Some of the things that used to happen when Unst was used by the oil industry.
In the early eighties the S76 fleet in Aberdeen wasn’t exactly rushed off it feet.We were still at the single pilot stage and we spent a lot of time on standbye at home.As they always seemed to be a spare S76 and crew around we would be called in to rescue somebody or something either stuck, or required to be, offshore.In this context we were known a the FART team(Fast Aircraft Rescue Team).S61 engines to Unst, bits for Tigers pushed over to one side of the helideck so we could squeeze in with spares was second nature and so it was without surprise that I was telephoned at home and asked to come in and take an oil tool offshore.When I arrived I was informed that there was a delay because they were still making it. Some Conoco platform in the Shetland basin was the destination and the weather up there was fine and likely to stay. Aberdeen and the Moray coast was not so good, forecast to deteriorate as the day went on.I started to become obvious that a night stop somewhere was looming so I asked Ops to consider it.The bit arrived in the freight shed and there was an immediate call for me to look at it. I stood, with several others, some ten feet away from it as it was still glowing from the foundry; something to do with tempering.I declined to take it in its present state for the obvious reasons of the heat in the cabin and I was also worried what would happen if I had to ditch because I was unsure whether my dinghy would float on boiling water.We therefore delayed the flight until it had cooled somewhat. It was now going to be a night stop at Unst so Ops said they would do the necessary like keeping the airfield open and hotel etc. I used to keep an overnight kit in my locker so when it had cooled to my satisfaction, ie, you could hold your hand on it, I launched into the void.
Just about everybody else had packed up so Highland passed me over to Scottish and apart from the fifteen minute HF calls to Aberdeen that was it.I gave them an Unst time allowing thirty minutes to unload my drilling bit and they passed it on to Ops.The Volmet was describing the continuous degradation of Aberdeen’s weather so I knew I wasn’t going back there even if I wanted to.The Shetland basin came up and the weather was perfect and without further ado I landed on the platform and shut down.
The bit was very heavy and not having a fork lift handy the entire drilling crew was heaving and grunting. However, they got it out with breaking the aeroplane and whilst we were surveying it the Super asked me why I was in such a hurry bringing it out because they couldn’t use it until it had cooled for forty-eight hours.SNAFU, I though as I refuelled the aeroplane and got airborne.
I cleared with Brent Traffic was back on with Scottish. It was a beautiful evening and one could sea the North Atlantic Rush Hour winging there way to the Arctic.Scottish was surprised at my destination as they thought that Sumburgh and Unst were both closed but I assured them that it was staying open and they were happy.
At forty miles to run I gave Unst a call…………………nothing.I tried the company frequency at Unst because that would be manned because they were expecting me……………………nothing. I tried Aberdeen on the HF………………………..nothing.
I assessed my options. I was OK for fuel but Moray had socked in so Kinloss was out. Bergen just on the edge of range but with unknown weather.Go back offshore?Not without a land diversion and that was were I was going.I told Scottish I would continue to Unst and sort it out there.
The North Shetlands came in sight. With the half moon you could almost see the colours.I could see the airfield with the runway showing up well and the apron illuminated by the lights and open doors of the Bristow hangar.There was no reason not to just line up and land and so I set myself up on finals.
The radio burst into life. “Aircraft on finals for Unst, request callsign?”It was Air Traffic. I gave him my details as the whole airfield lit up.I landed, taxied to the Bristow ramp and shut it down.There was nobody around so I picked up a chock from the edge of the pan and secured the wheels.I wandered into the hangar and there in the corner was the office with the night shift drinking tea and scoffing wads.
You would have thought a ghost had walked in.
There was a clatter of dropped cups and a thumping of jaws hitting the floor. I was asked what I was doing there, or words to that effect, and I filled them with the details.Just then Mr ATC walked in.He had heard me whilst watching his TV at their bungalow just across the road and realising what was happening had rushed over to the tower.The engineers, unfamiliar with the general shrieking and screaming of a 76 had assumed it was a late Brymon Dash 7. A few minutes on the tellingbone and luckily the Baltasound Hotel had a room. We then had to push the aircraft in, no towbar, with my telling them not to touch it as I would do the pre-flight.
The next morning I took it back to Aberdeen and went to Ops to have a rant.Then the story unfolded.
The, now defunct, controller had an alcohol problem. There had been suspicions but because of this cockup they had gone in with the knife.The checked his locker and in was liberally stocked with whisky.It was apparent that he was in such a state that he had forgotten all about my planned diversion which is why I had been left on a limb.
He was given a job in Traffic checking in people but in a short time he disappeared completely.
Sorry about the odd sized printing but it copies like that.