Francis Meyrick

Is that a shark I see below?
(a perfectly executed autorotation after another C18 engine failure…)

(A little encouragement, very greatfully received, guys.. thanks!

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3/25/12

Hey moggy. just had another brief flick through your tuna manual and thought i better send you a quick note. im back in nz on holiday for a bit, after 14 months on the boats and looking at your manual reminded me of how much it helped me, and maybe kept me alive. in hindsight i dont think i would have gone out if i hadnt read what you had writen, so thanks bro! i was on 5 korean boats, working for Hansen and i couldnt say a bad word about them (hansen)at all. not sure where im going for the next mission, looking for more money and new challenge but if i cant find anything i’ll be back out on the boats. for me it was tough at times living on the boats, but overall one of the best things ive done, and most fun ive had. i reckon 99.9% of your manual is bang on, so thanks again and good job.

(name supplied)

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3/7/2010

Moggy

I ran into a few situations which were exactly as you warned about. For sure, i was able to recognize the threats before i maybe got hurt. A member of staff at my employer warned me not to read the manual.
They sure do not like you. I tried it anyway one evening in Ponpeh, and was at it all night long. Internet slow there. Good job, man. Do you really suck at Karaoke?

(name and address supplied)
(omitted to avoid possible employer retribution)
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3/6/2010

Moggy, you old rascal

Have just finished reading “Blip on the Radar 20 “. Your comments on the character assassination going on kind of amused me. Spot on. As you already know from others, there sure are some crazy stories being spread about. Actually, some pretty vicious lies. Those of us who have objectively read the manual, (more and more pilots, for sure) and found it pretty darn good, can’t figure out why such absurd negative stuff would be put out as fact. Unless, certain people are running SCARED . scared stiff of too many questions being asked by the new generation of pilots. Best way for them to try and keep a lid on the accident/fatality rate becoming a ‘hot potato’ is for your detractors to pass you off as a nitwit whose Manual is full of codswallop (or tunawallop !).
Without EVER having read a word of it, some of the guys immediately repeat the slander they have been told about you. I’m really far from being alone in thinking it should be COMPULSORY reading for any pilot (no matter how many other hours in the log book) before embarking on Tuna boat flying.

Personally, I feel quite sorry for the anti-Moggy brigade — because they have clearly been brainwashed, and are possibly in awe of whoever first gave them the “newbie Tuna pilot speech ” when they arrived in Guam (or wherever) to take up their 12 month contract.

“If you have heard of a former Tuna Pilot named Francis (Moggy Meyrick) don’t believe any of the nonsense he writes because …. blah blah blah “.

Well, I guess it’s their life. I’d like to tell them to be careful whose hands they put it in, and be wary of believing rumours without any proof. The employers are getting desperate I’m thinking. This is publicity and safety questions they don’t want being debated, never mind written about on the Internet, as pointedly as you do!

Good luck, Mogster, keep writing. There’s plenty who appreciate what you’ve done. A beer awaits you. And stop that Karaoke racket!
(you remember that session on the Fu Kuan 707??)Crazy bastard!

(name and address supplied)
(omitted to avoid possible employer sanctions)

From Moggy: Heck, yeah! I gotta write that one up…

When I test ’em, I test ’em good…

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G’day Moggy – & thanks…

Sunday, September 6, 2009
From: Kiwi contractor
To: francismeyrick@yahoo.com

G’day Moggy,
I am writing to express my gratitude for compiling ‘Moggy’s Tuna Manual’,
an absolute must read for all ‘first time’ tuna pilots.
Your writings are so incredibly accurate I would swear I’m on the same boat.
With the downturn in the American economy, I found myself having to seek other employment and having had the opportunity to speak with a previous Hansen employee, I gave Marvin Reed a call in Guam. Within a week I was meeting up with John Walker in Missouri and before long on the plane to Pohnpei.
Not really knowing what to expect I searched the net for info only to find any information on the subject to be extremely scarce. Fortunately I came across ‘Moggy’s Tuna Manual’, an informative, entertaining, incredibly accurate record of what to expect and where to start.
Having being met at the Airport by my A&P (Tibo), before long I was living aboard the Ocean Galaxy (formerly Tuna Queen), a Taiwanese owned vessel operating under an American License and Captain. The biggest challenge to date has to be the language barrier. The US Captain & myself being the only fluent english speaking personnel on board.
I strongly recommend your manual to anyone either contemplating or currently involved in the Tuna Flying industry
and thank you Moggy, for your works do not go unappreciated.

Rick F.
Kiwi Helicopter Pilot living in Florida, working on the south West Pacific Ocean.
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Friday, September 11, 2009

Hi Francis,
I’m a low time helicopter pilot and I know what you must be thinking by now……Oh my not another beggar. Yes I’m sorry I’m yet another Robbie instructor begging and scrounging for an opportunity to enter the turbine market like I’ve been doing for the past couple of months….
I read your Tuna pilot manual and loved it. I can’t wait to read the rest when it’s done. While reading it I decided that this is the way to enter the turbine market. I mailed Ron Barr from Tropic and Marvin Reed from Hansen. Perhaps you might know some other guys I could nag for a chance to fly the H500? I would really appreciate it a lot if you could spare some advice or contact. My total Robby hours are 398 and should touch on 500 by year-end. Pleeeeeeeze if you could help me with a contact I would be forever in your debt and promise to “pay it forward”.
Thanks
Anton S.
South Africa

I give up – Fukkit!

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Re: the finest single malt

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Dear Sir.
First of all I would like to apologize for writing this email out of the blue.I have taken your email address from the Tunaseiners forum and decided on the unorthodox approach of contacting you directly.The excuse that I have given to myself before such action,was that this industry and people that partake pleasure and benefits from flying helicopters are most unorthodox themselves. I have read your articles about tuna helicopters and must say ,Sir, that you have a way of getting your point across with eloquence and class.Maybe you should compile all this words in a book and distribute it to a bunch of flight schools for all to learn. My name is Dan M. and I am a Canadian licensed helicopter pilot .By birth ,I am Romanian but God and its mysterious ways brought me across the ocean and gave the opportunity to accomplish a life long dream of flying .In previous episodes of my life I graduated with a law degree ,worked as plain clothed police officer,paved streets,drilled for oil and guarded inmates in a maximum security transit penitentiary.For the last 3 years I am a bush pilot flying R44s in Northern Alberta and North West Territories in Canada .I consider this as being the pinnacle of my accomplishments .I am 37 years of age and look forward to a long career as a pilot that should include in my opinion flying off a boat over the ocean .And sir,if from the brief description of my past endeavors you concluded that I am an adventurer you may be right but please refrain from making the same assumption about my flying.I am one of the most “conservative, procedure following,VSI and airspeed watcher on final “pilot that you can find North of 60th at my level of experience.Professionalism ,care for the machine I fly and for my passengers has been instilled in my attitude since I have first touched the cyclic by the strictest flight instructor in western Canada.I am now at 1000 hours ,most of witch are on the 44 ,flying burly oil and gas workers in and out remote locations. Marginal visibility,hot and humid at gross weight and in tight unprepared confined areas, slinging with a 100 ft long line at -30 C with the door off for 7 hours,etc.. are what I do for a living.I enjoy and cherish every moment of it. That being said,I feel that it is the time that I move on and flying off a boat has been always in my mind.In spite of my efforts,contact numbers and informations about this have eluded me for now.The only job offer recently on line required 100 hrs turbine time and 25 hrs on 500s.Both of this requirements I can not fulfill ,but somehow l live under the impression that there are companies out there that fly 44s.If you somehow did not fall asleep by now or deleted my email in favor of more enlightening literature,and if your time allows would you please enlighten me and bring my ignorance to an end. In all seriousness ,a bit of guidance will probably make my path easier and would entitle you ,Sir ,to the finest single malt in the shadiest of taverns if we ever meet,regardless of the outcome .Thank you for your time.
Dan M.
Canada
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Re: Pilot Articles

Saturday, September 5, 2009
From: Shane S.
To: francismeyrick@yahoo.com

I have been reading your articles on the website with great interest. I am wondering if you had any recent information on what the operators are looking for in qualifications. I currently have just over 500 hrs and tuna boats have always intrigued me since I was in flight school. I apologize if this e-mail is too forward. Any insight you could give me into this sector would be valuable. Also if you could tell me what shortcomings you noticed in new pilots that are coming down so that I can begin to “fix ” those if I can find a job down there would be appreciated. I found the landings article you wrote very informative and helpful. I thank you for any information you may be able to give me.
Warmest Regards,
Shane S.
Salt Lake City, UT, USA
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Re: Moggy’s Tuna pilot manual…

Thursday, July 16, 2009
From: Alison L.
To: francismeyrick@yahoo.com

Hi Mr. Meyrick
I’ve been avidly following your Tuna Pilot’s Manual, and can’t wait
for the next installment! I’m a baby rotary pilot, and reading your
accounts makes me want to get a CV out to the Tuna companies toot
sweet.
Thanks for sharing your knowledge and experience – there are far too
many new pilots who never get to hear this stuff! Please keep up
the good work!

Regards
Alison L.
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Re: Moggy’s Tuna Manual
Thursday, July 16, 2009
From: Jon W.
To: francismeyrick@yahoo.com

Hello,
I enjoyed reading Moggy’s Tuna Manual immensely. I have had a fascination with commercial tuna fishing since my youth when I worked aboard albacore trollers and bait boats fishing in Southern California fishing from as far south as Cabo San Lucas north to Morro Bay.

Jon W.
Florida, USA
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Re: information about tunaboats
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
From: Ricardo M.
To: francismeyrick@yahoo.com

Hello Francis.

My name is Ricardo, I´m a Spanish pilot.

I don´t know if you can help me I´m looking to work in a tuna boat, I spoke with Francis Graterol that is the manager of Aviatun but it´s impossible to work with them, I try during 2 years but the answer is ok at this moment we don´t need but in the next boat I´m gong to try to give you an oportunity.

Now I work in a medical service here in Spain with a EC-135 but I would like to work out of my country because I need to see other countries, forms of work, other languages and other people. My intention is to work out of Spain during 5 or 10 years but I know that it´s to difficult to get it because the Companies don´t get a pilot if they don´t know him.

Those worlds are because I read your manual of tuna boats and all the places where you work and the experience with other pilots and I think that perhaps you can help me with this, I send my curriculum to more than 40 companies around the world but all of it said me that in those moments they don´t looking for a pilot.

With kind regards
Ricardo M.
Spain

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Feb 8th, 2010
Hello Francis,

I have been reading your manual the past few days and found it very helpful. I am heading to Guam soon to try the tuna boats out. I have had no training, and I was told nothing about the boats from the owner..
You have really great stuff on it and its super delux. lol. I am grateful that I found this manual.

Layton

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Last edited by Francis Meyrick on March 25, 2012, 7:07 am

One ace deck helper

PART 3 “Moggy’s Tuna Manual ” “Handling your helicopter “

Chapter 3-F HERDING (2)

When I started herding, I was on my own in a Bell 47, with not much of the faintest clue as to what was going on. Rather unexpectedly I noticed a Hughes 500 twenty yards away, hovering, looking over at me! That surprised me so much that I never saw the skiff boat coming off our ship. That in turn meant I didn’t position myself properly in relation to the fish and the set, and the next thing I was hovering at three feet smack bang above the foamer. Exactly in the middle of the set. I unintentionally and very efficiently drove all the fish down and out of the set, and the Hughes 500 (who was a friend of the captain, and had dropped down to help) gave up and flew off in utter disgust, probably shaking his head and muttering words to the effect of:
“Stupid! Damn those first trippers! ”
After I landed I got yelled at. I took it personal, and I got upset.

Having now done plenty of herding, with different captains, different styles, and two different models of helicopter…
I have long since given up taking it personal.
To maybe give you an idea… Imagine a guy is holding a cigarette between his lips. He wants it ‘lit’. In a hurry of course. The only ‘light’ about is a guy holding a bloody big blow torch. To further complicate things, the guy holding the blow torch is half blind, and there’s other crazy guys moving around the room, coming very close to the guy with the blow torch. One of these crazy guys, a real runner, is really moving very quickly indeed, coming close to the chappie with the blow torch. And the chappie with the blow torch is nervously trying to keep an eye on him!

Veteran Tuna Heads, with long experience herding tuna, will have no problem recognizing the characters depicted.
The guy with the cigarette between his lips, wanting it lit, carefully and delicately, is the captain. Or the ‘Fishmaster’ as the Taiwanese like to call them. Lighting a cigarette is really quite a delicate, skillful job, involving a bit of ‘finesse’.
Well, it’s the same with getting fish to move the right way without spooking them so they dive or scatter.
The dude with the blow torch…? That’s you, my friend, in your helicopter.
You’re half blind, because you’re low to the sea, four to eight feet, you just can’t see as clearly as the captain can (or thinks he can). You’re trying to hover the damn helicopter and not earn your ‘Submarine Tuna Head’ certificate, and, hell, you can’t read the captain’s mind! The guys moving around distracting you are the net boats, churning up the sea in the hope of scaring the fish away from the ‘towline’, and the ‘runner’ who is really bugging you is the lunatic in the speedboat! They are always certifiable maniacs, who don’t realize the danger to themselves (those speedboats can flip over, and have frequently killed the drivers), they nip behind the helicopter, past your tail rotor, with utter disregard, and they’ll bounce six and eight feet out of the water just for the hell of it.
Now, buster, go light that cigarette!
(sigh) It’s a tough one!

