Splash and Go's By Eric McCarthy

I recently had a chance to do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time:  I had my first experience in a floatplane – what fun! I mentioned last time that my friend Bob has a very nice Cessna 206 Stationair on amphibious floats and, like most pilots, he was always looking for an excuse to go flying; well, I was that excuse!We met at Lawrence Municipal Airport (KLWM) and went to Bobs hangar/man cave. It was cold out, so we preflighted in the relative warmth of the hanger. It seems that everything is a little more challenging with a float plane: it’s a long way up to the fuel tanks, and you really can’t even inspect the outboard tanks without a tall ladder. My usual routine, following the POH guidelines, of an inspection walkaround, checking nuts and bolts, actuators, and hinge security just couldn’t be done from the ground – I could reach the stabilizer and elevator, but just barely; the vertical stabilizer – not even close… Checking the engine’s oil and fuel sump was a little easier – the pontoons provided a nice platform and relatively easy access.We pulled the big bird out of the hangar with his four wheeler, closed up the hanger, and mounted up in the plane. First impression: it’s a long way up to the cockpit! I’m used to smashing my shins into the landing gear and my forehead into the trailing edge of the wings as I enter the cockpit of most Cessnas; not with the 206 on floats! First you’ve got to scale the floats – with the wheels down ‘n locked they stand about 3 feet tall; then you have to climb the ladder another 3 feet or so to get to the cockpit. Unlike most Cessna’s, the 206-series of airplanes only has a door on the pilot’s side – there is a set of doors providing access to the rear seats on the right side, but the pilot and copilot enter through the pilot’s door, and not in that order. The cockpit is spacious enough that this is not as difficult and ungraceful as entering a Piper, but it’s definitely not as convenient as most Cessnas.We strapped in and Bob ran through the pre-start checklist.“Clear!” Whir, whir, whiirrr…click, click, click… Dang - dead battery! Ugh! It was a pretty new battery too! Either the cold had somehow sapped it of its power, or there was some other ‘phantom’ power drain occurring while the plane sat idle. The plane is hangared and it’s not that cold inside, so that leaves the phantom power drain… Bob had recently had an ADS-B-compliant transponder installed, and wondered if that may have had anything to do with it…oh, well, a problem for another time. A quick call to Tim at Eagle East brought a jump start and before long we were taxiing to the active.We did a quick run up and held for our takeoff clearance while a Diamond Star executed a touch and go before us. Holding for takeoff is a luxury not afforded to wet-ops where there are no brakes! You also have to learn to execute your checklist items from memory, as you can ill-afford to expend more than a glance inside while the plane is motoring along on the water.Cleared for takeoff, we trundled out onto 32 and began our takeoff roll. Lightly loaded, we were off the ground in short order and climbing at an impressive rate despite about 700 pounds of amphibious floats dangling below the fuselage. The plane isn’t fast, giving up 15-20 knots to the floats, but it is very stable in flight. As you might expect, it’s a little ponderous in roll, but very pleasant to fly.We turned southeast on departure, passing over the City of Haverhill, carefully avoiding a nearly-invisible radio tower set on one of the city’s hills. We followed the Merrimack River for a few miles until Lake Attitash came into view, never more than about 1,500 feet over the river.As we overflew the lake, Bob helpfully pointed out indicators of the wind’s direction. We had a pretty good breeze of about 12-15kts that day, so the usual signs - flags flapping, smoke blowing, etc - gave way to the wind streaks across the lake, making it very clear that the wind was out of the northwest (well, that and the fact that we had just departed on runway 32…). I had asked, and Bob had offered, to walk me through seaplane operations, and this was an important part of my education. Backcountry lakes and rivers don’t have windsocks or tetrahedrons – you’ve got to be able to read the signs yourself.Having determined the wind direction, we set up for a left downwind and prepared for landing, just as you would at any airport. As we dropped flaps and slowed to approach speed, the gear selector warning system audibly reminded us of our configuration: “Gear up for water landing” and displayed four blue lights indicating that the four wheels were up and stowed.Turning final, we approached low over the low rolling hills and trees at the southeast end of the lake. Since it was a cool, late fall day, all the boats had been pulled - we had the lake all to ourselves, save for a few seagulls and ducks floating in the lee of the trees at the other end of the lake. We splashed down