Moggy's Tuna Manual

Introduction

This manual owes its inception to a cry I have heard many times in various forms.

"I wish somebody would write a decent manual for those damn first-trippers!"

The 'first tripper' being a derogatory term used to describe the obvious newcomer to the field, who unwittingly has broken one of the unwritten rules, or executed a hair-raising landing on a nearby ship. I have also heard the phrases ‘R-22 virgin’, 'lost landlubber' and '150 hour wonder' used in the same manner, indicating the low-time fresh graduate of an R-22 school with no real commercial experience.

I was once a 'R-22 virgin'. And very proud I was of my Commercial. By the time I made it to the 'Tuna Fields', I was racking up over four thousand hours, but that did not prevent me from accidentally upsetting some other pilots, and I know the phrase 'damn first tripper' went rapidly out over the airwaves!

My training – if you can call it that – was typical: about one hour. Another pilot had 'walked off' my boat in disgust, after only two months, and my employer needed a pilot NOW. One day I was in Scotland with a promise of a job six weeks later. At three the next morning I got a phone call from the small island of Guam, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, saying:

"Your ticket is at the airport – the boat's waiting – we need you NOW!"

I got off the long transcontinental flight – right across Siberia and Japan – at the airport in Guam, and found myself sitting in an old Bell 47 helicopter. After barely an hour, I was pronounced fit and able. At that stage I discovered the boat had already set sail, and was some forty miles south of Guam. I was told to head south – you can't miss it. I guessed I probably could....

Off I set anyway, on my little ownsome, and after investigating several vessels, I finally located my boat sailing full speed off over the horizon. Running tight on fuel, I caught up with my future home, and my first landing on a tuna boat – underway at full speed – was a self-taught hands-on affair. The entire crew seemed to be out watching the arrival of their new pilot, and I wonder what the bets were.

And that... was the sum total of my 'training'.

I knew nothing. Nada. Zip.

Small wonder then that the first time the boat stopped at sea, I wondered in complete puzzlement why everybody was so interested in a dead tree floating in the water!

That was in the early nineties', and little was I to know I would spend five years flying off Taiwanese and Korean tuna boats.

I eventually moved on, flew fixed and rotary for an Arizona Sheriff's Office for three and a half years, then a sojourn flying Air Ambulance, and after that I came to the Gulf of Mexico, flying offshore. I've been here for over five years again.

I think I can safely say that since my tuna helicopter flying days, a lot of air has passed around my rotor blades. I've learned a lot, seen a lot, and made a few whopping bad mistakes. I have come close to wiping myself out, and frightened myself severely a few times. Above all though, I avoided possible future disasters by the kindness of more experienced tuna pilots, who unselfishly shared with me some of their experience gained the hard and painful way. No, I have never crashed. Touch wood. Touch a tree. Touch a whole damn FOREST. I have never even scratched a helicopter. But if I had never had any help, never had any advice, never had mentors... I would be stone dead by now.

I have waltzed – innocently – into many situations where...

a small amber caution light...

... flickered on inside my retarded brain. Where a little voice said to me:

"Hang on! Jimmy was telling me about this! This is where I have gotta watch it!

Hold on here now!"

And it is only in hindsight I fully realize how important those informal bar flying sessions actually were.

Many of the guys that I talked with were proud, stubborn old mules. Typical tuna pilots. Odd dogs, out of the mainstream, defying convention. Anti-authority. However, over a quiet beer, in some Godforsaken offbeat locale on some third world island, all were willing to tell on themselves, and admit their past mistakes, their learning cycles, and their prize f..... ups.

These old-timers also would frequently express amazement that the same old – well known? – pilot traps would catch pilots again and again. Trying to take off with the right rear tie-down still attached. Often fatal. Dipping the tail rotor into a wave during low level ‘herding’, by flaring too hard, and losing control. Crashing on short finals, with a cross wind, by flying way too slow, running out of left pedal, by pulling way too much power. Over and over again, the same accidents, often with fatal consequences. Performing a hesitant take-off, wobbling unsteadily, and allowing the moving ship to sail right under and into you. Flying a hot-shot landing approach, flaring hard, and hitting the tail rotor off the edge of the deck.

This 'manual' (I use the word loosely) merely continues the tradition of 'passing on' information, tips, anecdotes and techniques that centre on ‘the Art of flying a Tuna helicopter’ safely and successfully. Throughout the many, middle-of-the-night writing sessions, my only motive was to provide YOU with the chance to think things through beforehand. To arrive at those situations with a brain that is pre-wired to recognize danger.