No place for the faint of heart…

Either way, at the end of the day, you might find the honorable Fishmaster puffing away contentedly on a cigarette, beaming at you for a job well done. Alternatively, you will find him red faced, mad as hell, blaming you for everything.
Now: if the guy with the cigarette will talk to you, ( “left a bit, stop!… right a bit… “) you can at least try and hold the blow torch so you don’t burn his whiskers off. Not to mention incinerating the cigarette. If he won’t even talk to you, or just mouths unhelpful abuse…

I got really fed up after my first few weeks. I have a chapter later about ‘defusing situations’, and a certain amount of dry humor is a good ingredient. The captain fell into this habit of yelling at me:
“Your head STUPID! “
“Your eyes NO GOOD! “
It was all my fault, and, heck!, I was trying so damn hard. It starts to get wearing after a while.
One day we were standing on the bridge, after another herding rodeo experiment-disaster.
He asked me crossly: “You know your problem? ”
There developed the following exchange.
Me; “Yes! “
Him: “What your problem then? “
Me: “I have THREE problems. My head STUPID. My eyes NO GOOD! “
Him: “What your number three problem? “
Me: “My face! “
Him: “What wrong with your face? “
Me: “My face UGLY! “
And with that I stomped off. He kind of knew I was pulling his string, but he wasn’t quite sure what was going on….
But he never said anything again about my ‘stupid head’ and my ‘no good eyes’!

Well, when men are at loggerheads, they should either walk or talk. I chose to talk. I collected all the information I could, and sat down with him. He sensed my determination, and he responded. Soon we mutually agreed on a whole system of ‘standardized’ verbal commands he would use, and I would know exactly what he wanted. His English at the start was poor, but it improved rapidly. I was learning Chinese, and having lots of fun. I was eventually to collect some 500 words of Chinese in a note book. We both learned, with lots of drawings, lots of sound effects, a pocket computer dictionary (brilliant device for Tuna Heads)… we really started to work out a system. And it worked. What really impressed me about that captain was his memory. He would learn a new English word once, never write anything down, and just remember it! And use it casually and correctly. I tried to follow suit with Chinese… I couldn’t. I had to write things down. The Taiwanese word for “good ” is “How “. Like you would expect a red Indian to say it. “No good ” is “pooh how “, and the ‘pooh’ is what a puppy does in the wrong places. My notes therefore would look something like this:
good = how (red Indian)
bad = pooh how (puppy shit)
bad = saitee (as in ‘play’)
dangerous = waychen (way as in road, chen as in sjen)
strong wind = fong tai-tah (as in ‘ping-pong’)
a lot of birds = ento niaiow
a lot of fish = ento yuu
no fish = meo yuu
some fish = yuu den den
psychopath = sentinpjin
food’s up = tsuh-wann
stupid = pun-tann
enjoy your meal = how-tsuh
(monkey = HAW-tsuh) (be careful….!)

Etc, etc.

In this manner, it is possible to learn quickly. It kind of quickly became hilarious. We might be having some dry, semi sarcastic exchange and he would say “Stupid Paddy! ” with a straight face. I learned the word for ‘psychopath’ (sentinpjin) and found the perfect opportunity to use it for the first time. Of that, later…
Later in this chapter I go into details, but suffice it for now to say he could direct the helicopter forwards (so many meters), left, right, backwards, up, down… the helicopter response was instantaneous, we used standard phrases, and…. it had some good results! Occasionally… spectacular. Mostly… indifferent. But it worked, tolerably well. Most of all, he was pleased.
When the customer is happy, the probability of a long lasting pay check is high…

net boats at work

It all had its funny moments of course. There was the day we had a long tow line, in other words, a large (as yet) open area, for the fish to escape through. But we had a hundred ton inside the set. I was real busy trying to keep them in. Next thing:
“Moggy! Landing! “
I was amazed. I had grown in confidence and skill to where I unhesitatingly queried the order.
“Oi! Fish inside! Why landing??! ”
Back came an angry reply:
“LANDING!!! “
So I said to myself: “Well… sod. ” And landed.
The reason soon became apparent. There was no point in my flying any longer, because the set was not going to be closed for a long time. The fish were going to be twenty miles away and still laughing!
What had happened was that in his concentration on controlling the helicopter, he had neglected his primary duty: to control the blessed boat. (We pilots commit a similar faux pas from time to time)
From his position behind the helm, microphone in hand, he had been hanging out the window looking at me, and overshot the skiff boat!
That meeting between ship (after she has steamed around 360 degrees) and the skiff boat (the initial anchor point for one end of the net) is the critical point at which the circle is closed (apart from the tow line). It is here that cables are transferred, and the long process of winching begins. When the captain screws that up, everybody can see it. Including any boats in the area. Big loss of face! In sheer temper, he had slammed the engines into reverse, a risky move, and, you guessed it…

TCHOMP, TCHOMP, TCHOMP…..

…neatly chewed up the chains with the screws! Ouch! Ships have accidentally rammed their own skiff boats doing the same sort of thing. I witnessed one such accidental ramming occur nearby our position. They lost a sailor out of the skiff boat. I was sent over to look for him, but,sadly, we never saw him again. He never surfaced.
Yes, Life and Death on the open Ocean. If you stay long enough, you will witness it all. Including the loaded body bags, stored, (where else?), in the temperature controlled fish holds. Where sailors toil, still, with the body of their dead comrade a few yards away. When you are on a foreign tuna boat, be it Taiwanese, Korean, Mexican or South American, it is important to remember that different cultural values reign.
Death is no stranger in the tuna fields. Believe me. Life goes on. Fishing goes on.

We used to joke at what the fax message to our companies would probably say if one of us pilots got killed.
The consensus?
“Please send new pilot! This one no good. He is dead. Thank you.
Captain ”
Once you’ve seen loaded body bags, it’s hard not to gaze into the fish holds on your own ship, shudder, and wonder if you’ll ever be lying there, dead as a door nail, neatly zipped up, covered in salt and frozen into the bargain.
I’m afraid quite a few tuna pilots, and their observers, have met that fate.
Dozens and dozens, over the years.
Including some of my friends. One of whom, I personally introduced to tuna fishing, my boss, and his first tuna job.
A great guy, everybody liked him. With his signature sandals and his long white socks, there was something of the school boy about him. He sent this fax message, about three months into his first fishing trip.

This is a great job, the best paid I’ve ever had, and ironically, after twenty years of flying, I must say this is also the easiest helicopter job I’ve ever had….

I remember passing it to my boss, and grimacing. I had a bad feeling about it. That night, I mentioned it to my girl friend.
It stuck in my mind. I wasn’t comfortable with it.
A few weeks later, he was dead. And his observer. Killed instantly. His helicopter was an unrecognizable wreck.
It made me sick at heart.
I didn’t have the heart to even take photos of it.
When I think of the guys that didn’t make it back, my determination to finish this manual is refreshed.

Still, despite the occasional f….up, and the occasional chain-wrapped-around-the prop fiasco, this was a brilliant captain. He caught a lot of fish. The two previous pilots had lasted only one trip each, and hated the guy, but I kind of really ended up positively liking him – after a while! He was a hard taskmaster, but very smart, very open to new ideas, mad keen to catch fish, and mad keen to fully exploit the potential of the helicopter. A good customer! He could talk, and he could listen. You could ask him questions, and argue with him. There was no ‘this is the way, and that’s final’ attitude. There were times I could have cheerfully throttled him. But when he retired, I was sorry!
I flew with another captain who had a very similar style. Iron control of the helicopter. Position controlled down to the meter.
“Moggy! OUTSIDE 10 meter! “
Again, a good catcher, great to work with, demanding, but a great customer for my employer.
He loved his helicopter, and always flew himself if we went searching.
If you contrast this with working by yourself, with zero help or guidance… Some guys love it, and wouldn’t have it any other way.
They will say that if you can’t do a good herding job by yourself, that you are simply not a good tuna pilot.
I’m skeptical. I’m not proud, and I’ll take all the help I can get; plus if the captain feels he has ‘control’ over the helicopter, and it increases his satisfaction with the job being done, then you are pleasing the customer. In the final analysis, that is the determining factor.
Don’t be surprised if sometimes you get sent over to another ship to herd. It will usually be a buddy of the captain’s. Chances are you will receive no voice commands. You’ll be on your own. It’s a chance for you to shine, and a chance for your captain to show off his helicopter. Afterward you will however rarely hear much feedback. Unless it went badly. I wonder sometimes how this often happens: if they catch a hundred ton, then the other captain takes the glory. If they ‘skunk’ and catch nothing, you may brace yourself for getting the blame!
Sometimes their expectations of the helicopter are unreasonably high. They expect the pilot to perform miracles on his own. That’s a good recipe for incinerating that cigarette!

Below I set out some of the specific (basic) commands I have worked with, and some of the experiences.
“Port side ” (move to your left)
“Port side five meter! “
“Starboard side ten meter! “
“Inside! ” (move closer in towards the set)
“Inside ten meter! “
“Outside! ” (back off!)
“Outside twenty meter! “
“Go towline! ” (go to the tow line, guard the tow line)
“Skiff boat! ” (go to the skiff boat)
“Number one buouy! ” (no 2, no 3) (they will explain to you where they are) (The larger ‘marker’ floating balls equidistant anti-clockwise around the circle of the net)
“Go up! ” (to 500 feet, circle the set, and look where the fish are) (and report to him)
“Hovering! ” (come down from 500 feet, and hover)
“Hovering skiff boat! “
“Starboard side ship! ” (go to the starboard side of the ship and hover)

It worked okay after a while, but each captain has slightly different preferences. My first captain was all happy about it, because for the first time he said he felt he could really control the helicopter.
It seems odd, but often captains will NOT make the effort to learn even these basic commands. But they are the customer, and you have to follow along. You can suggest, but that’s all. Here is another example in this manual of an area where you are cordially invited to form your own opinions. I don’t care in the least if you flat out disagree with me, as long as you understand the issues. That applies to many of my statements. I’ll make ’em, and I will not pussy foot about. Sometimes I may come across as slightly brutal. But all I want is to give you, the reader, every chance to ‘visualize’ these scenes and situations before you waltz in yourself, all wide eyed and innocent…
That is how people get killed…

When I went to another ship, again I had a captain who liked to control the helicopter. The only problem was he used HIS phrases, and we had some spectacular misunderstandings. Thus one day, I thought he said:
“Outside! “
I backed off a bit. Away from the set. Maybe he thought I was scaring the fish, and likely to cause them to dive.
“Outside!!!! “
(Huh?) I backed off a bit more. Seemed to me I was too far back already. Still, if that’s what he wanted…
“Moggy!!!! OUTSIDE!! OUTSIDE!!! “
(double huh??) (I backed off some more…I’d be over the horizon soon…)
When his voice rose to hysteria, I backed even further outside! And further, until he was apoplectic!
(????????) (whatdafuk???)

The mystery was solved later. Over a cold beer. What he had actually said was: “AFT side! ” He had wanted me to move close to, and just behind the ship, and there I was, backing up over the horizon. Try as I might, in the coming days, to remind him that “Aft side ” and “Outside! ” sounded awfully alike, in the heat of the (fishing) moment he would forget.
That was fun…
But again, I ended up really hitting it off great with this captain. He was also a truly excellent fish catcher, one of Taiwan’s finest, and he loved his helicopter. He was under no illusions though that he was working with a blow torch. Sound travels very well under water. The sound of a turbine is high and shrill, and I think it can spook fish really quickly. More easily than a piston helicopter. Some pilots disagree!
This captain would watch the fish and me like a hawk, and at the first wrong signs from the tuna, his voice would rise up shrilly, “OUTSIDE! OUTSIDE! “, which meant “back off, you’re scaring the fish and they’re diving! “

He was also a charming man off duty. I had a great cabin, all to myself, and his chief engineer, who said my skills were good for his earnings, made sure I was well supplied with goodies. Great boat. They are not all like that!

Some captains don’t like it when the fish get too close to the net before the ‘purse’ is closed. The net is barring their escape if they don’t dive. But the bottom is still open. The captains want to keep the fish away from the ‘wall’ of nets, so they don’t take their cue from that and dive. So then I would get:
“Moggy! Number Two buouy! Outside twenty meter! “
He would want to see if I could drive the fish away from the nets without driving them nuts so they would dive deep.
Some optimist, you might think.

The tailspin is a herding manoeuvre guaranteed to raise sarcastic comments from many pilots.
And many helicopter owners! Basically, when you spin the hovering helicopter around, some captains like the extra racket the tail rotor makes. especially on a Hughes 500. My first captain loved it. I tried to make him happy, although there were times I wondered where the ‘herding’ stopped and the ‘air show’ commenced!

The shark’s mouth -Roger’s amazing art work!

In a Bell 47 or an R-22 you are so limited on power… don’t even dream of it unless you are one up and light on fuel!
The big thing then is ‘wind direction’. And ‘rogue waves’. Rogue waves have tripped up so many herding tuna boat helicopters, and have been a factor in so many crashes, that I devote a whole chapter to it. For now we will just deal mainly with ‘wind direction’, and mention ‘playing submarine’ (a whole new thrill) only in passing.
If you start whipping around doing three or four consecutive 360 degree spinning turns in the hover…. you’re asking for trouble. You are going to get dizzy. You are low. You may ‘lose the vertical’. That’s bad. That means your tail rotor at times may be whipping down to close to the waves. If that sucker even touches… there is evidence (stories by survivors) that the resultant forces tend to roll the helicopter instantly along the longitudinal axis. You won’t jusy yaw. You’ll roll as well. Nasty. Very nasty.
If you must ‘tail spin’…. and I confess I did it, but I can’t say I liked it a lot… the best way is just one rapid 360 degree turn, starting into wind and terminating into wind. The weather vane tendency will tend to stabilize you.
Stop after the one spin-turn, check all’s well, and then go again. If it pleases the customer… it may be worth it, but you need to think about the stress on the machine. In a Hughes 500 you are stressing some very expensive parts! Also, if something quits, you are poorly placed to deal with it. Reaction time (before you hit the water, from four to six feet) is measured in milliseconds, and what a mess to have to deal with. I would never offer to tailspin. And I wouldn’t mess with it for fun either, in case the captain saw it, heard it, liked it, and asked for a permanent inclusion! In my case, yes I did it, but I maintain I got stuck with it because some previous pilot had done it. That’s a poor excuse, I’ll admit, and honestly, low level tail spins have no place in the repertoire of the mature, defensive helicopter pilot.

