I was one of the passengers on Delta 37 that was marroned at Gander and
billetted in Gambo. A bit of a late submission to an excellent website
(congratulations), but nevertheless, I attach some photos I took with a
little disposable I bought at Gander Walmart. Not good but I guess
constitute a record of a unique experience. I also attach a copy my story
in the form of my e-mails back home to my 15 years old son, plus a copy of
an amazing aerial photo of the airfield at Halifax Nova Scotia taken at the
same time.
Hope people find it of interest.
Kevin Williams
Wokingham England
Note: All pictures on this page are thumbnails. Click on any image to see a larger picture. Hit your back button to return.
Date : Wed, 12 Sep 2001 19:17:49 +0000
Hi Mike,
Well I have to say that it is a very strange feeling to be involved in a disaster and its consequences and yet feel perfectly safe. The worst of it all was just not knowing anything about what had happened for over 12 hours after the event and then only being told that it was a terrible crisis and that all international flights had been diverted into Canada. The feeling was an odd combination of sheer unadulterated boredom, and frustration with a bit of unease as to what all this means.
It was surprising that the Delta crew gave us no information at all. It took the few passengers who could get through on their cell phones and those (like myself) who persevered for hours (it took me 6 hours) to get a line via the satellite phone; to get any information. What Mum told me was more than anybody else on the plane - including the cabin crew - knew. What were they afraid of - that we'd panic and rush to jump off the aircraft, sue them for wrongful stress? I could see four BA planes among the other 39 at this tiny airport. Were the Brits being sensible about this? Probably not - who could think straight in such circumstances. We heard tales that on some planes amongst 'medical emergencies', there were stroppy passengers causing some kinds of problems for the crew. The captain of our plane told us that we were the most calm and relaxed on the tarmac and that we should give ourselves a round of applause - which of course we did - accompanied by the customary whoops and whistles of the Americans on board. There were all kinds of wild stories circulating: that the Washington Monument had been hit; the Capitol destroyed; a car bomb in Chicago - none of which were true.
The one piece of info we did get from the cockpit, was the address to the nation that Bush gave on Tuesday night. It was very somber. But we all gave it a round of applause. I guess everybody felt like they needed to express something in the face of all this. There is no doubt that this will be one of the major events of this century and will to some extent shape what comes next over the years ahead. I think that from today the US will be a different country. Those of us from Europe have in some way been closer to war, perhaps because it has been fought on our land, and even if you are not old enough to remember such conflict (and I am not!), it's relics are all around us. This is now the experience that the US folk have. New and horrible. It just might be that this event will bring the US people in general more into the outside world and to be less insular. Although they have been the most generous in the defense of the World and in the support of the poor of the world, it's different, so much more real, when the problems come on to your own soil.
Gander is a tiny airport. It is the Easternmost in the North American mainland, and used to be the partner airport with Shannon in West Ireland. They were developed to a far greater extent than the size of the local town warranted, by the fact that in the early days of cross-Atlantic travel, the old turbo-props could only just make it that far before needing to refuel. It has a huge runway, but usually few planes, the locals told us. Today is the biggest day in the history of the town and possibly the whole of Newfoundland. There are 39 planes on the ground and 6500 displaced passengers and aircrew. The population of the whole area is 10000.
The airport was working all night staffed by civilian volunteers cooking, making sandwiches. We eventually got off the plane at midday on Wednesday - after 30 hours on board, having slept on it and watched 5 movies - some twice. The local schools are all closed and the school busses pressed into service to ferry the thousands of passengers to the terminal and then out to their billets. An old retired geezer was driving our bus and we were together with him for a few hours as he updated us on events and analysis.
Gander has only five hotels and these were quickly filled by the first planes to land - probably by the Germans someone said - immediately spreading their towels over the available beds - so to speak! So we were bussed out an hour outside Gander to a tiny lakeside village of Gambo. Two stores, the library (from where I am writing this), and one pub - a sensible 40 minute walk outside the town. The Irish contingent from our plane, had ordered their taxi and were gone to it by 4pm. The P&G contingent (there are three of us) will follow in due course.
The local people are wonderful - call Hi! to the 'strangers' as we walk down
the street asking if we're OK. The local Salvation Army is billeting us in a
local church - the Emanuel United Church of Canada, and the Rev Robert Oldford
is a fine and caring host. I have a fine polished hard wood bench for the night.