A mind that flashes up a little amber caution light, that starts flashing.

Hold on here now, Moggy was going on about that... steady on here...!

If you read MTM, I caution you to keep it quiet at the bar...

Especially if you ever go Tuna Flying. And here's the reason for that. Flying – everywhere – has the quiet thinkers, the pilots who reflect on what they are about to do and experience. Pilots who read accidents reports. Pilots who are hungry for knowledge. Pilots who recognize danger. Pilots who, when they make a small mistake, sit down and reflect on it. Who realize the progression of small errors lead abruptly to ‘big whoopses’. In short, these are thinking pilots. On the other hand...

If you read any of my Blip on the Radar scribbles, you will probably build up a picture of many a bar room session during my five years in the Tuna Fields. That's correct, and my preferred place in the bar was a quiet corner, and a good conversation. When this was not possible, due to the exceedingly loud volume, I would happily and woozily park myself in the same corner, and listen and watch. You learn a lot about the man when he has had a few beers and is talking. Do you ever. When pilots are talking... Against the thinkers, the reflective pilots, I unhesitatingly identify the Loud Talkers. Telling tall stories, and undoubtedly legends in their own lunch time. Their flying abilities are, in their minds, vastly superior to ordinary mortals. They do some amazing things, that I personally would not be proud of, but they are...

Thus there was the character who had never finished school, so he was exceedingly proud of the fact that he paid a buddy to sit both his Australian CAA Private and Commercial written exams. How he had beaten the system was a huge source of pride to him it seemed. He told us all about it often enough, at the top of his voice. Everybody laughed, and thought it was funny. I didn't. I made the mistake of asking him one day if he thought that was wise. He became irritated with me. I was supposed to admire his exploit, cheer him on, and laugh like the others. He became annoyed. After that, I discovered I had – most unintentionally – made an implacable enemy. And a vocal Internet critic of MTM. Years later, you should have seen the horrified expression on his face, when he walked into a crew room in Angola, a recent new-hire, and found me already comfortably sitting there. He quit pretty soon after that...

I think when you don't publicly go along with certain widely practiced beliefs and behaviour, and when you do not laugh at certain ‘at risk’ statements, stories and attitudes, you very quickly become a threat. You earn enmity that you did not seek.

Reading MTM? Shhhh...! Keep it quiet at the bar! You'll discover a lot of people have read it, and I have hundreds of thank-you emails. But there is no need for you to get yourself in trouble. If you encounter the Loud Talkers at the bar, the un-burstable helicopter conquering legends in their own lunch times, then adhere to this politically correct line, and you'll enjoy a quiet life:

1) We don't need no stinkin' Tuna Manual, we DO NOT have any safety issues in the Tuna Fields.

Of course not. We already ken it all.

2) Moggy is an idiot and he doesn't know what he's talking about.

Indubitably. If you see him, smack him.

3) DO NOT READ MTM.

Of course not. Does anybody?

4) Moggy was always doing stupid stuff, and has crashed loads of helicopters.

Yup. What-ever.

I wish you a safe, and thoughtful flying career.

Always remember that ‘little amber caution light in your mind’.

Ain't people funny?

Bright skies!

Moggy

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Basics for family and friends

This manual is intended, primarily, for helicopter pilots. Especially those pilots who are thinking of getting a job on a tuna boat. But their families, friends and other non-pilots may be interested, and this very brief section may help them understand some of the mysteries of ‘rotary wing flight’. Many other terms used are explained in the Glossary.

Controls

The pilot has three major controls: (A) Collective pitch control, to the left of his seat; (B) Cyclic Stick Control, sticking up in front of him; and (C) Anti Torque Pedals for Tail Rotor Control.

The collective (A) is basically an ‘up-down’ control. It increases or decreases total main rotor thrust, and makes a proportionate change in power to compensate for the change in drag.

Seen from the top, the main rotor blades are driven counter-clockwise. (Unless you are French... shhh!) The fuselage tends to rotate in the opposite direction, clockwise, and the tail rotor pushes (or pulls) against that unwanted movement to compensate and achieve directional control/heading stability. To put it another way: looking forwards, the helicopter tends to slew to the right; with everything nicely trimmed, it stays looking straight ahead. When the pilot presses the right pedal (C), he reduces that compensation and allows the helicopter to ‘turn right’; pressing the left pedal applies more thrust to the tail rotor, overcompensating the natural tendency of the machine, and forcing it to ‘turn left’. Note that this ‘turn left’ and ‘turn right’ only refers to the orientation of the fuselage, not to the actual direction of flight. That comes in the next step.

