Aviation stories told here

[mar]

Recently I've made a big stink about the lack of aviation topics on this board. And I've tried, with varying degrees of success, to start threads that would inspire some good discussion.

This is one more attempt in that direction.

I've noticed the popularity of Duke Elegant's thread The Big Chill and I'm a big fan. Also Cat Driver has related just a few stories that compose his vast experience. And of course Avbug is a great source for those of us on the other side of the fence wondering just what it's like to work as a crop duster or fire bomber.

As for myself, well, I don't hold a candle to these gentlemen but I think I have something to offer. I spent three years living in the bush. That's three times longer than most. And I've got a few stories. Some I'm comfortable sharing on the internet. Some you'll only pry out of me after lots of whiskey and only if you're buying.

So, in the spirit of Hangar Flying, a favorite pastime of pilots everywhere, I'd like to open this thread to every pilot, no matter what his background. Military, airline, bush, drug runner, traffic watch, hurricane chaser, airshow and recreational pilots are *all* encouraged to tell us a story.

Don't worry about braggin'. As they say, if you did it, it ain't braggin'. And don't worry about telling the proverbial "fish story." We're all adults we can sort fact from fiction.

All you gotta do is start with: "There I was..."

...about this time of the year in 1998. I was a fairly new Skyvan pilot. If you're not familiar with the Shorts Skyvan, think of the Sherpa's little brother. Or you can check out the actual airplane here and here.

The Skyvan has a MGTOW of 12,500# and about 3.5 hours of fuel. We'd fly it around single pilot with a GPS and a marine radio that was wired into the audio panel so that we could talk with our agents in the village.

One of the first things I'd do after I walked into work was look up at the dry erase board and check for company NOTAMs. Our pilots would make notes about runway conditions mostly: "Mud six inches deep" "Rwy soft S end" "Water over ice, Brak Act Nil" etc.

On this particular morning there was a note about a lost snow machiner. He was supposed to be going to Kipnuk a Yupik village about 80 miles SE of Bethel. The dispatcher informs me my plane is loaded for Kipnuk and I'm taking Brian, the FNG, along to train on the empty Part 91 leg back.

Great.

So we load up and blast off on the 215 radial. We're cruising along at 1000 or 1500 feet or so over the frozen tundra.

In case you've never experienced tundra all you need to know is that in the winter the landscape is perfectly lunar. Thousands of frozen lakes take the appearance of shallow craters. There is nothing to pose as an obstacle not even a tree. There are occasional bluffs and knolls but nothing over 50 feet. In the summer time the tundra is basically a bog--almost swampy--covered with short compact bushes. Southwest Alaska in the summertime is heaven for mosquitoes and migratory ducks and geese. In the winter, some say it's hell frozen over.

At any rate as we approach the coast the weather begins to be influenced by the Bering Sea. It doesn't matter that pack ice extends for hundreds of miles from the coast. There is still a transition from the continental climate of Bethel to a maritime climate of Kipnuk. And with that transition comes the expected low clouds.

I descended lower and lower to stay out of the clouds but I didn't alter my course. It was kind of a personal thing but I hated being off a straight line between Bethel and any village I was flying to. And for good reason I felt. One, if I were to crash, search and rescue would be looking on that line. I rarely took scenic diversions. Two, the Skyvan didn't have much endurance and those Garretts suck down more fuel the lower you go. So my entire game plane from brake release was always to fly the straightest most efficient course out and back.

To be perfectly honest I didn't care very much about the lost snow machiner. If he was smart he would've dressed properly and I'm not going to put myself at risk flying all over the tundra looking for him.

I had just let Brian, the FNG, know that I was gonna stay on course and just planned to drop the load in Kipnuk and go home when the clouds pretty much went straight to the ground. It was just plain foggy now and I told Brian that I was gonna stay inside on the gauges but let me know if he sees anything--or anyone.

After a few miles of this I just sort of mumbled, "That guy is gonna be real lucky if anybody finds him," and just then the fog lifted into what looked like a perfect dome. We easily had a mile or a mile and half visibility and just as I looked up something out of the corner of my left eye caught my attention.

"Holy crap. There he is."

I couldn't believe it. He was heavily dressed in insulated coveralls with big heavy boots and mittens and waving at us like we were passengers on the Queen Mary headed for Ellis Island.

I pulled the power back, came foward on the speed levers and drop a notch of flaps. We circles a few times just to let him know we saw him there and to give Brian a couple seconds to save our position in the GPS.