I had a long conversation about this one night with a Bell47 Tuna Head. He spins, but is ready to pop it into the water at a moment’s notice if things go wrong! If he loses rotor rpm, he just lands. He reckons he has been in the water dozens of times, and regards it as no big deal in a Bell 47. I for my part, totally disagree. He has more experience than I have, more years in the Tuna Fields, but, that said, I have never had to drop in the water, due to mismanaged rotor rpm during herding.
I would regard it as a real failure on my part if I did! It’s a good recipe for hastening corrosion, especially on a Hughes 500, where the skids corrode really badly. You want to be in the maintenance hangar, and listening to the comments from the mechanics, as they busily scrape away and treat the corrosion blisters! Not a nice job, and a long, tedious one. And your employer isn’t stupid! If one pilot comes back after six or eight months at sea with little or no corrosion on the tubes, and YOU , young sailor, come back looking like you park your skids in a solution of concentrated salt every night… they will know! And it’s not just the skids. The salt spray will go everywhere.
There is yet another reason to be super cautious. If you spin around, faster and faster, you can get into some situations where the efficiency of the tail rotor is reduced or even lost! Think of some of the turbulence you’re generating, and some of the vortices and the odd angles of attack! Is this a smart area to start experimenting in, I ask myself? (see Note 1)

The next step up, intentional water taxying, beats them all.
The first time I saw a fellow company pilot pulling that trick, I couldn’t believe my eyes. How anybody can deliberately water taxy a helicopter around the Ocean beats me. No matter how calm the surface is, or appears to be. Remember, you can get some long swells, that only come through maybe once every thirty seconds, but they’re not small. The occasional ‘rogue wave’ will come out of seemingly nowhere, may or may not be associated with a distant micro burst, and will really get your attention when you’re in the hover, never mind actually on the surface. It’s easy to get pre-occupied with the fish and their movements, and turn your back on the incoming swells. I soon learned to pause every so often, perform a ninety degree pedal turn, look to see what was coming, and only then go back to my herding task. You kind of develop an internal timing mechanism, you know when it’s time to look, a few seconds later you lift up, over the swell, and then back down on the backside of the swell. And here is where -many- accidents happen.
People forget to look.
They become engrossed. Next thing, they bury a tail rotor in a swell…. in a fraction of a second normality turns to confusion and white bubbling terror…. and now you’ve just earned your free Submarine Tuna Head Certificate. If you do go herding, and you do learn to check behind you periodically to see what’s coming, well, sooner or later, it might take months, but sooner or later, you will see a rogue wave bearing down on you. All the other swells, say, have been a modest four to five feet. All of a sudden, this ten to twelve foot plus grizzly is waiting to snag your tail rotor. And that is when you’ll quickly lift up higher, in some surprise, and probably think:
“Oh! So THAT was what Moggy was talking about… ”

The late Steve Hoffman, owner of the now defunct Hoffman Helicopters, once showed me a furious fax from a pilot, who was absolutely livid at being ordered by his company to ‘cease and desist’ from his habit of water taxying. He had a fine turn of phrase, and the paper positively had scorch marks. I wish I’d kept a copy of it. He listed his -impressive- qualifications, and he had a lot of helicopter time, plus a bunch of Tuna Fields time. He also reckoned he had hundreds of hours water taxying!
Well… settle down a second, is what I would have said.
What’s the object of the exercise?
To earn a good salary, and try and keep the captain (the customer) and the folks back at base (The Boss) happy. Why get so angry? Why the fury? If the company doesn’t like it… simple. You tell the captain. If he gets angry, you smile politely and suggest he contacts your company….
There’s a good old saying about the relationship between employee and employer.
“He who pays the piper calls the tune… “
For some reason, many helicopter pilots, in all fields of helicopter endeavour, have great difficulty grasping this concept.
I wouldn’t have been water taxying in the first place, but if ordered to stop, hell, no problem. That’s what bosses are for, making decisions, and that’s why they get the big bucks. (and the ulcers, high blood pressure, and -often- a strong dislike of pilots)
So why sweat it?
Before ‘experimenting’ with this, I would recommend firstly that you don’t. Secondly, if somebody tells you what a great idea that it is, then maybe you should check with your company first! You might discover that it’s a sacking offense! In my company it was. And, frankly, for good reasons. But again, note that there are helicopter pilots who would vehemently disagree with me. Absolutely, categorically. “Moggy doesn’t know what he’s talking about! ” That’s fine. This manual only tries to offer you the different view points.
You decide!

Three final comments:

1) I got my A+P license before I ever went tuna fishing. I went to Cheyenne Aero Tech for 13 months. I’m very glad I did.
As a pilot-mechanic, I was firstly making $7,000 a month (in the 1990’s), but I also had much greater insight as to what was going on with my machine. I wasn’t a helpless pilot relying blindly on somebody else to keep me alive.
One of my experiences was in the hangar in Guam. After one return (one year at sea) I was told to remove my compressor, and disassemble it for inspection. I did so, and the internals were pristine. The frequent compressor water rinses I had done (as per orders) had done the trick. The Boss came along, had a good inspection, and gave me an attaboy!
A few days later they were doing the same thing on another machine.
The story came out different. The internal corrosion was really highly alarming to see. Way beyond limits. The contrast was startling. That machine had only been out six months or so. It required an expensive, unscheduled compressor overhaul. The mechanic got fired! The poor pilot of that bird had no idea about the terrifying, corroded scrap whirling about in his engine, waiting for the appropriate moment in space and time to let go in spectacular fashion…

2) After herding, I always performed this routine:

* the helper put the belly cable on, and secured the four tie down straps.
* once that was done, I locked down the controls, and got out.
* with everything still turning and burning, I got the fresh water hose. (You MUST have fresh water on the helideck!)
(believe it or not, some morons were ‘washing’ their helicopters with SEA water)
* then I sprayed water all over the aircraft, rinsing away salt spray
* I would waft a fine spray of fresh water (not a steady concentrated stream!) repeatedly into the inlet
* I would also liberally spray fresh water all over the turning tail rotor, and the main rotor blades.
* I used a lot of wax. And WD-40. And Triflow. And elbow grease. I like to think it shows in the photos…

3) Here in the Gulf of Mexico, as part of training, I’ve had the sheer pleasure several times of auto rotating a Bell 206 down to the water, landing, and doing a bit of water taxying around the place. Great fun.
You feel just like a schoolboy raiding the Fat Lady’s orchard.
And they actually pay you for it!
Dumb schmucks….
However, this was, firstly, onto fresh water. And secondly, a protected, non tidal, seaplane landing area on an airport.
It worked great, it was a terrific confidence builder, and, yes, it’s fun-fun-fun.
But… I firmly maintain you do not want to be doing that stuff out on the open Ocean.

Intentional water taxying… is for the birds.

Francis Meyrick
(c)

Note 1: I refer you to the excellent “Helicopter Aerodynamics ” by R.W.Prouty. On page 120, he says:
“The problems of operation in the vortex-ring state were first discovered on main rotors, but tail rotors may get their share in conditions such as right hover turns and left sideward flight (for helicopters with main rotors turning counterclockwise). Not all helicopters experience these troubles, but for those that do, a common symptom is a sudden increase in the turn rate, referred to by some pilots as “falling into a hole “.
He continues the discussion on page 152, of which I will quote this phrase, that maybe points to the salient point:
“Maintaining a right hover turn is one thing, but stopping it is quite another… “
“If a helicopter makes a right turn fast enough so that the tail rotor operates beyond its vortex-ring condition, stopping the turn with full opposite pedal can be a traumatic experience for the tail-rotor drive system. ”

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on March 5, 2010, 5:16 pm

The Luck o’ the Irish, put (maybe excessively) to the test!

PART 3 “Moggy’s Tuna Manual ” “Handling your helicopter “

Chapter 3-E RUNAWAY BLADES

Runaway blades, or ‘rogue blades’ are one of every helicopter pilot’s worst nightmares.
You tend to hear all sorts of stories, and it’s hard to know what’s fact and what’s fiction. Until it happens to you, and then you know exactly! So this is where I have to tell you a story against myself, in the hope I illustrate a few points!

I was working a couple of months’ relief on a different boat, for a pilot who had gone sick. So I had a new deck helper. A lad from the Philippines. You know you’re only there temporarily, and it’s easy to fall into the trap of not training your deck helper exactly the way you like it. You sort of assume a bit.
Well, I had made the point to him that he should never leave the helideck until the blades were tied down. I had made the point several times. But his fear of me was nothing compared with the fear he had of his captain. If I landed and the ship was not in the middle of a set, sure, he’d stay and help me tie down the blades. If the ship however happened, at the moment of my arrival, to be in the middle of a set, with the nets coming in, the chances were he’d attach the belly hook, wind in the cable, wait until I wasn’t looking, and scarper! Disaster lies awaiting there!
The day came… when I was landing back, with the ship heading straight for an ominous black cloud.
I didn’t like the look of it. I landed, and my observer, who was the captain, was -as usual- gone like a light. I checked to see if my deck helper was waiting to help me with the blades, and he was. I breathed a sigh of relief, and waited for things to cool down a bit in my hard working turbine. In the Hughes 500 I like a three minute cool down. After one minute, the black cloud was getting so black and so close, I decided to hurry up. I rolled the throttle off, watched the TOT, and a few seconds later some big rain drops started to bomb the windscreen. For some reason I looked around, just in time to see my helper look up at the sky, hold his hand out, palm up, the way people do when it starts raining… then he turned… and ran!
I was not pleased! Now I was totally on my own on the helideck, rotors spinning, both doors off, heavy, heavy drops beginning to really get going, and the wind picking up alarmingly. Approaching across the sea I could see the tell-tale signs of a very strong wind. The sea sort of…. goes funny in a particular way. Where as you’ve still got a regular wave pattern around the ship, when a ‘gust front’ is approaching the wave pattern changes. The color changes. And… you just know. Now I was hauling on the rotor brake, becoming very alarmed. The Hughes manual warns you not to over do the rotor brake (you can damage the strap pack) but I hauled pretty hard! It took an eternity, but I got the blades stopped.
Just in time!
If… my helper had been there, just one blade sock on would have prevented the whole sorry saga that was about to unfold.
I leaped out, and legged it over to where the blade socks were stored. Grabbed them, and sprinted back over to the machine. (You can’t ‘lock’ the rotor brake on. It’s designed to prevent stupid pilots from firing up with the brake locked on, and doing all sorts of damage)
Nearly…
With that, the gust hit. And I mean, it hit! From practically nothing, we must have gone up through thirty five to fifty plus knots.
Instantly, seconds before I could grab the nearest stationary blade, it was gone.
G-O-N-E… (bye-bye!)
I had no idea that a gust could ‘spin up’ a Hughes rotor system that fast! The blades were turning like the machine was starting up on its own! Blade/tail boom strike imminent!
I leaped into the cockpit, and hauled on the rotor brake, and it is hard to describe the horrible fear I felt. I was convinced I was about to have a tailboom strike. Once the rotor system goes out of kilter after such a tailboom strike, there is no knowing where the blades will end up going, or what kind of ungodly damage they can do.
I was petrified.
The blades stopped, for the second time, and now the rain had also arrived. With no doors on, within seconds the water was deluging into the cockpit. Once again I let go of the rotor brake, and shot out the door, blade sock in hand, to grab the stationary blade. A great plan.
G-O-N-E… (bye-bye!)
Son of a bitch…! I never even came close. It was gone, and by the time I was frantically hauling on the rotor brake once again, that blade had passed over my head a whole bunch of times.
It was that fast!
I was soaked, and being lashed by water coming in the door and through the cockpit. What the hell was I to do??
The thought crossed my mind to switch on the electrics, and call down to the bridge on the radio, but everything was saturated. Rivers of water were flowing across the instrument panel and the radio stack, and it just didn’t seem a good idea!
Holding on to the rotor brake, I half climbed out of the cockpit, onto the float, and looked up and across at my blades.
Just in time to see the “into wind ” blade stand up vertically!
Gawd! Damn! Damn! FUKKIT….!
By now I was no longer just scared. I was convinced any second that the vertical blade would crash over backwards across the rotor head, and I could only guess at the damage that was already being done to the strap packs.
There is this sick, sick feeling in your stomach…
My brain was racing, and I yelled at the top of my voice.
“HELP!!! HELP!!! SOMEBODY!!!! HELPPPPP!!!!! “

With the noise of the wind and rain, and the ship’s engines, it was futile. Even if somebody had been out on the deck below, they would never have heard me. As it was, they were all comfortably inside, sheltering from the rain. Don’t you love a helper who legs it, leaving the pilot to tie down the machine, and put the blade socks on, and put both doors back on.
I distinctly remember thinking “This can’t possibly get any worse! “, and, of course, BOY!, was I wrong.
You’ll love this: and this is no exaggeration. It’s ‘gospel’, it’s exactly what happened…
While I was standing on the left float, holding onto the rotor brake, staring in open mouthed horror at the vertical rotor blade, a ferocious gust positively slammed the helicopter across the helideck, and rotated her -tail first- through 45 degrees, until the belly cable went tight! She ‘weather vaned’ ! I was still standing on the left float!