Basically, the helicopter is pulled in the direction the main rotor is ‘pointing’. When the rotor is horizontal, ‘pointing upwards’, the machine is pulled straight up – or maybe hovering. When the rotor is tilted away from the horizontal, the lift-thrust force is divided into two components: upwards (lift) and horizontal (thrust in the ‘direction of tilt’).

The cyclic pitch control (B) is used to tilt the main rotor in the desired horizontal direction. The thrust component of force then pulls the helicopter in the direction of rotor tilt. The cyclic control changes the direction of this force, thus controlling the attitude and air speed of helicopter. The rotor disc tilts in the same direction the cyclic stick was moved. If the cyclic is moved forward, the rotor disc tilts forward: if the cyclic is moved aft, the rotor disc tilts aft, and so on.

To sum it up: the pedals (controlling the tail rotor) determine in which direction the helicopter is ‘looking’; the cyclic stick (controlling the tilt of the main rotor) determines which way the helicopter is moving. And the collective (controlling the pitch of the main rotor and the throttle) determines the up-down movement. All in all, a helicopter is a very manoeuvrable machine!

AUTOROTATION : A phrase often used in the text is ‘autorotation’, in combination with a ‘flare’. These, together, form the emergency exit for a pilot when mechanical things go drastically wrong. The engine is disengaged from the main rotor system and the rotor blades are driven solely by the upward flow of air through the rotor. This provides sufficient thrust to maintain rotor rotational speed throughout the descent. Since the tail rotor is driven by the main rotor transmission during autorotation, heading control is maintained as in normal flight. The pilot's primary control of the rate of descent is airspeed, determined by the cyclic pitch control just as in normal flight. Rate of descent is high at zero airspeed and decreases to a minimum at approximately 50 to 90 knots.

When landing from an autorotation, the kinetic energy stored in the rotating blades is used to decrease the rate of descent and make a soft landing. This is the point where the ‘flare’ is used to reduce both vertical and horizontal speed, to allow a near zero-speed touchdown. A greater amount of rotor energy is required to stop a helicopter with a high rate of descent than is required to stop a helicopter that is descending more slowly, so descents at very low or very high airspeeds are more critical than those performed at the minimum rate of descent airspeed.

HOGE : Hover Out of Ground Effect. Ground Effect is a condition of improved performance when operating near (within 1/2 rotor diameter) of the ground. It is due to the interference of the surface with the airflow pattern of the rotor system. The lift needed to sustain a hover can be produced with a reduced angle of attack and less power because of the more vertical lift vector. To ‘hover out of ground effect’, further from the surface in other words, requires more power.

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PART ONE

TUNA HELICOPTER FUNDAMENTALS

My home, my bird, my own personal airfield, with six feet clearance from my rotorblade tips

This section contains, in rapid sequence, most of the ‘technical basics’ of tuna helicopter flying.

I have tried very earnestly to avoid saying 'this is the way'. You will often find different points of view expressed, and you will doubtless form your own opinions. That is the intention, anyway!

Remember though... that surviving contentedly and safely on a tuna boat is not just knowing how to fly, twirl a wrench, or recognize a 'breezer' from a cloud shadow.

I offer you a caution: Part One is what you may think tuna boat life is all about. And, sure, some guys do trip up badly in technical errors. I know I did...

BUT. Where things often really go sour and pear-shaped on a tuna boat is not in the technical realm, but in the human, emotional aspect of things. The funny 'stress psychology' of tuna boat life is dealt with much more in Part Two.

1

What's it all about? – Finding Fish!

The reason a helicopter is used on a tuna boat is the same all over the world, from the Pacific across to Panama, and from there down to the South American waters. It's all about finding fish.

Occasionally, a pilot may find himself involved in personnel transfer. Maybe the captain will want to visit a nearby ship. That's fine if the other ship has a vacant helideck! You might end up doing some shopping, collecting the mail, and once in a while you will find yourself doing a hair-raising crisis medical emergency flight. More of that later. But overwhelmingly, most of the time, sunshine, you're going to be looking for fish! It follows that it is very helpful if you have an idea beforehand of what's going on.

