(July 2006)

After years of waiting, I finally got flight in a Beech 18.
(K. McTavish)

This story starts at Cayley, AB during last year's fly-in breakfast. After several years of trying, we were finally able to organize a short flight with Mark Eberl and the Sunwest Expeditor. Actually the Expeditor had formerly been owned by Sunwest Aviation, but it was sold earlier that year. Its still an amazing machine, and as close to a flying time capsule as you'll find.

Start up seemed to be a flurry of activity with Mark's hands flipping switches and adjusting levers all over the cockpit; proving that in the 1940s ergonomics wasn't even a concept, let alone a word. Between all the window frames and the low windscreen height I found the visibility quite restricted. I could rest my elbow on the lower window sill and the top was near my chin. I made a mental note about ducking and twisting my head to watch for traffic.

This Expeditor is as close to original as you can get.
(T. McTavish)

For a short 15 minutes my brothers and I toured the Cayley/Nanton area with me at the controls although I didn't handle the takeoff or landing (I have a rule about bending planes). Now I've flown a couple tail-draggers, but I wasn't prepared for just how nose down you feel when rotating onto the main gear. Maybe the small windows helped with the optical illusion, but there was certainly more runway than sky in front of me.

Once airborne and cleaned up Mark handed control over to me and I proceeded to fly a gentle pattern of shallow turns, which I eventually increased to roughly 40 degrees of bank. Control forces were heavier than I was expecting, especially in the ailerons. During the turns I found myself making almost constant use of the eyebrow window beside my right temple. It was the only place to see the horizon without craning my neck.

Approach for landing was a breeze, probably because of the Beech's docile nature and the fact there was almost no wind. With gear and flaps extended and the plane lined up on final I handed the controls back to Mark who completed a gentle wheel landing.

Chimo Airways' Beech 18 was still hard at work in Ontario.
(T. McTavish)

Now one week later and I was in Red Lake, ON with my father for the Norseman Festival. Arriving a day early had some advantages, notably the absence of other aviation enthusiasts. Wanting me to experience as much of his bush flying days as we could my father and I walked into Chimo Air Service's office and chartered their Beech 18. Walking into the pilot's lounge, we found a slight man standing about 5' 5" and weighing maybe 150 pounds. Hardly the grizzled old Beech driver I'd been led to believe we'd meet.

On the dock my father started pointing out the differences this Beech had when compared to the one he'd flown back in 1969. A larger two-piece windscreen had replaced the Beech's trademark heavily framed units and there were three-blade propellers instead of two but overall the planes were the same.

Dad last flew a Beech 18 in Northern Saskatchewan in 1969.
(T. McTavish)

Climbing aboard I made sure not to slip because in bush country there's no sympathy towards wet tourists. Seated in the right seat I noticed two things; those big windows definitely make a huge improvement in the visibility, and the cockpit was far more user friendly than the Expeditor's. The pilot explained this was because his machine was a D18S, a civil model that Beech spent time improving.

Even with its big floats the Beech got off the water with little effort and sped up to about 145 mph. It showed all the same flying characteristics of its military brother. Flying the Beech seemed almost second nature for me as the numbers we very similar to our Twin Navion. So were the procedures. I guess that shouldn't have come as a surprise seeing as dad wrote our checklists based on the Beech. I suppose I just took that for granted, or conveniently forgot.

As I made adjustments to the power I was careful to keep from over boosting, or over revving the engines, especially because I had Chimo's training pilot beside me. The first change to the power settings came as a real shock. Thinking I was being gentle with my first change, the manifold pressure took a nosedive. Holy crap what went wrong? The pilot calmly informed me that the controls only need a light touch. Apparently a 1/4" wasn't light enough and I ended up handling the throttles and props with imperceptible movements between two finger tips.

A couple landings and takeoffs later I stopped the process, thanked the pilot and hopped into the cabin. Despite arguing that I should spend the whole time up front I had dad climb into the seat and relive his bush days if only for a couple minutes.

Flying the Beech proved to be a pretty easy leap from the Twin Navion.
(K. McTavish)

Despite a 37 year hiatus he took the controls and flew a pair of circuits. They must have impressed Chimo's pilot because he offered dad a job on the spot. Without a decent intercom hookup in the cabin I resorted to the ear defenders hanging from hooks in the ceiling. Make no doubts about it, this was a working machine. There was no insulation, the floorboards were beaten and worn, the metal sidewall dented and scraped and there was a half load of freight beside me. But I couldn't have cared less. I was experiencing bush flying.

Back at it, within a couple circuits dad had a job offer!
(T. McTavish)

After two days in the heart of Canada's bush country and flights in the Beech 18 and Norseman I left Red Lake with an understanding of why my dad always smiles when recounting his days of flying in the bush.

Incidentally you might be wondering why I called it a double-breasted Norseman. Apparently it all comes from the cost of chartering bush planes. The Cessna 180 was the cheapest, followed by the Beaver. The Norseman could haul a ton, the same as the Beech, but since it had two engines it earned the double-breasted nickname. The Otter incidentally was the most expensive, but it hauled the most too.

There's just something about how a Beech 18 looks, and putting it on floats only made it better. (T. McTavish)