View from ... Vancouver
By Captain Dav1d 1994-10-11

[... continued from Page 1]

Climbing to the north, I had Vancouver at my 10:00 position, and the mountains dead ahead - well over 30 miles away. Ceiling: high. Visibility: high. Heartbeat: high.

The thrill of the first licensed solo outside my own backyard brought an unstoppable grin to my face, even with no-one there to appreciate it. I had practically walked in off the street and rented an aircraft to fly through Vancouver Harbour!

The highest point of the journey betweenCZBB and the harbour is a hill just east of Burnaby, where the dormitories of Simon Fraser University command a spectacular view of the city, framed by the mountains. The flatlands of the delta created through years of silt deposits by the mighty Fraser River spread below me like a large triangular fan, seemingly creating waves in the Straits of Georgia. The view began rushing by too fast -- I wanted to savour the panorama of the westward view.

Up ahead, only a short distance away, loomed the harbour. I could see the Goodyear Blimp maneouvering above the city, making its way back toward the east for the next load of passengers, while I headed north-by-northwest for the next visual tidbit. Overhead, commercial jetliners lined up on approach to Vancouver International.

I decided to contact Vancouver Harbour a little ahead of the prescribed call-up point, allowing me time to add the phrase "I’m unfamiliar with the territory, although I’ve studied the maps" to my ATC conversation. The controller asked if I knew about the standard call-up points for the harbour circuit, and if I would be able to recognize them. By now, I was close enough to have visually identified them ("Second Narrows Bridge", "Lion’s Gate Bridge", etc.), so I replied in the affirmative. I sat back deep into the seat to enjoy the postcard scene. No camera required... this will be burnt into my brain for quite some time.

I could now see from the air all of the heliports that I had identified on the maps. Wow! There were helicopters at almost every heliport, and a few floatplanes as well. This was definitely a "general aviation mecca".

The controller announced all other traffic to me, and I acknowledged every one. Mostly floatplanes and helicopters. Few presented any conflict to me.

The trip along the north shore was short, and before I knew it, I was ready to turn left, pass over the Lion’s Gate Bridge at the western edge of the harbour, and head south and then east over downtown Vancouver. I notified ATC, and the harbourmaster acknowledged, with a request to report in again when I got back to the eastern edge, at Second Narrows.

I thought about the controller’s job. He has this magnificent view every day, from his location atop one of the tallest buildings in the business district of downtown. He is virtually "in command" of the airspace over the harbour, with a complete view of all of it, encompassing some 20 aerodromes. I toyed with the idea of handing in my resumé...

I called ATC about halfway along the south shore, when I felt I was close enough to recognize the names crowning the tallest group of buildings. I asked which building housed the control tower facilities, and he pointed it out to me. I waved to him, knowing that he probably couldn’t see it anyways. I imagined him waving back.

We didn’t talk again until I called up over the Second Narrows bridge, swinging left through the north towards the west again, for my second pass over the north shore. The harbour tour was grand, but I was already looking way up at the mountains.

I graciously thanked my host as I left his zone to the west, this time ready to turn right into Howe Sound, to begin my climb to 7,500 feet. It took two full circles to climb to that height from 2,000 feet. At the 5,000 foot mark, I could begin to see over the tops of most of the mountains, off into the far east, back towards my home base of Toronto.

Some of the mountains were snow-capped, and some were bare. Many were connected by high ridges, making the "no-go-between" decision easy. At my intended altitude of 7500’, I was well over 500 feet above the tallest peak within sight, and as much as 7,500’ above the valleys.

Occasionally, when I passed over a small groups of mountains, I could see a small high-altitude lake snuggled within the mountain group. One such lake acted as a landing strip for a floatplane, and I realized my freshly-minted private pilot license represented only the beginning what could be a long and enjoyable love affair with flight. At that moment, I wanted to be that pilot!

Using the Vancouver VTA (AIR 1901) as my primary navigation tool, I went right to the top (north) edge of the map, and double-checked that every tributary flowing south to join the main river corresponded with the shapes on the map. I also double-checked every mountain peak as marked. But I also spent some time just gazing out over the peaks. The ones in the distance looked like eggs in an egg-carton, and the ones directly below seemed sharp and steep. (I thought back to my days of high-school geography when we used "stereo-focals" to look at side-by-side aerial photographs through side-by-side lenses. At the time, I mentally decided that the mountains couldn’t possibly be that steep... but they are!)

At the eastern edge of the map, I turned south, using Harrison Lake as my wide "driveway" to being me back to the Fraser River lowlands. This southerly route was chosen because it provided the widest tributary (for safety reasons), and the most scenic area (for personal enjoyment reasons). I descended down to 4500’ while heading south, and turned west at the intersection of Harrison Lake and the Fraser River, aiming west, into the sunset. The prison at the elbow of Lake Harrison provided the confirmation of my exact location.

Aiming west at an altitude of 4500’, I paralleled the tall mountains forming a wall to my right. The flatlands invited me to the west, pointing straight ahead, on an unerring path towards the Pacific Ocean, and the setting sun. I hummed "Follow the Yellow Brick Road..."

I stayed clear of the easily recognizable Chilliwack airport, home to many glider pilots, and "the best pies west of the rockies". There were many gliders playing in the foothills of the mountains, but all well below my height. No conflict. I waved to them too.

Abbotsford Airport was hosting the Abbotsford airshow, so I stayed clear. There was a special airspace restriction imposed for the weekend, which the examiner had made sure to point out to me, so I gave it the wide berth it deserved. As I continued my journey, ears locked on 126.7, I could hear pilot after pilot requesting that their flights plans be opened ("... returning to Penticton", "...returning to Prince George", etc), and each one got the same response: "All flight plans that were paper-filed will be opened automatically. Please keep this channel clear for last-minute filers." It was as crowded as a parking lot after a ball game.

As I approached Langley Airport, I saw the Goodyear Blimp preparing to land. It floated like a big, unwieldy whale, almost unable to remain buoyant... yet somehow managing to get close enough to the docking tower for people to grab its ropes and tie it down. I wondered if that pilot was enjoying his flight as much as I was enjoying mine. I didn’t wave... he was too busy landing.

I turned south-west before encroaching on the Pitt Meadows control zone, using the Vancouver VOR as my navigational tool to bring me back to Boundary Bay. There was at least an hour of sunshine left, and more than that in fuel in my long-range tanks, but I decided that after three hours of flying, and all the wonderful sights, it was time to put my aircraft down.

I tuned to the ATIS frequency, and scribbled down the station report, then switched to the tower frequency to listen to the airport traffic. As shown by the examiner, I called in at the train trestle.

Find the runway.
Join the circuit.
Prelanding check.
Radio call turning base.
Flaps. Altitude. Speed. Radio Acknowledge. Flare. Touchdown.

The flight was over. I taxied in slowly, trying to eke out a few last minutes before shutdown. All the while savouring the 3.3 hours that I had just spent in the air over British Columbia. Wow...