Before we launch off into a discussion about the elusive tuna, first a general comment. Some boats own their own helicopter. Many do not. Most far prefer to rent from a tuna helicopter company. Now, note this: many helicopter companies in their contracts specifically state that the pilot's responsibility is 'to fly, and not to find fish!'

This may seem a bit odd, but this clause merely seeks to protect against the occasional difficult customer, who either does not want to pay the bill because 'the pilot's no good – he never finds any fish!', or, alternatively, the kind of captain who starts yelling and screaming at the pilot.

In actual practice, many pilots do just that: they only fly. They are sometimes just not interested in finding fish. Fair enough. Sometimes they actually intensely dislike their observer, their captain or their life style, and their sullen disinterest forms some kind of revenge. I once heard a pilot in a bar positively revelling in the fact that they had flown over a huge 'foamer' of Yellowfin, which the observer hadn't noticed, glued as he was to his binoculars, staring into the far distance.

When asked Well, why didn't you tell him? by me, (hell, I was curious) this pilot merely stated words to the effect of No chance!

To me, that seems a pity. Most of these pilots all have one thing in common – they are all bored stiff! Duh.... And that, as the actress said to the bishop, doesn't surprise me at all. Imagine flying in a straight line more or less for two hours with nothing to do except sit and watch waves... Horrendous.

I belong to the crowd who are rarely bored. I was always flat out trying to spot logs and fish FIRST. Ahead of the observer with his fancy gyro-stabilized 'lookers'. I frequently do. I get a great kick out of the ship catching ninety thousand dollars' worth of fish because I spotted the breezer the guy beside me missed. Now one good observation has just paid for three months worth of helicopter rent! In the next fax or email to my company, I can quietly slip that one in at the bottom. It's amazing how you can walk around the ship the next day and get some big smiles! A lot of the crew's income depends on the catch. It's a variable. When word spreads that the pilot is good at spotting fish, the boys quickly learn to like him...

And then there's always a good chance of a hundred dollar bonus plus a pat on the back from the captain. And that of course is a great way of getting asked back. If the ship likes you, you also have a hedge against the day you screw up with your employer, the rent-a-helicopter company. Just imagine... if you break something. Whatever you break, it's probably going to be horribly expensive, my friend. (Shudder...)

If the boss back on shore, the owner of your helicopter, is tired of hearing all the complaints about you being a miserable old stick, and then on top of that you go and break his valuable helicopter... you are going to get fired. Compare that with the hard-working guy who makes an honest mistake, but his captain likes him a lot. Well, it stands to reason that the pilot's boss in his reflections is certainly going to include on your credit side the fact that his customer likes you.

You've got a much better chance of being soundly scolded for flying your $350,000 helicopter into the sea, with a stern admonition: ‘Don't do it again!' Fiction? Oh, no! There have been numerous cases where pilots have 'splashed out' and not lost their jobs. They either ran out of gas and ditched, or hit their tail rotor off a wave whilst 'herding', or they messed up a landing. Or....

But the greatest and best reason for looking for fish: it's bloody good fun!

Over the next few pages then, we'll dive straight into the habits of our quarry: the Skipjack tuna, the Albacore, and the Yellowfin tuna.

Photo from Ugo Montaldo

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2

What fish?

Skipjack, Yellowfin, Bigeye, Albacore, Bluefin,

log fishing, purse seiners, longliners, good pilots and dead trees

As you may remember from the Introduction, one hapless Irish neophyte tuna pilot on his first trip leaned over the rail in puzzlement, asking: Why is everybody so interested in a dead tree?

In four words: Because fish live there!

It seems odd at first, but it's true: fish will 'adopt' a passing log, and decide to call it 'home' for a while. Often the little dudes like to hide in the roots. This in turn attracts bigger fish. Usually hungry. This in turn attracts... tuna. Before you know what's happening, you can have 10, 20, 50, or 150 ton or occasionally as much as 300 ton of fish milling around that ol' dead tree. That is why everybody is so interested. Although the exact reasons why fish congregate around logs in the middle of the ocean has apparently been the theme of a doctoral thesis of some academic geek, in simple terms I think I am right(ish) when I say that it all starts with the little guys, so-called 'baitfish', looking for some kind of shelter and protection (however illusory) from the bigger guys trying to eat them. These bigger guys get a nasty shock when even bigger guys come along gunning for them. The ‘even bigger guys' are our good friends the Skipjack tuna, Yellowfin tuna, Albacore tuna and the Bigeye tuna. In the nineties' when I was out there off the waters of Truk, Tarawa, Vanuatu, Papua New Guinea, etcetera, Skipjack, Albacore and Yellowfin were in plentiful supply. Old sailors were even then commenting on the steady disappearance of Bigeye tuna. They were – even then – becoming noticeably rare.