The belly cable that saved my life…

Note this: Without the belly cable, or if the belly cable had failed, I would have gone straight over the side into the stormy sea, still standing on the left float, worrying about the blasted vertical rotor blade! Jump off? Dream on! It happened way, way too darn fast… Even if I had jumped, the machine would have just clouted me and swept me with it.
I know I debated getting off at that stage, and abandoning the helicopter, and just letting events unfold.
The fact that I stayed for the fight owes less to courage than to pure stupidity!
I eased off a fraction on the rotor brake, the rotors turned thirty degrees or so, and the vertical blade smacked back down with a crash and a shock that made me wince. And there I stood, for twenty minutes…! Every so often the blade furthest into wind would start to rear up, and I would release the rotor brake and try and keep it down.
Horrendous….
After twenty minutes, the ship came out of the black cloud, the sun came out, blue sky appeared, the wind abated, and I put the blade socks on, and then the four tie downs, followed by the two doors.
Then I climbed up and looked at the strap pack!
And then….
(waft in music…. Ride of the Valkyries…the Devil’s March….. Apocalypse Now…. For a Few Dollars More….)

Then I marched down to the bridge!

SPLOSH! SPLOSH! SPLOSH!

Captain Chan is a great man, and he just took one look at me and he knew something bad had happened. He told me later it wasn’t so much the soaking wet and bedraggled aspect of the ghostly apparition, but rather the fact that I was still white as a sheet!
I dragged him… and everybody else…. and my helper (by the throat) up to the helideck, where everybody just sort of stared at the highly unusual position of the helicopter…. the fact that the WIND had parked it there, and not the humble pilot, impressed everybody.
If that belly cable had failed… I’d have been drowned. Nobody would have heard me.

I didn’t cover myself with glory that day, but I sure learned a lot. Now, on this ship, I insist I have help until the blade socks are on, and my observer, who heard the story, stays and helps my helper. That means there are three of us to make sure the machine gets secured nice and quick. I’ve also become much more wary of black clouds. I might delay a start up, and coming back from a trip, I’ll certainly ask the ship to move if they are parked up right beside a micro burst or a heavy downpour.
In many ways, this was one of those ‘coming out’ experiences for me as an offshore pilot. I learned so much respect and caution right there and then. It was one of perhaps a few dozen experiences in my helicopter career which I would unhesitatingly list ( I must do that one day) as “pivotal “. And I mean “pivotal ” in the sense that it changed my attitude forever.

Remember the “potential gust area ” where you are at risk extends several miles out from such a nice ‘black cloud’.
It will surprise you. Watch the surface of the sea for clues. If in doubt, sit it out. Think twice before you decide you can beat an approaching squall line. Many, many an offshore pilot has learned the lesson I learned the $$$$ expensive way, incurring serious damage. Tailboom strikes are very expensive, nearly always avoidable, and there have been lots and lots with Hughes 500’s in the tuna fields. Don’t think a Bell 47 is immune! A wrench tuna head told me how a Bell 47 blade he was trying to tie down physically lifted him right off his feet. He could not control it.
There are some powerful forces at work there.
The risk of blade sailing is at its highest when your rotor is really slowing down. On a Hughes 500, the big danger area is below 100 rotor rpm. You are losing your gyroscopic ‘rigidity in space’.
I frequently brief passengers in detail about this.
I have seen the results of tailboom strikes, and the results can be ugly. I have a long, sad story to tell later in this manual about one of my pilots (with an inoperative rotor brake) who would not listen to me on this subject, and disobeyed repeated direct orders not to even attempt to fly. I knew sooner or later he might not be able to shut her down safely. But wise-ass thought he knew better. Subsequently he did a whole lot of damage. I fired him.

Remember you don’t have to shut down straight away after landing. Nothing says you can’t keep ’em spinning.
It may be a much safer and smarter thing to do. I’ve done it. Not often, but a few times. Most tuna heads who have been out there for a while, will tell you they’ve done the same on occasions. Just waiting until it was safe to shut down. If they were low on fuel, they’d get the helper to fuel her up, carefully! Then, maybe twenty minutes later, with the wind reduced, or with the ship out of the gust area, then they have then shut down! Pretty clued up, some of these guys!
Rather burn some fuel than risk a tailboom strike.
These guys will also tell you to watch out especially for gusts coming from the left side of the helicopter. Why?
Because such a gust will tend to make the rotor blade ‘dip’ as it crosses the tailboom, making a tailboom strike more likely.
Sounds reasonable. Bring this up in a bar, with a gaggle of tuna heads, and you’re pretty well guaranteed a decent argument…. I once listened (in amusement) to some dude protesting that it wasn’t so much that the rotor blade ‘dipped’, but more that the blade ‘could not rise’ fast enough. What-ever…. Just be aware.
I’ve mentioned blades spinning up, and flying vertically. The third problem is that sometimes when you’re about to fire up, you look out and realize that the into-wind blade seems really high, whilst the opposite blade seems really low. I don’t like that, and I’ll unstrap, climb out, and level the blades before I start up. That’s just me. trying to look after the equipment. One tuna head shook his head, and totally dismissed that. He reckons it ‘makes no difference’, the blades will level themselves ‘real quick’. Well, he’s entitled to his opinion. But what if they do whack your sodding tail boom?
Now you’re going to be embarrassed ‘real quick’….

Here in the Gulf of Mexico, a lot of us are very wary of being caught out. Every year, there are costly accidents or incidents involving well meaning pilots, who fall victim to sudden gusts of wind, whilst parked -turning and burning- on a helideck. You will often hear it said that operations manuals (the ‘Bibles’ of many helicopter companies) are written in blood. That’s a sad, but true statement. When ever somebody gets killed, or seriously hurt, the event will get analyzed and cross analyzed, and you have a pretty good chance some of the ‘fall out’ will go into print, and work its way into the operations manual. The trouble is, these dry, almost legalistic passages, drawn up in terse and spartan lawyer’s language, don’t even begin to paint the full technicolor picture for newbie pilots. For that, in my mind, you need the addition of rambling prose from wacky dudes like me, who have been out there, and committed lots of innocent mistakes, frightened themselves silly, and are back to talk about them. The “30-30 rule ” is one such example. I will talk about that in a later chapter. I firmly believe we have a lot of control over our destiny as offshore pilots. I’ve seen accidents, where the pilots where exonerated from any and all blame. It was all put down to ‘a sudden gust’ that came ‘out of no where’. I have wondered a few times how much of these conclusions were for public (customer) consumption. I have asked myself if those conclusions are telling us that in the exact same circumstances ANY pilot, no matter how experienced, would have fallen victim to disaster. If that was the case, then our profession would be a version of Russian Roulette. Keep on trucking, hope for the best, and if your number’s up, well, tough cheddar! Hmmm….
I don’t see it that way. Sure, if the blades fall off in flight (an almost unheard of event) then it’s probably time to discover Jesus. In a hurry. But for most other cases, I believe in peddling like the devil. Listening, reading, putting a lot of thought into it, and exercising every conceivable caution. And learning from your experiences.
Flying helicopters is beautiful. Absolutely wonderful. An art form. It’s not some demented version of Russian Roulette.
Consider the day I had three customers on board. Preparing to take off from an offshore platform. All I was doing was rolling the throttle on. Perfectly normal. No rush, no hurry. All normal. I was only doing what I had done thousands of times before. The wind was brisk, but not particularly strong. Twenty knots maybe. No biggie.
Next thing…. I weathervaned through 40 degrees! Slick deck, lack of non-grease paint, combined with being turned out of wind to keep my tail rotor clear of the stairs…. all factors (individually harmless) perfectly coordinated together to scare the BeJayzus out of everybody. Had I done anything in violation of the operations manual? No! Was I therefore an innocent, helpless victim of Fate? Hell, no! Because it ain’t ever going to happen to me again! Next time I’ll recognize the build up to that particular scenario before it bites me!

Runaway blades are a problem, and they can cost a lot of money. You can cost your company fifty thousand to a hundred thousand dollars in a heart beat. But these accidents are not random, cruel, unavoidable handouts from some fickle and mischievous mistress of Fate. They are mostly easily enough preventable, if you’re clued up to the dangers, and willing to be stubborn as a mule if the ship won’t cooperate!
I was with a captain who could be just a dogged old fool. When he copped an attitude, he was unmovable. Stubborn. He had a reputation amongst tuna pilots. Unfortunately for him, he came up against a pilot, who was just another dogged old fool. And when he copped an attitude, he was unmovable. Stubborn.
That pilot was me.
I arrived back to the ship, in my beautiful Hughes 500, (my baby), and Idiot Features was parked hard up against a big black storm cell. Not fishing, no nets out, just lolly-gagging. The sea clearly showed the ferocity of the winds coming out of that ugly monster, and I wasn’t going to mess with it. I asked for the ship to move. I know the request was relayed to him instantly. It was early on in our relationship, and to him, I was probably just another tiresome pilot. He ignored it.
Becoming more and more cross, I orbited. And watched my fuel go down. And down. Now I was pissed. My observer knew it, and I know he was telling the ship. No response. In the end, I had no choice. I battled my way in, spitting blood, and landed on a ‘crazy’ deck. They put the belly hook on, and the observer helped in attaching the four tie downs. But now what? We were rolling like a drunken turd, spray was lashing us, and the wind gusts were violently erratic, with a humongous gust spread. Ranging from twenty knots up to forty or fifty or even more. I was damned if I was going to shut down in that lot. I was maintaining 100% rpm, and I was not going to even roll the throttle off. Now they were motioning for me to cut the engine and shut down. Ha! Fat chance. I liked my boss, (he treated and paid me well), ($7,000 a month), I loved my helicopter, and I was looking after my equipment. End of story. I gesticulated angrily, jabbing a finger at the Big Black Goliath towering over us, and then jerked my thumb vehemently towards open waters, away from that nonsense.
The game went on in this manner. Every so often a concerned crew member would come up to the helideck, and motion me to shut down. Poor dude would be sent packing by a livid pilot, with a face like a Great White Shark, (all gnashing TEETH sort of thing), and go and report back to Herr Kapitan.
Pretty soon I was running out of gas. The refined oil-derived type. (not the Irish temper derived type).
I still was not going to shut down. Now it was personal.
You want to play games?
I’ll give you games.
I locked the controls down as tight as I possibly could. Still ‘turning and burning’. Then I climbed out on the wet, wildly rolling, slippery deck, and checked the tie downs were as tight as they could go. Then… I made my way across to the fuel hose, rolled it out, and started re-fueling my little darling. Ha! I’ll sit here all day, if I have to, burning YOUR fuel, that YOU are paying for, and I’ll sit here all NIGHT long as well, if you want!
Instantly, I think the hose had barely started pumping fuel, black smoke rose up from the chimney stack, and the ship’s engines erupted into life. I looked around. He was up in the crow’s mast, watching me! All the time, probably.

The ship moved away, and soon we were clear. Then… I shut down.
After that, once they discovered that, firstly, I was a determined SOB, and secondly, that I was really skilled at spotting logs and fish (most pilots don’t bother), then the attitudes towards me changed dramatically. Soon I could do no wrong, there was lots of free beer, and I got what I required for the safest possible operations.

I worry in the middle of the night, when the weather is rough, and I’m scared that maybe a blade sock will come off, and the blade will stand up vertically. I have been known to set my alarm clock for 1 a.m.and again for 3 a.m. and go up to the helideck to check up.
(Medal, please, Boss!)
Purse seiner captains who have not had a helicopter before… sometimes don’t think! I got a bit testy one day when I had to explain that rough weather that is ‘no problem without a helicopter’ becomes a ‘BIG problem WITH a helicopter’.
That was the morning after I had wearily climbed the ladder leading up to the helideck at three a.m., only to have a massive wave break over me as I reached the top of the ladder. It knocked me flying ten feet down to the deck below, and this ladder is at the back of the helideck. I lay there stunned for a while. Just think of what the poor helicopter was suffering! My baby! That was simply a horrendous night. Dangerous as well. I got soaked through, and it’s real scary watching waves break over the windscreen! I was convinced it was going to get smashed. I was real miffed the next day, and I didn’t care if it showed. It’s no fun fiddling about trying to get a blade sock back over the tip of your rotor blade, near to the deck edge, when it’s pitch dark, lashing rain, slippery, and the deck is ‘wild’. If you fall overboard…
Purse seiner captains need to be a bit smart when they are carrying a helicopter, or it will get destroyed in heavy seas. It’s happened! The question then is: who pays the bill! Sometimes… I pity tuna helicopter owners, and I admire their nerves. In practice, if the weather is rough, I put more tension on the blade sock ropes. I really double check the knots, and I make sure the bellyhook is tight. And the four tie-downs are ratcheted tight!

A ‘sprat fish head’ read this chapter in draft form, identified with it wholeheartedly, and pointed something out I’d never sat down and thought about.

A very efficient windmill!

It’s the tail rotor that’s doing most of the driving! Like a windmill, it catches the full force of the wind, and drives the rotor system. Another contribution gratefully received. I wonder does all the driving force come from the tail rotor, or most of it, or what. Hm. Ideas?
In a way, in theory, you might think that ‘tying down the tail rotor’ and ‘to hell with the main blades’ would stop the problem, but I imagine that there would be some horrendous stresses imposed on couplings and drive shaft bearings.
All the wrong places. Nobody does it on any helicopter, to my knowledge. And unsecured blades will fly up vertically if you’re really unlucky, and bang up and down on the droop stops. I’ve found a cracked droop stop ring before.
The same ‘anchovy tuna pilot’ told me a grand story -after only two Pepsi’s- about being towed behind a motorboat after a succesful landing with pop-out floats in the sea off the Great Barrier Reef. He said the waves ended up driving the tail rotor, whilst they were under tow. That was not part of the grand plan. Then that spun up the blades. Then the blades went vertical, whilst spinning around. I guess they were spinning slowly enough that centrifugal force had not yet overcome the tendency to stand up vertically? Bizarre. That I would have liked to have seen…. from a safe distance.

