.jpg)
The twinkling landing lights appear across the lake, coming straight at you, and then you hear on the public address system, “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE SNOWBIRDS.” One thing that strikes me at every Snowbird air show is the reaction of the spectators to our air demonstration team. The crowd may be milling about, sitting down, looking the other way or just talking among themselves, but as soon as they hear that announcement, everyone stands and looks up. Then we hear the leader do the roll call - “SNOWBIRDS, CHECK IN . . .”
No matter how many air shows I have attended, those are the words that set the stage for a thrilling performance by the Snowbirds. One by one, the pilots snap out their numbers and our Canadian Snowbirds become real people inside those machines. So precise are the formations that watching a Snowbird show, you tend to forget that there are pilots guiding the little Tutor jet. That changed the year our son became a Snowbird.
Having a son who is a military pilot can be a concern, but over the years we had learned to appreciate just how good these pilots and crew are. We had them in our home, joined them at their work and watched them perform until we became comfortable - almost - with the career our son had chosen (now flying for WestJet).
Marcus flew CAPs during the Gulf War and that was very nerve-wracking, yet all three of us made it through without a scratch. But somehow, when ‘John Boy’ called and said he’d been accepted as a Snowbird, it was like starting all over again. Marcus kept us posted as his training progressed; his excitement of what they were doing carrying easily over the telephone. Snowbird pins, shirts and hats began appearing as birthday and Christmas gifts. We were in the comfort zone until we saw a video of the Solos practicing: ‘John Boy’ was Snowbird 8, the opposing solo. The solos are the pilots who fly at each other and turn at the last moment. Yes, they are as close as it appears. Try not holding your breath as they are doing that maneuver when one of them is your son!
1998 was Marcus’ second and final year as a Snowbird. That was the year I hitched a PR ride with the Snowbirds as a ‘media’ correspondent. I flew with Snowbird 8. It seems that John Boy was in charge of setting up that media flight and he had managed to get the air space over Niagara Falls reserved for 30 minutes. Everything was cleared from 500' feet to 5,000' for the Snowbirds. I kept telling myself it was going to be a great ride.
As we taxied out to the runway, Major Shyiak called out his turns so everyone knew what was happening. It was a little gusty so we took off in threes, not the 9 plane formation. Marcus chatted away, pointing things out to me until Major Shyiak said, “Rolling now.” The last thing Marcus said to me was, “We’ll break right and then left to get into position as soon as we are up.” I thought it was nice of him to warn me, but before I could get any clarification, we had started to move. John Boy was looking only at the number 5 airplane beside him. He was not even looking down the runway!
We lifted off, the gear came up and we snapped hard right and then, before my head could get centered back on my neck, hard left. “Wow!” I think I said. Now we were rushing at full speed to catch up to the flight that was neatly coming into position. We were flying what looked to me to be about 15' from the cockpit of the number 2 Snowbird. That meant our left wing was about 3' from his, just back of it. Before I could say anything, Marcus said, “I look at the Leader’s tail – that’s all I will watch from now on.” Okay, I thought, then I will watch where we are going.
Out over Lake Ontario the air calmed and Major Shyiak called out the formation changes. Moving into the Big Goose or the Vulcan when you are riding beside some guy who does not even watch where he’s going is a heck of a lot different than watching it from the ground. Snowbird 8 was on the outside of every photo pass we did over the Falls. We were high on the outside, diving down and in towards the river. Pulling over 3gs, I could not hold my camera up, let alone look through the viewfinder! My arms felt like logs. My pilot was saying things like, “Wow, look at that!” and “What a blast!” as he looked at the tail of number 1 as we pointed straight down towards the roiling emerald green water. We were bouncing around in the turbulence over the Falls and I started to wonder about that tuna sandwich I had for lunch.
We did a pass over the Warplane Heritage airstrip at Hamilton, and then out towards the lake and Toronto. John Boy gave me the stick, saying it was just like Flight Simulator. At least the formation had spread out and I could look straight ahead as I flew and Marcus took my picture.
We did some more photo ops for the military photographer in Snowbird 10 as we bumped around the CN Tower and flew over the show line. Then it was back to Pearson. John Boy was still looking only at that number 1 tail and I was looking at number 2. We started our descent and I thought: now he’ll watch where we are going. He has to!
Nope - he landed the airplane without looking at the runway! Finally, when we were taxiing, Marcus paid attention to where we were heading. My son insisted that we have the ‘hero’ photo with me holding my tuna sandwich in the air-sickness bag - promising to send a copy to my office. My legs were tired from pulling all the Gs but I felt great - I had flown with the Snowbirds.
What impressed me the most? The complete confidence these guys had in each other and in their leader. I knew they were all great pilots, but I never appreciated how nine people could work so perfectly together as a team. On the ground, they are each as different as you might expect, but up there, following the Major around like a flock of geese, you get an appreciation of what training and teamwork can accomplish.
No, I won’t be sitting in the cockpit of Snowbird 8 on June 3 when Major Gobeil calls ‘SNOWBIRDS, SPLIT . . . NOW!’ and the team bursts into the Canada Split, but it still feels like it, every time!
