There’s a subset of the population that simply craves excess and revels in abundance.

While that may be true for some jet-setting globetrotters, in the world of GA aircraft ownership, such thinking is relatively rare. Big airplanes have correspondingly big fuel tanks that cost big money to top off.

But what if your mission calls for heavy iron? What if your top priority was to own and fly the biggest airplane possible?

Here in the U.S., such dreams are complicated somewhat by an FAA regulation that requires in-depth training and certification—known as a type rating—to fly jet aircraft or any aircraft with a maximum takeoff weight in excess of 12,500 pounds. While structured, thorough training isn’t necessarily something one should avoid, the regulation begs the question: What are some of the biggest aircraft types a typical private pilot could fly without crossing that threshold and having to undergo such training?

Here, we explore your options if size were prioritized over the typical factors we consider during an aircraft purchase:

Cessna 208 Caravan

Ask just about any Caravan pilot how it flies, and they will invariably describe the big Cessna as nothing more than an oversized 182.

Simple systems, docile handling, and flight characteristics  similar to just about every Cessna produced with tricycle gear define the Caravan. Those who fly them for a living might lament the presence of a propeller or the lack of a swept wing, but they’re always quick to praise it overall.

• READ MORE: Seeking Out Ghosts of Your Airplane’s Past

First flown in 1982, the Caravan continued a trend that arguably began with the growth of the 172 into ever-larger variants. After the 172 and 182 first flew in 1956, subsequent larger versions appeared in the ’60s, including the 205, 206, and 207. Popular in remote, rugged regions like Alaska, these workhorses earned a solid reputation for reliably moving people and cargo into and out of challenging areas—and doing so economically. The Caravan is known as “the flying Swiss Army knife” because of its versatility.

As these models sold through the ’70s, Cessna began exploring a larger, clean-sheet development that would utilize a Pratt & Whitney Canada PT6A turbine powerplant. The resulting model 208 Caravan saw immediate success—initially in the original configuration as a nine-to-13-passenger aircraft, but particularly after 

FedEx ordered 177 cargo variants a short time later.

Most private owners opt for the standard passenger version or the lengthened Grand Caravan with additional seating. The cabin can be configured with high-density seating for utilitarian operations or plush club seating that resembles the seating arrangement of private jets. With full-fuel payloads in excess of 1,000 pounds and an available belly pod that enables the transport of baggage without cluttering up the cabin, overnight trips with friends become simple and straightforward.

Perhaps the most impressive aspect of the Caravan, however, is how simple and straightforward it is to exercise such capability. Even the Grand Caravan, with its nearly 9,000-pound maximum takeoff weight, 

performs as predictably as a four-seat 182. Transitions into the big Cessna are simplified with modern Garmin avionics, and the type is popular enough that qualified training is easy to find.

One of the Caravan’s most intriguing aspects is the availability of Wipaire amphibious floats. Equally capable of operating from land or water, these enable anyone with a seaplane rating to access an even wider variety of destinations–and have fun doing it.

One Caravan amphibian owner inbound to this year’s EAA AirVenture was reportedly notified of an incident at the airport and instructed to hold around a lake for an estimated 45 minutes. Making the best of the situation, the pilot simply landed on the lake, shut down, and went for a swim with his friends until arrivals were allowed in.

If that’s not a fun way to operate a big airplane, we don’t know what is. 

Grumman Goose

While the Cessna Caravan can achieve some impressive things with its amphibious floats, there’s something to be said for a pure flying boat—particularly one with the lineage and soul of a classic 1930s-era Grumman Goose. A product of aviation’s golden age, developed in the era of barnstormers, airmail, and art deco style, the Goose was one of four twin-engine flying boats of Grumman fame.

The model that most people are familiar with is the hulking, 37,500-pound HU-16 Albatross. Designed to perform rescue operations for the U.S. Coast Guard, it was able to handle rough seas in the open ocean and handily exceeded the 12,500-pound limit for this exercise. The rare G-73 Mallard was the next size down in the Grumman flying boat lineup, and at 12,750 pounds, it only just exceeded our weight limit.

• READ MORE: EAA AirVenture: A Study in Cargo and Packing

The G-21 Goose, on the other hand, weighs in at a respectable 8,000 pounds and thus qualifies for our list of big aircraft for private pilots. Powered by two 9-cylinder Pratt & Whitney R-985 Wasp Junior radial engines that each produce 450 hp, the Goose produces a sound and feel like no horizontally opposed piston or smooth-running turboprop can match. After flying a classic airplane with engines like this, nearly every alternative seems to have the soul of an Amana dishwasher.

