I never really appreciated the inherent dangers with choppers until a forced landing some 25 years ago. My friend and ex-Vietnam pilot, Doug, was always a joker when it came to flying. He used to take great delight in trying to make us sick with his flying antics until one day in May. We had been working all day in a Bell Jet Ranger with the doors off in the Ogilve Mountains in central-northern Yukon, Canada. It is the land of the midnight sun so we were still staking claims into the evening. It was kind of surreal, the chopper gliding along the mountain ridges, the sun still out at such a late hour and we were literally throwing the posts out the side of the chopper to be picked up and placed in their proper spot by ground crews at a later date; that is, if they could be found. As I said, Doug was a pilot from Vietnam. He wore asbestos gloves, an asbestos balaclava and a crash helmet. So when you got into the chopper you really felt safe. Doug could do anything with that chopper. When he took off he did not do what most pilots do, which is lift off straight up, he instead tilted the nose cone and leapt forward at great pace (just in case we were going to be shot at I guess?)
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