On the last circle, the guy on the ground who had been waving like a lunatic then fell flat on his back spread eagle. He looked like he was going to make snow angels or something. I actually got a little concerned at this point.

So I asked Brian to call our agent on the marine radio and let them know we found the lost snowmachiner. The agent could then notify the Village Public Safety Officer (equivalent to town sheriff) who could go pick him up.

We were only 15 miles from Kipnuk. A short snow machine ride but an almost impossible walk without any discernible landmarks to guide your direction.

After we landed Brian passed on the Lat and Long to the VPSO and they immediately buzzed en route to make the pick up.

The whole time back to Bethel I just shook my head at the guy's luck. I never altered course and I only took a half-hearted approach to looking for the guy. Either we see him or we don't. That was my attitude.

When we got back to Bethel the dispatcher told me the guy had called to say thanks but I missed the call. It didn't really matter though because the more I thought about the way he fell back spread eagle the more I realize he was probably just showing his relief. I knew he was grateful even without the phone call.

So how about you? What's your story?

 

[FN FAL]

I had just gotten back from a quick out and back charter, which put me home in time for dinner. It was a nice chicken dinner with all the trimmings and was back when my wife still knew how to cook. Just as I stuck my fork in for that first bite of that juicy chicken breast, the phone rang. It was our dispatcher and he had an organ harvest trip that needed to flying, so much for getting a short day out of my company for a change. It was time to put the dinner away in tin foil and hit the highway for a 45-minute commute to the other airport where we were based, as that was where the trip was going to based out of.

I hit the highway with the consolation of knowing I was going to get to fly my favorite plane, a nice Cessna 310 R model. I arrive at the airport and get the charter ready. Putting all the stuff on board, getting flight plans filed, pre-flighting...etc.
Then the passengers show up with all there Tupperware and coolers and such. I get everybody wedged in and its show time. Then fate raises its ugly head when I hit the starter for the left engine...starter rotates, but propeller does not. The starter drive is toast.

So I get the next available plane pulled out, which is an AZTEC F model. Not to shabby, but not near as cool as the 310. We get things rolling and off we go. It's night and the air is still and clear and we are rushing a TAF that says fog will be making a VFR class C airport disappear...(which is uncanny, because no other airport in the region has a TAF for fog...and none of the METARS are reflecting this either).

About half way into this 35-minute flight, I notice the right engine is starting to act queer. There are no indications of sound, no indications on any gauges, but occasionally I have to correct for a slight yaw to the right. Since the oil temp, pressure and fuel pressure gauges are showing really good numbers, I decide to leave boost pumps on and check my mags. Nothing changes...I get normal performance then a sensation of reduced power on the right side and a slight yaw. Then it goes away. Then it comes back. Then it goes away.

Since I am halfway between where we need to go, and another suitable airport, I press on. Its good night flying weather, our airport of destination is holding up with VFR conditions, and we have good altitude beneath us...which I intend to keep all the way to the field. I decide I am not letting down to that destination airport if I have to shoot an approach, and that I would divert to the nearest airport immediately if that became the case.

We land uneventfully, but I noticed as I reduced power that I could never get less than sea level pressure on the right engine. I then get my doctor and his techs on their way and call back to base. They decide to send another pilot and mechanic out to look at this plane and drop off another AZTEC F model for me to fly out my passengers with.

I do a run up on the AZTEC they brought me and everything checks out OK. It is now about 9:00 PM and I decide to take a nap in the back of the AZTEC, as the FBO is now closed. I pull a few blankets out and a pillow and dream of delicious chicken dinners unhad.

I then get awoken from my scrunched up, cool, clammy, airplane nap, by a car horn beeping at the security gate next to the FBO. Its 11:30 and my pax have harvested skin and bone marrow and they want to go home now.

So we get this relief AZTEC fired up and I do all the pilot stuff...we blast off and one of the passengers notices the plane is different. I make up a story about how that plane was needed for another flight, yadda yadda yadda, and he asks me if it had anything to do with the funny feeling he got while riding in the back of the plane. Dohhhhhh. Yea, the plane was needed for another flight...a ferry flight for maintenance!

Well, with all of that out of the way, we are now enjoying another beautiful night flight home. About half way home, an alternator drops off line and the red alternator light comes on.

Three broken planes on one charter, not too shabby.

 

[LJDRVR]

GOOD IDEA MAR!

