I've been threatening to give a story of a "brush with death" and here's one. I wish I could say it was the only one I have, but I was young and foolish once. I could have easily become a statistic. Instead I added some experience that (I hope) has made me a safer pilot.
From my logbook, here are my entries for a flight in 1985. There is only a small space for remarks, so they’re not detailed, but they’re enough to remind me of the whole thing. These entries are verbatim and therefore cryptic:
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11-2 M20C N78959 W09 - McCollum, Kennesaw GA 3.9 hrs
w/Paul, Barb. Visit Shavers. LORAN to NC, then VOR; IFR most of time
11-4 M20C N78959 McCollum - Statesville NC 2.0 hrs
Gloomy forecast. Heaviest rain ever!! Engine out @7000’ over Barrett’s Mt due to showers
11-4 M20C N78959 Statesville – LYH 1.3 hrs
Emergency landing @ Statesville, MVFR (thank God!) Try to push on. More showers; Precautionary landing LYH. Stayed @ Holiday Inn
11-5 M20C N78959 LYH-W09 1.3 hrs
Mostly IFR, little rain. Good to be home!!
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Paul was a high school friend of mine (who I still see fairly regularly; in fact we're meeting with 2 other high school friends this evening for dinner) and I'm surprised he even went with me on this trip, considering another experience he and I had flying to the Bahamas several years earlier (that's another story I want to share). Along with his wife, Barb, we set out to visit another high school friend and his wife, who lived in Georgia.
It was a nice visit and when it came time to return home, I checked the weather. Rain in the forecast, but that's why the FAA invented the Instrument Rating (which I had) so I felt bullet-proof and filed for the flight home.
The rain that lay ahead turned out to be some of the heaviest I've ever encountered and caused flooding that ranks as the 2nd worst in Virginia history. (See
http://www.erh.noaa.gov/lwx/Historic...va-floods.html for confirmation)
The M20C was an old 1963 Mooney which belonged to a student who I taught to fly in this plane. He used to let me use it for free; I just put gas in it. On the Nov. 4th flight from Georgia, we started encountering rain in North Carolina and it got progressively heavier to the point that the plane actually leaked (rain coming in through seams in the roof and dripping on Barb in the back) and it got so loud from the sheer volume of water impacting the plane that it was unlike any experience I had had to that time. I felt like I was on a submarine, not a plane. I could barely hear the controller over the headset.
And then...the engine just stone cold quit.
The absence of the roar of the engine left us in a small (and oh God, it felt small at that moment), leaky vessel at 7000 feet in the heaviest rain I had ever seen. Looking back through the fog of time, it would be silly to think that I could accurately describe all of my emotions and thoughts at that moment, but I distinctly remember a couple of things.
I had two main competing thoughts that kept demanding air time in my brain. One was something along the lines of "Well, you idiot, this is how you get yourself into Flying magazine and all the pilots reading your story in their
Aftermath section will be tsk, tsking about what a bonehead you were for flying into conditions beyond your capability" and the other was a sense of overwhelming guilt at putting my trusting friend and his wife in this situation. I kid you not, the guilt feeling was one of my major emotions.
I could feel the effect of adrenaline and I remember consciously thinking that I had to keep it together for my friends' sake. I looked at Paul, sitting to the right of me and he was looking wide-eyed back at me. He knew this was serious, but he was taking his cues from me and I tried hard to give the appearance of calm.
All of the above -- the thoughts, the looks -- were in the first 2-3 seconds after the engine quit. I keyed the mike and told the controller "Washington Center, Mooney 959. We've had an engine failure"
I had the radio turned way up, so that I could hear the controller and she responded, "Roger 959, what are your intentions." This struck me as somewhat humorous at the moment, but I thought it best not to share my amusement with Paul. I simply said, "We need to land."
Well we were going to land, whether we needed to or not. The question was, would we survive the landing?
The controller said, "Roger 959, turn right heading 180 degrees, vectors for Barrett's Mountain. Current weather at the field: 200 foot overcast, visibility one half mile, heavy thunderstorms. Winds ..." I can't remember the specific winds, but I do remember vividly that it was 200 and a half...classic ILS weather minimums. This was the minimum weather to fly an ILS with an engine
running! And I was going to attempt it deadstick.
I should mention that the terrain was mountainous and the Barrett's Mountain airport sits at 1,030' MSL (above sea level). It was not a pretty prospect.
And then, halfway through the turn (because what option did I have but to try?), we popped out of the side of tall cumulus buildups and into clear air. I immediately rolled the wings level and stopped my turn; no way I was going back in the clouds. Ahead were more clouds but there were gaps and I could see the ground. I would take my chances with an off-airport landing that I could see rather than a deadstick to 200 feet that I couldn't see.
Looking over my left shoulder I looked at the clouds going up to probably over 40,000 feet and extending on a line from the Southeast to the Northeast as far as I could see. I told Center I was back in VMC (Visual Meteorological Conditions) but I honestly can't remember anything of what I said. She offered the fact that Statesville NC was at my 12 o'clock position and 10 miles.
I'm not sure what altitude I was at by this time (but I was still comfortably above the terrain I could see) or if I could have glided all the way to Statesville. I was delighted with the prospect of just picking an open field. Our chances of living had skyrocketed!
Once clear of the rain, the engine began coughing back to life. Throughout this ordeal, the prop had been turning, windmilling in the slipstream (you really have to work at it to get the prop to actually stop without the engine running). Each time the prop turns it causes the magnetos to fire the spark plugs (two sets in each cylinder for redundancy), so the engine is constantly trying to restart in a case like this.
It turns out the reason for the engine failure was the sheer amount of water being ingested. A combustion engine requires intake air to operate and the heavy rain was displacing the air so the engine quit. I might have been able to avoid the failure by selecting "Alternate Air" which provides a different pathway for air to reach the engine, bypassing the air filter. Alternate Air is usually selected in cases where the air filter ices up, but could well have worked for this case too...I'll never know.
So anyway, as the water worked its way through the system, the engine was sputtering and finally coughed back to life somewhere around 2000' and by the time I was on final approach at Statesville, it was purring as sweet as ever.
Epilog: Somehow I convinced Paul and Barb to get back in the plane and continue home to Leesburg (W09 was the airport identifier for Leesburg then; now it's JYO). This really is a testament to my persuasive skills but it still amazes me 24 years later.
I thought we could stay east of the rain, but I was wrong and once we started encountering rain on the flight out of Statesville, Paul started pointing down, gesturing that he wanted to get on the ground, so I diverted in to Lynchburg, VA where we stayed the night. The approach in to Lynchburg was no piece of cake -- right down to 200 and a half in rainshowers. You can bet I was watching those engine instruments during approach and I was really glad to be on the ground...again.
Last edited by P Chippa; 08-22-2011 at 08:18 PM.