One of the most memorable experiences of my aviation career was starting the Pratt & Whitney R-1830 Twin Wasp radial engines on Points North Air’s DC-3, C-FCQT (Part of the museum’s collection).
For those who have never experienced it, a DC-3 startup is much more than simply turning a key. It is a carefully choreographed process that combines knowledge, anticipation, and respect for a machine that has faithfully served for generations.
The ritual begins before climbing into the cockpit.
Because radial engines store oil in their lower cylinders while parked, there is always the possibility of hydraulic lock. Before starting, the propeller is carefully pulled through by hand to ensure the cylinders are clear. Every DC-3 pilot learns early that patience at this stage can prevent serious engine damage. “Take good care of these 14cylinder, 1830 cubic inch radials and they will take good care of you. You just never know when you will need all 1200 horsepower per engine”.
Then comes the cockpit…
As I settle into the left seat, the familiar “old aircraft bouquet” fills the air. It is a scent unlike anything found in modern aircraft—a blend of engine oil, hydraulic fluid, aged leather, warm electrical components, avgas, exhaust residue, and decades of history. Every DC-3 seems to carry its own variation of this aroma, and for those who have flown them, it is instantly recognizable.
The starting sequence begins. The aircraft Master Switch is on. My right hand reaches for the fuel booster pump switch. Fuel pressure begins to build. Mixture controls remain in Idle Cut-Off. Propeller controls are pushed fully forward. The throttles are cracked slightly open.
Depending on temperature, several “shots” of fuel are introduced into the cylinders. Experience teaches how much is enough. Too little and the engine may not catch. Too much and it may flood.
With my left hand on the starter control and my eyes moving between the propeller and engine instruments, the moment arrives. The starter engages. Outside, the great Hamilton Standard propeller begins to move slowly. One blade passes. Then another. The inertia starter winds the engine faster and faster. Four blades… 6 blades… then eventually twelve blades.
For many DC-3 pilots, particularly on cold northern mornings, those nine to twelve blades felt much longer than they actually were. Then you listened, watched, and waited for that first cough from the engine while keeping one eye on the gauges and the other on the propeller. The anticipation was part of the experience, and the reward was the unmistakable sound of a Twin Wasp coming to life.
Then my hand moves to the magnetos. “BOTH.” A cylinder fires. The engine coughs. A puff of blue-grey smoke erupts from the exhaust. Another cylinder catches. Then another. The propeller accelerates. The engine sputters, hesitates briefly, and suddenly fourteen cylinders come alive in a deep rolling roar.
At precisely the right moment, my hand advances the mixture from Idle Cut-Off to Rich while simultaneously adjusting the throttle to keep the engine running smoothly. The entire aircraft begins to vibrate. The cockpit fills with the smell of warm oil and exhaust.
The sound is not merely heard—it is felt through the seat, the rudder pedals, the control column, and the airframe itself. My eyes immediately move to the oil pressure gauge. Within seconds the needle begins to rise. Good oil pressure. The old Pratt & Whitney is healthy and alive.
Then the entire process is repeated on the second engine. When both Twin Wasps are running, the DC-3 feels transformed. Moments earlier it was a silent machine resting on the ramp. Now it is alive.
Ahead lies another mission—a northern community, a mining camp, Baker Lake, a gravel strip, or perhaps a remote off-airport destination (Ice) in the Northwest Territories or Nunavut.
I experienced this many times while flying C-FCQT and C-FNTF from Points North Landing, Saskatchewan. C-FNTF was equipped and plumbed for hydraulic wheel-ski operations, allowing access to remote northern destinations beyond conventional runways. With good ice, we did not need skis, unless there was lots of snow. These aircraft helped connect communities, support resource development, and move freight throughout northern Saskatchewan and Canada’s North.
The airport at Points North Landing where we operated from itself was built to support the growing needs of northern development and aircraft such as the DC-3. What began as approximately 14,000 pounds of freight per week eventually grew into the equivalent of seven to ten semi-trailer loads per week moving through the region. Aviation helped make that growth possible.
Today, many Canadians are familiar with the television series Ice Pilots NWT, which highlighted the challenges of operating vintage aircraft in Canada’s North. What many people may not realize is that Saskatchewan had its own “Ice Pilots” right here in the North.
Based from Points North Landing, crews flying aircraft such as C-FCQT and C-FNTF routinely operated throughout northern Saskatchewan, the Northwest Territories, and Nunavut. We flew freight, supplies, equipment, and passengers to communities, exploration camps, and off-airport destinations where aviation was often the only practical means of transportation.
The work, the weather, and the challenges were real. Long before television cameras arrived in the North, Saskatchewan aviators were helping build communities, support resource development, and connect people across vast distances.
Looking back, I sometimes smile when I watch shows like Ice Pilots. We had our own version right here in Saskatchewan – at Points North Landing. The difference was that we simply called it work.
Today, when I walk through the Saskatchewan Aviation Museum and see C-FCQT resting quietly in restoration, I can still hear the sound of those engines coming to life. I can still smell the oil and exhaust. For a brief moment, I am transported back to a time when the DC-3 was not a museum artifact, but a working aircraft heading north on another adventure.
