Regina to Halifax
Opportunity of a Lifetime:
A Big Cross Country, DRCO, and other stuff
By Captain Dav1d 1998-03-10

Day Three (Friday) ... CYUL-CYFC-CYHZ

The morning sunshine in Montreal was magnificent. The high pressure ridge was still with me, and the temperatures were co-operating as well. I got airborne by noon, the latest starting time of the whole trip. I used flight following until well out of the control zone, before radar service was terminated, and I was told to squawk 1200.

The direct flight from Montreal to Fredricton took me over Maine, but since I wasn’t going to land, I didn’t have to call or clear with US Customs. I did, however, need to use a DRCO to get the weather report for Fredricton. Click, click, click, click, dialtone, digits, "Link Established", and then the radio call. No problem.

Fredricton was quick. While the plane was being filled, I called Solly again. It was 1530h local (I was now in the third different time zone for this trip!), and I wanted to get the plane to Halifax before the weekend. So I needed to make sure that Solly had setup someone to meet me and take possesion of C-GCRZ. I couldn’t reach him, but I left a message with Paula, his assistant, that I would be in Halifax in under 2 hours. I also tried to reach the original contact person, in St. John’s, but he too was out of his office. I decided to make the trip anyways, and keep the keys until someone could meet me the next morning.

This call to FSS was the first one that I didn’t like. They reported low (2000’) ceilings over most of Nova Scotia, but below the clouds there was 15 miles visibility. I was also told that the clouds over the Bay of Fundy can drop low, and to be extra cautious. When asked about survival gear, I again told them about the life vest, and again was told how little use it would be in the waters of the Bay of Fundy. Regulations say that I must carry it, but common sense says that I wouldn’t last more than a few minutes in the icy waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

I thanked the specialist for the information, and departed southbound for Halifax. Fredricton is situated immediately north of a live missile testing range, so the departure procedure on the southbound runway calls for an immediate left turn after takeoff. Similar to "noise abatement procedures", only more deadly if you disobey the instructions. I complied fully. After I had gotten around the restricted area, I said goodbye to the Fredricton tower, and proceeded on my way.

That’s when I started seeing the clouds.

Most of the Maritime provinces that I flew over are very near sea level, so when they say ceilings of 2000’, they mean both ASL and AGL. That saved me from having to calculate the difference. I filed my flight plan for 2000 the whole way, but actually snuck it down to 1500’ crossing the Bay of Fundy. As reported, the visibility below the clouds was excellent, but in the clouds... it wasn’t so good. When I saw the north shore of Nova Scotia, I figured that the hard part was over, and I was home free. But that’s not what Halifax Tower told me.

I was 20 miles out, just entering the second ring of their control zone, when the tower controller said that a snow squall at the airport had dropped visibility to less than half a mile. He asked me if I could come in IFR, but that conditions were almost below IFR minimums. I told him that the aircraft did not have the required avionics to land IFR, and I was not IFR certified. I looked around and estimated that I still l had 15 miles in all directions. The controller said that sometimes the snow squalls are short, maybe ten to fifteen minutes, and sometimes they last for an hour or more. I asked him for his suggestion on what to do.

In a suddenly steady tone of voice, as if he was quoting regulations out of the book, he said "I’m not going to suggest anything. You are the pilot, and you alone make the decisions regarding your aircraft and its safety. But, you might want to think about returning to your point of departure."

I thought about this for a minute, and then told him that I was still in good VFR conditions, and had over 3 hours of fuel in my tanks. I would proceed towards Halifax, and if necessary, wait nearby until the squall passed. If I began to feel uncomfortable with the conditions or the fuel, I would find an alternate (but probably not all the way back to Fredricton). He "checked my remarks", but did not encourage or discourage my decision.

At 10 miles out, he said that he couldn’t see the ends of the runway. I told him that I could see some snow to the west and south (where the airport was), but where I was, and continuing to the east was perfect VFR below the clouds. He decided to let me use runway 15 for the straight in approach, to minimize the amount of time spent in the circuit and in the possible snow squall.

At 5 miles out, he still couldn’t see more than a mile, but I could see the runway clear as anything! By now, runway 15 was no longer available though. (I found out later that Halifax controllers use all runways if the wind is below 10 knots, since it shifts anyways. They try and make it convenient for the pilots.) A larger, faster aircraft was coming in on runway 33, so he asked me if I could take the right-hand downwind for runway 33.

When I entered the downwind, the controller called in an excited, and obviously relieved voice. "The snow squall just ended, and I can see you in the right-hand downwind for 33 (which is also the right base for 24). Would you like to turn and use 24 instead?" I could hear in his voice that he wanted me down as soon as possible. I agreed, and landed without incident. It occurred to me that he had just experienced a rougher landing than I had. At no time was I in less than VFR conditions, but he was for quite some time. I thanked him generously for his assistance, and his patience.

Then, I had to smile. I had completed the journey in three days. Safe and sound. And happy.