There are certain advantages to a flying boat over an airplane with floats. Because the fuselage itself serves as the hull, the center of gravity sits much lower than that of a float plane. This increases stability in the water and, depending on the specific design, can withstand rougher seas. 

Additionally, the lack of external floats and braces can make a flying boat more aerodynamically efficient than an airplane on floats. For example, the Goose can cruise at just over 190 mph, while a Beech 18 on floats—using the same engines—can achieve only about 135 mph. Since both burn roughly 50 gallons per hour in cruise, the Goose’s faster speed makes it the more economical of the two on a given trip.

Of course, the mention of economy is laughable in the context of the Goose. With tailwheel landing gear, five-to-seven seats, multiple engines, and particularly as a seaplane, obtaining insurance would likely require divine intervention. Alternatively, one could become independently wealthy and self-insure.

But performance numbers and cost savings are not what the Goose is about. The Goose is about transporting you to an entirely different era of aviation on every flight. Reach up and grab the ceiling-mounted throttle levers, peer through the prop arcs just ahead of the cockpit windows, feel the reverberation of the big radials, and you might as well be Indiana Jones on your way to dinner in Monaco after delivering provisions to your team of archeologists in Alexandretta.

de Havilland Canada DHC-6 Twin Otter

Moving up from our 8,000-pound contenders, we finally reach the biggest and heaviest aircraft one can fly without a type rating.

At precisely 12,500 pounds, it’s not a coincidence that the maximum takeoff weight of the de Havilland Twin Otter matches the maximum limit imposed by the FAA. De Havilland correctly reasoned that the Twin Otter would be that much more attractive to prospective customers if it could be flown by pilots without a type rating. 

Not that additional advanced training would be a bad thing for Twin Otter pilots. From the beginning, the 19-passenger twin turboprop was designed to access some of the most inhospitable locations on earth. From Antarctic expeditions to the South Pole to commercial service to the shortest commercial runway in the world to hair-raising mountainside operations in Nepal, the Twin Otter has extreme capability, and operators use every bit of it.

If outdoor apparel manufacturer The North Face made an airplane, this would be it.

• READ MORE: The Pros and Cons of Aircraft Towing Solutions

Fundamentally, the Twin Otter differs from other similarly sized twin turboprops in its short takeoff and landing (STOL) performance. With a published STOL takeoff distance of only 1,200 feet to clear a 50-foot obstacle and 1,050 feet for landing over the same 50-foot obstacle, the short-field capability is astounding. 

In comparison, the non-STOL Embraer EMB-110 Bandeirante, with the same engines and the same passenger capacity, requires 2,648 feet and 2,848 feet, respectively.

Everything comes at a price, and this capability is no exception. Equipped with big double-slotted Fowler flaps and drooping ailerons, the wing is optimized for low-speed flight and, consequently, is less efficient at higher speeds. Additionally, the exposed wing struts and fixed landing gear, while lightweight and durable, add more drag to the equation. Ultimately, you can expect a maximum cruise speed of around 160 knots.

The Twin Otter is as versatile as it is capable. Standard landing gear enables operation from rough, unimproved runways. Lightweight straight floats provide water access without much of a payload penalty, while fully amphibious floats are able to be flown from land or water. Similarly, both straight skis and wheel skis are utilized in harsh winter climates like Antarctica.

The end result is perhaps analogous to a heavily modified Jeep Wrangler rock crawler. This is a machine laser-focused on extreme capability, able to access places few others can.

If you want fast, comfortable, long-distance transit, there are far better alternatives. But if you want the ability to take a group of friends and a few weeks of camping supplies deep into the wilderness via short, rudimentary airstrips, the Twin Otter is tough to beat.

Beechcraft King Air 260

Take a survey of the most common mission profiles of most aircraft owners, and you’ll find that landing on mountaintop airstrips in Nepal and delivering supplies to the South Pole tend to rank toward the bottom of the list.

More likely, buyers will be interested in fast, comfortable transportation between well-established metropolitan airports. And if their passengers are able to watch cat videos on Instagram and take naps along the way, all the better.