Here's one of my stories. (Nothing heroic, just funny)

It's about 0330, night VMC, and I'm the PF/PIC on a Lear 25D. We're descending into Amarillo out of flght level 280. I've three passengers in back, medical folks going to harvest a liver from some poor unfortunate soul.

With no warning whatsoever, there's a loud "whump" followed by a yaw to the left. Both myself and the FO are instantly awake. "Wow! just the the simulator..." is the first thing that flashed through my brain.

"I know what that is," I laugh. "we've got a failure on number one!"

"Yeah.. flameout on number one." My freind confirms.

So, I have sparky get on the horn to Albuquerqe Center, explain our situation, and declare an emergency. (I want us and ATC in the right mindset. We work our way through the QRH, each of us confirming the response and action. I take a chance to glance back in the cabin, figuring it was time to do a little public relations. Pitch black, and nobody has come up. I decide to let sleeping dogs lie for now.

"So," I say to the FO, "No indications of fire or damge whatsoever, that was a pretty clean rollback without any annunciators, you wanna try for an airstart?"

"No, I think we oughta leave well enough alone." he replies

It was on this flight that I learned that CRM is not a democracy.

"I'd rather have it than not, I really think we're OK for an attempt. We'll abort it if anything doesn't look right."

So, we work our way through the windmilling airstart checklist. The General Electric lights off just dandy, and after a minute or two of stabilization, I increase thrust and re-trim the jet.

We spend the short remaining portion of the flight briefing who will do what if the engine flames out again. We ask ABQ for a left 360, in order to accomplish a thorough brief. Even though we have the MSA chart in front of us, we ask ATC what MVA is for the sector during our turn, figuring that it's better to have another brain involved since it's late and we are focusing on something other than normal ops.

Routine two-engine landing. My focus now shifts from safety to damage control with our passengers. We have an excellent relationship with these folks, they trust us, and I don't want that in jeopardy. As we taxi in, I mentally prepare myself for what I'm going to say to ally their fears. Strange, it's STILL dark back there!? We shutdown and they stumble off the jet all bleary eyed.

The coordinator yawns and says: "We'll be about three hours or so."

"Great! was your flight O.K.?, any questions I could answer?" I ask in disbelief

"Naah, we're fine, could you get us some food for the next leg?" she answers with a "Boy do you guys take customer service too far" expression on her face.

They slept through the whole thing!

Nedless to say, they rode home on a different jet.

 

[mar]

It's easy. Start with: "There I was..."

Thanks FN FAL and LJDRVR (Soon to be EMBDRVR). Great stories.

I have a feeling this thread is gonna die a quick death. Just a reminder to the other 13,000 members all you gotta do is grab a beer and start with, "There I was..."

Hell, it doesn't even have to be a true story.

So.

There I was, in Dillingham, Alaska (DLG). I had been in Alaska for about one year but all of my flying had been out of Bethel on the pancake flat tundra.

My new job took me to DLG to help open a new station. I was essentially the pilot, station manager, ticket agent and ground crew. I had one 207, this one the latest addition to our fleet. So new, in fact, it hadn't had a GPS installed in it yet.

The boss calls me up and tells me I have a charter from South Naknek (about 50 miles south of DLG) to Akiachak (about 15 NE of BET). The total distance of the flight is about 200 miles.

I have a VFR 207 with no GPS. There is a mountain range (Kilbuk) between DLG and BET. I had been shown the route through the passes *once*--the year before. The bases of the clouds are about 3000 feet with good visibility underneath. It's quite do-able if you know the passes--or go over the top VFR.

With all of this on my mind I jet off to S. Naknek to pick up five commercial fishermen and take them home to Akiachak. I land and locate the guys (two men, two adolescents and one old guy). I can smell vodka on the breath of the two men. Obviously it's against FARs to carry an inebriate on board a 135 flight, but geeze, they're customers and they just got off a boat after working crazy hours for days on end. And they don't really have a problem operating the doors and seat belts. After all, they have more time in 207s than most of the pilots out there anyway.

So we load up and about 10 minutes out of Naknek I feel the plane sway left and right. I turn around and see the two men two rows behind me have each other in a head lock, trying to beat the crap out of each other. I shout at them, "Hey! Cool it! Or I'll land at DLG and you guys'll be stuck."

They nod, OK, we'll cool it.

