John Tryfiak's other adventure
An aerial search of northern widlife
By JOHN TRYFIAK
It's Tuesday, Feb. 2, 7:30 a.m. I'm sitting next to an exit door, peering through a thick plexiglass window, watching sticky orange fluid being sprayed onto the left wing of a plane. We're de-iced, wheels up at 7:40 out of Hamilton, and Edmonton bound on a Westjet Boeing 737.
My boss Terry Calvert, owner of Meadow Air Ltd., was as punctual as my flight. We packed my gear into the truck and four hours later we were at Meadow Lake, Sask. Don't ask me why, but apparently it's cheaper to fly to Alberta and back to Saskatchewan than it is to land in Saskatoon.
Over dinner we discussed the complexities of low level moose survey flying. It's actually a very interesting job. It's all about safety and weather. We need a clear and unobstructed view of the ground at all times, and we don't fly at -30C, or -43C with the windchill. We got as close as -28C. I had goose pimples on places I never even knew I had.
The next morning we packed our planes, a pair of Cessna 337s, with our personal gear and our mechanic Cliff, plus a truck load of spare parts, tires, tarps, cords and heaters. We left Meadow Lake in the early afternoon for the two-hour flight and headed for Hudson Bay, a small town in southeastern Saskatchewan.
Brad, the co-ordinator of the operation, welcomed us at the ministry office at the airport. We got an indoctrination as to what we would be doing, what was expected, and where we were staying, etc. I also needed to take him on a shakedown flight and demonstrate my piloting skills. After a filling dinner at the Treeline Motel, I had to go back to the office for more training, a slide presentation, a short exam, and then to make sure the planes were still tarped, heated and put to bed for the night.
Thursday morning was clear, cold and crisp. The breakfast special was worth the money. The poor Ford pickup moaned and groaned while it rolled over and whined to a start. We have a daily 8:30 a.m. safety briefing and discussion of our routing and any new events ideas and/or concerns. Brad had already preprogrammed our portable GPS guidance systems with our routes and grid patterns for our flights. These ministry people are a very knowledgeable and professional group. Terry and I did our usual preflight inspection after removing the tarps and heaters, making sure the flying offices were ready to go.
I met my crew. We were all dressed for the environment and waddled out to the plane looking like four Michelin Men. I gave them my safety briefing and informed them that if they had any comments, suggestions or concerns, to please write them down on a $20 bill and forward them to me. My engines roared to life and we were eager to hit the clear blue skies in search of wildlife. My front passenger is the navigator and data input guy, while the two in the back spot and count moose, while I fly a straight, point to point line. Although moose are our primary targets, tabs are also kept on the elk that are seen.
We usually fly a three hour patrol in the morning and a second one after lunch. Three hours in cramped quarters with no flight attendants, no inflight movie, and no toilet is a really long time. And so it went for the next six days, getting hundreds of kilometers of grid patterns covered, counted and categorized into low, medium, or high animal density blocks, losing only one day to inclement weather.
This was an entertaining and educating experience, and one I would do again in a moment's notice. Not only did I learn about animal habits and habitat, but also the negative impact that man and machine can do to the environment. It's amazing to see the damage a bunch of careless four-wheelers can cause.
I'm almost sure I have a second tour in March in northwestern Saskatchewan. The only adverse aspect I ran into was at the Edmonton airport where they x-rayed my knapsack, and found a small radio tool that I always carry in my flight bag, which they confiscated. I told them they let me take it on the plane in Hamilton, and maybe they should get their collective policies together so things were the same at all airports. The discourteous blonde replied, "maybe we're just doing our job here." "Nah," I said, "they do a better job in Hamilton. They can actually tell the difference between a weapon and a tiny metal hex key set."
