A Basler BT-67—a turboprop-converted DC-3, sometimes referred to informally as a "DC3T"—experienced a bounced landing at the remote gravel airstrip in Paulatuk, Northwest Territories, on August 5, 2026. Video circulating from the incident shows the aircraft touching down hard, ballooning, and the crew making the decision not to attempt a second landing, instead diverting back to Inuvik. No injuries were reported. While details on the specific operator, cargo, and runway conditions remain limited, the event underscores the operational hazards inherent to flying legacy airframes into unimproved strips in the Canadian Arctic, where weather, crosswinds, and marginal runway surfaces routinely test even highly experienced bush pilots.
The Basler BT-67 deserves particular attention because it represents one of aviation's more remarkable sustained-service stories: a design dating to the 1930s, extensively remanufactured by Basler Turbo Conversions in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, with PT6A-67R turboprop engines, a stretched fuselage, strengthened airframe structure, and modern glass avionics. These aircraft remain in active commercial and government service worldwide, prized for their short-field performance, cargo flexibility, and ability to operate on unprepared gravel, ice, and snow strips that would ground most modern turboprops. In the Canadian North, DC-3/BT-67 variants continue to serve as lifelines for remote communities, hauling freight, fuel, and passengers to villages with no road access—making airstrips like Paulatuk's critical infrastructure rather than optional destinations.
For working pilots, particularly those in Part 135 cargo, bush, and remote operations, this incident is a useful reminder of the unforgiving margins involved in unimproved-strip operations. A bounced landing at a controlled airport with a long paved runway is often a non-event; the same bounce at a short gravel strip surrounded by tundra, with no go-around infrastructure and potentially deteriorating weather, carries far higher consequence. The crew's decision to abandon further landing attempts and return to a suitable alternate—Inuvik, roughly 200 nautical miles away—reflects sound aeronautical decision-making and exactly the kind of conservative judgment that remote and Arctic operations demand. It also highlights the importance of having a viable divert option with sufficient fuel reserves built into the flight plan before ever committing to a remote strip approach, a core tenet of bush and Arctic operational risk management.
More broadly, the episode fits into ongoing conversations in general and commercial aviation about the durability and continued relevance of legacy airframes when properly remanufactured and maintained. As sustainment costs rise and OEMs increasingly focus on higher-volume markets, operators serving thin, remote routes have found that airframes like the BT-67 offer an unmatched combination of ruggedness, payload, and short-field capability that newer aircraft often cannot replicate cost-effectively. Incidents like this one, while alarming on video, also serve as informal case studies for training departments and safety management systems at remote operators, reinforcing crew resource management, stabilized-approach criteria, and go-around/diversion discipline in environments where the margin for error is thin and support infrastructure is sparse.