One of my old bosses has a nice four foot section of rotor blade propped up in his office by way of a souvenir. It came and visited him while he was sitting in the cockpit. Now I know why he always wears brown overalls. That was the result of an attempted start up in a howling gale.
The Royal Air Force Air/Sea Rescue Unit in Scotland will sometimes fire up inside of a closed hangar. When everything is spinning merrily, they slide open the hangar doors, and tow the girl out! I wonder what they say to the Tower. “Rescue One request clearance to exit hangar… “?
Kind of neat. Not quite as good fun as James Bond flying his BD aircraft through a hangar, but warming up in that direction anyway!

Francis Meyrick
(c)

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on February 28, 2014, 1:47 pm

PART 3 “Moggy’s Tuna Manual ” “Handling your helicopter “

A good view of the right hand side tie-downs, and the wax I lavished on my baby

Chapter 3-D TIE-DOWNS and BLADE SOCKS

Typically,you will have four separate tie-downs to anchor your baby on the deck.
Two at the front, one left, one right.
Two at the back, one left, one right.
What could be more simple?
They are just lengths of strong webbing, with some kind of ratchet mechanism so you can adjust the tension.
When I first saw them, well, no big deal, they’re just… straps. No sweat. You just undo them, like, and then you take off! So what’s the big deal, huh?

The normal -and preferred- view from the helideck, down onto the foredeck

Lemme tell you something, my friend. Those blasted tie-downs have killed more tuna helicopter pilots and their observers than any other single cause! They are worse than:
* a loaded double barreled shotgun with the ‘safety’ OFF,
* a Mohave Green rattlesnake with both types of snake venom coming at you in one bite
* and even worse than the most terrifying experience I have ever had!
(Which was when I said “I do! ” for the second time in my little life)

That…is the issue! You don’t just ‘undo them’ and ‘chuck them somewhere’ and ‘forget about them’!
You treat them with the greatest suspicion. You treat them like rabid snakes. You treat them like a used syringe.
They can easily, easily lead to AIDS. (*)

Believe me, it got to be demoralizing. Every year that I was flying tuna helicopters, out of our little fleet of tuna helicopters based out of Guam or Samoa, never more than 45 or 50 helicopters altogether, every year….
…somebody I knew, or knew of, got killed as a direct result of a tie-down accident.

During a high seas turbine swop; note the ‘killer’ right rear tie-down

To concentrate your mind, check out this YouTube video. It’s a classic. Watch the third crash. Note how the deck helper on the right motions for an unseen helper to go and untie the right rear tie-down. Study the complete communications breakdown between deck crew and pilot. Listen for that dull metallic ‘clunk’ as the tail rotor tries its best to turn through solid steel…

Did we get your attention? I sure hope so!
Were those dudes lucky, or what?? The associated text refers to “pilot skill ” saving the day. The implication seems to be that it was not the pilot’s fault in anyway…
Hm. Would you agree…?
Before you experience an irresistible urge to think “How stupid! “, let me warn you -and myself- how easy it is to do this kind of thing in our exciting, but potentially catastrophic, world of helicopters. . Some very, very experienced Tuna Heads have forgotten one tie-down. Typically, the right rear tie-down, which should be painted day glow orange, with red ‘remove before flight’ banners, and an electronic alarm device that sets off flashing lights, bells, and two sirens, whenever the master switch is selected ‘on’ with that tie-down still in place!
I only half jest!
Just imagine… being in a helicopter that lifts off with the right rear tie-down still attached.
You might not notice it as you lift up to a low hover. If your mechanic or deck helper isn’t really ‘on the ball’, or if you have never mutually agreed on a signal that means:
“STOP !! ”
(Example: arms crossed above your head, fists clenched – with mucho emphasis!)

… then you might just push forward on the cyclic. Now the chances are, you are going to die. Horribly.
It’s been nice knowin’ ya….
The machine will enter a right roll, smoothly at first. As you instinctively apply left cyclic, you will probably not even think about arresting your forward movement. It’s too late, anyway. The right roll continues, accelerates, and an uncontrolled yaw to the right follows. Everything happens in an instant now. A second ago, all was normality. Routine. But now, you are out of control, your brain is reeling, trying to grapple with visual inputs that are terrifying. The horizon rolls crazily, you have a fleeting sight of the winches and heavy machinery on the ship’s foredeck rushing up to meet you…

If you ever get to see this alternate view, please write me! “

You may hear horrendous, screeching, tortured sounds of metal slamming on steel before a rotor blade enters your skull and splatters your brains…
I make no apology for the raw description!

Every year, every year for I don’t know how long, I’ve heard the same story. With minor variations.
Somewhere, some poor soul gets clobbered by this death trap. Once in a blue moon, you will hear the story of a lucky survivor. The observer who gets thrown into the sea. And lives. The pilot who wakes up slowly, pain signals from his smashed body sending searing messages to his befuddled brain. he slowly realizes he has been in a crash, and that he is hanging upside down in the wreck of his helicopter. People are running around, yelling, and trying to help…

I met one such pilot. A lucky, lucky survivor. A young fellow, who had made a full recovery. And was back flying tuna helicopters. Quietly, over a beer, with dignity, he told me his story. Even then, in his eyes, you could see the shadow of terror, as he related the moment of slowly waking up. Hanging upside down.
Here was a young man grown suddenly older, wiser, and vastly more experienced. With a cautionary story to tell.
I’m still grateful to him. It left me with a vivid, leaping, mind scorching mental picture.

Forget about trying to ‘stop’ and ‘hover backwards when you feel the tie-down going tight’., and all that good bar-room stuff. It happens too darn fast. Most of us don’t pussy foot around above the deck. Especially when your ship is moving along at speed. We just want to get going, get away from the ship. Well. If you push forward on the cyclic stick to ‘go’, sunshine, you’re as good as dead.
Simple as that.
Typically, it happens to really experienced guys as well as to newbies, the “anchovy heads “. Somebody like myself is a prime candidate for a tie-down accident. Kind of relaxed about tuna helicopter flying. CFI/CFII. Ten thousand hours plus.
Thinks he knows a bit. Plenty of helo time. Dutifully warns other people about the dangers of tie-downs. Even writes about the dangers of tie-downs…. Like I said, a prime candidate for a tie-down accident!
If you think tie-downs scare me, you’ve completely missed the point, and you’re obviously thick as mince.
You’ll make an excellent Tuna Head.
No, they don’t scare me. Nothing about tie-downs scares me. They merely…
TERRIFY THE WILLIES OUT OF ME!!!!
Get my drift?
Damn those things!
Paranoid? You betcha! I have a whole ritual dedicated to dealing with those things. I perform it with religious intensity.
First, no matter what the rush is, I refuse to be pressured and bulldozered into leaping into the sky. I don’t care if the fish are about to escape across the towline. Should have called me sooner to get ready to fly!
Time for the final walk around. Note I will need to complete one un-interrupted walk around. If I adjust anything, like maybe a cowling catch, that nullifies the walk around, and I will have to do another one after this one. Taking the tie-downs off occurs prior to the final walk-around.
If somebody was to start yelling at me to hurry up, I’m bloody-minded to the point that I’ll slow the hell right down.
They soon get the message!

I do a final walk around, and all the tie-downs are already off. I also already made sure the belly hook is taut.
They are laid out alongside the helicopter, running ‘fore to aft’ on the left and right side, and strapped to the same anchor points, and tightened up. I will now be able to see them from the cockpit. I will be able to see ALL the left strap. I will only see the front half of the right strap, but I’ll know that if it’s lying tight and flat on the deck, then there is no way it can possibly be attached to my right rear (invisible) tie down point on my helicopter!
The blade socks have come off, if possible. With one exception, when it’s really, really windy. Note that it’s not a good idea to leave a rotorbrake locked ‘on’ for more than a few minutes (it puts pressure on the seals), but for a minute or two, it’s okay.
Now we climb in. Note the machine should not slide, even in quite a rough sea. That’s why we have the belly cable!
You will see guys routinely start up, and then, at the last minute, the deck helper removes the tie-downs, and away she goes! I’m told some pilots rely completely on the deck helper, and, remember, it is usually impossible to see that right rear tie-down from the cockpit.
All I can say is:
“Brrrrrrrrr…. “
I will NOT put my entire trust in somebody else like that. Not where tie-downs are concerned.
Question for you to ponder: Is that what the pilot in that video above was used to doing??
I’m ah-thinking so…

Okay, so I’m now sitting in the cockpit.
(I point to the tie-downs, which are now securely laid out alongside the helicopter, and strapped tight to the deck, in such a way that I can see them) Here comes a loud yell:
“TIE-DOWNS are OFF! “
I make sure the blade socks are off. If we left them on due to high winds, then now is the time to untie the rotorblades and remove the blade socks. Note you can do an incredible amount of damage to your bird if you try starting with a blade tied down! More on this later….! Here comes another yell:
“BLADE SOCKS are OFF! “
(I point to the blades; a 2 bladed system should be parked at nine o’clock and three o’clock).
“Master ON! Start pump ON! Generator OFF! Throttle to cut-off! BLADE SOCKS GONE! “
My helper can hear it all, especially the bladesocks gone! Sometimes -not always- I see his eyes go to the blade tips to check! He has been ordered that if I ever look as if I’m going to start with a blade sock still tying a blade down, he is to stop and BAWL me out! He would!
We fire up, and at about 12% N1, I expect to see the blades starting to turn.
“Blades turning! ” I say out loud. (That’s a North Sea souvenir as well)
I would (and have done so) abort the start if they are not turning.
Go check why!
Just about ready for take-off, I check the tie-downs are off. I can see all of them, stretched out and strapped tightly to the deck. I never accept a situation whereby I can’t see any of them.
Then I tap my observer on the knee, and point a questioning finger out his open door (doors are off) at the tie-downs.
He turns around, hangs out the door, and checks the tie-downs! Then he gives me the thumbs up! He knows exactly what I’m worried about. And he is too! One of his friends was killed in a tuna helicopter (not a tie-down accident) and after several thousand hours of helicopter time… he’s sharp!
Now I’m ready to go! I punch the belly hook release, I usually can feel it go (because you’ve made sure it’s taut), look across at my helper… he runs his eye over everything, gives me a thumbs up, and off I go!

“Overkill! ” you may remark drily.
I don’t know… it’s just so easy to become… complacent. I had this very strict routine going for a long, long time. And then, one day… I just forgot! I simply forgot to tap my observer on the knee to ask him to check his tie-downs.
Sure, they were off. I’d checked myself that they were off. But I departed from a well worn, super safe routine for no good reason. I have no idea why. But in doing so, I was removing one more defensive barrier between us and disaster.
No big deal, there were other defenses in place. But why remove even a single one?
What followed I think was rather neat! As I punched off the belly hook, and i was obviously about to go, my observer tapped ME firmly on the knee! I looked at him surprised, and -without a hint of a smile- he pointed to MY tie-downs!
His gestures basically implied a ‘telling off’. Hey, Mister smart pilot, I know they are off, but you just check as well! Let’s do this stuff seriously!
I thought that was super neat. It gave me a lot of confidence.

As of this day, I have yet to forget a tie-down and kill myself and my observer.
If it happens, I shall let you know, but in the meantime I try every day very hard not to kill myself in a tie-down accident!

Don’t… underestimate the human capability for colossal cock-ups.
A very experienced Tuna Head, over a quiet beer in Wewak, Papua New Guinea, sheepishly told me a really interesting story about what happened to him. He got airborne into a low hover with the left front tie-down still attached!
With the captain sitting beside him, the helper watching… that’s one tie-down, still on, in FULL VIEW of THREE people,and the helicopter STILL got airborne. Then he copped on, and put it back on the deck.
He was about to try a neat trick. It’s called ‘sling loading a 1,200 TON purse seiner fishing boat’
Lucky boy.

Carl, a famous Tuna Head, also pulled a tie-down stunt. I describe this in detail in “Blip on the Radar (Part 6) “.

“Impossible! “, you might say. “How can anybody be so stupid!? “
Well, before you condemn, remember “There but for the grace of God…. “
“…go you and I! “
It’s possible all right. Probable, even, if you don’t understand the danger. It’s usually the right rear tie-down though. That’s the usual culprit.That one is a real silent killer.
You’ve been warned!

In another sphere of flying, I can tell you about a Bell 412 in Africa, with two pilots and a full load of passengers, that did pretty well the exact same thing, over land. It took a passing pilot to dash over, waving furiously, to put an end to that interesting experiment. That one is called ‘sling loading planet Earth’.
I pulled a terrific -highly original- stunt myself, not with the tie-downs, but with another implement, which I shall relate in a later chapter. Yep. Sure did. Despite all my most earnest precautions…
And finally, here in the Gulf, a young pilot was also killed in a tie-down accident, hurrying to get off the deck, out of the way of an approaching helicopter. The accident report includes the eye witness account from the pilot in the second helicopter. And even with the dry, terse language of the NTSB, it sends shivers down your back. You can just imagine yourself, helplessly watching a fellow pilot wrestling with an out-of-control helicopter, and violently smashing into the steel platform. The last death throes of a doomed machine.

I mentioned one exception to the ‘all the blade socks off’ rule. Prior to start. Just occasionally (on the Hughes 500), I’ll take three off and leave one on, until a few seconds before starting. If it’s very windy… there are three problems to watch for, and all three are coming up under the heading of ‘runaway blades’. See the next chapter!

Finally, a dry old ‘Wrench Tuna Head’ handed me back an early draft of this chapter, ruminated a bit, and came up with this odd comment:
“Well, Moggy, you silly Irishman… if you actually get as far as finishing this manual of yours and publishing it…
I reckon that over a couple of years, you’ll save more than a few lives… and the funny thing is…. nobody will ever know! “
And then he bought me a beer.
That statement took a bit of figuring out for me, but he may well have had a point, and that has been as good a reason as any to expend some major time and effort!

