dESPair THC 018

THE ALGONQUIN STORY
Long before I saw it, I would hear the unmistakable drone of the powerful Pratt and Whitney 450 horsepower radial engine. I would crane my neck and this way that, hoping to catch a glimpse of what had become my favorite aircraft... the deHavilland Beaver. The plane often passed overhead as it flew from its base on Smoke Lake to some destination in or around Algonquin Park. It was owned and operated by Sandy Miller who flew under contract with the Ministry of Natural Resources and so wore the yellow livery of the MNR. Whenever I chanced to be on a canoe trip in Algonquin Park, I would look forward to seeing this bird every bit as much as I would a great blue heron.
Once, while in Bobcageon, Ontario visiting my parents, I chanced to meet Sandy Miller. We happened to be out for a fall stroll by an old hydro dam that was no longer operational. Sandy was looking for his Border Collie companion, Shamus. They were inseparable and I had come to admire this remarkable dog. I had observed his intelligent behavior around the dock, boats and planes at the Smoke Lake base. He loved to ride in Sandy's canoe and was never far from Sandy's side.

Sandy explained that the dog often went on ahead but never failed to return at his call. I naturally volunteered to help find Shamus. As I walked out onto the concrete structure I thought I heard a yelp... very distant, very faint. I was at the halfway point on the dam and when I turned to retrace my steps I saw a splash line on the wall of one of the sluice gate chamber entrances. There was nothing to be seen but rushing water. On the deck of the dam there was an inspection cover, so I stooped to take a look through the grate. What I saw below galvanized me into action. A shout to Sandy and my family let them know the dog had been found. Then I hurried to the trunk of my car where I kept my emergency supplies. Grabbing a coil of rope I headed back to Shamus and explained on the way what I had in mind. Shamus was in very real danger of being sucked into the turbine sluice way. The only thing preventing this was a collection of flotsam and jetsam that covered the tube and to which the exhausted dog was clinging.

My plan was simple. I stripped down to my shorts, paced off the distance, tied the rope around my waist and secured the other end to the last rung of a ladder that lead down to the water's surface. Grabbing the life buoy from its stanchion, I climbed down into the water, slipped the buoy over my head and shoulders and let the current carry me into the inner chamber as Sandy paid out its line. My safety line did its job and snubbed up just short of the sluice throat. I grabbed the dog and yelled to be hauled back out...
It was a good plan, trouble was, I couldn't be heard above the roar of the rushing water. I pulled myself out with my one free hand. Sandy and Shamus were reunited.

Since then, a lot of water has passed under the dam, so speak, and I eventually lost touch with Sandy. So you can imagine my surprise when I received a radio message from the operator in Iqaluit, Baffin Island, where I was doing some charter work. The message simply stated that I was requested to stop by the base commander's office at North Bay, CAF Base. Apparently there was a Beaver and a package sent by the executor of Sandy Miller's estate, waiting for me. As you can imagine I was quite excited and could hardly wait to wrap up my business here in the Canadian Arctic.

At the time I was enroute on a North Atlantic crossing from ENTO to my base CYKZ. I was taking every opportunity to earn a few dollars with Norwegian Wood to help defray costs. I hauled building materials from Norway to the Shetland Islands, wool sweaters to the Faeros and Iceland. Did some runway work in Greenland and now found myself in Iqaluit hauling twenty thousand pounds of scientific apparatus to some God forsaken, 1500 foot gravel runway perched atop a thousand foot precipice and surrounded by 200 foot inclines at the Resolute Base station on Wallace Island. Anxious to be on my way, I tried for an early start the following morning but in the Arctic a quick get a way is a relative thing... I'm here to tell you that I found in the Arctic cold a real trial. Getting underway meant removing tarps from the wings and engines and setting a fire in a tent covering the engine nacelles in order to thin the oil sufficiently to allow Norwegian Wood's big radials to turn over. On my flight to North Bay I made several stops along the way, carrying all manner of cargo but the most memorable had to be a cargo of six mating pair of caribou to help replenish the barren land caribou stocks in the area of Moosonee. The barren lands north of the tree line are beautiful in their own stark way but I must say I was happy to see the treed, rolling hills of the North Bay area. My home base, our dESPair Hub at the Toronto Buttonville Municipal Airport (CYKZ) was now only a couple of hundred short miles to the southeast. It will be good to be home... but first the business at hand.

After I had landed at CYYB and got Norwegian Wood all tucked in for the night I reported to the base commander's office. He gave me a warm welcome, a hot cup of coffee and the package I had been told about then he left, leaving me to the privacy of his office. I held the package for quite a while wondering about its contents and why Sandy wanted me to have it. Finally, and not without a little trepidation, I cut the string binding, loosened the paper wrapping and removed a cardboard file from within. As I viewed the contents I was transported back in time. Memory recalled images from a time when I knew Sandy Miller. I hadn't known him long or even that well, but I must have made an impression; for he had left me the very Beaver I used to watch for on my Algonquin canoe trips. More than that, he left me his entire Smoke Lake operation. Oh, it wasn't free and clear, the executor's letter detailed the fact that there was some $10,000 in back taxes due before I could claim the business as mine and the Beaver needed a complete engine overhaul. I figured that I could come up with the cash from the profits of the trash hauling I'd just completed so there was no problem.

What amazed me in all this was that I should be the one to receive it. Did Sandy have no family? Apparently he did. He had two sons but they had become estranged years ago and the split was so bitter that Sandy had disowned them completely. So, based solely on my love of the Beaver, of flying and that one time where I pulled his dog from the dam, he decided that I was the best person to carry on his Algonquin Air Services.

In honor of this legacy, I have named Sandy's Beaver the Algonquin. She now sports a brand new paint job, the dESPair livery and a commemorative Algonquin Air Services logo. We have maintained the MNR contracts and the Smoke Lake operation is run by a very astute young lady. ... none other than our very own Esprit. Our water aerodrome is not a huge facility; it boasts a small hangar, ramp, docking, AV fuel and limited parking. All dESPair crew are welcome to visit, anytime and should you choose to join our upcoming TOUR CANADA this will be a stopping off point. Landing on Algonquin Park lakes is restricted, however, I have managed to persuade the MNR to make an exception in the case of dESPair pilots. The only stipulation is that we must provide some useful service to warrant the bending of a few, very strict rules.

Captain Troll