This is where a proven performer with all-around usability comes into play, and few are as proven as Beechcraft’s King Air family. With lineage extending back to the Twin Bonanza that first flew in 1949, the platform evolved into the ’50s-era, piston-powered Queen Air before culminating in the turboprop King Air family that remains in production today.

While many variations of the King Air have been produced over the years, the line can generally be divided into three primary variants.

The entry-level 90, with seven seats and a 10,100-pound maximum takeoff weight, is commonly positioned as a step up from cabin-class piston twins. Excluding the commuter airline variants like the Model 99 and the 1900, the largest King Air is the 350, with seating for 11 and a maximum takeoff weight of 15,000 pounds or more.

Splitting the gap is the midrange 200-series, exemplified by the King Air 260. Like the Twin Otter, it features a maximum takeoff weight of precisely 12,500 pounds, eliminating the need for type-rated pilots. When it comes to real-world, cross-country capability without a type rating, few options are as refined and proven as this King Air series.

The basic formula hasn’t changed much over the years. Combine two Pratt & Whitney PT6 turboprop powerplants, a roomy cabin with comfortable club seating, and docile, well-mannered handling qualities, and you’ve got a flexible performer that, unsurprisingly, has been successful for decades.

One sign of Beechcraft’s quality is the U.S. military’s continued allegiance to the brand.

Over the years, the Bonanza, Baron, Twin Bonanza, Queen Air, and King Air have all found roles in various branches of the armed forces. If ever there was a “mil-spec” airplane, this would be it, and it’s telling that direct competitors like the Cessna Conquest and Piper Cheyenne never followed suit.

With an avionics suite that includes autothrottles, digital pressurization, and synthetic vision, the newly updated 260 reduces workload, making it easier than ever to manage in flight. In the end, this King Air just might be the single closest thing to a private jet available to fly for pilots without a type rating.

Antonov An-2 Colt

Life isn’t all about sensibility and economic viability. Not all of us dream of flying IFR from one perfectly manicured resort town to another.

In a world of smooth yacht rock and clean-cut golf tournaments, some of us long for Metallica and Burning Man.

For this subset of the flying population, the Antonov An-2 is just the ticket. First flown in 1947 and produced in largely unchanged form for approximately 50 years, this monster taildragger was to the Soviet Union what the C-47 was to the U.S.—a rugged, dependable transport that can survive multiple wars and rise to just about any challenge.

With a maximum takeoff weight of 11,993 pounds, it falls just under our weight limit and is, therefore, a natural contender for one of the largest aircraft one can fly without a type rating.

Since its introduction just after World War II, the An-2 has worn many hats, serving as an airliner, military transport, firefighter, crop duster, and even an armed attack aircraft. Nearly 20,000 examples were built in Russia, Poland, and China. Provided you have the means of shipping and importing goods from those parts of the world, spare parts are plentiful.

Everything about the An-2 is massive, unrefined, and utilitarian. The 9-cylinder Shvetsov ASh-62 engine, a development of the Wright R-1820 Cyclone that powered the Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress and Grumman HU-16 Albatross, produces just over 1,000 hp at takeoff power. While doing so, it consumes a staggering 110 gallons per hour.

According to those fortunate enough to have logged time in the beast, attempting to wrangle it through steep turns and crosswind landings is not unlike trying to ride an inebriated water buffalo through a museum’s display of priceless antiquities and fine china. Significant upper body strength is required, and at times, one wishes for a third arm to keep everything running properly. Once finally established in a given phase of flight, things unfold both slowly and deliberately. 

Slow flight is, in fact, one of the An-2’s greatest strengths. With an estimated stall speed of only 35-40 knots and a kite-like 770 feet of wing area, it requires just over 500 feet of runway for takeoff and slightly more for landing. The kite-like qualities turn against you in crosswinds, however, with anything more than 8 knots described as “intolerable.” Taxiing in winds greater than 20 knots is said to be impossible.

Finding a rational reason to purchase such a machine requires searching one’s heart and ignoring one’s brain. For nearly any mission, there exists a more logical and economical alternative. However, logic and economy are simply not significant factors for those who own and love the An-2. 

Instead, this belching, oily anachronism is itself an experience. The purchase could perhaps be justified during preparation for the onset of a Mad Max-style zombie apocalypse scenario, wherein a large aircraft is needed to survive the harshest conditions imaginable with limited maintenance support.

