Bob Butche
Keith and Bob graduated in the University School class of 1954. Even as they pursued far different careers, they often shared fishing trips. Usually, those trips were to Canada's Manitoulin Island.
The trips were made in one of Bob's aircraft -- sometimes his Aero Commander 560, and sometimes in his sprightly Twin Commanche. Both were well suited to the over water route taken in this story.
In this first installment, Bob and Keith re-live a typical flight and arrival. In the doing, we learn something of the people and beauty of Manitoulin and nearby Georgian Bay.
About the Great Lakes Photo
The Gore Bay airport lies almost due north of Port Columbus so Bob chose a NASA satellite photo to give the reader a clearer picture of the aeronautical portions of this story. The large lake in the upper half of this photo is Lake Huron. You'll note that there is a large island along the north shore of Lake Huron ( Manitoulin Island ) as well as a spit of land jutting northward from the Ontario mainland.
About Air Traffic Communications
To give readers a better idea of International Air Traffic Control procedures, Bob has included the lingo and jargon of pilot-to-controller communications
The flight described in this chapter crosses Lake Erie from over Sandusky Bay, then directly north on a long over water route to make land at Providence Bay on the south shore of Manitoulin Island. For the most part, these communications relate to position reports. For example, Sailfish is an intersection of two navigational aids at mid lake.
Pilots and controllers speak to one another via radio channels that are identified by their frequency
"Contact Toronto Center now on one thirty one point three" instructs the pilot to call a Canadian Air Route Traffic controller in Toronto on a radio frequency of 131.3 megahertz.
Time, on pilot-to-controller dialogue refers to minutes past the last hour.
The term IFR is used to describe a flight that is taking place entirely under the control of ground-based controllers. The letters stand for Instrument Flight Rules. Pilots may cancel their IFR flight plans in flight and return to VFR ( Visual Flight Rules ) to continue their flight.
About the Aircraft
The flight in this story takes place in an Aero Commander model 560 aircraft. This airplane is still in wide use today for charter and executive transport. It seats seven people, has two Lycoming 350 - horsepower engines. Its gross ( fully loaded ) weight is about 7500 pounds. Bob's AC-560 was equipped with deicing equipment, and fully IFR certified. For long flights, it even had extended-range fuel tanks that provided up to 1700 miles non-stop range.
Aero Commander 560F
Piper Twin Commanche
The fishing flights to Gore Bay were made in several of Bob's aircraft -- and on some trips, when many people were traveling, two or more aircraft would be used. Some visitors would occasionally choose to drive as well.
For small fishing parties, Bob usually preferred to use his Piper PA30 -- known as a Twin Commanche. The smaller aircraft was very comfortable for two or three people on the flight to Gore Bay.
The Twin Commanche is no longer in production and photos are hard to come by, so we've included a photo of a NASA PA30 in landing configuration.
Piper PA30 Twin Commanche
Distant Island
Remembrances of a Far-Away Place and Time That Shall Forever Remain Near to the Heart
They Called Him Colin
He claimed to be from Toronto, but his Irish twang said he grew up in Sudbury. Truth be told, he sometimes lived in Toronto in the winter, but Colin Montgomery was never a city dweller. His place in the Sun was called Manitoulin -- a gentle and sprawling island nestled along the north shore in the Georgian Bay region of Lake Huron.
"It's all bullshit," Colin would enthusiastically proclaim to some unwitting Yankee who might show off his knowledge of Canada by saying that Manitoulin Island is the largest fresh-water island in the world -- which is true. True or not, it was a prime opportunity for Colin to ply his peculiar sense of humor. "Problem is tellin' what's island and what's lake," he would explain to the newcomers, more than a little tongue in cheek. "Don't-cha fellers know there's eighty great big lakes on this here island?"
By this time, insiders knew one of Colin's tall-tales was coming. Such tales sometimes left first-time visitors uncertain about whether they had offended their Canadian host. They listened intently as the ruddy faced Irishman with the unlit remainder of a cigarette dangling perilously from the left side of his mouth, continued.
