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There was a time when I was at the top of my game.
From my cheery office at the Chilliwack airport I rode herd over a couple of King Airs , two hard working Navajos , two Cessna C177s that served as ab-initio trainers , rental aircraft and light duty charter aircraft. Our Cessna Caravan on amphibious floats was based up the coast and was the final link into the floating logging camps that we serviced.
Some camps like Kimsquit and Taleomy River had short , challenging gravel strips , into which we flew both King Airs and Navajos. Kimsquit was 2000 feet long acording to the Flight Supplement but it at least had an uphill slope to arrest a charging , fully loaded King Air.
We had high flotation landing gear on the King Airs and this was invaluable on these rough strips.
The technique was that as soon as the wheels touched , full reverse was actioned slowly to affirm directional control then eased out so that at 60 knots flight idle was selected and the props pulled into feather on the run , still going slightly uphill to come to rest at the top of the hump with hardly a touch of the brakes and props slapping around harmlessly. This way we could coast downhill slowly on startup and turn back 180 degrees for take off.
Yep! Crew change day. Logging equipment operators , fallers , drivers , scalers , road builders , cooks , tools , spare parts , chain saws , personal gear, food and so on.....
They'd all spill out of the airplane and amble along the stony road up to the mess where top quality food was scoffed , a sort of bonus to the job.
Sometimes , hard , brutal flying at only hundreds of feet , in the rain was required. Low level in the grey crap , hugging the steep shoreline of the fjords and inlets , flanked by steep , unseen , menacing mountains. They threw down boiling , turbulent winds that scatterd on the rough inlet waters. And wet snow , freezing rain to be thrown into the cauldron.
On other days , direct flights in the clear blue at sixteen thousand descending down over ice fields and glaciers and streaking over mini paradises of azure lakes and down amongst the not so menacing mountains that now shed their obscurity. This was one of those days.
Lunch in the mess on crew change day was always a boisterous affair as incoming crew told tales of their days at home and the weary outgoing crew became bouyed with enthusiam for their coming days off.
Aviators were generally very popular as they made this event happen. Well , most of the time anyhow. Weather delays were commonplace and many a day was spent pacing the Flight Service station with other skunked pilots ... Terry Shields of Kwatna Timber , Paul from Nechance Logging , Pierre from PASCO and Bella Coola pilots from Wilderness.. they were a very capable bunch... we have a common enemy .... summer fog or vicious inlet winds that often blew the wind measureing equipment over.
But not today. The outgoing crew eagerly await us at the airplane , ever so willing to help load so they got home one minute sooner. Now it's time to pay attention.
Headset on ... to muffle the excitied chattering in the cabin. A couple of deep breaths , just to go into aviation mode. Engines start. Take off checks comple even though we are facing away from our intended runway.
We rest on the hump. Brakes release as the prop levers are moved out of feather to full fine and as the props grab enough air she slowly moves off the hump , slightly downhill now. When ahead of the gravel and rocks the right engine is brought up towards full power , turning the aircraft in as wide an arc as possible , careful to keep it moving , always ahead of the rocks.... now the inner engine is brought up , gathering the right power lever in the process and full power is applied just as the airplane is aligned with the take off run and we accelerate slowly up hill , over the hump and hurtle down the strip towards the inlet with the wing tips only feet away from the willows. Willows from which a bear or a deer could , and often did, amble.
Time to assess all possible emergencies is denied me.
The book does not quite address the required take off speed for these conditions. Lets see ......
I estimate that I am at gross weight ... but then again , those hockey bags look bigger that 60 lbs ... some even smell of huge salmon. Gravel and rocks ... full power is not obtained here until hundreds of yards down the runway... uphill for a ways then downhill ... the wind appears to be blowing above the trees but gusty below..
I feel the familiar tug of the sandy patch on the right main but we are through now ....
She knows when to fly ... I have unlocked that secret through experiment that is now called experience.
She obeys me , like the loyal Beech that she is.
So I reward her by tucking her wheels away as we leave the Kimsquit strip astern with room to spare.
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For me , VNE is not a limitation , it's a goal