RV7 Flight: Saskatchewan, Part 1

We left at 8:30 am. PST on July 4 and got home at 6:30 pm PST on July 9. To drive there, it would've taken 20 hours. To fly in our RV-7, had we not stopped for fuel, and if everything had gone as planned, it would've taken 4.5 hours. As it turned out, it took 11 hours to get there, after a considerable amount of trials and tribulations, of which I will write about! 

This was our first long cross country, International flight, and so the learning curve for hubby was very steep indeed, however it was also very good for him. 

The first picture, above, is our "luggage compartment." The RV-7 can hold 100 pounds of luggage in addition to hubby's and my weight. If I were 30 pounds lighter, as I should be, we could carry 30 pounds more. It's all about weight and balance. 

We always park our car in the hangar whenever we leave. Second picture shows exactly that. 

This third picture is of the instrument panel. Hubby has some pretty fancy electronic navigational   tools, however, compared to some airplanes, it's pretty crude. Our former airplane, a Maule, was equipped to be able to fly solely on instruments, if need be, whereas this plane is equipped only for VFR flying. Visual flying. No flying in the clouds. We're fair weather flyers at this stage of our lives.  

The picture above is of a table top rock that's about 40 miles outside of Great Falls Montana. It took about two hours to cross the mountains and arrive on the east side of the continental divide. The air was so smooth that I was able to read a book the whole time we were crossing the mountains. We flew at 10,500 feet. 

What was I reading? Hattie Ever After, by Kirby Larson. Hattie's a 16 year old girl who's taken over her uncle's 1918 homestead in Montana. It's fiction, but loosely based on Kirby's aunt's journal, if I'm not mistaken. It was a Newbery Honor book a few years back. It reminds me a lot of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, which I love. 

The picture above shows the town of Great Falls, Montana. To the right is the very edge of the international airport. We'll keep flying for a few miles and then turn around and come down the runway and land. We need about 20 gallons of fuel, plus hubby needs to close out the Domestic Flight Plan and file an International Flight Plan. He's never done one before, and is hoping that someone at the FBO will be able to help him with it. 

Too bad. No such luck. It marks the beginning of our trials, and we cannot get into Canada without an International Flight Plan. 

We're about ready to touch down on the runway. I didn't notice it on July 4, when we first flew into Great Falls International, but on our flight home, I noticed, to the right of the runway, a F-15, which actually took off shortly after we landed. 

So it's true ... if you are an unidentified aircraft (that is, if you did not file an International Flight Plan) coming across the border from Canada, they could indeed send an F-15 up after you to check you out. 

Guys in red shirts led us to where they wanted us to park. We're general aviation, and so we don't park at the big terminal, but at the FBO where people like us and a whole lotta private jets park their airplanes. The gas truck drove up and the attendant pumped our gas as we headed toward Holman Aviation, the FBO terminal. Picture below.

We spent an hour or two here, resting. Hubby also began to tear what was left of his hair out, trying to file an International Flight Plan. When we left Great Falls International, we thought it was a done deal. Not so. 

Great Falls Montana is still two hours (flying at 160 mph) from the Canadian border. When we were about an hour away from the border, we discovered our International Flight Plan had not been activated. 

Salt Lake Center, which had us on radar and radio, told us we were flying outside of their jurisdiction. They started breaking up, and soon, we lost all radio contact with them. 

We tried to over and over make contact with Canada's counterpart, Winnipeg Center, but met with radio silence. We were in no danger, except that hubby had been led to believe that when you fly over the border, you need to be in both radar AND radio contact with Winnipeg Center.

We had visions of F-15's flying up to intercept us.   

And we were, literally, in no-man's land, barreling north at 160 mph. I now have a new understanding of how it feels to feel trapped, lost, and somewhat helpless.  

Hubby assured me that we were not lost. Navigationally speaking, we weren't. He knew exactly where we were according to his GPS. 

But still ... radio silence when you're flying over desolate countryside into a foreign country is unnerving. 

I'll tell more of the tale tomorrow.