About 510 miles to Oshkosh. Sault Sainte Marie, MI

Sault Sainte Marie, MI Day 42. 02/Aug/2014 Kapuskasing to Sault se Marie 198 miles 1:58 hrs About 510 miles to Oshkosh. The first thought of the day was that the route I had been advised to take since leaving Iceland was exactly the one I wrote on a piece of paper, when knowing nothing back in Iceland. How bizarre? I must be a genius? Right, it’s 6.am, where do I start? John had written a list of things to do today. First was to file ‘A Notice of Arrival’ with EAPIS. Gosh, they wanted to know everything, but I had registered with them already, so it was easier and I had my ‘Aircraft Decal’ number now instead of just a reference, which was: 830127. Time of arrival in America at Chippewa County Airfield would be? Well if I take off at 8.am and loose an hour due to arriving in Chicago and Oshkosh which is in the Central Time Zone in America and it’s a 2 hour flight then I’ll land at 9.am and they want it in local time. Ok, all sorted and sent. I got my EAPIS code by return of email and it was EAPIS: 5292724. Ok, now I need to phone the Customs and Immigration office at my port of arrival to confirm their attendance at the airport. Hang on… Sault Se Marie is still in the Eastern Time Zone… Bugger, I’ll have to modify the EAPIS. It told me I could do this. Ok, I’ll now land at 10.am local, but now I’ve got a new EAPIS number? OK, write it down. EAPIS: 5292738 Now phone American Customs and Immigration. “Good Morning, I’d like to confirm your attendance at Chippewa County InternationalAirport please?” He replied, “Why are you going there?” I didn’t have a good answer to that… “Because I was advised to?” He was not happy, “Heck no, its miles for us to drive there, why can’t you come to Sault Se Marie, like everyone else, it’s just up the road for us?” “Ok, if it helps you, I’ll come to Sault Se Marie,” not wanting to make a fuss. He then added, “And why have you filed two EAPIS’s?” Steady on mate… “Because I got the arrival time wrong on the first sir.” I thought I would put a ‘Sir’ in to improve his manner. It didn’t. “Have you filed an ESTA?” This was an (Electronic States Transferral Application) or something like that, but a Visa application to you and me. “No sir, but I can do if you wish on line now?” I didn’t think it necessary. “No you don’t need to do that, you are exempt due to your passage in a none commercial vessel. Ok we have enough information, we will probably be there 10 mins late as we are busy” “Sir, can I have your name?” “Bill, Agent Bill!” and the phone went down. Right now I can phone the Canadian flight planning service and file a ‘Trans Border Flight Plan. This was relatively easy now for me and I made sure I told him I was now going to land at Sault Se Marie. The guy said he just needed to know what time I was expected to cross the border? I told him “I expect to be shot down at 13.50 zulu!” He laughed and said the weather looks fine with no NOTAMS and wished me luck. His name was Mario. I wrote it down. I sort of have to do that a lot now. I fired up the laptop again and found the plate with information about Sault Se Marie. I drew it out on a piece of paper as I’d done with so many airfields when a printer was not available. Ok, lets get in and go because its getting late. The tedds didn’t need to be in their bag anymore, there was little risk of them drowning now or being lost at sea with the plane. So I placed them in the back so they call all see out. I’ll say now, I have to arrive at Oshkosh before 2:00pm CDT (Central D Time) whenever that was, as the afternoon airshow starts and the airfield is closed to all arrivals, big time… By the time I took off it was 8:10 am local. I’m glad they said they would be 10 minutes late as so will I be… It was hot already and there was a headwind. The engine oil temp went higher than I’ve ever seen it. If I climbed to get into cooler air, the speed slowed down and if I pushed it harder the engine temps went off the top without the cracked oil cooler. And if I descended lower to stay out of the headwind, then the air was warmer and you get the picture. What ever I did, the GPS said I was going to be 5 minutes later than their 10 minutes late. The engine was on melt down. You may ask about the Scenery? Yeah trees and stuff. Ok, I needed to get a ‘Trans Border Transponder Code’ or as the Americans would say, I needed a ‘TBTC’… The thing was, being this low, I couldn’t reach Toronto Control on 128.3 to get one. I heard someone else much higher obtain a code of 4347. I wrote it down, I could always use that one in an emergency if I couldn’t get my own. I would have to climb soon anyway as the ground, trees and stuff, was coming up to meet me. I climbed slowly to 4,000ft. Toronto could now here me and I requested a Trans Border Transponder Code and he gave me one of 4365. Brill! I thanked him and since I was only 30 miles away he handed me over to Sanderson, who ever they were? It was the same frequency as Sault Se Marie, so I changed to it. It was busy. Aircraft coming and going and doing circuits but announcing Sanderson? I approached the border and could see the town of Sault Se Marie. Now the airfield is to the south of the town which is south of the river, the river being the border. I can go and land straight into runway 14, but the training aircraft on this frequency are using runway 32 and possibly coming out at me coming in. I’m not going to fly low over the town so I’ll go west. Now just to add to the confusion, there are two airfields called Sault Se Marie. One about 5 miles west and in Canada, above the river and the airfield south of the river in American, the airfield I’m trying to land at. The Unicom frequency is sort of what it says. Everyone is uniformly on it and we can all sort out where we are going and what everyone is doing by ourselves politely. So I state “G-BYLP joining down wind left hand for 35. Another