But otherwise, one purchases an An-2 simply to enjoy the An-2.

This feature first appeared in the September Issue 950 of the FLYING print edition.

The post Planes That Are Not Too Big for Fun appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

The recently approved upgrade goes beyond replacing the Beaver’s original Pratt & Whitney R985 radial engine with a modern turbine to increase performance and efficiency. The re-engined Beavers receive new wings, fuel, oil, and electrical systems, engine monitoring, carbon-fiber cowlings, and more. Valdor calls the almost-all-new aircraft the BX Turbo Beaver.

• READ MORE: Building the Dream Beaver For Generations

Valdor noted that many of the updates it makes to the aircraft reflect aviation regulations that are more stringent than in 1948 when the Beaver was first  certified. Many of the changes under the STC reflect how much aviation has advanced over the Beaver’s long lifespan.

The aircraft was developed based in part on a wish list compiled through surveys of Canadian bush pilots. Bush aircraft at the time tended to be underpowered and a bit frail, so de Havilland focused on making the Beaver rugged and powerful. 

• READ MORE: Harbour Air Makes First Point-to-Point Flight with Electric Beaver

The company chose the R985, known as the Wasp Junior, because it delivered even more power than the designers specified for the original airframe. By now, though, many of the Beavers still flying have outlived their radials and can benefit from the turbine’s power boost. Valdor’s BX Turbo Beaver upgrade joins a long list of modifications developed over decades to keep these sought-after aircraft in service.

The post Valdor Aviation Receives STC for de Havilland Beaver Turboprop Conversion appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

DHC stands for de Havilland Canada. Starting in 1928, the British-owned de Havilland Aircraft Co. established a Canadian subsidiary to manufacture the Tiger Moth biplane for the overseas training of British airmen who fought in World War II. The company’s first homegrown airplane design, immediately after the war, was the DHC-1 Chipmunk, a more modern military trainer to replace the storied Tiger Moth. But de Havilland Canada realized that post-war, it could not rely on military demand to support the company, so it decided it needed to crack into the civilian aviation market.

• READ MORE: A Fanciful Flight in the ‘Spruce Goose’

Two-thirds of Canadians live within 100 kilometers of its southern border with the U.S. The vast majority of the country’s territory is remote and sparsely inhabited, with few roads. So in 1946, de Havilland Canada sent a survey to the “bush pilots” providing transportation into these remote areas to ask them what they wanted in an airplane. The result was the DHC-2 Beaver.

To begin with, it was an all-metal design, rugged enough to withstand a beating from rough terrain and exposure to the elements. It could be equipped with wheels, floats, or skis to be able to land in a variety of places without paved runways and take advantage of the country’s many lakes and rivers. The wings (spanning 48 feet compared to the aircraft’s 30-foot length) were large enough to provide ample lift, allowing short takeoffs and landings (STOL).

The top bush pilot request was for “more power”. Originally, de Havilland planned to use its own 145 hp engine. Then it realized there were plenty of surplus Pratt & Whitney Wasp Junior engines (the same as were used in the Grumman Goose and Beechcraft Staggerwing) left over from wartime production on sale for a low price. The 450 hp produced by the Wasp Junior made the Beaver significantly overpowered for its design, which gave it that much more STOL performance—and more than satisfied the bush pilots’ demand.

Since we are heading into the wilderness, I’ve decided to strap a canoe to our pontoons in case we need it once we reach our destination.

The cabin could be outfitted to carry up to six passengers and serve as a bus to remote settlements. Or the seats could be removed to carry up to 2,100 pounds of cargo, delivering vital supplies. Essentially, it was a flying truck.

To facilitate easy loading and unloading, the Beaver had wide doors on either side. Notice that the doors are cut diagonally at the top to avoid banging into the flaps when lowered. A lot of Beavers were later modified so their rear side windows bulged outward for greater passenger visibility forward and backward.

The first potential customer for the DHC-2 Beaver was the Ontario Department of Lands and Forests, which had to oversee more than 1 million square kilometers of territory dotted with more than 250,000 lakes. The department conducted a competition that the Beaver won, hands down. This specific plane, CF-OBS, was the first production model delivered to the department in April 1948.

We’re at Sault Ste. Marie on the border between Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and Ontario. Before we take off for parts north, let’s take a look at the cockpit. As you can see, everything is metal, extremely durable, with good visibility. There is a single yoke, which can be shifted from the pilot’s side to the copilot’s as needed.

