Seaplane ride with Brian Vickers takes unexpected twist - when Vickers takes over
Red Bull Racing driver Brian Vickers recently helped guide a 1957 seaplane over Lake Norman in North Carolina. // Mark Sluder, NASCAR Scene
ON LAKE NORMAN, N.C. – I have very little fear of flying, aside from the occasional strange noise or jolt of turbulence.
But it definitely got my attention when, as part of a recent event with Brian Vickers, a crewman on our Grumman HU-16E Albatross seaplane prefaced the safety briefing.
“Just to let you know, this plane is actually registered as ‘experimental,’” the crewman said matter-of-factly. “It's just a technicality, because the plane doesn’t conform to the standard airworthiness certificate.”
I don’t know about you, but bobbing up and down on Lake Norman preparing for takeoff in a plane that lacks a “standard airworthiness certificate” isn’t exactly the most relaxing activity I can think of.
I had a twinge of doubt about the flight we were about to take until I looked over at Vickers, who seemed completely unfazed.
He remained expressionless even when the crewman offered us towels to cover up in case we needed it. You know, for if the water came INSIDE THE PLANE!
This whole thing suddenly seemed like a dicey situation, and I had an urge to get back on the ski boat that had taken us out to where the plane was floating in a cove.
Vickers remained stoic, but I suppose that’s to be expected. Not only does he drive 200 mph for a living, but sponsor Red Bull constantly does things that are out of the ordinary, to say the least.
They have the Red Bull Air Race and Red Bull Flugtag, as well as sponsoring all manner of vehicles and motorsports.
So really, this was nothing new for Vickers, even if flying in a 1957 seaplane that served throughout the Korean and Vietnam wars was a bit foreign to me.
Vickers seemed interested in all aspects of the plane and asked the pilot question after question. You could see his mind soaking it up like a sponge, the way he devours information about so many different topics.
Throughout the day, for example, Vickers talked about the new Malcom Gladwell book, NASA, Michael Vick, drug testing, Pocono race fans and the economic problems in Iceland.
Seriously, Iceland.
Vickers’ curiosity about the plane led the pilot of the 10-seat plane to allow us to climb up to the roof through a hatch and even walk out on the wing. Feeling bold, I stepped about three-quarters of the way across one of the wings until the plane began to tip because of my weight.
I figured that was probably far enough, especially since even Vickers was staying put in the middle.
Once we all were buckled in back down below, the pilot fired up the propellers and we began “taxiing” toward an open stretch of water where we could take off.
The Albatross started to gain speed, pitching up like a normal ski boat, when suddenly it lifted off above the water and smoothly climbed toward the sky.
Vickers was one of the first to unbuckle his seatbelt as we leveled off a few hundred feet above the lake, over the waterfront mansions of NASCAR drivers and the homes of Charlotte’s elite.
The crew opened the back doors – at least the top half of the door – allowing the passengers to stick their heads out into a breeze that certainly rivaled any wind tunnel.
It was a hair-blowing, face-rippling experience, though Vickers almost forgot to take off his hat before trying it himself (a shame, since some boater below might have gotten a nice Red Bull souvenir).
The pilot invited Vickers up into the cockpit, so I took advantage of the plane’s unique “Nose Room” while the driver looked over the controls.
Passengers on the Albatross can crawl through a small door at the front of the cockpit and actually lie on their stomachs in the nose of the plane – the front of which has a glass window. It was quite a sight, but feeling a few bumps and changes in altitude while lying on your stomach makes for somewhat of a queasy sensation.
When I popped back out of the Nose Room into the cockpit, I noticed something had changed. The pilot was no longer at the controls; Vickers was.
Given that he had told us before the flight that he wasn’t a licensed pilot, this was of some brief concern. But I figured there was no harm in a professional race car driver steering the plane while it was in the air – with the pilot’s supervision – and I returned to my seat.
Despite the loud drone of the engines, it was peaceful to see the lake glistening below us on a sunny day. And the water got closer and closer as we descended back toward Earth and, finally, landed smoothly with a splash that churned up so much water that it covered my window.
We gently cruised back toward the cove and the boat that would take us back to shore, and Vickers emerged from the cockpit with the pilot.
“He did a great job landing us, didn’t he?” the pilot asked, pointing at Vickers.
Landing the plane? Surely he was kidding.
“You didn’t really land it, did you?” I asked Vickers, glad that I had discovered this information after the fact.
“Yeah,” he replied casually. “It was no big deal.”
Easy for him to say.