(*) AIDS = Aviation Induced Death Syndrome

Francis Meyrick
(c)

References:
1) http://articles.latimes.com/1988-01-14/news/mn-36162_1_san-diego

Further reading on the dangers of tie-downs:
1)

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on July 30, 2015, 8:12 pm

PART 2 “Moggy’s Tuna Manual ” “Job offers and job duties “

Fish head soup… yup!

Chapter 2-E Food, food, glorious food…..!
(You want me to eat….THAT?????)

Ha! Food, my friends, food.
Let me say two things.
1) All the WILD stories you hear, the outrageous tales, the amazing horror stories, the un-be-liev-able stuff….
Very often, they are based on fact!
2) The standard of grub varies from one extreme to another.
From five star (JM Martinac) to…. well…. third world!

One cook will leave ( “Hurrah! Goodbye, you greasy little bugger! “), and another will come, and the quality of cooking leaps up. The new cook scrubs the floors and walls, cleans up, and everybody’s happy. You don’t suffer “the Taiwan Trots ” anymore, and morale goes up big time.
The reverse can also happen!
So much depends on the cook. If you have a good one, be nice to him! Tie him down with ropes and tell him he’s never leaving! Feed him beer and whiskey, and make sure he knows you love him. You will hear lots of general statements, which only carry so much validity, because different circumstances apply on different boats.
Example: “All Korean food is nasty and horrible, it comes in small bowls, tastes bitter, and looks as bad as it tastes. “
That was the opinion of one highly disgruntled crew I met!
Armed with their information, when I heard I was going to be going out on a Dongwon boat, I had this bright idea of sampling Korean food first. So, all adventuresome, I went with my significant other to a Korean restaurant in Guam. We thought it would make an interesting change from that fine old Scottish restaurant we often went.
McDonald’s…
So off we jolly well trotted. The restaurant menu was in Korean, and it didn’t help us a lot. We told the lady there that we had never eaten Korean food before, and we would like to try some great Korean delicacies! She beamed delightedly, and soon returned with… a whole collection of small bowls! She bowed and smiled, and told us how nice it was, and we bowed from our seats, and smiled, and generally went along with the spirit of the game.
The first bowl looked awful. Smelt awful. But we were convinced it was going to be yummy. It had to be. We were in a positive mood.
Gawd! Sake! Oh!
It tasted like something had died, and had been left in a plastic microwave bag in the baking heat of the sun for a week.
A quick beer.Wash it down. Try the next bowl.
Gawd! Sake! Oh! Cough! Yak!
Another quick beer. Wash it down. Try the next bowl.
Splutter! Gag! Aaargh! YIK!
And so on. By the time we were debating if it was even WORTH trying the eighth and LAST bowl….
We left that restaurant hungry as hell, drunk as skunks, bowing and smiling and telling the nice Korean lady what a pleasure it had been…
FUK! I even tipped her, for flip’s sake.

I have to confess I mostly much prefer Taiwanese or American food. Me and “Korean yummy ” seemed to have a taste bud clash. A complete non-connection. A sort of “strawberry jam on boiled egg ” and “salt in your beer ” cultural breakdown.
Marmalade on steak…
Having said that, I had culinary adventures with the Taiwanese as well.
There was the day the stupid Chinese cook was having a brain malfunction. He was cleaning some fish, and chopping their heads off. Then, dozy bugger,can you believe it, he went and threw the cleaned fish overboard, keeping only the heads!
I happened to be passing, and I laughed out loud, pointing.
He scowled.
Oh well, I thought, anybody can have an off day. That would be the sort of thing I’d do. Ask my wife…
Ho-hum…
I forgot about the little incident until supper time.
Huh!?
The cook, still unsmiling, plopped this bowl of soup in front of me. A fish head stared accusingly up at me.
I thought it was a joke. I looked around. If it was, he was playing the same dumb joke on everybody else.
Fish head soup….
Weird.

Then there was the day I was really hungry, and there I was, staring fixedly at these pair of chicken feet in a bowl.
Chicken feet. No chicken. I mean, the blessed FEET. Complete with (dirty) nails. The self same nails, that, doubtless, in an earlier, much more happy chicken life, had busied themselves with scratting and scraping through the manure heap for juicy slugs and bugs…
Hmmmmm….

Nice chewy chicken feet, toe nails and all….

I even got myself -innocently- into trouble trying to wish the second engineer “Bon appetite “. I had been busy learning Chinese, and I had learned the Chinese for “enjoy your meal! “. He was a remarkably ugly, squat little man, but I tried to treat everybody with equal respect.
Haw-tsu!
I wished it to him very solemnly, convinced I was doing my bit for inter racial harmony. Cultural understanding.
You know. I’m a bit of an idealist. Yep. A well meaning, stupid tree hugger type. Peace on earth to all men, kind of thing.
He scowled at me.
I thought maybe he had misunderstood me. I repeated myself, a little louder:
Haw-tsu!
He scowled at me even more. His friends scowled at me too. They positively glared.
Well, fukkit then. I gave up. Hell, I was just trying to be nice.
After the meal, the radio operator came up to me.
“Moggy! “
He was normally very nice to me. Now he was serious.
“Moggy, number two engineer very angry with you! “
“What!??? Why? What dafuk did I do….? “
The radio operator put it to me sharply:
“Why you call him MONKEY!? “
“What….??? “
I explained, and when I repeated what I had said, everybody started laughing. It’s not “Haw-tsu “. It’s “How-tsu “.
The other word means… you guessed it.
(sigh)

But you can also be lucky. I once met two rather jolly and eminently contented Hansen boys coming off another Korean boat. “How’s the food? ” I asked, mischievously. “Great! “, they said. “Terrific! The cook does special meals for us! ” These chaps were getting fat on hamburgers, steaks and fries! And bloody ice cream, for flip’s sake… “
(Jealous!)
On another occasion I was coming back onto a ship I’d already served a year on, but with a new captain.
I met him and he bowed. I bowed. He bowed. I bowed. Big smiles. Mine was soon to get even bigger.
“Pleased to meet you, Mistah Moggy! Here five hundred dollar! Go buy you nice food! “
Okay, and pleased to meet you too, captain!
(bow, smile, bow some more)

I like to have porridge in the morning.
‘Quaker oatmeal’ do a nice box with 40 individual packets. A lot better than rice three times a day! Apart from that, I have some ‘add water instant lunches’ which I struggled to get through, and loads of “long life ” milk. Tea, coffee, biscuits. And I was all set! Oh, and lots of canned fruit.
As you may gather, I had very little problem with the Taiwanese food. Other guys would take boxes and boxes of stuff. A veritable cuisine. I strongly suggest you ask the outgoing crew.It’s another good reason to ask for their telephone numbers, or email addresses. And if your potential employer asks why?
” I want to find about the food! ”

I absolutely hate it when you get sick. I’ve heard it referred to as ‘The Taiwan Trots’, having “Mexican Dog “, or ‘doing the Korean Cha-cha “. It is usually directly as a result of unhygienic practises. The worst cook I ever had….
One morning I discovered all our food and meat for the day thawing out, outside on the deck, with roaches crawling all over it! A real case of “roach shushimi “! I did my nut. I was NOT pleased! The next thing the cook was being paraded on the bridge, and the practice ceased forthwith.
Can you imagine that…. cockroaches shitting all over everything. I guess then, when it was all thawed out, he would just shake the cockroaches off before he started to cook the food. Or did he…?
I thought back to all the meals I had eaten….. (gulp!)

I really liked Yellowfin shushimi. I ate it by the bucketful. Fresh yellowfin, freshly caught, uncooked, sliced into thin wafers, and dipped into this delicious sauce they whipped up. I was hesitant at first. Uncooked, raw fish?
Then I had a taste! Mmmm…. gimme some more.
Until one day I noticed the cook slicing up a Yellowfin for us, on the deck, right beside where another crew member was relieving himself, on the deck!
Guys…!!!
(sigh)

Generally, if you’re getting sick, so are the other crew members. That means lost efficiency. The captain is not going to like it, and that does put a brake on excessive culinary carelessness. A fiend of mine told us a good story about going into the kitchen and bawling out the cook himself. I served on his boat for a while by way of being relief pilot when he went on vacation. That was, beyond doubt, one of the worst, most unhygienic morons I’ve ever seen.
The kitchen was a disaster area.
I’d be a little cautious before you march into an Oriental gentleman’s kitchen and start insulting him.
I’d be scared I’d get a meat cleaver thrown at me…

Many ships however are just about five star. The kitchen on these is open, part of the galley, and you can see for yourself that everything is spotless. I was on a Portuguese ship…. I would have liked to have stolen the kitchen out of it, and abducted the cook. Gleaming. And his cheesecake! His chocolate pie! His fritters! Oh, mercy, Lord!

Overall, what can I say? It’s a case of ‘pot luck’!!
(Yeah,that was an awful joke…)

Francis Meyrick
(c)

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on September 14, 2009, 11:23 am

PART 2 “Moggy’s Tuna Manual ” “Job offers and job duties “

Taiwanese sailors at work moving fish; some of the most hard-working dudes you will ever meet

Chapter 2 -D Other duties? Humping fish? Taking the watch?
(You want me to do….WHAT?????)

So there you are, young sailor, three days at sea, on your first tuna trip. Congratulations, you made it! Welcome to the madhouse, and a whole New World. The pilot has just departed off for a flight, and you, the mechanic, are back in your cabin making a cup of coffee and wondering why the damn generator light keeps flickering.
A knock comes on the door…

A crew member tells you that you are wanted aft. Bemused, you follow, and you are thrown a working overall and some gloves. You are directed to a pile of fish. Suddenly you realize that you are expected to start humping fish for the next few hours. Oh. You didn’t know that…
Far fetched? Oh, no! It’s happened.
Either that or you get knocked up at two in the morning to take your turn on the bridge ‘on watch’. Ho-hum…

Again,it’s up to you. You may like moving fish. Or staring out over a dark and empty Ocean at three in the morning.
Or operating a winch. But consider this carefully. Of the handful of really outstandingly critical warnings I want to give you in this manual, this is one of them:

The lower working deck is a highly, highly dangerous place to be. Especially if you are a foreigner.

Basically, please believe me, there are several ways you can get killed or injured. Exaggeration? Oh, no!
A ship I was on lost two men dead from the ‘power block’ crashing down. That’s that big pulley-block-thing that weighs a ton and some, and is right up there, above you. Serious shit! That’s happened several times on different boats.

Once in a while, these power blocks come crashing down, killing sailors

I was standing on the upper deck one day, watching the catch come in, and a pulley came crashing down. It was heavy, but it was also under tremendous strain. When it let go, it didn’t just fall. It HURTLED down. It crashed into a hatch, eighteen inches behind an old, weather beaten, wrinkled Chinese sailor. He was looking over the side of the ship at the net coming up. Everybody, I mean everybody, jumped six inches in the air. I jumped six inches. The captain jumped six inches. It was a case of: “Holy Crap! ” There was a huge dent in the hatch.
Everybody jumped. Except that craggy old sailor…
I watched him in awe. With the flegmatic wisdom of five decades on fishing boats, he looked around at the hole in the hatch, looked up at where the pulley had fallen from, SHRUGGED, and went back to looking over the side!
He had seen it all before. He had seen death on fishing boats before. He knew he had narrowly escaped – this time.
He didn’t even cast a glance at anybody else! Just looked back over the side at the incoming net, and went right on fishing…
Awesome! That pulley would have passed straight through him…

The failure of any overhead pulley, cable, or other stressed component may lead to tragedy

I was walking about five yards away from one incident. The ship had just released the skiff. They were launching the speedboat and the two net boats, when a davit failed. That’s a heavy steel fitting that supports the boat. There was a loud crash, and it knocked a crew member violently overboard. I was horrified. Everybody saw it. There he was in the water, crying. Obviously alive, but also clearly in a lot of pain. It turned out he had really hurt his back. Yes, they sent a net boat for him, AFTER they had finished making the set! I was flabbergasted, standing at the rail, sort of helplessly pointing to this guy in the water, while the ship steamed right on in the usual big circle, nets playing out! More important things to do than worry about a guy who has just been violently bounced overboard!
Why do you think everybody on the working deck wears a helmet?

Listen to me,guys. Respect those hard-working fishermen. They are pros at what they do. They know what they are up against. You and I, my friend, we do not. For you to start mixing it down there, untrained, wide eyed and innocent… well, good luck.
I avoid the lower working deck (where it all happens) like the plague. You see the old “Molly’s ladle ” (my phrase) they haul the fish in with? It looks like a huge scoop. There’s a heavy steel ring that supports that ‘basket’, and that alone weights a ton.

Respect these skilled sailors; this can be very dangerous work

Try shift it even an inch while it’s lying on the deck. You won’t budge it. Now imagine this huge scoop bulging with four tons of fish. It gets hauled all over the place. In a hurry. Everybody is always in a hurry. The captain is on the public address, yelling and yelling. Watch closely when a few fish get stuck, and refuse to slide out the bottom into the chute that leads down to the storage area. The operator will then ‘jiggle’ the cables so the whole thing shakes around. All the while you’ll see brave little souls darting around. If that ring hits your skull even a glancing blow, well….

Once I was walking around the lower deck while they were transferring fish from the ‘wet cell’ (filled with sea water) to the ‘dry cell’ (once the fish are frozen solid). There was no set going on, or fish being hauled in. It was just a routine transfer. Suddenly, an excited babble of Chinese broke out. Everybody seemed to be jabbering at me at the same instant. I had time to sort of stupidly say: “Duh? “
The runaway hook on a chain that sailed eighteen inches or so past my face wouldn’t have killed me, but, boy! It sure would have spoiled my whole day.