A few minutes later, same thing. And I shout even louder to cool it or they ain't goin' nowhere. But the truth is I don't want to land. I want to get these guys to Akiachak because after that I have plans for a BBQ with some friends in BET and it's getting late.

They nod again, apologetically, OK, we'll cool it.

Guess what happens next?

Except this time when I turn around one guy is reclined in his seat and the other guy is on top of him beating the living crap out of the other guy! And these seats don't recline! They actually busted the seat back.

At this point I did a very stupid thing. I took off my headset and seat belt. I slid the seat back, turned around and extended my arm while pointing and yelling at the guy. "Sit the (expletive) DOWN and COOL IT RIGHT NOW OR..."

That SOB grabbed my arm with both of his hands and tried to pull me out of my seat. I'm flying, half in my seat, with my left hand barely on the yoke and the other three pax are beating the drunk SOB to get him to release me.

I finally get my arm free and call the DLG base on the marine radio. I tell Tony to call "the cops" because I've got a beligerant drunk on board that's jeopardizing the safety of the flight I want him arrested. Tony says, "Ok, you got it."

When I land at DLG I'm met by a big ugly fat disgusting specimen of law enforcement. He's a cop all right. He's a police officer of the City of Dillingham. And, as I soon find out, he's out of his jurisdiction and really has no interest in getting involved. He indicated as much when he told me that he didn't see any reason to bring in the drunk?

"Huh? He beat up a passenger! He broke my seat! He's jeopardizing the safety of my flight and I want him off my airplane and what about Protective Custody anyway? Can't you just bring him in until he sobers up?"

The good-for-nothing cop replies: "I flew out here for 10 years and I know what goes on. If I'm gonna bring anyone in it'll be YOU for having a drunk on board."

!!!!

WHAT?

At that point he asks the drunk his name. The guy is slurring his words so bad he can't even answer the question. When the cop approached to make him stand up straight he nearly stumbled and then became combative. After a short scuffle the cop handcuffed him and took him away.

I'll never understand why the City PD responded and not the State Troopers--especially when the cop was reluctant to get involved in the first place.

At any rate, I still have four customers who'd like to get home. I'm about ready to blow off the BBQ I've been invited to but duty calls and the sooner I get them home the sooner I can crack open a sorely needed bottle of beer with friends.

We head out to the northwest and I have my sectional chart open. I'm trying to remember landmarks from over a year ago and not having much success. It's all pilotage at this point. I'm not receiving any navaid. All I have is a compass and a stopwatch.

One turn after the next. One dead end after the next. And about two hours of fuel burn later and I have to face the fact that I'm lost in the passes between DLG and BET.

I have never been lost before. But goddammit I'm lost tonight.

I can either press on through the passes to BET. Or I can retreat through the passes I've come through back to DLG. Or I can blast up through the clouds and go either way.

I find a wide valley and begin a climbing turn over a landmark in the middle of the valley. My position is fairly fixed as I can compensate for wind drift. But when I enter the clouds I'm climbing and turning with the airmass--drifting towards who knows what?

I consult my chart and determine the highest peak within 50 miles of my approx. position (that's the best I could do) to be roughly 4000 feet. I continue climbing to 6000.

And that's when I started to pick up ice. But at least I was receiving the BET VOR by then so I fixed my position and determined I was on an airway.

Great. This day is going just great.

I need to get out of the ice.
I need to get away from the mountains.
I need to get off the airway.
And I need to get to Akiachak with enough fuel so that I can bring the plane to BET.

Quinhagak is small village on the flat tundra. It's about 60 south of BET on the 165 or 170 degree radial. That's where I'm headed.

Luckily on the way I find an elongated hole in the clouds and I can see green tundra with good visibility underneath. I set up a pattern and descend down through it and make my way for Akiachak.

I drop off the pax, head for BET, drink heavily with friends, eventually stop shaking and sleep very hard until the next morning when I go back to work.

The boss wants me to deliver a load of groceries before I take the plane back to DLG so first I gotta remove the seats. When I take one of the rear ones out I inadvertently turn it upside down and a vodka bottle falls out.

I start to rage again but get the airplane loaded and deliver the groceries. When I get back my boss has been contacted by the DLG Chief of Police and the FAA.

They both want statements.

Luckily, the chief of police and our POI were both very reasonable men. The POI assured me that he made it very clear to the chief of police that interference with a flight crew member is a federal offense and can involve the FBI.

I received a Letter of Investigation as a formality but was found to be in violation of no FARs.

