So it came to pass that I managed to managed to blunder across the country in two different twin Otters last week without klacking into anything, burning out any expensive engines or getting TOO lost. After ducking under the Houston class B airspace I followed the magenta line on my GPS to what was supposed to be Skydive Spaceland and got my first look at their runway. It was a narrow, short strip of concrete with powerlines right off the approach end effectivly making it even shorter, did I mention it was narrow? I set up a steep approach to avoid hitting the power lines, and spoiling my perfect record, plonked the big bird down, cranked the propellers into reverse and wrestled with the tiller bar to try and stay on the six inches of spare runway on either side of the mains.
When I parked the plane and fell jumped out I was greeted by my old friend Rabbit who had flown for me a few years back and had checked me out in the Otter. After usual male pilot greetings Rabbit asked me what I wanted to do after my long trip, make a skydive? Have some lunch? Drink beer? As appealing as those options were I told him that after two days of non-stop flying I would like nothing more than to do some more flying and would you be so kind as to teach me how to drive your Cessna Grand Caravan. The beer drinking option sounded best but CB Aviation, the ferry company I fly for, asked me to get checked out in the Caravan if I could because they had a few that needed moved this winter.
We climbed into the cockpit and Rabbit spent a few minutes teaching me how to start the 900 hp beast and the few unusual emergency procedures that were particular to the Caravan. For a ferry pilot this was a luxury, usually when I show up to ferry a plane I’ve never flown before I’d have to learn how to fly it my self because the old owner had his money and didn’t want to risk damaging the plane and the new owner was on the other side of the planet. After a whole ten minutes of ground school we picked up a load of skydivers, taxied to the end of the runway and took off. I was impressed with the climb rate of the Super Caravan but it was the 4000 foot per minute descent rate that really got my attention. I flew a few a more loads for good mesure, safety first you know, then went back to Rabbit’s den to talk smart and finally drink those beers. Now I know how to fly a Caravan, yay for me.
