BUNS AT BRAEBURN 1307 words

“What's for breakfast, Mom?” It was Matt – he's always hungry. “Do we have any
cinnamon buns?” Cinnamon buns sounded good to me too, especially fresh ones.
She barely got out the words “All gone!” when I added, “I know where we can get
really good fresh cinnamon buns. Get dressed everybody, we're going for cinnamon
buns.” I didn't say where, but the kids are always excited about eating out anyway.
In twenty minutes flat we were at the Whitehorse airport. As we unloaded the car,
Cheryl whined, “I thought we were going for cinnamon buns?” Matt agreed with a
forceful “Yeah!” Then little Alison, in a matter of fact tone, declared, “I'm hungry!”
I had started walking toward our Stinson 108-2 airplane when Matt asked, “Why
don't we go flying after breakfast, Dad?” I turned to everybody and tried to make it
clear: “In twenty minutes we'll be sitting down to the best cinnamon buns in the world.”
That seemed to calm things down.
Mom worked at getting the kids belted into the back seat, while I checked the fuel,
oil, and did a walk-around inspection. The weather was cool, but sunny and refreshing.
My family had no idea where we were going.

The 150hp Franklin engine started easily, and I was soon talking to the control
tower. Lynne knew our destination when I reported it to the controller, but didn't know
that directly across the road from the airstrip was Braeburn Lodge, the home of
cinnamon buns to die for. This lodge is a standard stop for highway traffic moving north
from Whitehorse to Carmacks, Mayo, Inuvik, Dawson City, and beyond into Alaska. We
taxied out for takeoff on Runway 13Right.
Not a ripple disturbed the early morning air. On our starboard side, Lake Laberge
twinkled in the sunlight. In twenty minutes we were on final approach to the Braeburn
airstrip. We touched down and rumbled along on the somewhat smooth gravel. This
3000 foot long by 75 foot wide runway lay just across the ditch, and parallel to the
gravel highway. We parked the aircraft and set out on the two minute hike that took us
across the highway to Braeburn Lodge. We were greeted by the aroma of fresh-baked
cinnamon buns wafting through the open front door. Everyone ordered cinnamon buns.
They were humongous, oven warm, topped with white icing, and smothered with
something that reminded me of melted caramel. When pulled apart, the odd plump raisin
or walnut piece tumbled out, although most stuck to the generously cinnamoned inner
folds. A rough-cut half pound of butter in the center of the table was attacked from all
sides. The kids were all smiles and all sticky. These buns were legendary.
After eating, visiting with the owners, and examining endless historical artifacts, it
was time to go.

Big Problems

We loaded up, fired up the engine, and taxied to the north end of the runway. Since
this airstrip was not all that wide, it was necessary to make a fairly tight turn-around to
line up for takeoff. Unknown to me, however, a gopher hole lay hidden in a clump of
fireweed. And wouldn't you know it, as the airplane spun around the tail wheel dropped
squarely into the gopher hole. I shut down the engine – this could be bad news. It was –
the tail wheel was twisted off on a 45 degree angle.
Any attempt to take off would surely result in an immediate sharp swing to the left.
To prevent this swing the tail wheel must be off the ground – and Stinson tails are
unusually heavy. If we couldn't take off, somebody would have to pick us up. Then an
equipment-hauler flat-bed truck would be hired to haul the disassembled airplane home.
Expensive cinnamon buns. We needed a better idea.

How about this, I thought: Let's shift as much weight as possible forward – away
from the tail wheel. Alison (the youngest and smallest) can sit on mom's lap in the front
seat. Everything in the baggage compartment can go on the floor up front. Now, place
the airplane crossways at the edge of the runway – that is, ninety degrees to takeoff
direction. The idea will be to get enough speed to lift the tail wheel off the ground while
in a sharply left-curving takeoff run. Once in the air the broken tailwheel will no longer
be a concern.
So here we go: Brakes hard On, throttle full Open, full right rudder to slow the left
swing, and control column full forward to lighten the tail. Now I released the brakes.
The aircraft lunged forward along a tight left arc that managed to stay within the runway
boundary. As we continued to accelerate along this arcing path toward the other side of
the runway, the tail began lifting. The full right rudder now took over directional control,
and we moved to the runway centerline to continue the takeoff. In moments we were
winging our way home.

Whitehorse control tower acknowledged the problem, and requested my intentions.

He didn't want a damaged aircraft blocking his runway, nor did I. After all, scheduled
airlines come and go here every day. I told him I would try to run the airplane off onto
taxiway E.
I would need Runway 31Left. It was available. No wind. The approach called for
full flap and extra airspeed. This was to be a wheel landing (tail up) to the left side of the
runway, while angling slightly to the right. The idea was to maintain sufficient airspeed
to keep the tail in the air while rolling onto taxiway E. If this didn't happen, and the tail
came down on the runway, we would at least swing left onto the taxiway – if my timing
was right.
Well, the tail didn't touch down on the runway, and we were well onto the taxiway
before it did settle. The broken tail wheel caused the airplane to swoop around in a slow,
ungraceful, full circle to the left, before coming to rest. Now the taxiway was blocked,
but at least the airlines could land and use the taxiway at the far end of the runway to get
to the terminal building, and no flatbed truck would be required.
May I hasten to add that at no time on the takeoff from Braeburn or the landing at
Whitehorse did I feel we were in any particular physical danger.

Later – Fixing Time

Somehow the airplane had been towed into the hangar. I removed the tail wheel
fairing (cover) and it became painfully obvious that a main structure longeron was badly
damaged. Al Warner from Great Northern Airways, next hangar, who held a Class B
Aircraft Structural Engineer Licence, explained what needed to be done. After a
somewhat intense inspection of the fabrication and welding work on my homebuilt
Mong Sport biplane, he directed me to go ahead with the work on the Stinson. He would
inspect and certify the final result if accomplished to his satisfaction.
It wasn't easy to find the proper size and specification of aircraft grade 4130 steel
tubing material. I followed the Transport Canada approved standard repair for longerons.
Upon completion, Al inspected and certified the repair. I replaced the aluminum fairing
and went flying.

Envisioning my high school welding class, I whispered a sincere thank-you for the
high standard of workmanship demanded by “Torchy” Burns, our instructor. His
repeated finger-waving admonition was, “Boys, good welding is a matter of intense
concentration. It takes practice, practice, and more practice. I will not pass sloppy work.”
Possibly he thought some of us would be welding warplane structures.

Were the cinnamon buns worth it? Since the kids spoke more about the buns than
the broken tail wheel, I would assume so.