dhc6*

De Havilland DHC-6/300		LN-FKB Photo is taken at Svalbard/Longyear Airport in 1986. A good example of the old trusted mount. Surely one of the better aeromachines ever invented in its class. Not the most comfortable, not the fastest, possibly not the most elegant. But when it comes to reliability, ease of operation, versatility, economy and sheer sturdyness; it is unbeatable.
		My first meeting with the Twin Otter must have been in 1972 I think. Vidar and I was visiting Fornebu in conjunction with the annual renewal of our licenses. Walking back down from the CAA-offices at the end of the Fred. Olsen-hangar, we happened to see through into the hangar, and saw a gleaming Twin Otter in Wideroe's colors. We went into the hangar and walked up to the machine. Neither Vidar nor me had at that time ever flown anything larger than a Cessna 210, so we were somewhat taken aback by the share size of the beast. A quick "sit-in" the cockpit, gave us a tremendous feeling of power and pure business. It left a lasting impression, and little did we know that only a few years ahead we would both be flying this very machine. Erik Langseth was the Grand Old Man of the company when I joined in August, 1977. Not only "old" but also the Chief Pilot at the time and an instructor. So it was natural that I would end up doing my last flights with him, before I was let loose on the rest of the crowd. The approach into a stiff northwesterly and onto runway 05 at Hammerfest (HFT), was demanding at the best of times. Today it was a rather gusty day, touching 45 knots occasionally, as it tumbled down from the ridge running paralell to the runway. It was typical northwest-weather, meaning heavy and fastmoving showers of snow. It was therefore important to time your approach so that you would land between the showers. The showers usually left some snow as they passed over, and there was no time to clear it before landing. Not that it mattered much, the big tyres on the Twin Otter could handle a hell of a lot more snow than what the Tower reported tonight. It was my leg, so Erik was sitting quietly in his corner, watching the rookie at work. We didn't have modcons like auto pilot or anything else made to ease the burden on a hard working pilot. Strictly hands on flying. Manual, manual all the way. And so it was tonight, as I weaved my way down the localizer. The Twin Otter bucked and heaved as the gusts tried to wring her from my control, but she responded willingly to my tiniest command, and kept a steady course towards the runway lights ahead. I was tense. This was one of my first landings in conditions like this, and I felt more like riding a bronco than a million dollar aeroplane! And as usual, as we came in over the treshold and I started a flare ( which I shouldn't have done ), a nasty gust caught the ever so willing Twin Otter, and started to fling her back up in the air again. That is not what I wanted, so I immediately selected reverse thrust, to which the aircraft responds not immediately, but instantly like in a fraction of a second! Unfortunately we were probably a trifle high to fall straight down not damaging anything. Erik came to my rescue, and a heavy pull on the yoke exactly at the right time, ensured an incredibly soft landing, cushioned by15 cm of pure, white, powdery snow. And then we were in reverse or disc mode, and after only 50 yards, we'd come to a complete stop and started taxing towards the turn-off. Before reaching the tarmac we were once again engulfed by a rapidly moving flurry of snow. The Twin Otter had once again been the forgiving aircraft it is, making sure the rookie couldn't do anything stupid without it being a way out.

		Years had gone by. Many approaches an dlandings had been made. How many? Well, I've got about 10.000 hours, about 8.000 in Wideroe. Average sector length at one time was about 25 minutes, meaning I should have about 18.000 landings in the Twin Otter. Each landing is revorded in my logbook of course, and in the Aircraft Log, but since the authorities do not require that you sum up your landings, I haven't bothered.

		Værøy
		Værøy is a special place, from whatever angle you look at it. VRY in IATA-language, ENVY in ICAO-language. A rock jutting from the sea, 46,2 nautical miles / 303 degrees out from BOO VOR, well inside the Arctic Circle. The authorities decided to build a STOL-port on the island. Damn the authorities! The very fact that they decided to build the airport on that particular location on the island, against our recommendation, is the only reason why 5 people died on the 12th of April 1990.


		Værøy Airport seen from top of the mountain

		VRY as seen from final approach northeastwards