Ain't technology wonderful? Maybe we should stick to smoke signals.

Previously published in the December 2024 issue of the Brampton Flying Club's newsletter, Talewinds.

There are a couple groups at the north end of Brampton-Caledon airport (CNC3) that get together informally on good flying days to fly out somewhere for lunch. It's a great excuse to go flying and to socialize. There's usually four or five amateur-built airplanes of various types that go, among them is often a yellow Glastar.

The typical way in which the "system" works is to watch the TAFs and see good weather coming. If there is, and you want to go, you send a message to the informal point person — in this case we'll call him "The Pres" — and ask if there are any lunch plans. There may or may not be for the day you have in mind. It's all about weather and your own schedule availability. Alternatively, "The Pres" may send a broadcast message to "The List" stating that there will be a lunch fly-out on a particular day. More about "The List" later.

For this particular day, I went through the steps above a day or two prior with a positive result and was looking forward to a fly-out lunch.

By coincidence, the first thing that morning I sent one of my students on their first solo. Afterward, I wandered up to the hangar area and easily found "The Pres" at his hangar.

Since we had already been talking about flying out somewhere for lunch, the obvious question was, "Where do you want to go?"

"I haven't been to Peterborough. How about Peterborough?", I suggested.

"Okay, Peterborough it is."

"I'll go get my airplane out", and off I went to my own hangar.

Not having enough fuel for a round trip to Peterborough (CYPQ), I decided to top off before leaving CNC3. As I prepared to pull away from the pumps, I saw "The Pres" taxi out. Knowing that his airplane is quite a bit faster than mine, and that he was taking off before me, I knew that it was a safe bet that he'd be seated in the restaurant at Peterborough before I even landed there.

As I was taxiing to runway 33, I recognised the voice of one of our usual number in a yellow Glastar clearing to the west. I thought to myself, "Hmm. That's odd. I wonder where he's going."

The trip out to CYPQ was only slightly "lumpy" with lots of visibility and seemingly little traffic. Tuning in to the CYPQ MF I could hear two or three Seneca College airplanes in the circuit and could easily identify the runway in use. I called in to join a straight-in downwind for 27 and landed uneventfully.

As I turned onto Taxiway D and then Taxiway E into the main apron area, I was looking around for "The Pres's" airplane … or any familiar airplane for that matter. I was thinking, "There is no way that I could have beat him here."

The other apron was private to Seneca. The far east side was all AMOs. Am I at the right airport? Is there more than one restaurant at CYPQ?

I decided to pull up and park beside another C150 and go inside. According to the large sign right there, yup, I was at Peterborough. What's going on?

As I walked into the restaurant, I said that I was expecting at least two others to join me. I was seated at a table for four and, no, there's no other restaurant at CYPQ.

Five minutes go by, then ten. I sent a text message, "Where are you?" No answer. Finally, my phone rang. It's "The Pres".

"Didn't you get my text messages?", he asked.

"What text messages? Where are you?"

"Uhhh … about that. After you left to get your airplane, somebody else came along and wanted to go to Tillsonburg. I sent out a broadcast on 'The List' that there was a change of plan. Didn't you get it?", 'The Pres' asked.

"What List?"

"I'm getting your text messages but you're not getting mine. We're at Tillsonburg."

"Oh."

Anyone familiar with the airports in south-central Ontario knows that the direction to Tillsonburg from CNC3 is almost exactly the opposite of that to CYPQ.

That explains the yellow Glastar call-out that I heard at CNC3 clearing to the west.

After hanging up I ordered and enjoyed my fly-out lunch at a table for four with three empty seats. I felt like the child comic strip character Calvin saving a place for his stuffed tiger Hobbes.

Back at CNC3, "The Pres" saw me taxi in and walked up to my hangar as I was putting the wheel chocks in place.

He apologised for the mix-up. For technical reasons still not understood, it was repeatedly demonstrated that my phone would not receive his "broadcast" message. He had, indeed, sent it, yet I did not receive it. An individual text would work, just not "The List". At least not that list on that platform.

Ain't technology wonderful? Maybe we should stick to smoke signals.

C-GFIF parked outside of the restaurant at CYPQ on October 2, 2024.

Epilogue

As of this writing, April 15, 2025, the technical transmit difficulties with "The List" have been resolved.