Land Rover of the skies sounds like a funny misnomer but, in the case of a 60-year-old Canadian plane, the de Havilland Twin Otter (picture above), it turns out to be the perfect description.
The deputy chief pilot for the British Antarctic Survey (BAS), Vicky Auld, is preparing for the organisation’s annual autumn ferry flight from Canada to Antarctica. Months in the planning, this will be an epic 55-hour journey over 12 days, covering some 13,700km (8,500 miles) as the crow flies.
Designed in the 1960s and still in production today, de Havilland Twin Otters have been described by some as the Land Rover of the skies. “They’re over-engineered, adaptable and rugged, designed for bush flying,” says Auld. “Whether it’s on skis, floats or big tundra tyres, with their short take-off and landing you can get into places that you just couldn’t think about with other aircraft.” In Antarctica, BAS uses Twin Otters for everything from airborne scientific research to delivering fuel, supplies, and taking field parties to remote locations. “It’s unique,” Auld says. “I can land at places where no-one has ever landed before.”
The top of the Twin Otter’s wings and fuselage are painted black to help snow melt. Although they are fitted with modern turboprop engines, Twin Otters have certainly got a vintage look about them with clearly visible struts, wires and rivets. “You could say it is fly-by-wire, but the wires connect directly from the control column to the control surfaces on the wings and tail,” says Dan Beeden, BAS aircraft operations manager who is responsible for ferry flight logistics.
The cockpit of “Ice Cold Katy”, named after one of the U.K.’s original Antarctic research planes (a single-engine Auster), is typical of the Twin Otters. The gleaming red aircraft is parked on the apron at the Imperial War Museum Duxford, in England, and doesn’t look out of place in its position alongside a World War Two-era B-17 Flying Fortress. BAS uses the museum’s airfield as their summer base because it’s close to their Cambridge headquarters, and has well-equipped maintenance facilities.
The cockpit is cramped and narrow, fitted with a mix of old and new technology. The control column is similar in appearance to those inside many of the museum pieces around it, and the main engine controls are hefty levers hanging from the ceiling. But most of the dials have been replaced by modern “glass cockpit” electronic screens, and the aircraft has also been upgraded with weather radar and an autopilot. While that might make this Twin Otter easier to fly, it doesn’t make the flights any more comfortable.
“In terms of toilet facilities, we don’t really have any,” Beeden explains. “There is just a tube at the back of the aircraft.” Neither is there a galley, air conditioning or enough room to even stand up. “We do have cabin heaters that will keep the cockpit nice and warm, and the top of the aeroplane is painted black which allows snow to melt more easily, but that means it can get very hot here in summer.”
Several airlines use Twin Otters in remote parts of the world – in the UK, for instance, Loganair operate them to connect Scottish islands – and in a commercial configuration the main cabin can hold up to 20 passengers. In the case of Ice-Cold Katy, half this space is currently taken up with a giant additional fuel tank for her forthcoming flight across the Atlantic. The aircraft will gain a further extra tank in Canada for the journey to Antarctica.
“I think people are surprised because the aeroplane says British Antarctic Survey on the side,” says Beeden. “Although Antarctica is our focus, we also do a lot of work in other parts of the world.” In recent years the Twin Otters have supported research in Iceland, Greenland, Bolivia and Brazil.
Every year, the fleet ends up in Canada – which is the best country to go to for all your Twin Otter needs. “They are built in Canada, a lot of them operate there, and therefore there’s a big infrastructure of companies who can provide that expert maintenance and engineering support for the aircraft,” says Beeden.
But whereas a flight in a large commercial aircraft from North to South America would be relatively straightforward – and could even be done these days in a single hop – the Twin Otter flights typically involve flying into at least 12 different airports from Canada down to Chile. For an aircraft that flies at only 150 knots (around 170 mph/274km/h) with a normal operating ceiling of 10,000ft (3km), the journey presents Beeden with a unique set of challenges.
“There are just lots of plates spinning all the time, and you’re constantly looking at what is the best thing to do, or in some cases, what is the least bad thing to do,” he says. “You have to take account of obvious things like “how far can you fly in one go” and what contingencies do you have to have in place for a diversion,” he adds. “There are also some countries in Central and South America that we will not go to now because the security and the political situation is just too volatile.”
Each aircraft is flown by a single pilot, but they are always accompanied by an engineer or another member of BAS staff, such as Beeden, for extra safety. Vicky Auld has been flying the ferry flights for more than 10 years and still finds them exciting. “But I do remember feeling incredibly apprehensive the first time I was going to do it,” she admits.
“As a new pilot you have 12 days ahead of you, where you fly into a new airport every day, with new approaches, new departures, new taxiways,” she says. “The Americans talk really fast at you. In Central America you can hardly understand [air traffic control], but then on top of that, you’re in a Twin Otter unpressurised flying for eight hours with a massive amount of fuel in two fuel tanks behind you.” We also have to contend with weather – at 10,000ft Twin Otters tend to go through it, rather than over it.
“You could be taking off on icy runways in snowstorms, then once you’re into the Gulf of Mexico you’re into hurricane season, so you’re watching out for hurricanes and tropical storm warnings before you fly,” says Auld. “You usually see a pretty decent thunderstorm or two to avoid on the way…then when you start going down the western side of the Andes, there’s quite often fog.” Finally, when they cross the Andes to Punta Arenas they have to cope with strong headwinds and need to climb to 18,000ft (5.4km), and wear oxygen masks to avoid passing out.
But the most potentially dangerous part of the journey comes on the final day with the 600-mile (966km) stretch of sea between the tip of South America and the Antarctic continent. The crew wear bulky immersion suits and life jackets in case they need to ditch in the Southern Ocean – notoriously, the roughest waters in the world – and, along the way, there is what is known as a “point of safe return”.
“There is a certain point beyond which you don’t really have any other options – you’re just carrying on straight to Rothera and you deal with what emergencies you have on the way as best you can.”
The Land Rover of the skies is obviously the right plane for the job, even if it is a 60-year-old design.
An interesting story, I thought.