I asked my boss about it. He phrased it rather eloquently I thought. What, he said, was the minor benefit to the ship of one extra unskilled laborer, compared with the risk of physical injury of the pilot or mechanic, and the resultant downtime of the helicopter? What indeed?
He also suggested that sometimes there can be a bit of jealousy at work here. The slogan “We are all members of the ship’s crew ” sounds fine, and it gets to be used to justify putting the pilot and the mechanic to menial work. But does it really maybe also mean: “We’re going to bring the helicopter crew down a few pegs? “

Most helo crew will never be asked to perform additional duties. However, it does happen,especially, it seems on American ships. I was forever arriving in some port, looking forward to the usual meet up of all the crews in the various bars, and there were the boys on some American ships…. hauling fish. Rough….

Maybe those two words again, eh? Ask beforehand!

Francis Meyrick
(c)

Note 1: 4/18/2012

Times change in the Tuna Fields, and maybe sometimes for the better. Here follows an interesting exchange on Facebook. The group is called “Tuna Pilots ” and along with the other group “Tuna Spotter Pilots ” is an excellent place to pick up tips and insights from the old pros.

On April 14, 2012, Tuna Head Brian Grant took me up on the current accuracy of this chapter, as follows:

Brian Grant: Hey Moggy you might want to change the bit in your story about Pilots having to unload fish from American boats. None of the American boats I have worked on have required this – quite the contrary in fact. As one American captain told me when I went to help a guy out one day “don’t help him, if you get hurt none of those idiots know how to fly the helicopter “.

Me: Now that’s interesting. Things may have changed then, for the better. I know my buddies on the JM Martinac did it all the time.

Brian Grant: I got off the Cape May about 10 days ago in Pago, and don’t know of any pilots or mechanics on any boats (certainly none of the Taiwanese, Korean or American boats I have worked on) who unload fish. Typically locals are employed to assist in unloading the boats.

Me: good. Much better. I will add a note/comment to update that chapter in the Tuna Manual. Times change.

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on April 18, 2012, 8:15 am

PART 2 “Moggy’s Tuna Manual ” “Job offers and job duties “

landing a Hughes 500 from the port side; notice the interesting ‘winglets’ on the end of the floats!

Chapter 2 -C Your Job Offer: Your cabin and your roommate(s)
(Cockroaches or Carpets?)

Let’s face it, you’re young perhaps, anxious for your first job, and maybe in debt up to your eyeballs for training costs to get your magic Helicopter Commercial Pilot’s License. You’re anxious to get going, right?
I surmise some pilots are and mechanics are so excited to be even offered a job, that some real basic questions simply do not occur to them – until it’s too late to ‘negotiate’!
Take the issue of your cabin. Are you a non-smoker? How do you feel about being cooped up in a small room with one or two chain smokers who are ‘lit up’ every waking moment? I’ve seen guys swimming from the skiff boat to the mother ship with a cigarette clenched between their teeth! (I was going to call it a ‘fag’ and not a cigarette, but then I remembered that the statement “I am going outside to smoke a fag ” will have very different interpretations depending on where you are in this world of ours…)
Will you have working air conditioning? Very likely, but beware:some systems are good, and some are really poor. I am a non-smoker, and I would not even entertain the thought of sharing a room, for months on end, with a heavy smoker.
How about bathroom facilities? Do you have your own private ‘head’ and shower, like many do, or will you have to share? It may color your bubble when you discover that the ‘John’ is a long walk up and down stairs, and that you may have to walk to the other end of the ship to wash your hands.
Especially at three o’clock in the morning…

The upper bunk, the lower bunk? And where do I park my blow up doll?

Who exactly are you going to share with? Your mechanic? Your pilot? Only? That may not be so bad. But I would think long and hard before sharing with any crew members. Am I a racist? A snob? No, not at all, quite the opposite. I see us all as part of the human family. But I am a realist, born of some tough experience. Think, for instance, of the different duty hours. I’ve heard many a story about pilots getting tired out -and grumpy- from constantly interrupted sleep. The crew will be getting up at all sorts of weird hours. Anybody in the engine room, or on watch, can be setting his alarm clock for all sorts of ungodly hours! The deckhands will be up at three or four in the morning maybe, hours before first light. People go ‘on watch’ on the bridge around the clock. How are they going to feel about the lucky pilot who can sleep on for a few more hours? Some will be considerate. The odd one though will be jealous, and go out of his way to be a thundering pest. Switching all the lights on, coughing and banging around, etc. That was the unfortunate experience of one pilot ‘tuna head’, who was totally demoralized (and exhausted) in less than three weeks. Remember there are also simply cultural differences. You may like to ‘sit’ on the John. Don’t be too surprised when your foreign room mate likes to ‘squat’ on it. Hopefully, he’s a good shot! If the weather is rough, and the ship is rolling, will he clean up after himself? Don’t bank on it.
This may sound awful, but believe you me…

The venerable R-22; a good, solid machine, but many, many, have crashed off tunaboats

Let me tell you one story, that says it all. I was invited onto an American ship out of San Diego, by an older pilot, recently divorced, and a little lonely. He was a charming, mountain of a fellow, who comes under the heading of a ‘gentle giant’. We chatted, and he told me his story. He was in a small, cramped cabin, sharing with two foreign gentlemen, who never smiled. They were surly and suspicious. Both smoked incessantly, and refused point blank to go outside. They both liked violent pornographic videos. He didn’t. They especially liked one video showing young Amsterdam girls having it off with dogs and other animals. That upset him. They shared a bathroom, which was a smelly mess. But here’s the rub of the story: after a few days at sea he noticed a small sign on another cabin door. It said: “helo pilot “. He peeked in. It was a nice, single room with a private head and shower! Occupied! By the second engineer. Our pilot went to the captain, and inquired if that should not have been his room! He reckons there was ‘some considerable embarrassment’. No specific reply was made to his question, but a while later he noticed the sign had been removed…
That seems to me to be both unfair and short sighted. How boats like that expect to keep their helicopter crews is anybody’s guess. Perhaps they just like to see a continuous stream of new faces!
This story was especially interesting for me. I had applied to them a year or two earlier!
I’m so glad they turned me down…

I would ask if it’s possible to speak to the outgoing crew. Can you have his/their phone number or email please. That is a perfectly reasonable request.If asked why, well, you want to check on the helicopter, equipment needed, state of the helideck, etc, etc.
The previous incumbent will tell you a lot, hopefully before you even set foot on board.
Many boats have very nice helo cabins, and some are downright palatial. Carpets, nice stained wood, large fridge, sink, cooker. Everything except a chamber maid. (and, seriously, I was offered one of those for a vacation in Taiwan!)
The odd boat expects you to rough it. Or hopes you will be too naive to object to a broom cupboard. It’s your choice. Do you need sleep, or do you function perfectly well having been woken up several times during the night?
If you go out there, amongst the endless wild and outrageous stories, you will hear the one about some helo guys who had a large hole in their cabin floor. It became a bit of a joke. No, it’s not an ‘Ocean Myth’. They did!
I once went onto a boat, after I already had a year or two out there, and I was a known commodity to the Taiwanese captains. I was shown to my cabin, with a big smile, and it really was a poky little place. About two feet of floor between the bunk and the wall. No shower, no head. I looked at it, and pulled a face.
Captain Alan, who was with me, and was retiring (he came back later!) took one look at it, and turned around and spoke fluently in Chinese! The next thing I knew I was being shown into a much, much nicer cabin!
You can’t be too demanding when you’re brand new. But there are limits. Once you are a known, and welcome commodity, a tuna pilot who gets on well with the crew, then it gets easier to -politely- state your conditions.

Ha! Cockroaches!
Being woken up by a humongous sized cockroach walking over your face is not conducive to restrained language, and feelings of cosmic peace and happiness! It’s happened to me more than once. Or you swing your feet out of bed, and stand on one… The secret there, believe me, is to invest in a caulking gun, like you would use in your bathroom, around the tiles, to stop water leaking past. Then you spend two days and plug up every conceivable gap and access route for the little darlings. Invest in a few cans of insecticide, and you will have very little trouble. The odd invader is quickly repelled.
I leave my rubbish bin outside the door, so no food scraps lie around to attract them. Some roach traps in the cupboards, and you’re set. Once in a while you will get an outbreak, and then it’s a matter of tracking down the source. On two separate occasions I found the source to be a nest in a packet of ‘Quaker Oatmeal’. Plastic bins with sturdy lids is the answer there.
The cockroaches find a plentiful food supply from the scraps and remnants of fish. They infest the net when the ship is in port. The first time the ship makes a set, an entire universe of cockroach cities goes over the side.
Even if a ship was to be really clean, the next time in port, it would soon be infested again.
Some pilots have really been ‘grossed out’ by the cockroaches climbing all over the galley, and all over the bags of rice stored outside the door. It depends a lot on which boat you are on. I was invited onto the ‘JM Martinac ” for supper a few times. The chef would lay out white table cloths, silver and and wine glasses! It was like a luxury cruise liner.
Only problem was that they paid basic plus tonnage, and they did not catch much fish….!

Will you have a microwave? Kind of essential, don’t you think? Hot water maker? Running water? Plenty of cupboard space? Decent sized fridge? You’re going to really miss a decent fridge.

In conclusion, there are two words that apply here:

ask beforehand!

Francis Meyrick
(c)

____________________________________________________________________________________
Note 1:

Reader’s input!

Today at 11:55 AM
PART 2 “Moggy’s Tuna Manual ” “Job offers and job duties “

Anyone who boards a tuna boat as part of the crew will have to be at peace with the idea of your residence swarming with insects.
If you can’t be at peace with the idea, you will be assaulted by it.
You don’t necessarily have to sleep with them, but if you think you will ever be on a purse seiner that has eradicated all insect life, you’ve got another bug coming.
I am not too squeamish about bugs, but even after reading Moggy’s insights I wasn’t ready for my first introduction to my uninvited shipmates.
I was boarding my new boat towards the aft, forward of the netting, an the port side.
It was later in the afternoon getting on towards evening, and a shadow being cast from a weather bulkhead cut the wooden catch deck in half on a diagonal.
As I was leaving the sunlit part of the deck, crossing over to the shaded area of the deck, I began to think I was hallucinating seeing a shadowy shimmering carpet on the shaded side.
As I got closer, the shimmering became more identifiable as movement. The decking appeared to be moving.
Then when I was close enough to see the detail of my imaginary magic carpet, I discovered the source of the phenomenon.
The carpet was a horde of closely packed cockroaches scurrying from my advance.
And not your average all American household German cockroach.
No, this cockroach is a more furry, more repulsive, more packed with appendages Asian cockroach.
They are very deceptive. You don’t see where they come from when they advance as you retreat.
Neither do you see where they go to as you advance while they retreat.
They are almost a ghostly, shapeshifting presence.
But by and large they seem to keep to themselves.
I didn’t see many if any in my stateroom, and I don’t remember seeing any in the galley.
If you keep your stateroom clean of food particles, and keep your bathroom clean, they will not have any call to visit you during the night.
And that’s alright by me.
As for smoking, these guys smoke like fiends, and like there’s no tomorrow.
They must spend a good portion of what little their wages are on cigarettes.
I have seen boxes and boxes of brand name cigarettes like Marlboro in storage closets.
If you are a smoker you might have a smoking heyday on your ship.
But like as not, even if you are a smoker, these guys can smoke you under the table.
If they are awake, and have at least 1 hand free, they will have a cigarette hanging from their lips.
It’s not so bad out on the weather deck, but in the confined spaces, their second hand smoke is concentrated enough to be anyone’s firsthand smoke.
For non smokers you can’t beat them, but you can join them.
As a non smoker I spent a good deal of every day moving in relationship to clouds of smoke to the few unclouded spaces on the ship with fresh air.
It was a kind of a dance.
The smokers danced with the devil they brought, while I danced away from the devil I hadn’t.
In a way I almost realized a wish I have always wanted, to be a ballroom dancer.
As I became light on my feet avoiding pockets of smoke, I became a weather deck dancer.
And in a way, I danced my days and troubles away.

Aeroscout

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on August 9, 2015, 6:21 pm

Bell 47, a classic work horse

PART 3 “Moggy’s Tuna Manual ” “Handling your helicopter “

Chapter 3-C TAKE-OFF

You may hear it said that -where Tuna boats are concerned- there are more take-off accidents than landing accidents. If you include all the really unpleasant (and usually fatal) tie-down accidents (see next chapter), then I suspect that’s true. You might not expect that. The closest I’ve come to ‘splashing out’ was on take-off, not during a landing.
How-ever… let’s pause here, and remind you that there are plenty of landing accidents! So what does that say for the Tuna helicopter industry’s safety record?
It’s always interesting to chat with former Vietnam pilots who have also been tuna flying.. These guys are amazing, have endless stories, and when that generation finally is gone, the helicopter industry will never -ever- be the same again. We will never have such a crop of incredibly experienced pilots again. And we’ll never…. quite have the same freedom loving, swashbuckling, independent, crazy, fun-loving Hell’s Angels in the helicopter industry again. You should ask one of these guys the question, as to how the accident rate in the Tuna helicopter industry compares to Vietnam! You might be surprised. I have heard these guys comment, many a time, that for an “Ash and Trash ” (non-combat) helicopter operation, that tuna flying was just as hazardous as their old flying in Vietnam.
Some would say more so…

Back to the tuna boat take-off.
Firstly, there is a certain type of pilot who is obsessed with going up off the helideck. One such worthy managed to hit his tail rotor off the crow’s nest. Think how high the crow’s nest is above the helideck! Thirty feet? His ship was underway, and whilst he went vertically upwards, the ship moved along underneath him, the crow’s nest clobbered the tail rotor. The sequel is kind of unique. The pilot entered autorotation, and landed back on the helideck! He maintains he planned it that way, but everybody else says:
“Pfffffffff! Dumb luck! ” Whatever…

I was on a ship where the previous pilot and the captain had been arguing over this precise issue. The captain complained to me that he kept instinctively ducking in the crow’s nest. He was worried, and unhappy about it. Their relationship broke down, and the pilot only did one trip and quit.