They set up a huge reception for us with soup and sandwiches and fruit and
coffee and two big TVs for us to see for the first time the horrors of what
caused us to be brought here. The library folk chased the kids off the computers
so that we could send our messages. The local stores are being looted of
toothpaste and the like, and are seeing lots of foreign currency - but, again
they are all very helpful. One of the locals told us that this was the biggest
thing to have happened around here, at least since they got some Hungarian
refugees from the Soviet invasion (?). The whole of our flight and a Phoenix
flight are being billeted here, and lots of weary-looking travelers are trudging
the hot, dusty streets - it's very warm here.
Looking forward, the next couple of days are uncertain. We may get away tomorrow, more likely Friday - and then to Cincinnati, where I will turn around and head straight home.
See you when I see you
love, Dad
Date : Thu, 13 Sep 2001 20:59:42 +0000
Hi Mike, Still here, despite lots of rumours - several confirmed by Delta that we really were going to leave tonight at 6:12pm precisely...or was it 7:00pm precisely? Well Delta seems to thinks so - pity that Gander airport authorities say they know nothing about this and that they will calls us when they're ready. Three flights got off this am, and only one this afternoon, so it looks like we'll be here for another night. Delta also confirmed that we will be able to return on Friday night (from Cincinnati) as planned - but right now I don't think that Delta are in control and so nothing they say can be thought of as reliable.
Nevertheless, the stay here is quite pleasant - though it's not much fun on your own, in these circumstances people pull together. Five of us seem to have banded together: Dave an air traffic control engineer; Rebecca and Danny, a couple on their holiday of a lifetime (the first to the US), watching it tick away as they sit in Newfoundland instead of Vegas. They're gloom was deepened as they discovered that their holiday insurance doesn't cover 'acts of terrorism' and their consequences. They would pay out if they had been on the hijacked plane - but no-one wants to follow that line of thinking; and Simon and Vanessa - two P&Gers from Egham. Also chat with a super-fit Scots squaddie called Ross (wicked sense of humour) who goes jogging every morning, but today ended up at the pub.
After last night's message the good folk of Gambo, organised cars to take us up to the High School for showers, clean (if secondhand) underwear, socks and shirts and free soap and shampoo. It was a moment of sybaritic luxury - though I did drop my glasses behind the steel cabinet of a shower, and they had to find a young lad thin enough to squeeze into a 9" gap with a broom handle to get them back out for me.
They provide us later with a fine dinner, and one of the locals drive three
of us up to the only pub in the town - the Trailway Pub about two miles outside.
We joined the Irish contingent that had gone three hours earlier. The Trailway
is a dark and windowless wooden shack booming with music, full of locals and a
large crowd of refugees like ourselves. The Labatts Blue was excellent, the view
out over the Gander river wonderful, and the insects drawing blood immediately
we arrived. 
I have eight bites now. Dave, the air traffic control engineer,
tells us how unlikely is the story that one of the high-jacked planes was
looking for Airforce 1. It would be very difficult to find, even more difficult
to collide with, and would in any case be escorted by US fighter planes. I ask
the chain-smoking landlord what he thinks of all this, and he says its great to
see so many people in the pub able to talk about all this - while of course
drinking his beer. The husband of the barmaid was pressed into service to take
us back to the church, where we discovered that they had laid on canvas cots (we
discovered later that four plane loads of these had been flown in from
Montreal). They were a bit on the narrow side but very comfy, and warm with the
two blankets also provided. I slept quite well despite a large chorus of snoring
window-rattlers, the strange farting like noise the canvas cots made if you
tried to move, and the return of the Irish contingent at midnight.
Today, there is no news from the airport, and with only one telephone between about a hundred of us, little opportunity to communicate with the outside world - apart from this internet access at the local library. I work for a bit on my laptop, and spend a precious ten minutes of phone-line time to send a few messages to work. Meanwhile another gaggle of local drivers turns out with their people movers and offer tours of the area. We five join up with Ches, who gives us a great guided tour of the coastline and the town of Gander (named thus because it is the spouse of a goose - no I don't understand this either). Walmart is for once a welcome sight, though it had been looted by the suitcase-less passengers. The only cheap underwear is size 4XXXL, and the socks all of the thick sports kinds. So, unusually for me, I am force to trade up to higher priced items (Jordache), but soon I have socks, underpants and a fresh new shirt, plus bite ointment, Nurofen and a bottle of cold water, and all is a bit better with the world.
