Read Online Into the Abyss by Carol Shaben - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carol Shaben
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pats of butter upon the earth. The flying had been surreal, the air so crisp and clear that Erik half expected to look back to see clean sharp lines where the wings of his plane had sliced through it.
The pace was punishing, but at twenty-four, Erik figured he could handle it. He was banking flying hours like bonus points in a pinball game. But the job took a toll and by mid-October Erik was down to 180 pounds from the 205 he’d weighed when he’d signed on. He often ate poorly and hadn’t had more than a few decent nights’ sleep in weeks. He missed his family and friends back on the coast, and Lee-Ann, to whom he’d become engaged after returning from the Arctic.
Erik quickly learned why the bush pilot who’d radioed had warned him. Wapiti was a busy airline and the pressure on pilots to maintain their passenger schedules, regardless of the weather, was high. He had recently overheard a fellow Wapiti pilot, Mark Poppleton, on the radio during a flight in poor weather.
“I can’t get through,” Poppleton had said, fear in his voice as he circled the airport. He didn’t want to return to Grande Prairie, he later told Erik, because he worried thatDale Wells would get in the airplane and make him do the flight again. Wapiti’s chief pilot was known to take planes back up after a pilot had aborted a flight, bringing the terrified pilot along to show him how it was done. If a pilot declined to take a flight a second time, he might just find himself grounded and working in the hangar. Two weeks later he could be gone.Fourteen pilots had quit or been fired from the airline in the previous six months.
Transport Canada had frequently cited Wapiti for safety violations, including landing when the weather was below allowable limits, flying with one pilot when conditions required two, and unsatisfactory aircraft maintenance. In recent weeks, the government had groundedeight of the company’s planes because it hadfailed to conduct the mandatory airworthiness inspections.
“It didn’t strike me as a place I wanted to stay a long time,” Erik would later say of his time at Wapiti Aviation. The ace up his sleeve was that he didn’t think he’d have to. Erik had an inside line on a better flying job with a Calgary-based cargo carrier. He needed only thirty-five more hours on a multi-engine plane and the job was as good as his. The way Erik figured, he would say goodbye to Wapiti by the end of the month. All he had to do was keep from getting fired.
Unfortunately, yesterday’s fiasco hadn’t helped. Tuesday, October 16 had been the last in a six-day flying stint on the morning schedule and Erik had been looking forward to a day off. As usual, he was at the Wapiti hangar at 4:45 a.m., which gave him just enough time to prep for his 6:00 a.m. departure. It was a milk run—outbound, a yo-yo of takeoffs and landings arcing north then east from Grande Prairie to the towns of Fairview, Peace River and High Prairie, and then south to Edmonton. Inbound, a direct flight back to Grande Prairie, arriving by mid-morning. Then Erik spent several hours helping out around the hangar. Watching the weather move in, he was grateful that he wasn’t scheduled to fly the following day, and in the early afternoon he went home to bed. He’d slept less than an hour when his pager went off—a series of shrill beeps cutting through his fog of exhaustion. It was Dale Wells.
“I need you back here now,” Dale told Erik. “We’ve got a medivac to Edmonton.”
Erik dragged himself out of bed and back to the airport. In the short time he’d been asleep, winter had arrived with shocking suddenness, blue sky wiped away by a rag of grey. Snow had also started to fall, swirling like tiny dervishes along the road to the airport.
Erik was on the phone getting a weather briefing when Delbert Wells entered the hangar. Dale’s father was a compact, wiry man inhis early seventies with a bowlegged gait; a farmer his entire life who, as far as Erik
The pace was punishing, but at twenty-four, Erik figured he could handle it. He was banking flying hours like bonus points in a pinball game. But the job took a toll and by mid-October Erik was down to 180 pounds from the 205 he’d weighed when he’d signed on. He often ate poorly and hadn’t had more than a few decent nights’ sleep in weeks. He missed his family and friends back on the coast, and Lee-Ann, to whom he’d become engaged after returning from the Arctic.
Erik quickly learned why the bush pilot who’d radioed had warned him. Wapiti was a busy airline and the pressure on pilots to maintain their passenger schedules, regardless of the weather, was high. He had recently overheard a fellow Wapiti pilot, Mark Poppleton, on the radio during a flight in poor weather.
“I can’t get through,” Poppleton had said, fear in his voice as he circled the airport. He didn’t want to return to Grande Prairie, he later told Erik, because he worried thatDale Wells would get in the airplane and make him do the flight again. Wapiti’s chief pilot was known to take planes back up after a pilot had aborted a flight, bringing the terrified pilot along to show him how it was done. If a pilot declined to take a flight a second time, he might just find himself grounded and working in the hangar. Two weeks later he could be gone.Fourteen pilots had quit or been fired from the airline in the previous six months.
Transport Canada had frequently cited Wapiti for safety violations, including landing when the weather was below allowable limits, flying with one pilot when conditions required two, and unsatisfactory aircraft maintenance. In recent weeks, the government had groundedeight of the company’s planes because it hadfailed to conduct the mandatory airworthiness inspections.
“It didn’t strike me as a place I wanted to stay a long time,” Erik would later say of his time at Wapiti Aviation. The ace up his sleeve was that he didn’t think he’d have to. Erik had an inside line on a better flying job with a Calgary-based cargo carrier. He needed only thirty-five more hours on a multi-engine plane and the job was as good as his. The way Erik figured, he would say goodbye to Wapiti by the end of the month. All he had to do was keep from getting fired.
Unfortunately, yesterday’s fiasco hadn’t helped. Tuesday, October 16 had been the last in a six-day flying stint on the morning schedule and Erik had been looking forward to a day off. As usual, he was at the Wapiti hangar at 4:45 a.m., which gave him just enough time to prep for his 6:00 a.m. departure. It was a milk run—outbound, a yo-yo of takeoffs and landings arcing north then east from Grande Prairie to the towns of Fairview, Peace River and High Prairie, and then south to Edmonton. Inbound, a direct flight back to Grande Prairie, arriving by mid-morning. Then Erik spent several hours helping out around the hangar. Watching the weather move in, he was grateful that he wasn’t scheduled to fly the following day, and in the early afternoon he went home to bed. He’d slept less than an hour when his pager went off—a series of shrill beeps cutting through his fog of exhaustion. It was Dale Wells.
“I need you back here now,” Dale told Erik. “We’ve got a medivac to Edmonton.”
Erik dragged himself out of bed and back to the airport. In the short time he’d been asleep, winter had arrived with shocking suddenness, blue sky wiped away by a rag of grey. Snow had also started to fall, swirling like tiny dervishes along the road to the airport.
Erik was on the phone getting a weather briefing when Delbert Wells entered the hangar. Dale’s father was a compact, wiry man inhis early seventies with a bowlegged gait; a farmer his entire life who, as far as Erik
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