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So You Want to be a Ferry Pilot

by Spike Nasmyth

310 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-1435; ISBN 1-4120-1066-7; US$25.50, C$29.25, EUR21.00, £15.00

This is a book of true short stories about delivering airplanes from one part of the world to another. If you're a weekend flyer or a professional pilot or you just like airplanes, you'll be amazed at the exploits described in these stories. You'll be right there with the ferry pilots as they battle in-flight emergencies, Mother Nature's worst, the loss of navigation aids, interception by foreign aircraft and Murphy's Law.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpts and Table of Contents      catalogue info

About the Book SO YOU WANT TO BE A FERRY PILOT is made up of nineteen true short stories about ferrying airplanes from one part of the world to another. Each flight has something about it that wasn't planned. Unexpected heart stopping engine failures, weather that went from CAVU (Clear and Visibility Unlimited) to Oh MY God!!, interception by armed foreign fighters, arrest by third world police or anything that old Mister Murphy can throw your face. I had several pilot friends read the manuscript, here are some of their comments. "Ferry pilots are nuts, everybody knows that." Captain Cal Harman, 20 years with Continental. "These stories are unbelievable, I thought flying combat missions was dangerous." Captain Curt Briggs, shot down in Vietnam while flying an F-4 Phantom, rescued after spending more than 24 hours hiding from the North Vietnamese. "When we were cell mates in Hanoi I suspected that Spike was a little crazy, suspicions confirmed." Lieutenant Commander Larry Friese, USN Retired. POW in Vietnam 51/2 years.

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About the Author Spike Nasmyth started off life in Billings, Montana on 14 November 1940. He first flew at the controls of an airplane in 1961. He earned his private pilot's license in 1962. After graduation from the University of Idaho he went on to U.S. Air Force pilot training at Laughlin Air Force Base in Del Rio, Texas. Spike graduated high enough in his class to get one of the three fighter assignments. He was assigned to the 555th Tactical Fighter Squadron at MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Florida. On 4 September 1966, Spike was flying as aircraft commander in an F-4 Phantom fighter-bomber on an Alpha Strike against targets in North Vietnam. He was shot down by a Surface to Air Missile (SAM) north of Hanoi and spent the next six and a half years as a Prisoner of War. His book "2355 DAYS" recounts those days as a POW. After release from North Vietnam, Spike separated from the Air Force and began a life in civil aviation. From 1961 to the present, he has logged over twenty thousand hours in a variety of aircraft. In the seventies, Spike flew in Florida and the Mediterranean where he met a lot of not so legal folks. His book, "THE BOYS WHO BRING IN THE CROP" in based on those meetings. Spike flew float planes in Canada, Grumman amphibians in Thailand, DC-3s in Asia, Beaver and Islander in Palau, sea-planes in the Philippines, plus he's the survivor of more than 50 ferry flights in all kinds of planes. This book "SO YOU WANT TO BE A FERRY PILOT" describes some of the more exciting ferry missions. In July of 2002, Spike left Asia where he'd lived since 1987 and moved back to the States, he now lives in southern California with his wife, Lucille and daughter, Maebelyn. He's still flying planes and working on a couple more books.

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Sample Excerpts and Table of Contents

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1    FERRY A G-73 GRUMMAN MALLARD
CHAPTER 2    FERRY A CESSNA-185
CHAPTER 3    FERRY A CESSNA 207
CHAPTER 4    FERRY A DOUGLAS DC-3
CHAPTER 5    FERRY A CESSNA 185 AMPHIBIAN
CHAPTER 6    FERRY A G-21 GRUMMAN GOOSE
CHAPTER 7    FERRY A BEECHCRAFT QUEENAIR
CHAPTER 8    FERRY A DHC-2 DeHAVILLAND BEAVER
CHAPTER 9    FERRY 3 LET-410s
CHAPTER 10    FERRY AN AERO COMMANDER 681
CHAPTER 11    FERRY A PIPER NAVAJO
CHAPTER 12    FERRY A DHC-3 DeHAVILLAND OTTER
CHAPTER 13    FERRY A LET-410
CHAPTER 14    FERRY A DOUGLAS DC-3
CHAPTER 15    FERRY A BRITISH AEROSPACE BEAGLE
CHAPTER 16    FERRY TWO BRITTEN NORMAN ISLANDERS
CHAPTER 17    FERRY AN EMB-110 BANDIERANTE
CHAPTER 18    FERRY A BRITTEN NORMAN ISLANDER
EPILOGUE

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... We're now 4,130 pounds over the gross take off weight for the Grumman Mallard. We' re also a little worried about the aft center of gravity which has moved even more aft with the extra tank way to the rear. The plane has handled okay so far at extreme weights, so we decide to go for it.

The old military runway at Darwin is 10,906 feet long, we'll probably need all of it.

Bear is now the junior member of the crew. He is relegated to the job of pumping gas and oil once we get going. I brief him carefully, he assures me he understands perfectly the sequence of events.