"Hells' bells," he would confidently proclaim to the unwary, "we didn't even have cars out Kagawong way 'til last summer. It's a lot better now," he would assure the newcomer with the rarest of twinkles in his eyes, ". . . we don't have to swim into town fer groceries any more."
For reasons I don't fully understand, this story always left new visitors perplexed and confused. Maybe that was how Colin wanted it -- for anybody who wasn't wise to his colorful tales of the north bay was in for tough sledding.
Flying High
We had only been in the air for 30 minutes when I sensed a smile spreading across my face. It was a beautiful day -- the flying weather was sensational -- and already I was anticipating seeing Colin on our arrival at Gore Bay. Shortly after passing over Sandusky Bay, on Ohio's north shore, we could see the Ontario shoreline 70 miles ahead and the southern bay of Lake Huron a hundred or more miles further north. There wasn't a cloud in sight that warm July afternoon. As we approached the international border at mid lake, I reached for the radio to report our position to the Cleveland Air Route Traffic Control Center.
"Cleveland Center, November Two Three Three Echo Sierra at Sailfish, ten thousand."
Lakes Erie, Ontario and Huron from Earth Orbit ( NASA photo )
"Two Three Three Echo Sierra, Cleveland. Contact Toronto Center now one thirty one point three."
"Roger, Echo Sierra -- Toronto on one thirty one point three. Good day. . ."
"Wanna fly a while?," I asked Keith.
"Sure," he replied, taking the control yoke into hand. "Where do you want me to aim it?"
"See if you can hit Canada," I said, wryly.
"Good afternoon, Toronto," I announced into the microphone, "November Two Three Three Echo Sierra by Sailfish at ten thousand. Requesting direct Gore Bay."
The trick known to pilots flying frequently into Canada was not to ask for direct routings to Canadian destinations on the original flight plan. Asking in flight was something else -- perhaps an unwritten understanding between pilots and air traffic controllers. If I could get a direct route approved by Toronto Air Traffic Control, we could fly the short route to Gore Bay. The direct route would take us over the middle of Lake Huron -- and normally saved as much as 20 minutes flying time.
"Negative, Echo Sierra," Toronto replied. "Proceed on course via Goderich, Wiarton, direct Gore Bay, maintain ten thousand."
So much for the pilot-controller bond idea. Maybe the long route was best in foul weather, but not today.
"Cancel IFR, Toronto. We've got 200 mile visibility up here today. I think I'll put some of it to use."
"Roger, Echo Sierra, canceling IFR at fifty-one. Better report abeam Wiarton so somebody can wake up the flight station crew at Gore Bay for your arrival."
Keith looked at me quizzically. "They're just making fun of the sleepy Manitoulinders," I said matter of factly.
Returning to the radio, I added, "Roger, Toronto, we'll check in when abeam Wiarton. Good day."
"How am I doing?," Keith enquired. "So far, so good," I assured him, "you hit Canada sure enough. Now see if you can hit that big lake ahead."
"Then turn the damn autopilot off," Keith insisted. I did, and laid back my head to rest my eyes. "Wake me up if there's any danger of a crash. . ."
About a half-hour later, Wiarton radio was happy to take our mid lake position report. Soon we were in range of the aeronautical communications station at Gore Bay. About 30 miles out, I radioed Gore Bay that we would be landing in about a half-hour. That would allow plenty of time for me to let down en-route to the eastern end of Manitoulin.
A Picture Story for Adults by Robert Butche with Keith Bemis
Keith Bemis
After a successful career with Sears, Keith retired to his first love -- America's great outdoors. Today, Keith and wife, Lois, are the proprietors of a lovely new home in the Minnesota Lakes country. Keith calls the place The Bears Den -- but it's far more like heaven to those who visit.
This year's visitors included Ellen Doan ('54) and her husband -- and one of Keith's oldest and most enduring fishing friends -- Bob Butche.
The Bear's Den Nevis, Minnesota