aircraft calls “Short finals 35 Sanderson!” good for him. Then on the frequency comes a loud voice, “Aircraft west of Sanderson you have just entered Sault Se Marie airspace!” Correct and that’s me. So I reply “Terribly sorry about that!” as if I’ve done something wrong? “I’m on a left base for runway 35.” He replied that “It’s a right hand circuit for 35!” What, over the city, are you kidding? Anyway I didn’t know that so I’ll apologise, “Terribly sorry about that old chap, I didn’t know!” putting a bit of Enlish tongue in there so he would realise I wasn’t from around here and he might leave me alone. “Ok well, next time!” As if… The training aircraft called “5 miles out on runway 35 at Sanderson and hanging back for the little plane on base!” I have no idea where he was but I was on left base for Sault Se Marie, the American one, and I called “G-BYLP final 35 Sault Se Marie” and landed and taxied off the runway as quick as possible and taxied up in front of the little terminal building. There was a big sign saying “Welcome to Sanderson!” It later transpired that because there are two airfields with the same name, they call the American airfield Sanderson. Oh, now you tell me. No wonder… Anyway I do not care, I’m on the ground. Hey, and I’m in America… Remember what John said, wait in your plane. There was a black and white wagon out in the car park and indeed two officers walking out to great me. But what a greeting! Again, like in Canada, a lady and a gent. And as in Canada, the lady did all the talking. “Sir you may get out of your plane!” Brill I went to say hello and shake hands, but note pads and Geiger counters were being carried so there was no shaking of hands. “Sir, do you know what an ESTA is?” “Sort of?” I replied. “Sir we have a problem with your documentation and the way you have entered the United States of America.” I’m sure you have I thought!!! What the xxxx now. She seemed disturbed at my lack of a surprise that there was a problem… “Sir, you did not file an ESTA with our Federal Government Immigration and Customs Department!” “Yes but I was told I didn’t need to!” Sir you have committed an offence in defiance of our state law and this will have to be dealt with down at the main head branch.” I’m just about (can swear?) I’m just about xxxxxx off with all this, “I’ve done something wrong and it’s serious’ ****!” To me Customs officers are just failed police men, and nothing I have done is that serious. I haven’t shot anyone, or stolen anything, its just paperwork and it’s not that serious. What can I do, I only do as I’m told, yet I’m Mr. Bad-guy. She asked me for my passport and said “I’ll be holding on to that!” Fine… I wish he would stop waving that Geiger counter at my plane. I very much doubt it’s radioactive… “Look!” I said with a raised voice, “I discussed this ESTA thing this morning with an officer Bill and he said I didn’t need to file one as I was entering your country in a none commercial aircraft or vessel!” I couldn’t see this little failed police officer’s eyes behind her shades, but she replied that “We don’t have an agent called Bill!” The guy Geigering my teddy bears now said “We have an agent Hill!” “Hill, Bill, I don’t know it was over the phone?” Argh, now that’s change things! I’m so glad I wrote his name down… “Ok sir, can you arrange transport or call a taxi to take you to our department down town?” She asked. I shrugged my shoulders and we walked toward the terminal building. I opened the door for her, but she refused saying “Its ok sir, after you. I never let anyone walk behind me while I’m carrying a loaded and armed weapon!” I bet you don’t madam, because at this rate you are going to get it rammed down… They had a big wagon, surely they could take me down town in that, but maybe they had an anti aircraft missile system on the back seat. I knew about courtesy cars. They have a spare courtesy car at most airfields so pilots can go down town. All you need to do is place a donation or return it full of fuel. I asked if they had one and could I borrow it? This was not a problem, I was handed the keys and told it was the green Cadillac just outside the door. The lady agent asked if I was a safe driver? Admittedly the though of running her over had occurred. I followed them down town in my Cadillac automatic and into their United States Customs building. It was a large building and built over the main highway and dealt with the main point of entry from America to Canada and vice versa. A ‘multilane’ customs area was below. A group of agents gathered in the middle of the room as soon as I walked into the public side of the assessment area. They left their counters and all the other ‘Joe public holiday makers’ wondered who I was to have caused this meeting and why was I dressed for Antarctic Survival. The discussion behind the barrier between them went on for some time, before it broke and the lady agent asked me to approach. Seemingly the problem was that they didn’t have my physio-metrics on file. Finger prints and all that, so she needed to take my picture and finger prints on a scanner. This was bull though because how, if the problem was me just not filing an ESTA, how would I have given them my fingerprints. I had to pay $6.00 for this and I was asked whether I wanted a receipt, “Oh yes!” the reply. As it was being written out, I had to ask “Look, I’m for ever going to wonder if I don’t ask, but was policeman Bill right or wrong this morning on the phone?” “Agent Hill was not entirely correct this morning sir”. So tempting to ask for an apology for being accused of committing an offence in defiance of there state law… But I knew none would come so there was no point. With a stamp in my passport and it being handed back I could leave. “Have a nice day sir!” She embarrassingly said. I will now I don’t have to deal with you I, I, I thought…
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