MALLY
Mally
My very first images of Aeroflot...and this story....then I was in love forever!
...The helicopter was fast disappearing out of sight, its characteristic 'chopper' note dying away as it dropped from view behind a low range of hills; almost as quickly the sound began to increase again and the aircraft re-appeared, its noise distracting from the enchantment of a snow-covered vista that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Before turning away, yet again, on what was obviously an agricultural or survey task, the helicopter had approached near enough to be identified as unmistakably Kamov - with twin contract-rotating props - while the wing-horn "Skyvan" appearance left little doubt that it was a Ka-26.
From the air the view, too, was one of blinding snow, except where wide and strange-looking bands of black were ruled neatly across the landscape. The helicopter's pilot, Alexei Khrumov, was concentrating on maintaining a consistent altitude over gently-folded hills beneath as, from the chemical chopper, a steady stream of coal dust was being released to paint the black bands below.
Alexei was concerned, too, that each of his bands knitted together neatly at their edges and, comfortable and warm within the confines of his cockpit, felt no envy for the occasional figure he could see crossing the frozen countryside below, however enchanting the scene.
His task was slow and tiring, needing great concentration. But it was important, for he was covering the brilliant, reflecting snow with a light blanket of coal-dust so that the black surface might hold a little of the precious warmth of the early Spring sun. Enough, perhaps, to free the vast farmlands of Kazakhstan from their mantle of snow just a little earlier and so advance Spring planting by the same amount of time.
While Alexei busily ruled his geometric lines, a brother pilot, Pavel Leonov, was also making his way above a snow-covered landscape, albeit it in rather different circumstances.
As he regarded the land, nearly 30,000 feet below, he could see, way over on the port side, the sprawling town of Omsk sitting astride the Trans-Siberian railway. To Starboard, if his gaze had not been interrupted by his co-pilot's head and some 500 miles of distance, he might have seen Alexei heading for home, hopper empty, his task finished for the day.
Pavel's job was not yet over. Behind his comfortable seat stretched 150 feet of aircraft, its well-filled cabin boasting only one or two vacant seats. There were some 2500 miles to cover, or nearly six hours if one counted in time, before he would be able to instruct his crew to begin the approach procedure that would bring his day's work near to an end, and his hundred-ton-plus aircraft would come to a rest at Khabarovsk in Eastern Siberia.
Taking off from Moscow, 4,000 miles west of Khabarovsk, Pavel’s charge had been a giant Tupolev TU-114 airliner, vastly different to the little utility helicopter flown by Alexei; but they had a common link - AEROLFOT, biggest airline in the world and responsible for the most diverse operations......
.....night had fallen long before Pavel's Tu-114 joined the approach to Khabarovsk airport. Looking out of the window as they had crossed miles of unlit countryside, Pavel had reflected upon days when the Western world had often commented that although Aeroflot might be the biggest airline in the world, it was certainly the most backward.
Runway lights now raced up to meet them, and as the shrill squeal of rubber meeting runway and the rumble of tyres came to his ears, Pavel could relax; not only was it the biggest, he thought, it could also be ranked among the BEST!
...The helicopter was fast disappearing out of sight, its characteristic 'chopper' note dying away as it dropped from view behind a low range of hills; almost as quickly the sound began to increase again and the aircraft re-appeared, its noise distracting from the enchantment of a snow-covered vista that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Before turning away, yet again, on what was obviously an agricultural or survey task, the helicopter had approached near enough to be identified as unmistakably Kamov - with twin contract-rotating props - while the wing-horn "Skyvan" appearance left little doubt that it was a Ka-26.
From the air the view, too, was one of blinding snow, except where wide and strange-looking bands of black were ruled neatly across the landscape. The helicopter's pilot, Alexei Khrumov, was concentrating on maintaining a consistent altitude over gently-folded hills beneath as, from the chemical chopper, a steady stream of coal dust was being released to paint the black bands below.
Alexei was concerned, too, that each of his bands knitted together neatly at their edges and, comfortable and warm within the confines of his cockpit, felt no envy for the occasional figure he could see crossing the frozen countryside below, however enchanting the scene.
His task was slow and tiring, needing great concentration. But it was important, for he was covering the brilliant, reflecting snow with a light blanket of coal-dust so that the black surface might hold a little of the precious warmth of the early Spring sun. Enough, perhaps, to free the vast farmlands of Kazakhstan from their mantle of snow just a little earlier and so advance Spring planting by the same amount of time.
While Alexei busily ruled his geometric lines, a brother pilot, Pavel Leonov, was also making his way above a snow-covered landscape, albeit it in rather different circumstances.
As he regarded the land, nearly 30,000 feet below, he could see, way over on the port side, the sprawling town of Omsk sitting astride the Trans-Siberian railway. To Starboard, if his gaze had not been interrupted by his co-pilot's head and some 500 miles of distance, he might have seen Alexei heading for home, hopper empty, his task finished for the day.
Pavel's job was not yet over. Behind his comfortable seat stretched 150 feet of aircraft, its well-filled cabin boasting only one or two vacant seats. There were some 2500 miles to cover, or nearly six hours if one counted in time, before he would be able to instruct his crew to begin the approach procedure that would bring his day's work near to an end, and his hundred-ton-plus aircraft would come to a rest at Khabarovsk in Eastern Siberia.
Taking off from Moscow, 4,000 miles west of Khabarovsk, Pavel’s charge had been a giant Tupolev TU-114 airliner, vastly different to the little utility helicopter flown by Alexei; but they had a common link - AEROLFOT, biggest airline in the world and responsible for the most diverse operations......
.....night had fallen long before Pavel's Tu-114 joined the approach to Khabarovsk airport. Looking out of the window as they had crossed miles of unlit countryside, Pavel had reflected upon days when the Western world had often commented that although Aeroflot might be the biggest airline in the world, it was certainly the most backward.
Runway lights now raced up to meet them, and as the shrill squeal of rubber meeting runway and the rumble of tyres came to his ears, Pavel could relax; not only was it the biggest, he thought, it could also be ranked among the BEST!
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