This vertical obsession seems to be quite common, but I think most tuna heads will unhesitatingly agree that the most important consideration is to get clear of the ship. And in a manner that puts you in the best possible situation to cope adequately with worst case scenarios. Regardless of helicopter type, it’s nice to get well away from all those aerials and radar domes. Your ‘deck edge crossing time‘ (DECT) needs to be as short as reasonably possible. There is (especially for single engine machines) a nasty ‘red zone’ where you are (in the event of a sudden power failure) unable to land back on the helideck, and probably unable to avoid smacking your tail rotor off the deck edge. Nasty!
It follows that you really don’t want to waffle about, and cross the ‘red zone’ at a snail’s pace, whilst putting all your effort into climbing vertically! On the North Sea, off the oil platforms there, the last thing we did was to take off into a four foot hover, and then sort of waffle over the edge of the helideck on our merry way! We would climb (twin engine) to a twenty foot hover, pitch the nose down ten degrees quite abruptly, and go like hell! Thinking worst case scenarios, if the engine quit before we went for it, then we landed back down single engine. (interesting training, especially at night!) But once we pushed forward… you were not going to land back. You kind of held your breath for a few seconds, and breathed deeply when you were clear.
The story goes that one machine was coming off the North Alwynn, which is like a huge five story hotel stuck in the middle of this cold and inhospitable sea, some 230 miles east-north-east of Aberdeen. Just after the pilot had pitched the nose down and committed himself, one of the two turbines failed catastrophically. The result was utter chaos and commotion lower down in the galley, where all the diners saw was the underside of a Super Puma heading rapidly down to the sea. In fact… everything was -more or less- nicely under control. The Super Puma can’t hover on one engine, but she sure can fly away once you have achieved translational lift. In this case, a well thought out take off profile and good training beforehand saved the day. That’s a story I got first hand from the captain who flew it. And recently here in the Gulf of Mexico, in 2009, a Sikorsky 76 crew had an engine failure at the worst possible moment coming off a platform. They did everything right, and got to fly back to their base with one engine and one helluva good bar story. The interesting thing for me was to hear the story from the first officer. Here was a pilot whose eyes, in telling the story, conveyed the intensity of the experience. I guess that made a believer out of him, as far as the value of training, training, training is concerned!
At first sight, these incidents might be taken to vindicate those who would try and gain height vertically off a tuna boat first, before moving away. But hang on!
1) I don’t know any twin engine helicopters operating off tuna boats.
2) The average North Sea platform is bolted firmly to the seabed, or, in the case of a semi-sub, is moored firmly to the seabed. These mammoth piles of steel and concrete are not punching along at anywhere from 12 to 18 knots!
Also, these platforms by and large are ‘humongous’. You usually have a much, much, much greater rotor tip clearance from obstacles than on a tuna boat. True, there are some really big tuna ships, where you could land three or four little R-22’s. But on many tuna tubs… I flew a Bell 47 off a deck where, if you touched the blade tip with one hand, you could just about touch the Immarsat dome with the other! If that doesn’t impress you, try and imagine a nice, juicy, stormy, rain lashed, rock-and-roll day for your final approach. It impressed me! This is really not the place to start going up to twenty foot hovers vertically over the helideck. There is a veritable forest of aerials behind the helideck, and the crow’s mast behind that little lot. What I do, on any helicopter, is (after the thumbs up from my helper, indicating that the belly hook is clear, and all appears to be okay) is to ‘gently increase’ collective until I’m really light. I make sure I have neutralized all movement, sideways or otherwise. (see Note 1) I may be carrying quite a lot of right (into-wind) cyclic. A little bit more, and we’re hovering at three to six inches. I maintain my position on the deck just for an instant, check all systems okay, controls responding normally….. then another smooth increase in collective up to maybe two or three feet in a Bell 47, maybe… four feet max, and then, just like a Puma, nose down and go like hell! I cross the ‘red zone’ as fast as I can, the shortest DECT I can manage, and now a bit of forward cyclic down towards the sea. The forward cyclic helps speed me up away from the ship, and the smooth dive towards the sea helps me reach translational lift quicker, gives me a chance to lower the collective lever a fraction if (which is likely in a Bell 47) my rotor rpm is beginning to decay, and also…. raises the tail!
I am now also well situated that if my rotor rpm (Nr) has really taken a dive, I can continue the descent towards the sea, speeding up all the time. And if necessary, I can continue all the way down to four feet, at which stage ground effect (yes, above the sea it also exists!) would also help save the day if I’d really screwed up on the rotor rpm.
Two up, with full fuel, in a Bell 47, I don’t muck about trying to climb vertically much above three feet above the deck. You’ll be running ‘out of puff’ soon, and if you do get higher, it will probably be at the expense of rotor rpm.

Robinson R-44 A good bird in the hands of a respectful pilot

Huh! You might say. Sounds a bit rushed and bothered to me. Well, yes it is in a way. There’s a lot that could conceivably go wrong, at the worst possible moment. I often wonder what percentage of pilots fly defensively, assuming the worst is going to happen at the worst time, and are -actually- pretty damn ready to deal with it. And what percentage of pilots kind of get…. too comfortable. And who are just not ready, able, pre-disposed, gung-ho, trigger happy, to DEAL with sh…. coming their way. I think it really is an ‘attitude of mind’. Defensive flying, ‘suspicious flying’, the what-kind-of-gremlin am I gonna NOT LET BITE ME today sort of flying… That is what I advocate, with a passion. And probably, if I was to be honest, because I’ve come soooooo…. close to getting really, really, wet, flustered, and embarrassed.

In putting together this manual, I’m determined to be as honest as I can. If I come across as a superior aviator, with a flawless record, a pillar of wisdom, and well placed to sit in judgment of lesser mortals, (the ragged, unwashed masses), then it’s probably high time I tell one of the many tales I could tell, against myself. This isn’t a ritualistic self flagellation, like those medieval monks who were determined to get into heaven by beating themselves red raw with knotted lashes. It’s just more a practical admission that we all make mistakes. None of us can ever hope to survive, if we are going to make every mistake there is to be made, one at a time, and then draw our lessons from it, and move on.
In the helicopter industry, we’d be dead in no time.
It is imperative to learn from the mistakes of others, eat humble pie, admit that it could well happen to us, and move forward, cautiously. Helicopter flying is wonderful, about the most satisfying and exciting thing I’ve ever done, almost as good as sex; although… given a choice between forty virgins and a gleaming Hughes 500….hmmmmmm. Gimme the Hughes. (imagine forty women cackling on about last night’s….no!)

So there I was, on my third ever take-off from a tuna boat. In a Bell 47, with a tired old Lycoming O-435 engine.
I came up to a nice hover, three feet or so, and then, feeling all nice and relaxed, set out off the deck. I flew out horizontally, without a slight dive. Whether or not I hadn’t wound open the throttle properly, or what I did, I don’t quite know. But the moment I lost ground effect from the helideck, the moment I was starting to move out over the sea, the rotor rpm decayed so fast that I started to sort of mush out of the sky. The sheer speed at which it all went from normal to ‘pear shaped’ really surprised me. I had the presence of mind to shove the cyclic forward, and this raised the tail which – I was told this later – was never in danger of striking the deck edge. Down we sank, horribly, with the rotor rpm somewhere about 270 if I remember, until, just as I thought we were going to crash, (at this stage I had leveled the floats, and was preparing for impact) all of a sudden… the ship magically arrested our descent. Good old ‘ground effect’ had come into play, and this had rescued the day. The invisible ground cushion, and the friend of pilots. I flew away thinking I had not touched the water, but I was afterwards told the right rear float had ‘kissed’ a wave!
Close! It’s hard to describe that hollow feeling in your stomach, when you think for a second that you’re about to ‘go in’.
Phew…!
The concept of ground effect over the waves gets some guys all uptight, and some will even say there is no such thing.
You will hear some pretty esoteric theories about all this.
All that ‘ground effect’ is about, is that the presence of a surface breaks up the vortex from the rotor. The presence of ground (or sea), reduces the re-circulation of turbulent (used) air through the rotor disc.
So do you get ground effect over the sea? Yes! Sure.
So a Bell 47 tuna pilot, or an R-22 pilot, who feels he is getting into trouble with his rotor rpm or his HOGE, does well indeed to make a determined, positive move to head for the ‘safety’ of that invisible ‘ground cushion’ over the sea!
Whilst herding in a Bell 47, and with all the twisting and turning, I would often dip on down, just to let the rotor rpm build back up. You get used to it, and it becomes second nature. Just remember those rolling waves coming through, aiming hungrily for your tail rotor. Many, many a tuna pilot has flipped over by allowing a wave to contact his tail rotor blade.
Any good helicopter pilot, when he (or she) is near the surface, is constantly thinking where his tail rotor is, in the horizontal plane (turning), and in the vertical plane (pulling back on the stick).

Don’t you LOVE a Hughes 500! Such a wonderful, wonderful helicopter. After a Robinson R-22 or R-44, or a Bell 47, although these are good, good birds, the Hughes 500…. will bring a smile to your face. Such a pleasure to fly.

A Hughes 500 – every tuna helicopter pilot’s dream machine

It makes your take-off so much easier, because of all that nice extra ‘oomph’. I might come up a little higher, but I still apply forward cyclic quite positively, and I still ‘go like hell’ to minimize DECT and get through the ‘red zone’. The big difference with the Bell 47 or the Robinson is that you’ve got sooooooo much more power, with that lovely Allison C20B engine. You can make a positive departure, positive stick forward, positive ‘get the hell away from the deck’, and STILL climb at the same time. You must think aggressively about getting away from the ship. And be prepared to NOT be surprised if something quits. If there is a sudden deafening sound of silence (ignoring your observer’s screams), at the worst possible moment, accept it, deal with it, go for the water. And if you are swopping between a Hughes 500 and a Bell 47 or a Robinson, remember the Hughes 500 requires nimble feet. That boom is shorter, so it’s ‘short coupled’.
If you go from a Hughes 500 to a Bell 47 or a Robinson R-44, you must pay big time attention to the fact that you now have a longer tail boom. A modest flare over water (or the deck) that is maybe not going to hurt you in a Hughes 500 (think tail rotor), is really going to hurt you big-time in a Robinson R-44 or a Bell 47. I cannot over-emphasize, here and elsewhere, the importance of guarding your tail rotor, thinking about your tail rotor, and being aware of just exactly how many (hundreds and hundreds of) accidents there have been on helicopters, where the pilot’s failure to ‘think tail rotor’, was the primary accident cause.

Muggins here, the great expert, the writer of the Tuna Manual, fount of all knowledge, made a complete fool of himself another time as well, in a Bell 47. It wasn’t quite as dramatic this time, but still upsetting. It hurt my pride, for I should have known better. The net was out, and I was trying to take off from a sloping deck. It was sloping pretty good. However, it was a relatively calm sea, a nice sunny day, and I was feeling pretty relaxed. With the sea pretty calm, there wasn’t that horrible rolling going on, with the deck moving about and being a damn nuisance. That’s when you most need to worry about a tail rotor strike -if you’re not careful- and be on guard. But this was a pleasant day, no wind, hot, and a tail rotor strike off the deck was not high on my list of worries. I got into a hover all right, with the rear of my floats six to twelve inches above the deck, and the front rising up higher than that. Quite a lot higher. Maybe four to five feet.
All of a sudden, I just felt I was ‘out of puff’ already. As I moved forward, the rotor rpm (Nr) started to decay, and it all felt horrible. By now I was a little more experienced though, so I knew better than to hesitate, and commence a lengthy inner consultation as to what the fufufu was going on… I just nosed over and skooted off on a downward profile, easing down on the collective lever as much as possible to get the Nr back.
I figured out -thirty seconds too late!- that various factors had aligned themselves against me, and that I had been too damn cocky to take it all into appreciation.
1) No wind….
Duh…
2) Hot….
Duh…
3) Steeply sloping deck…
Double Duh…

The steeply sloping deck simply was the killer. It just meant that my ground effect was being reduced. Or, if you like, my ground cushion was being adversely affected. The moment I moved forward, the deck was rapidly falling away below me. Although I was technically still ‘over the deck’ it had the same effect as when you push out over the edge of the helideck. The vortex was building up over the front of the disc. So there’s another trap for the unwary!
I really should have been a bit sharper that day. I had just spent a boatload of hours instructing students in Robinson R-22’s. A really nice machine. Part of that training was always a demonstration I gave of slope take-offs, and the reduced ground effect associated with it.

Finally, there’s a classic true story about an accident involving an Enstrom helicopter, on a commercial flight, trying to take off from Battersea heliport, on the banks of the river Thames, London. The Helicopter Commercial Pilot had two passengers and their luggage. He could barely hover, but he thought about it, and reckoned that if he took a ‘run’ at the edge of the dock, that he’d be able to sail out over the Thames river. Hey-ho! Off he went, taking a determined run at the edge. Out he sailed over the waters… well and truly ‘committed’…
SPLASH!!!
Loss of ground effect before achieving translational lift! Everybody wet and flustered!
One Enstrom Helicopter written off.
Embarrassing!

(And there, but for the grace of God….!?)

Francis Meyrick
(c)

Note 1: “Helicopter Aerodynamics ” by R.W.Prouty has a section written purposefully for Tuna Helicopter Pilots.
It even mentions the “rolling deck ” problem!
It’s on page 220, and I strongly recommend you buy the book and look it up. The paragraph is entitled:
“Dynamic Rollover “…

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on September 28, 2009, 7:34 am