... The Dash 7 was designed for small, back country airports typically served by Twotters and the like. A great plane designed for a market that never materialized. Once airports grew in pax numbers to support a plane as big as the Dash 7, they typically expanded the runways so they could support larger aircraft and operator didn't want to maintain 4 engines. This led to the development of the Dash 8.

 

It's not what you fly, it's how (and where) you fly it.

 

regards,

Joe

 

The Dash 7 I posted was from Rocky Mountain Airways, who was the inaugural launch customer for the airplane. They flew this behemoth from Stapleton to a place called the Avon STOLPort located near Vail, CO. I read that the approach to the 4,000' runway was interesting, to say the least.

 

From Abandoned and Little Known Airfields:

 

... According to former Rocky Mountain Airways pilot Lou Popolizio, "The 11/2/79 Avon MLS Rwy 28 Approach plate indicated Avon Airport was located at an 7,538' elevation... the MLS approach had a Decision Height of 8,644' MSL.The distance from the final approach fix (SCALI intersection) to the end of Runway 28 was 8.7 NM & the glideslope intercept began at 15,000' MSL.

 

You had to descend 7,462' in 8.7 NM, which is an 8 degree glideslope. This descent amounted to an altitude loss of 858' / NM. We typically had an approach speed of 77 KIAS, which is approximately 90 KTAS. We typically saw 1,000-1,400 FPM descents on the glideslope.”

 

BTW Joe... like your banner a whole bunch; the epitome of a 'bush plane'.

 

(Sorry for the slight thread hijack, but bush and float planes are all related to STOL, so...)

Interesting discussion this evolved into - I guess it just mainly highlights the difference between commercial and private operators.

 

I was reading an article regarding the Kodiak not long ago - was talking about how some of the strips one of the operators flies into has issues with animals on the runway.  The cows are a problem, but the dogs aren't - they get eaten when they get hit.

Heh, that reminds me of a story I read in the Naval Safety Center's "Approach" magazine.  Let me see if I can dig it up...

 

 

This story is so unusual, so out-of-the-blue, that when I told it to a couple of sim instructors at the C-130 schoolhouse in Ft.

Worth, even those crusty salts were silenced.  For the first time in history they didn’t come back with, “That’s nothing. One time I ... .”   They had nothing.

 

This event occurred at a podunk strip of asphalt in central Colombia known as Aeropuerto Jorge Enrique Gonzalez Torres. We had a whopping 4,921 by 66 feet of runway, which is small even by C-130 standards. We were to deliver a few Navy SEALs and their training gear for their jungle adventure.

 

After an uneventful but brake-warming landing, we unloaded the cargo and waved goodbye to the SEALs. Then we waved at the locals who had gathered around the edge of the field to see this enormous aircraft. We taxied 50 feet back to the runway to depart.

 

A short-field takeoff in the C-130 requires more vigilance and planning than a standard departure from a large runway. We monitor engine output during acceleration and note our refusal speed, which was 101 knots for this takeoff. Factor in the runway width, which was exactly half of the 132-foot wingspan, and the result was more tunnel vision and focus inside rather than outside. As we accelerated past 80 knots, I focused on maintaining centerline. I felt good that the engines were performing as advertised.

 

Unfortunately, I wasn’t scanning farther down the runway. Somewhere around 95 knots, I realized something was moving near the edge of the runway and moving toward us. I took a second to process what I saw. It looked like a full-grown, full-horned white cow, and it was charging at full speed along the edge of the runway — right at our No. 3 engine.

 

As if this wasn’t enough to take in, a woman was chasing after the cow. At the same time, our highly experienced flight engineer must have looked up from the torque meters, because I heard his cool, unemotional Montana voice say, “Cow, pull up.”

 

No exclamation point was needed. A quick scan of the airspeed indicator showed 110 knots, and I pulled hard. We lifted off quickly and left woman and animal in one piece. I’ll never be quite sure whether we were still on the deck or airborne when that cow passed under the No. 3 prop, but it definitely got the full brunt of the prop wash. As for the woman, I’m sure she has the wildest story that’s ever been told in central Colombia.

 

As if Kirk Gibson had just hit a home run in the ’88 World Series, we all said, “I don’t believe what I just saw.”

 

Between the disbelief, laughter, and games of what-if (“What if that cow had turned onto the runway?”), it took awhile to come to grips with what had just occurred. Only four out of six crewmembers saw the cow. As we replayed the sequence of events, it was clear the flight engineer exercised outstanding crew resource management (CRM).  He had super situational awareness (SA), quickly recognizing a critical situation, and he provided a clear, attention-getting response with his call of, “Cow, pull up.

 

Source is the APR/MAY/JUN 2012 Approach Magazine (Naval Safety Center publication):  http://www.public.navy.mil/navsafecen/Documents/media/approach/2012/App_May-June12.pdf, page 16, titled "Holy Cow!", by LT Pete Noel

I haven't got this Seabee, but I hear it is very well done. 

 

It has glass...lots of glass windows to look outside :lol:

 

Cheers

TJ