he inished yelling at me for landing in
the sea and adding up the money I was
going to owe him, he agreed to send the
Lake’s beaching gear up on the morn-
ing Grumman
Mallard light from Vancouver.
Once the big Mallard was of the sea-
plane ramp, I taxied the Lake to the
ramp, where we donned our waders and
aixed the beaching gear to the sides of
the fuselage and under the tail. After we
hauled the Lake out and tied it down, I
pulled the hull drain plugs and hosed
out the salt water.
We took the morning Mallard light
back to Vancouver. Ed ordered a new
sponson and took it up to Ocean Falls
two weeks later, attached it to the wing
and lew the Lake and beaching gear
back to Vancouver.
he total cost of repairs and Mallard
tickets was just over $3,000. A small price
to pay compared to the catastrophic
outcome I avoided thanks to Ed’s intense
training. He used rolled up newspapers
to smack me when I got the Lake into
dangerous angle of attack territory or
failed to set up the correct attitudes and
speeds for rough or glassy water landings
while he shouted, “Stop trying to kill us!”
Perhaps we should have spent more timeon the perils of a downwind landing.
I eventually bought all of Ed’s lying
boat shares and, never forgetting his
admonishments, I logged 400 hours ly-
ing in British Columbia over the next 15
years without popping another rivet. PP