The throttle, prop handle (for the adjustable pitch propeller), and fuel mixture are all at the top center of the instrument panel. The manifold pressure gauge reads just shy of 30 when the engine is off because that is the outside air pressure. The engine gauges are below the throttle quadrant, and the radio stack is off to the right in front of the copilot’s seat. Directly in front of the pilots, there’s a standardized “six pack” of primary instruments—a great improvement over the hodgepodge of gauges typical of WWII airplanes. Note that the airspeed indicator is in miles per hour, not knots. Above the instruments is the flaps indicator.

• READ MORE: The Rugged, Sleek Legacy of the Beechcraft ‘Staggerwing’

On water, you take off into the wind, as normal. Full throttle, prop, and mixture for full power. The aircraft will lift itself off the ground (or water, in this case) at 55 to 65 mph, with light back pressure on the yoke. And we’re flying.

I pull the throttle back to 33.5 manifold pressure (MP) and the prop back to 2,200 rpm, and lift the flaps one level from “takeoff” to climb, as I begin to rise over the Soo Locks and the Sault Ste. Marie International Bridge below. Leveling off at about 2,000 feet, I reduce the throttle further to 29.7, set the rpm to 2,000, and lift the flaps all the way to “cruise” as I get ready to turn north.

The cruise speed of the Beaver is about 110 mph, or 95 knots. The designers were concerned that it would be too slow because of all the drag from the large wings and pontoons. Bush pilots said never mind: “You only have to be faster than a dogsled to be a winner.” So 4.5 hours and 336 nautical miles later, I’m approaching Fort Hope in northern Ontario.

Fort Hope—now called Eabametoong by the Ojibwe First Nation that lives there—is typical of the kind of destination the Beaver was designed to reach. It was originally a Hudson’s Bay Company fur trading post, set up in 1890. Some 300 km north of Thunder Bay, even today it is reachable only by gravel road—or airplane. Before the airport was built in 1942, the only place to land was on the adjoining lake. Today, the “airport” is still only a 3,500-foot gravel airstrip, so a water landing remains an attractive alternative.

I’m pulling the flaps down to “landing,” prop lever full, and throttle almost all the way out. My approach speed is on target at about 70 mph. The stall speed with flaps down, as indicated by the white arc on the airspeed indicator, is about 60 mph. Just above the water, I pulled back on the yoke to stall and set down on the surface. Just as the sun is setting, I taxi over the village along the shoreline to tie up.

CF-OBS, the first production unit of the Beaver, has flown more than 8,800 hours in its career since 1948 and is still in flying condition today—though it mostly resides on display at the Canadian Bushplane Heritage Centre in Sault Ste. Marie. During the 1950s, the airplane played a key role in developing early water-bombing techniques to put out forest fires. The 1983 film Never Cry Wolf portrays a Canadian government naturalist hitching a ride on a Beaver from a remote airstrip. It highlighted how steeply the DHC-2 is able to take off, owing to its overpowered engine.

The DHC-2 Beaver gave bush pilots exactly the tool they needed. If the railroad opened up the American West, the Beaver can be considered the airplane that opened up the Canadian North. Initial sales of the Beaver, however, were slow. What really turned things around was the U.S. Army’s decision in 1951 to acquire it as a utility aircraft—a huge coup for a Canadian manufacturer.

That’s why I’m here in South Korea, just outside of Seoul, where the U.S. Army bought 970 Beavers for use during the Korean War. I wasn’t able to find an Army livery, so this particular airplane is from the U.S. Air Force, which also used Beavers as utility and liaison aircraft in Korea to ferry senior officers.

Just like in the Canadian wilderness, the Beaver’s STOL capabilities and rugged construction made it ideal for reaching unimproved airstrips in the combat zone. The Beaver’s durability ensured these same aircraft continued to fly for many years and be used during the Vietnam War.

Ultimately, more than 30 countries adopted the Beaver for similar military use—one was France. If you look at the sign on the airport, you’ll see where we are: Dien Bien Phu. Today’s commercial airport is the site of the airstrip the French used when they were besieged here by Viet Minh forces in 1954.

