Air Cortez,Denver,F-27,Rolls-Royce,winter airline operations
Turboprops, Round Six: Air Cortez, Scene 2
By Ellis M. Chernoff
January 1985 began with a recall from Air Cortez. The FAA had revalidated their operating certificate upon approval of their tie-down nets, weight and balance program, and other details. I was told to report to Denver Stapelton Airport, where one of the F-27s was in position. Weeknight runs with cargo from UPS operated Denver, Casper, Billings, Great Falls, and return through the same airports. This was a dusk-to-dawn operation in the dead of winter.
If there was snow at any of the airfields, it would surely be at Casper, Wyoming. However, the stopover was brief, and if it was snowing, it was dry powder. No deicing equipment was available, so we had to expect the snow to blow off the surfaces. Air Cortez expected the pilots to “help” offload and load cargo at the stations other than Denver. I was not too keen on this heavy exertion while also being fit to fly a tight schedule.
The basic Fairchild F-27, as I have previously mentioned, used pneumatic pressure to operate the landing gear, brakes, and nose wheel steering. In modern planes, pneumatic air is taken from the engines themselves. But in the ancient systems of this aircraft, a four-cylinder mechanical air compressor was mounted as an accessory to each of the Rolls-Royce Darts. These compressors were like shop air compressors, and they charged up a series of three compressed air bottles. One for the landing gear operation, one for the normal brakes, and one for the emergency system.
Again, in modern aircraft, conditioned air to pressurize the cabin comes from the aircraft engines. But in the F-27, there were dedicated “Roots” blowers. These were the type of accessory found in older piston airliners. These blowers were also mechanical devices run by the Dart’s accessory section. Pressurization is designed for a maximum of 4.16 PSID, or an 8000-foot cabin at FL250. But the blowers were so worn out that barely half of that pressurization was available. In addition, the “choke valve” that was designed to
enhance cabin heating in the original production had been removed by prior operators who had this aircraft in the tropics. The cockpit was darned cold, and the main source of real heat came from the lights and electronics in the cockpit itself. The modest amount of pressurization barely kept the cockpit at freezing.
During the month that I was in Denver, I had three different ships, and none was in very good condition. Logbook write-ups of mechanical issues often caused a flight to be cancelled. Following the FAA suspension, UPS was not too happy with the reliability of performing the schedule.
One of the planes had issues with weak engine ignition. During every engine start, fuel would pool in the exhaust, as well as drip onto the tarmac, and when the engine would finally light off, a flame would extend all the way to the tail and light up the whole airport. It was truly spectacular.
The engine-driven air compressors were also worn out. The system was designed to operate at 3000 psi. This ensured rapid retraction of the landing gear. The pressure tank provided a reservoir of air to operate the gear and brakes and was recharged by the compressors. The pressure should be at 3000 psi at preflight, but there was a lower minimum for flight. On one of the planes, the mechanics had to charge the bottle on the ground. One night, I idled the engines for 45 minutes just to get the pressure up to the minimum for takeoff. The poor mechanics had little experience and few parts.
On a different night, climbing out from Billings, a side window shattered, causing the loss of even the modest pressurization. Normally, the young man who had driven the cargo van to meet our flight would have left the airport. But he stuck around to phone his girlfriend. Thankfully, he was still at the airport when we made an emergency return.
Contemplating being locked out, I had figured we would have to burn the freight to survive the cold night. But since the guy was still there, we were safe and able to get to a local hotel in town. Once in a warm hotel bar, I telephoned the boss in Las Vegas. He wanted us to return to the plane and ferry it unpressurized back to Denver.
No way I would do that. The route had minimum altitudes between 7,000 and 9,000 feet. It would be insane, not to mention highly dangerous, to fly two-plus hours back to Denver with no heat or supplemental oxygen in the middle of the night.
The following day, I reluctantly agreed to the ferry flight. By the time I contacted Denver Approach Control, hypothermia had set in. We were given holding instructions due to the amount of arrival traffic. It was snowing. I refused the holding instructions and told the controller we had no heat. He asked what other problems we might have. We had plenty, including almost no pressure in the pneumatic tanks. I was pretty sure that we could extend the landing gear, but steering and braking would be limited at best. We were assigned an inactive snow-covered runway, and this assisted the deceleration after landing. The pressure gauge read zero upon shutdown at the ramp.
More cancelled flights and another replacement junker plane. On my last flight for Air Cortez, I had to write up 21 items in the logbook. Upon arrival in the morning, the boss met the flight on the ramp. While the prop was spinning down, he motioned for me to open the window and hand him the logbook. His face turned red, and he shouted, “You’re fired!” I replied from the cockpit, “Thank you, sir. I’ll live longer.”
Air Cortez had originally been issued their Air Taxi (FAR 135) certificate many years ago. They had operated charters mainly to Mexican resorts and fishing destinations using light twins. When they acquired the Fairchilds, their certificate had been upgraded to a Supplemental Air Carrier (FAR 121), but clearly, the FAA had not demanded of them the more detailed manuals and procedures mandated by those rules. The family that owned the airline was really nice and were well-intentioned people. But, lack of competent and experienced staff and lack of FAA oversight were responsible for a sub-standard
operation.
The first officer who had shared most of my experiences for that month in Denver would also later be a pilot with FedEx. We would often share our recollections of those flights and mutual respect for the decisions we had to make.
The night I packed up to depart Denver for home, I received a phone call from my parents. They were relieved that I had been let go from this operation. But they also informed me that they had received a phone call from a former Dolphin Airlines colleague who had been trying to locate me. This information would ultimately lead to my next gig.
It would become a fixture at ONT as a rotting hulk used for firefighter training.
Photo by Bill Blanchard.