about 500 feet from the shore, skittering across the surface of the water briefly before Bob advanced the throttle for the ‘go’ portion of the touch and go. The landing was really quite smooth, a testament to Bob’s skills, I’m sure. The sensation was a little odd as we started to settle into the water - I’ve never done that before - but that quickly passed as we accelerated to takeoff. It was very much like being in a speedboat - that same stuttering feeling as you cut through the waves and when you decelerate and sink a little.After another brief takeoff run, we were airborne again, climbing away as the gulls and ducks scattered beneath us. We, again, entered a standard left pattern for another touch and go. I followed Bob through the motions as he prepared for the landing: again, the only thing different from any other landing was acknowledging the gear system’s reminder of the landing configuration.We executed another splash and go then headed off for a cruise down the coastline to Gloucester. Bob handed the controls to me and I followed the Merrimack’s twists and turns until we passed Newburyport and the mouth of the river - some of the most treacherous waters on the east coast. There we turned right to follow along the beautiful sandy beaches of Plum Island. We passed abeam the Crane Estate in Ipswich, a 59 room, Great Gatsby-era mansion set atop the aptly named Castle Hill. The 165 acre estate, part of a 2,100 acre reservation, features spectacular grounds including the Grande Allée, a half-mile of manicured lawns cascading down the hill to the Atlantic. Often used as backdrop scenery in advertisements for a variety of luxury products, the estate has also been used in a number of movies.Passing Essex Bay, we turned south again over Wingaersheek Beach to follow the Annisquam River, which effectively makes Cape Ann an island. We followed the river to Gloucester Harbor, where we circled over the ‘Wicked Tuna’ fleet preparing for the tuna season which opened the next day. Both a beautiful harbor and a working fishing port, Gloucester was the setting for novels including Rudyard Kipling’s Captains Courageous; artists such as Winslow Homer and Edward Hopper were drawn to its scenic beauty. Unfortunately, it is perhaps best known for the tragic events of The Perfect Storm of 1991, when the fishing vessel Andrea Gail was lost with her crew in a massive storm in the North Atlantic. We turned north to begin our trek back to Lawrence, retracing our path back up the coast, over Newburyport and along the Merrimack. We called in about 10 miles east of the airport and were told to report a 3 mile base. Our final approach would take us over Lake Cochichewick and over another early twentieth century mansion called Campion Hall. About ten years ago, I had been part of the development team that saved the historic building from being destroyed by dividing the mansion into a dozen condominium units and constructing another fourteen units on the grounds. It turned out to be a very nice project.Bob configured the plane for landing, lowering the flaps and gear and acknowledging the aural warning “Gear down for runway landing” and confirming the four green lights of the gear indicating system. Alas, our landing came too soon - both figuratively and literally, by my standards: we were still 10 feet in the air when the gear hit the pavement. The plane flew so similarly to any other Cessna I’d flown that I had forgotten how tall she sits on her floats!With winter settling early over the northeast it seems unlikely that we’ll get another chance to partake of the wonders of floatplane flying until the spring thaw. I would have liked to experience and learn the nuances of on-water operations. Seaplane pilots need to consider so much that we landlubbers take for granted: wind, waves, and currents can all have significant impacts on operations as the floatplane has no purchase on the water and is at the mercy of each. Consider a situation where the wind or current (or both) are such that you can only approach the dock nose in from the left side: in this case, the pilot has to time the engine shutdown so that he has enough, but not too much, momentum to ‘coast’, to the dock; if there’s no help on the dock, he then has to jump from his seat, walk to the front of the pontoon, then walk the tightrope, a cable strung from float to float for just this purpose, to be able to fend the plane off the dock, then wrestle the beast to secure it to the dock. There’s a lot to think about there, as opposed to pulling to a stop and setting the parking brake…I want to thank my friend Bob for the flight and introduction to floatplane flying - it was a blast! I look forward to doing it again when springtime clears the ice. In the meantime, I’m already plotting my next bucket-list experience, and this one also involves landing on water, albeit the frozen variety: landing at the lower 48’s only FAA authorized ice runway at Alton Bay on Lake Winnipesaukee - I can hardly wait!Until next time, fly safe!