The latest word is that Newfoundland will be getting the tail-end of a dying hurricane, and it would be deeply ironic if we were further delayed by the weather.
Love, Dad
Friday Sept 14th 2001 - Cincinnati Ohio
On my way home!!
Today was the fourth day of being castaway, though there was now a good routine. The dying whisps of the hurricane gave us the first grey day and splatters of rain. Hopes have been rising for the last 24 hours that we may get out of here fairly soon - even though last night's hopes had been dashed. Rumour has it that a few more aircraft got out yesterday, though of European origin and returning to Europe. The US passengers disembarked to take their chances to get back home from here. A story is also doing the rounds, of a New Yorker - from one of the diverted Gander planes - concerned (who wouldn't be) of friends in the stricken city - who hired a taxi to take him to New York - a journey of 1800 miles, involving a ten-hour ferry crossing!!
Last night also had the feeling of a being a 'last night'. The church laid on
some 'entertainment', in the form of two local men in shorts, one on guitar and
the other on a squeeze-box, singing traditional Newfoundland folk songs. We were
all provided with song-sheets, but were confounded by a combination of the
almost unintelligible thick accent (seems to be a mix of Irish, West Country and
Canadian), and the fact that the songs mostly seemed to concern fish. One of
their local sayings is 'in cod we trust'. They were fortunately helped vocally
by a couple of the young mums who'd been doing the cooking. Sight of the night
was three of the older mums sat in a row bellowing along with great gusto.
Again we were transported en-mass by the locals to the Trailway, for a night
of real 'last night' feeling. The beer flows again - this time we try a local
Newfoundland brew, Highlander - heavy but good. After a few more of these, the
mood is party, and the music wound up. The 6'7" Swedish cop billetted with
us is seen swinging around the floor with one of the diminuitive American women.
The place is hopping, and then in comes: "The Fisherman". Clad in
yellow sou'wester and hat, and carrying a dead cod. "Oh, this is the
'screeching' ceremony, says Simon - my boss told me about this - an dashed off
to the bar returning with a glass of the local (awful) rum - called Screecher. 
He was then the first to 'kiss the fish'. This is the ceremony which makes you
an honorary Newflndr. Recite some gibberish, kiss the dead cod an slug back the
rum. Then, you screech! So we all then of course had to do this, if only to get
the honorary Newflndr certificate. A memorable night.
This morning we got the call at 10:00am - just the Delta 37 Cincinnati flight - not the other flights billeted with us. We learned later that this was because the plane was blocking the runway. We packed up excitedly, but before we left, the Rev Alford called us to a very nice non-denominational service in the church (today is the official US day of mourning). We circled the church each holding a candle, set in an apple (not symbolic - just to stop the wax falling on your hand), and sang some hymns. Really quite moving.
Then the school bus came for us. We piled on-board in the pouring rain, and
bumped our way back to Gander for another long, long wait: in the bus; in the
terminal; going through customs and security (they certainly turned up the metal
detectors - they found a paperclip in the middle of my pocket diary!); in the
transit hall, and then on the plane. When we left Gambo it looked like we'd be
away no later than midday. 
We eventually took of at 5:30pm local time. So the
uncertainty continued - since Simon, Vanessa and I, were hoping to get on to the
Cinci - Gatwick flight which left at 7pm. We landed at 7:30pm. But the London
flight was still there. They were having problems finding a crew. It was delayed
3 hours. Met up with Neil MacGilp, John Leikhim, Howard Steen and lots of other
P&Gers in the Delta lounge and began to tell our stories. I was accosted
also by a reporter: Martin Katz of Movie Ventures Ltd, who said he'd call me to
get the story and was interested in doing an independent feature on the Gander
Connection for TV! Also, on the flight, the chief steward announced that one of
the passengers has offered to set up a website (www.theganderconnection.org),
for all of the castaways to send in their stories.
We said our farewells to Dave, Rebecca and Danny on the plane - not sure what happened to them. Looked likely that they would get a night in a hotel on Delta. I recommended 'Arnold's' to them, if they got stuck in Cinci.
The flight's being called. See you tomorrow morning!
Love dad
