 feet, we were in the clear. Not an overly bumpy ride, and the coffee was good. Mildred gave us her famous coffee and breakfasts to go.
Seemed like this would be a picture perfect flight. We would make one stop along the way to Sinclair Memorial to refuel Evelyn and ourselves, but a couple hours into the flight, the starboard engine began to choke, sputter, and gasp. Smoke began pouring out of her
So this wasnt good. if the starboard side was in need of repairs that bad hopefully the other side would make it through pushing it over the limit. Right as I was about to shut her down, BANG the smoke came out faster than roaches in a slum facing gas.
Art radioed a mayday, and I gave as much juice as her other engine could muster. looks like we were going to make a necessary pitstop. Evelyn isnt exactly the easiest gal to get along with, and i guess she was not all the while happy about us blaring some good ole' Led Zepp in the CD player. hey gotta have a sense of humor amidst an impending crisis. I even spilled my d**n coffee. Know how hard it is to get Mildred to make another pot for you if you spill her "Nectar of the Gods"?
We began our decent and found out our closest strip was Old Crow (something Im probably going to have to eat plenty of due to my bet that Evelyn was a bird capable of getting us in business in one piece. The airport was about 45 miles out.
I tell you, when you are running on one engine, and you have a heavy load of cargo, its like driving a manual steering dump truck with one finger. She pulled, she growled, she spit. But within a few minutes of wrestling her, and letting her know it would be OK, as Art laughed, Old Crow showed herself. He then radioed the tower gave our position and our emergency.
Art lowered the flaps, and played throttle man while I muscled Ms. PMS inline. No easy task, but Evelyn knowing she was in the presence of greatness, knew she wouldnt win the battle, so with a bit of stroking the kitten (more like rabid tiger), she gently landed on the strip with a loud thud.
So once we had her shut down, we climbed out of her belly, and kissed the cold, wet ground.
Our gracious host at OC as he referred to it, was a fella named Byron Whipple. One of the old school good fellas with a lot of stories to tell.
Warm coffee, a hot shower, and a bite to eat was offered and graciously accepted, and actually tasted pretty darned fine. Not only are his tales of adventure inspiring, but he can cook too.
Thanks to his offer of the phone, I called Tony and told him what had happened. he agreed to meet us at OC and begin working on Evelyn here, and repair her enough to get her to his shop at Sinclair Memorial.
We hope.
Part two to commense once Tony fixes my bird!
Comments always welcomed
) 
great story... just a quick fact.... in Colombia we still fly those in actual bush airlines.... the real bushpilots.... no kiddin, most of them r original from 1940's, no GPS or anything... ore than once u will see one smoking or even belly landing.... my dad has a gazzilion of stories lke that (he flew C-210's for Oxy Petroleum) and he knew a lot of old pilots there...