Fate is the Hunter
Lucky to escape the Hunter at Narsarsuaq when I was bold and not so old!
This thread triggered the memory cells and some may find the following extract from memoirs of interest.. Never did see the wreck but then I didn't know it was there.
The extract is part of a ferry flight from Edmonton to Brough UK. The Beverley had completed cold trials at Cold Lake 1956.
The base at Goose Bay is on the southern shore of a large bay which was still partially frozen over. High snow drifts, formed by snow ploughs and blowers, extended down each side of the runways. These were slowly melting. Goose Bay is in the middle of nowhere and only accessible in the winter by air. A USAF squadron of Scorpion fighters based here formed part of the Dewline northern air defences of North America.
Our next stop was to be a World War 2 staging airfield called Bluey West One situated on the southern end of Greenland near the small town of Narsarsuak. This airfield could normally only be reached by flying about 35 miles up a fiord which had, at its entrance, a small island on which there was a radio beacon. There was a fork in the fiord about 10 miles in and it was mandatory that one take the right hand fork. To do otherwise and go to the left was most often disastrous as this arm of the fiord came to an abrupt narrow end where an aircraft was unable to turn back. Terrain in the area went up to about 10,000 feet forming huge forbidding cliffs.
All crews departing Goose Bay for Bluey West One had to be briefed on the hazards of the area and certified as having seen a movie of the correct fiord penetration.
The spare rudder booster unit arrived on a civil airline flight and was soon fitted. We were then ready to go. But the weather had other ideas. For several days the weather was too bad to launch. Eventually, I could see about a 60 per cent chance of making it into Bluey West so decided to give it a go. Topped up with fuel, I had about 15 hours endurance, enough to get to destination and return to Goose Bay with some reserve.
We were in or over cloud most of the way until reaching the radio beacon on the island off the southern tip of Greenland. I did a DF let down on the beacon and broke through a cloud base of about 4,000 ft. A vast variety of ice bergs and broken ice flows testified to the still cold conditions outside. I soon found the fiord entrance which was about 10 miles across, rapidly narrowing down to a gloomy looking tunnel. Vertical cliffs on each side disappeared up into the cloud. Huge ice bergs abounded and were of amazing colours at the violet end of the spectrum.
After flying up the tunnel for about 20 miles, I became wary lest we be trapped by the occasional snow showers which we encountered. Soon we encountered one of these snow showers completely blocking off the tunnel. I had no option but to turn around and hope that another snow shower had not developed behind us. But none had. I had the Navigator advise me on how much time we could spend in the area before going back to Goose Bay. This worked out to be about one hour.
I decided to climb up through the cloud and if I could top the cloud, home in on the beacon at Bluey West. We climbed into the clear at about 11,000 feet and soon had over the top indications. Very close to overhead, we flew over a hole, through which we could see the fiord and part of the airfield. The hole was about 1/2 mile across and opened out lower down like an inverted cone.
After transiting the hole a few times to get a feel for changing conditions, I could see that a snow storm was over most of the airfield but the approach end of the runway projected about 3,000 ft out of the snow. If I was quick, I knew I could put the Beverley on the visible portion of the runway which ran on up close to a cliff face. There was no going around again on this airfield. Nor was there to be any escape from the hole once I had penetrated into it by more than about 2,000 feet without the high risk of hitting some of the peaks buried in the cloud. It was the daddy of all sucker holes.
I knew I could do it but I had 27 passengers and crew to think about. I ventured a little into the hole, above safety height, for a better look before climbing back out again. The air traffic controllers in the tower couldn't assist as there was nil visibility from the tower through heavy snow.
It was just all too inviting and I announced my intention to land off a rapid descent. I reduced power to idle, reduced speed and dropped full flap. I selected full engine RPM, to get maximum braking from the huge props, and soon had a high rate of descent established. Runway length visible to me was now down to about 2,000 ft and slowly diminishing.
All went well until we reached about 4,000 ft. The aircraft had been cold soaked at the higher altitudes and was now penetrating very moist air. White circles of ice started to grow from the centres of the front windows where the glass must have been coldest. Judging the rate of growth of the ice patches, I could see that, by the time of intended touchdown, I may not be able to see at all. I called for windscreen de-icing. The engineer leaned past my right shoulder to reach and turn on the main switch for the alcohol spray de-icer pump. I waited expectantly for the spray to commence as I lined up on what was left of the runway. Now at about 1,500 ft I was looking through about one inch of glass near the lower frame, with my head bending low over the control column.
The engineer advised having checked the de-icer system circuit breaker and that it did not appear to be serviceable. I yelled for him to grab the fire axe and be prepared to knock out my front window on command. Someone produced a pair of goggles and tried to fit them around my forehead. I was intent on judging our one-shot only approach, peering through my slit of glass now less than 1/2 inch deep.
Speed and approach angle was working out well and as I rounded out over what appeared to be a couple of tennis court lengths of visible runway the glass became completely white. I could feel some ground effect as I called, "Brace yourselves." It was an anti-climax. The touch down was a greaser, only indicated by the slight rumbling of the wheels as we rolled up into the snow covered parts of the runway. I kept straight on instruments and used maximum braking and reverse thrust until airspeed was no longer indicating. Soon after I felt the discontinuity of deceleration as we stopped. No one could see out of the aircraft, until a door was opened to reveal we were still on the runway. Heavy snow continued falling.
The controller in the tower had sounded the crash alarm, fully expecting us to have come to grief and was almost as relieved as were we to be in one piece. I left the aircraft heaters running and closed down the engines. It took about 20 minutes for airfield vehicles to find us in the snow. Soon after the snow shower had subsided enough for me to start a couple of engines and taxy clear of the runway and on to a dispersal.
By now, we had determined why the windscreen de-icer had not worked. I asked the engineer what setting he had selected on the rheostat for the pump motor. He said "What rheostat ?" I said "That one" pointing to a rheostat on the side of the console behind me. It was set to Minimum/off. I had incorrectly assumed that he knew about the rheostat. Sometimes little things like that become incredibly important.
The weather clamped again and the 'tunnel' down the fiord closed off. A couple of amphibians were based here and their task was to recce the fiord whenever the weather was marginal. It was the next day before a recce showed conditions had improved. We were comfortable in the well equipped quarters and Officers' Club. I walked around the base a bit but couldn't go far because of the snow. It never became darker that twilight at this lattitude and time of the year. I decided to launch for Keflavik in Iceland at about 1800 hrs. We took off at about 2100 hrs local time. The flight down the fiord tunnel was absolutely fascinating in the half light.
I had to do a GCA approach at Keflavik at about 0400 hrs. There was a small gale blowing with teaming rain mixed with sleet. We all had a good breakfast while the aircraft was being refuelled. I did not see much of Iceland, except for the airfield in the dark.
Next stop was Prestwick for further refuelling, Customs and another meal. We were getting a bit weary by now but by popular choice decided to press on to the end of the trip. This was to be Blackburn's little narrow strip at their factory near the town of Brough.
I had refrained from using propellor braking during landings after Bluey West One so at Brough on a relatively short runway I selected full-power reverse on all four engines. Taxiing, I soon found, by a rapidly rising engine oil temperature, that No 2 prop had stuck in reverse. I had to stop to close down that engine, before oil temperatures went too high. Another propellor brush housing had failed. Never a dull moment in a Beverley! We were a weary lot who disembarked from Beverley No 262. From Edmonton, Canada to Brough in England involved nearly 28 flying hours.