Yellowfin tuna

Wikipedia lists the Yellowfin as ‘near threatened’. In terms of whether the Yellowfin tuna fishing industry is sustainable, the jury is out. The Audubon's Seafood Guide (a guide for what types of marine food products are not eco-friendly) lists Yellowfin tuna that have been troll-caught as ‘OK’ but those that have been long-line caught as 'Be Careful'.......

Factors working in favour of the Yellowfin include the fact that this fish is a real wanderer, and roams over vast areas of the world's oceans. Most people will have heard of the disaster that occurred due to overfishing off the Canadian waters, but remember there that the Canadian species of fish (not tuna) affected the most were not nomadic. They were 'resident' in a relatively defined area, and were ruthlessly hunted down. Short term greed, long term loss....

Another factor in favour of the Yellowfin is that many island nations in the Pacific control huge maritime economic zones which consist of prime Yellowfin habitat. Their national income frequently depends heavily on fishing licenses they sell to foreign fishing vessels. The licenses stipulate that 'observers' may be placed on the fishing vessels, at the fishing company's expense. Although I only ever recall an observer on board ship once (in five years), this is potentially a method which could provide protection to the Yellowfin harvest by scientific monitoring and evaluation of the health of fish stocks.

My understanding is that, today, the observer program is being much more strongly enforced. That is great news for the chances of international cooperation to preserve this amazing creature for future generations. Factors working against the Yellowfin are human greed and short-sightedness. Yes, there are still plenty of Yellowfin in many parts of the world. But an ever-expanding world population propels ever more fishing vessels with ever more hi-tech weaponry. The hope is that responsible industry leaders in the tuna power game will plan for a long term game. And listen to scientific and academic input...

By the way, you have not lived until you have tasted Yellowfin Shashimi. Freshly caught and sliced yellowfin, dipped in a little sauce.... yummy-yummy; good in your tummy. A tuna pilot will enjoy for free what a customer in Tokyo will pay hundreds of dollars for.

I absolutely loved watching Yellowfin tuna from the air. They can move like demented torpedoes through the water, leaping out and splashing the water in a spectacular white cauldron of feeding frenzy. I have described my feelings of awe in the opening chapter One of my novel, ‘The Tuna Hunter’.

Yellowfin will grow to amazing sizes. Seven and eight feet long, weighing 200 pounds.

Yellowfin tuna – a simply beautiful fish, and spectacular performer

Skipjack Tuna

The Skipjack Tuna is aptly named. When they are in the mood, they can hop-skip-fly and romp with the best of them. It is astounding how fast a Skipjack will move through the water when he feels like it. They also like to dart above the surface, sometimes following each other into the air in a virtuoso sequence. They also crash back into the water, collectively causing a brilliant white gash on the surface of the Ocean, visible for many miles away. With maybe up to 50,000 fish whooping it up together at a time, you can imagine what a raucous party they can throw! Fascinating to watch... They grow up to a meter in length (3.3 feet). These are the most prolific tuna in the world today. Nobody that I know of is seriously suggesting that the Skipjack is under threat. Thank goodness. Criticism does often focus however on the 'by-catch'. The other species and juveniles that are unfortunately caught in the same purse seiner net. In some areas of the world, quite extraordinary efforts are being made to reduce this by-catch. This is to be applauded.

The Skipjack Tuna; another fun-loving FAST moving rascal (photo Ugo Montaldo)

Albacore Tuna

From Wikipedia, in June of 2009: The National Scientific Committee (NSC) conducts regularly scheduled stock assessments of Pacific albacore. The 2003 stock assessment found the albacore stocks to be at or near record highs. The North and South Pacific albacore stocks are not overfished.

Regrettably, the same cannot be said for Atlantic stocks of albacore. The World Conservation Union (IUCN) has not re-assessed Albacore in over 10 years, and the last assessment given (from 1996) was ‘data deficient’. Other assessments of the North and South Atlantic stocks from the same period showed them to be vulnerable and critically endangered respectively, due to significant population reductions measured through an index of abundance and considering ‘actual or