More than 10,000 French troops were trapped at Dien Bien Phu, located in a valley in a remote part of northern Vietnam. They were surrounded by an enemy force that outnumbered them 5-to-1 and held the high ground. The airstrip served as a fragile lifeline, providing them with supplies and transporting out wounded.

This Beaver was one of those airplanes. The wide doors allow access to load wounded soldiers for evacuation as mortar and artillery shells rain in. Aircraft couldn’t afford to park or turn off their engines. They had to load and take off again or else risked being destroyed on the ground. We’re fortunate to be getting out now. While French forces refused to surrender, they were all ultimately wiped out or captured. The colossal defeat spelled the death knell for French colonial rule in Indochina.

As I’ve been saying, the durability of the Beaver has given these military aircraft a long life. The U.S. Navy still flies two Beavers, like this one, at its Test Pilot School at Patuxent River NAS in Maryland. The school’s two beloved Beavers are the oldest active aircraft in the U.S. military inventory, built in 1951 and 1952. They are now used mainly for instruction and glider towing.

With the wider adoption of helicopters, however, the vast majority of Beavers were eventually retired from military service and either put in storage or purchased by private owners. This Beaver, for instance, was built in 1962 and flown by the U.S. Army in Vietnam. It was later flown by the CIA’s covert airline Air America. In 1998, it was purchased and refurbished by actor Harrison Ford.

Ford was already a private pilot by 1998, when he starred in a film called Six Days, Seven Nights, where he played the pilot of a DHC-2 Beaver—as his character puts it, “one of the safest, most reliable aircraft ever built.” The role inspired him to buy a Beaver of his own. But don’t go looking for N28S on FlightTracker. Like Elon Musk’s jets, Ford’s flying information has been made private at his request to the FAA.

Similar to me, Ford learned to fly at age 53. “I didn’t really know if I could learn anything,” he later told an interviewer. “I hadn’t learned anything—other than lines—for a long time. I wanted to engage my brain in some process that would wake it up and resupply it with challenges.”

Ford has experienced a handful of mishaps and accidents in his airplanes over the years, but notably, none of them have involved his DHC-2 Beaver. He’s involved in the Young Eagles program, volunteering to take kids from all backgrounds for a ride to spark their interest in aviation. Heck, I’d like to go up with him, but so far this is the closest I’ve gotten. Ford has said the Beaver is his favorite among his entire fleet of private aircraft. Who knows, maybe he’ll see this post and invite me?

Instead of waiting around for that to happen, though, I’ve come up to Talkeetna Airport (PATK) in Alaska. This is where a real-life outfit called K2 Aviation flies these red DHC-2 Beavers (among other aircraft, such as the DHC-3 Otters in the background) on sightseeing and adventure trips around Denali, formerly known as Mount McKinley.

Today we’re going to fly to the Denali Base Camp, situated on a glacier on the mountain’s shoulder, to see how these skis handle. This is definitely a trip I want to take in real life.

Before takeoff, I’ve entered our flight plan into the GPS, so I don’t get lost. The straight-line distance is just 48.7 nm. But the base camp is at 7,200 feet, and we’re starting out at just 358 feet above sea level, so we’ll be climbing much of the way.

• READ MORE: The Effective, Long-Lasting MiG-21

Talkeetna is a town of just more than 1,000 inhabitants that was founded in 1916 at the confluence of the Susitna, Chulitna, and Talkeetna rivers as a regional headquarters for the Alaska Railroad. I’ll be following the larger Susitna River due north, aiming straight for Denali. I’m cruising at an altitude of just over 10,000 feet msl. Denali is the highest peak in North America, with its summit at 20,310 feet, over twice as high.

Some Beavers have been upgraded with turbocharged engines, but this one (at least in the sim) has not. So as I go higher, I notice a falloff in the manifold pressure and have to compensate by putting the throttle to max. As I get closer to the mountains, I need to jot over to the west to join the glacier, which I will follow up to the base camp.

Here it is, the Kahiltna Glacier. The base camp is located near the top. The peak to the left is Mount Foraker. At 17,400 feet, it’s the second highest in the Alaska Range and the third highest in the United States.

The name Denali simply means “high” or “tall” in the language of the indigenous Koyukon Athabaskans. In 1896, a gold prospector named the mountain after William McKinley, who was elected president that year. In 2005, the Barack Obama administration officially made the name switch back to Denali.