We are all set. Every drop of gas that we can squeeze in is in. We file our flight plan for a crack of dawn departure, the weather briefing is the same as it's been for a month, "strong winds from the north." All is set for the next morning. Back to the hotel for a couple of beers and a good night's sleep.

After beer #1, Dave informed me that his company had been paid off two weeks earlier. They didn't want anything to do with the Indonesian problem or the super heavy weight take off out of Darwin. I asked him why he came back.

"I like to finish a job that I start."

"When we get to Bangkok, I'll make sure you get more than you ever dreamed of for a lousy ferry flight."

"You sound like an excellent boss."

At six A.M. we grab a taxi to the airport, rain is pouring down and the wind is howling from the north. A quick pre-flight, everything looks OK, the tires are a little flat, but considering what they're holding up-------start the old girl up and slowly taxi over to customs for our departure clearance. An hour later the paper work is taken care of, time to get the hell out of Dodge.

Start up again, ground control gives us clearance to taxi, again, very slowly, we head off towards the active runway. Don't want any side loads on these over-loaded, over-stressed tires.

At the end of the runway Dave gives her a careful run-up, cycle the props, check the mags, then we're cleared onto the active. We use every inch of available pavement, nothing more useless than runway behind you.

I make sure of a couple more things: trim neutral, boost pumps on, cowl flaps closed (they cause a lot of drag), crack the flaps about 5 degrees, we'll need all the lift we can get.

"Canadian Whisky Alpha Fox, You're cleared for take off, have a nice flight."

"You ready to go, Spike?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Roger tower, Whisky Alpha Fox is cleared for take off, see you later."

"Whiskey Alpha Fox, what will be your cruising alti-tude?"

"Uh, we're pretty heavy tower, I'll call and let you know when we get there."

"Ah, roger, Whisky Alpha Fox."

Hold the brakes, push up the power, look at the dials, everything is in the green, release the breaks, push the throttles up to 36.5 inches of manifold pressure.

I call out the airspeeds as we accelerate, "20, 30, 40, 50, 60"-

About the point of no return, everything sounds OK, let's go for it, we're really moving now- "70, 80, 90, 100, 103" Dave eases back on the stick, no more runway, we're in the air.

"Gear up!"

"Gear's up, how's she feel?"

"Heavy as hell."

"C'mon you beautiful doll, accelerate."

I slowly adjust the power and RPM, Dave has his hands full, he's holding on to the control wheel with both hands. Power back to 30 inches, no, maybe not, better try 32 inches first and see if this slug's going to fly.

She stays in the air at 31 inches manifold pressure, the prop's back to 2,200 rpm, cowl flaps are cracked a little, now I just hold on.

Dave shouts, "Are we having fun yet?"

This guy must be nuts, he does this for a living.

We haven't actually climbed a bit, we've just flown off the end of the runway, luckily the ground slopes down towards the ocean which is now 300 feet below us.

"Canadian Whisky Alpha Fox, what's your altitude?"

"Three hundred feet."

"Three hundred feet???"

"Ah, roger, we're a little heavy."

The sea below is white, the thirty to forty knot winds (right on the nose) have whipped up 10 to 15 foot waves, each wave is crowned with blowing spray. I try not to think about an emergency landing, I mean crash landing. What the heck, in eight or nine hours we'll be down to a weight were she'll fly on one engine.

Fifty minutes after take off, we've crept up to 1000 feet above the boiling ocean. The wing tanks are down from 180 to 140 gallons. It's time for fuel and oil transfer number one. We're going to transfer first from tank #6, then #5, then #4. After #4, hand pump the 100 gallons from #7 to #6, then transfer #6 again to the wing tanks. Bear has his work cut out for him, that is if he doesn't die of fright, his eyes are still as big as saucers, guess he didn't like the take off.

I motion for Bear to start fuel transfer #1. In a few minutes the right hand fuel gauge starts to creep up from the 140 gallon mark, ten minutes later the right side is full and the left side starts to rise. Pretty soon Bear has resumed his position lying on his belly on tanks #1, 2 and 3.

The plane feels a little better, four hundred pounds lighter and four hundred pounds shifted from the rear to the wings, we continue to gain a few feet in altitude every minute or so.

The Mallard is a noisy airplane, especially in the cockpit with two huge radial engines howling to either side of the pilot's head, but I think I hear a different noise, a high whining noise. I ask Dave if he hears anything, he says "No."

I tell Dave I'm going back to investigate, I know I hear something.

I squeeze through the cockpit opening, I crawl back on top of tanks #1, 2 and 3 to the center of the plane where the electric boost pumps are located. Sure as hell, one of the pumps is ON, it's running dry and squealing like a stuck pig. I reach down, touch it, jerk my hand back in pain, it's hot, really hot. I flick the switch to OFF, expecting my life to end any second in a fiery explosion.

I just lay there panting, "Whew! we could have blown up, with all this gas it would have been a big bang."...

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Catalogue Information

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