The drunk blew a .231 BAC and was convicted of fourth degree assault.

After that flight I never allowed another drunk to fly on my airplane. I took great pleasure in later jobs of throwing people off my plane that smelled or acted drunk.

 

[DenverDude2002]

Well I wish I had some good flying stories, but I only have 3.7 hrs logged since i started flight training again 2 weeks ago. Hopefully someday I'll have some good stories though.

 

[mar]

Everyone has a story

You just have to interview yourself.

How did it feel to get back in the left seat after taking some time off from training?

How did it compare to your very first flight lesson?

Was that first flight lesson your very first flight in a light airplane?

If not, tell me about that very first flight in a light airplane when you knew that you'd rather spend your time looking down on things.

Who is your instructor? Is he the same one as before? Why or why not?

What is your goal?

Talk to me Goose.

 

[urflyingme?!]

So here I am, 3500 AGL flyin north along the california coast in the mighty Cessna 172, transitioning hrough John Wayne(SNA) airspace. I get a cal from center about a '37 transitioning above me. Did I mention it was my first solo XC(I didn't run out of gas and crash). The guy comes in like 1500 feet above me, haulin ass. I think "Cool!" then a screw pops out of my cowling and hits my windshield. I can see the thing flying right at my beautiful, beautiful face. I scream like a scared silly girl. "Wake turbulence!!!!!! (I think)" Then I land and play it off....

Same freaking screw came out NEXT flight! AHHH!(And yes i screamed, but this time I landed and yelled at the A&P over the phone)

70 Hrs... Give me time and something eventful might happen...
Does anyone want to hear the one about me moving half way across the country only to be on the verge of getting kicked out of my 141 cuz I've been wx'd 10 times!

 

[T-Gates]

Awww what the heck, I'll keep this going.....

Back last July 4th, I was fresh of of IOE on the CRJ flying with a great captain. Our first leg was DTW-DAY. It was a blistering hot Summer day with a line of T-Storms beginning to form over Iowa. We had an early morning show for a nice, long 5 leg day with stops in Dayton, Burlington, and up to Traverse City, MI for the overnight. We took off and flew uneventfully to Dayton. It was a 50 minute turn so we decided to kill the APU and go and get some coffee inside. We come back and get the paperwork. It calls for us to beat the storms into DTW. I get out to the airplane, walk around, and fire up the APU. The captain gets in and does his flows while I set the FMS and such.

As he goes to engage the Stab Trim he stops and cusses. The 2nd channel won't engage. We look it up in the book and as we both thought it was a No-Go deal. So we call and get some circut-breaker #'s from MX Control (Someting all CRJ guys are famillar with) and try them. Nothing. Try em again.... Nothing.

By this time they finished boarding 44 passengers. Both of us look at eachother and just shake our heads. So, MX Control tells us that we have to get a Ferry Permit from a contract mechanic and ferry back to DTW. We unload 44 people and bags and go inside and wait some more for MX.

Now remember, it's July 4th, and we were sure every mechanic in Ohio was sitting by a BBQ sipping a Bud. But somehow 2 hours later one showed up. He made quick work of it and we were off. Only now, we noted our delay had brought the line of level 5 T-Storms alot closer to Detroit. So we re-file a different arrival and launch off. It's my leg and I was all estatic to fly empty...noting the 6000+ FPM climb rate. As we get turned northbound, the radar fills with reds and yellows. We pick our way through bildups and they tell us to expect a rare ILS to 27R. The normal apporaches are being closed due to the incoming storms. We descend and as we get closer they tell us to change to the ILS 27L G/S out-of-service. Now, with barely over 25 hours in the plane I start to get a little apprehensive. The Approach controller advises that the winds are now gusting to 37 knots.

At this point, I check my ego and confer with the captain, deciding it may be better for him to make the approach. He takes the controls and we capture the localizer. Right about as we do this a NW DC-10 Abandons his ILS to 27R due to Windshear. We decide to do the same and get turned off the localizer. Our alternate is CLE. I scramble to get charts for CLE as we turn back away from the approaching storms.

In one of the better displays of CRM I have had the priveledge of being a part of myself and the Captain managed to get everything programed, notified dispatch, etc. In a matter of minutes. Next thing you know we are flying over the Lakefront in CLE getting vectors to the visual. During this time we were so busy that we only had time to make a quick PA to the Flight Attendant that we were landing in CLE. Since we were without pax, we weren't too worried.