Alright, I’m getting really close here. I can’t start to descend until I spot the base camp, or I’ll find myself in real trouble. Looking around… c’mon…I’m pretty sure it’s the patch of gray behind the second ridgeline. Well, I’m going in.

I’m high on approach, so I do a forward slip, and wrench my rudder full left while banking right to drop like a rock. You can just make out the forward edge of the runway straight below. I straighten out just above the runway to flare. I came in a little fast, but the upward slope of the landing strip slowed my momentum fast after touching down.

Welcome to the Denali Base Camp, a hub for climbers hoping to ascend the rest of the way on foot. It’s very slippery to taxi on skis, but I somehow managed to park.

But to end this thread, I really have to return to Canada to the place where I actually flew in a real Beaver for the first time. Harbour Air flies Beavers—along with a variety of other airplanes—from the seaplane base in downtown Vancouver, British Columbia. This was several years before I even thought about becoming a pilot. But I happened to get put in the copilot’s seat, which was quite a thrill.

I still remember lining up in the harbor for takeoff, gaining speed, and then banking left to turn toward the west over the suspension bridge below.

De Havilland Canada produced 1,657 DHC-2 Beavers from 1948 to 1967, when the company shifted its focus to making larger airliners. That still makes it the largest production run of any Canadian aircraft in history. Because of its durability, the Beaver has enjoyed an influence way beyond its numbers. Hundreds continue to fly today, and the numbers are actually growing as more get refurbished. A company called Viking Air, based in Victoria just off the coast from Vancouver, purchased the type certificate and now produces spare parts to keep the Beavers flying.

I didn’t know any of this when I took my half-hour tourist flight on Harbour Air. But I definitely remember the view, looking toward Vancouver Island. We soon turned back toward the city.

In 1987, the Canadian Engineering Centennial Board named the DHC-2 one of the top 10 engineering achievements of the 20th century for the country. In 1999, it appeared on a special edition Canadian quarter. The Beaver has also been featured on postage stamps from several countries.

At the end of the flight, we made a broad circle over downtown Vancouver as we prepared to land back in the harbor. Looking back, I have to say this flight was one of the things that probably planted the seed for me to begin learning to fly several years later. 

Coming in to land on the Vancouver waterfront. It certainly makes for a memorable flying experience.

If you’d like to see a version of this story with many more screenshots and historical images, you can check out my original post here. 

This story was told utilizing the Blackbird/Milviz DHC-2 Beaver and Northern Sky Studio PATK Talkeetna Airport add-ons to MSFS2020, along with liveries, sceneries, and airports produced by fellow users and shared on flghtsim.to for free. Harbour Air and K2 Aviation are real companies, and their portrayal is entirely fictional and does not constitute their endorsement or participation in any way.

The post Canada’s Rugged, All-Metal National Airplane appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

The DHC-515 Firefighter is a successor to the well-known Canadair CL-215 and CL-415 amphibious that have been used extensively for firefighting in North America and Europe for more than 50 years. The new model incorporates upgrades designed to increase its overall firefighting performance.

The DHC-515 can refill its tanks from nearby fresh or saltwater sources in 12 seconds instead of returning to an airport like land-based aircraft must. The company said the new aircraft can drop up to 700,000 liters of water per day on fire zones.

The DHC-515 Firefighter is once again setting the standard for aerial firefighting. Delivering with the most precision, most water to the fire zone per day, and in the toughest conditions.

Read the news here: https://t.co/KPyLYeQQWj pic.twitter.com/Ll6u2CutXo

— De Havilland Aircraft of Canada (@dehavillandAIR) March 31, 2022

De Havilland Canada acquired the Canadair CL program in 2016 and said it has been considering returning to production since 2019, in part owing to the prevalence of wildfires in many regions.

“To bring the DHC-515 into production is important for not only our company, but countries around the world who rely on our aircraft to protect their people and forests,” said Brian Chafe, chief executive officer of de Havilland Canada. “We understand the important role the previous aircraft have played in protecting people and property and as our climate continues to change and summers increase in both temperature and length, the DHC-515 will be an important tool for countries around the globe to use in putting out fires.”

The company said it will assemble the new aircraft in Calgary, Alberta, where it currently works on the CL-215 and CL- 415 models. De Havilland said it expects to recruit more than 500 people to support the program. Following delivery of the first 22 aircraft, the company said it plans to begin delivering additional units at the end of this decade.

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