It was a panoramic view which I am sure most people have never witnessed. The whole of Abbotsford, B.C. and further up the Fraser Valley to Harrison Lake, south to Bellingham, Washington and west to the San Juan Islands. There I sat in the morning sun; the wind was at my back — about 80 miles per hour of wind.
Out of curiosity, a seagull flew within 20 feet of my head. Staring at me, and in his own seagull way he squawked, “What the heck?”
I looked him straight in the eye, and shrugging my shoulders while raising my hands in the air I yelled back, “I know, right?”
I guess that was the best I could come up with while I was hanging thirty feet under a helicopter flying 60 mph, 800 feet above the ground.
The “Osprey Emergency Rescue Sling” — “When there is nowhere to land and no time to waste.” That was the name and slogan I gave it. If I had to give it a number, it would be “Patent Idea #725.” Consider it still pending.
Sitting in my “lab for creative ideas”, listening to the gentle bubbling of chemicals in a beaker on the Bunsen Burner, I daydreamed of my days as a helicopter pilot. There must be a way I could contribute to keep my feet in the business. I thought of the small helicopters which I flew and the many calls we got each year to extract injured loggers and hikers from the woods. Some would have to be carried a mile to a clear-cut large enough for us to land to pick them up. What, I thought, if there was a nicely packaged rescue seat you could carry in the helicopter with about 30 feet of light cable. If needed for an extraction, the pilot could attach the cable to the cargo hook under the helicopter, hover over the victim, lower the seat down to him, and when he was buckled in, lift him out of the timber to safety. Brilliant!
After a trip to the fabric store for canvas, to the wrecking yard for a seat belt, and to the hardware store for aircraft cable, I retreated to the “lab for creative ideas” and began assembling. When finished, the seat resembled a bosun’s chair as used by window washers and sailors. It folded nicely, was connected to, and wrapped with the 30 feet of aircraft cable. The whole unit slid neatly into a custom fit canvas bag.
Next was marketing. I needed photos of the sling in use, with me being suspended under a helicopter. It just so happened that the closest helicopter for rent was across the border at Abbotsford Airport in Canada.
Making a trip up to the airport I explained to the owner what I was intending to do, and we scheduled a flight for the following Saturday. My instructions to him were that I wanted to be lifted only to a height of ten feet and to hover in place while my photographer took pictures.
On Saturday I picked up my artist friend, John Zylstra, who is also a crackerjack photographer, and we drove to the airport. Thinking that I needed to look totally cool in the photos, I brought a flight suit and helmet which gave me the appearance of stuntman Super Dave Osborne. As it turned out, my stunt turned out only slightly better than one of Super Dave’s.
Parking next to the helicopter, we waited for the owner to arrive but out of the shop walked a man I had not met who told us that he would be the pilot.
The hook under a light helicopter is held closed by a solenoid. If the pilot wants to release his cargo, he presses a button on his controls which opens the hook and drops the load. Being that I was planning to hang from that hook, I brought a chain to secure it so it could not open. The pilot though informed me that he would not allow the hook to be disabled because if I started swinging under the helicopter and was endangering him, he was going to drop me.
Oh well, he was only going to lift me ten feet. A fall from that height would not hurt much, so I agreed. I explained to him what I wanted him to do, i.e., hover in place, lifting me in the air ten feet so John could take photos.
As he climbed in and started the helicopter, I clipped the cable onto the cargo hook, pulled it to its full length, and strapped myself in the chair. The rotors started gaining speed and soon the helicopter slowly lifted into the air. Walking under the hovering machine as it rose, I waited for the cable to become taught. I glanced at John and gave him the thumbs-up as my feet left the ground and we climbed straight up into a hover, lifting me ten feet into the air.
Although I gave the play to the pilot, the pilot decided to call an audible. He left the hover and slowly started to move down the field with me hanging under him. I aptly avoided knocking over a garbage can and a signpost. John kept up the best he could while madly shooting from different angles. The more the pilot traveled, the faster we moved across the ground. And then, being a helicopter pilot myself, I knew what was going to happen — he transitioned from hovering, to flying. Now I was hanging ten feet above the ground under a helicopter traveling 30 mph and we were running out of airport!
One of the many reasons I have PTSD is because of times like these. I get ill just telling the story because when the pilot realized that he was running out of airport he decided to climb — to pattern altitude — 800 feet above the ground!
Absurd thoughts ran through my mind at this point because I realized that if the pilot touched the button on his controls, the solenoid would pop the hook open and I would drop to the ground.
Now, let’s discuss the aerodynamics of hanging under a moving aircraft. Because my legs were hanging under me, they were caught by the wind causing me to weathervane and fly backwards. This caused me to panic. If he dropped me from 800 feet and I was facing forward, I could do a tuck and a front roll when I hit the ground and possibly come out unharmed. Facing backwards, I would most likely land on my head and kill myself.
Naturally, I began looking for possible soft places to land if I were dropped: the top of that fir tree, that irrigation pond (I have seen the Acapulco divers do it!), the rows of raspberry bushes, the top of that hanger (that would take at least 30 feet off the fall.)
Finally, the pilot got tired of flying me around the pattern of Abbotsford Airport and I would imagine was a little intimidated by what the tower controllers were screaming at him, so he brought me back to what I can only describe as a “run on” landing.
John came running up with his camera, still shooting photos.
“That was awesome. Did you mean to do that? By the way, you may have soiled yourself.”
All I could seem to say was, “Garf! Schnitzel! Flah! Flah!” as my eyes fluttered wildly.
As the engine of the helicopter wound down, the pilot climbed out and walked up to us.
“What part of ‘hover at 10 feet’ didn’t you understand?” I screamed.
“Yah, it kind of got away from me.” He mumbled.
“How much experience do you have flying helicopters?” John asked.
“Twenty-five hours,” he said. The owner lets me give rides to build my hours.”
Looking back at that one and only ride, which still gives me flashbacks and nightmares, I must admit that the sling performed exactly as it was designed and would be a handy tool to carry in a smaller helicopter for rescues. I believe though, that I would have to be near death to try a ride like that again. The kit should also include a blindfold for the victim because if his accident did not kill him, the heart attack from being hung under a speeding helicopter surely would.
The Osprey Emergency Rescue Sling has since been shelved.
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