We land, and as we are taxiing in our FA comes up and says "Were the hell are we?"

Me: "Cleveland!"
Her: "What the F#@$ are we doing in Cleveland?"

She didn't get the PA.... She was all flustered now.

We sat and waited for a park-job for the better part of 45 minutes...getting last priority since we were without Pax.

And by chance while we were sitting there a photographer snapped a shot of us and posted it on Airliners.Net (The guy was a CO Ramp Controller on break)

Check it out....

So we finally got off and sat for 4 hours. Finally repositioning to South Bend, IN for MX on the airplane. Needless to say brews were had at the BW3's that evening.

It was one heck of a 4th of July I'll never forget!

 

[mar]

Now we're talking!

T-gates, nice looking sled.

urflyingme?!--Funny story. It reminded me of my instrument training at Fullerton. We were out over the water doing airwork (climbs, turns, decents, etc) and I was under the hood and a little off my altitude, you know, like, 100 feet or so.

Suddenly my CFII takes the yoke and shoves it forward, gives it a nice turn to the left and then shoves it forward one more time.

I'm thinking, great, he's pissed, man am I gonna hear it when we get down.

Just then he goes: Look up! Quick!

I look up to see an MD80 or DC9 or something like that go sailing right over the top of us on final for rwy 30 at Long Beach.

This was right after the LGB FSDO sent out a memo to all local pilots to stop doing their spin training on airways out over the water because IFR traffic was reporting 152s spiraling down in front of them...

...there but for the grace...you know the rest.

 

[urflyingme?!]

Ahhh yes beautiful long beach...
I got my PVT in Torrance...
Did you do your check at LGB? If so who was your DE?

 

[LJDRVR]

Here's another one

Years ago when I was an FO on the Lears, we get sent out on an ASAP to pick these folks up in Dallas, take them to Vegas, let them gamble for a few hours and return. When we show up, it's these two drunk guys with two strippers. We load up and blast off. West-bound at FL390, there's quite a party going on in back. Kind of the next step beyond lap dances. (I wasn't looking)

One of the girls (Fully clothed and not a whole lot on this side of 18) comes up to the cockpit to chat. She's basically kneeling between our seats, and we're giving her the old "These control the engines, these...etc" routine. She thanks us and leaves, only to return a minute later.

"Bob (The lead PAX) says to show you guys my t__t's"

She offers matter-of-factly as she whips em' out.

Now our SOP dictates that that the PF will be monitoring the flight instruments at all times, but let me tell you, nobody was watching the store. darnest thing I've ever seen in an airplane. Especially since it happened so quickly.

Well, the foolishness in back continues, and our lead pasenger eventually offers up that he'll pay us a thousand bucks to roll the jet. Unfortunately, both the Captain and myself were somewhat anal when it came to safety. We politely decline.

The good news is we hung out with this guy and played a little blackjack. We got $1500.00 dollars a peice for a tip. The hookers,...er I mean strippers...or whatever, went to sleep after complaining that they were owed a bunch of money for "lap dances" I honestly think we made out better than they did.

We get back to Dallas the next morning, and these guys pretty much disappear, leaving us with these young ladies who have no transportation. I signed out a crew car and drove them back to their cars at the strip club. They explained to me that they were just doing this job for the great money and to put themselves through school.

"I'm gonna be a nurse someday." Says one.

I smile, inwardly thinking to myself how ironic that we're in the same boat. (I'm just doing this job to get the hours to go to the airlines, the money is great too.) At least I don't have to rub my pivate parts up against intoxicated strangers. (My wife won't let me.)

So, there's my boobies in the cockpit story.

Anybody else?

 

[mar]

We're all just trying to get some--where

LJDRVR--boobies in the cockpit story. I love it. I've flown with boobies but never quite in the same way.

urflyingme?!--Holy cow. I did my instrument check with a guy who was an NTSB investigator and had an Italian last name, but I can't remember it and I can't even read his signature in my logbook.

But I did have the pleausre of flying with Betty Faux out of LGB. She did my Comm/ME and my CFI.

I also did my CFII with another Italian fellow Marco Grillo but that was out of SMO. I sort of got around those parts.

My first CFI job was at VNY.

Fly safe!

[Edit: Don Llorente, I think, was the name of the guy.]

 

[Vector4fun]

Well, I can't tell some of my "better" ATC stories until after I retire...


I had about 150 hrs TT, and was working on my Comm and Inst. ratings with this gruff old loveable curmudgeon who ran a little airport north of FTW. So I take Dad's C-205 down one summer day, do about 1.5 of commercial manuevers, and then climb back in to fly home. It's a small strip, about 2000'x30', with about 30 yards of grass on either side. So I run-up and blast off, and at about 40 mph, my seat suddenly comes loose on the rails and slides all the way back against the seat behind. I'm strapped in of course, so I go with it. Now I'm doubled over, feet 6" or more from the rudder pedals, can just reach the wheel, but can't touch the throttle. I mean, it is *just* out of reach. (All this realization must have happened in about two seconds, but seemed like two minutes.) about now, the airplane is leaving the asphalt to the left, and the barbed wire is looming. I glanced down at the airspeed, and it's passing 50-55 or so, I realize I'm light, (solo, half tanks) so it *should* fly, so I haul back and it does, stall horn buzzing, and I clear the fence left of the runway by about 10 feet in about a 15 degree left bank. After I got some altitude, I managed to let go of the wheel, so I could straighten up, unbuckle my belt, and then trim the plane, fix the seat, and put everything right. Next week, I walk into my Instructor's office, and the very first words out of his mouth were
"What the he!! kind of takeoff was that last week?!?"
Well, let me tell you...

This was before the AD on Cessna seat rails btw....


A couple months later, same strip, same instructor, but we're using his Commanche 180. As we're pulling it out, we hear a "clunk" sound from under the right wing. I look at him, and we bend down to look, but don't see anything from a cursory glance. He says we'll go fly, but look it over good when we get back. So we go do some dual, and head home. I just happened to make one of my usual landings, ya know, where you just hear the tires chirp, but nary a bump, and we taxi to the hanger. Merle comments "Dammit, you're getting so you land this thing better than me". Quite possibly the nicest thing he ever said to me.

So He puts on some coveralls and crawls under the wing on his back, and suddenly lets out a string of curses that scares even me. The main gear casting is split wide open where it fits over the trunnion (if I got that right) on the back of the main spar. Anyway, the only thing holding the gear on the aircraft is a pretty well bent 1/4" bolt through the split casting. Apparently, he'd let another pilot rent it for a two day x-country a couple days before, and this guy must have dropped it in from 20' to split the casting like that. Merle was pissed. And Commanche gear castings weren't easy to find at reasonable prices even back in the mid-70s as it turned out.

 

[Jedi_Cheese]

New Takeoff Technique

NEW/STUDENT PILOT WARNING: DON'T DO THIS! IT IS REALLY BAD ON THE LANDING GEAR!

I was a student with ~15-20 hours flying out of KMSN. I had mastered the takeoffs and most of the landing aspects, only the flare and radio calls eluded my skills. In order to get more time to practice with less hassels, we would fly out to the uncontrolled airfield 87Y to practice the flares and get over my radio skittishness. The airport was laid out in a typical cross pattern, but hadn't been improved beyond asphalt for the runways and a basic ramp area. Runway 9-27 was raised about a foot or two above runway 4-22 and thus there was an oversized 'speed bump' on runway 4-22 halfway down where it crossed 9-27. Also, the maintence had been sorely lacking this season and thus at both ends of 4-22 there was a pile 4ft high of rocks on the ends of the runway, several trees 10-20 ft off the threashold, and 6ft-8ft high grass wherever it wasn't paved. The last challenge was that runway 4-22 was only 2,100 ft long and we had a fully loaded C-152 on a warm summer day.

The winds had been favoring runway 4 so we landed and taxied back to the start of 4. Being in the situation we were in, the safest bet was to do a short field takeoff. When we hit the bump over 9-27, the aircraft would be going about 50kts and bounce off and strike the ground again before taking off. This proved to be annoying because for the few seconds the aircraft would be quasi-airborn, I would lose partial command of directional control and when the aircraft restruck the ground, it would attempt to slide a little on the ground before getting airborn. This was 'unsatisfactory' in my CFI's opinion due to the runway being 56ft wide and having unsuitable terrain on either side of the runway for a continued takeoff or safe stop should I fully lose directional control.

On the second takeoff, I tried a normal takeoff flap setting. I had hoped that the lost lift from the flaps up would let us stay firmly on the runway when we hit the speed bump. Again we bounced and I lost partial directional control and slid over the runway again, but to a lesser than when done with the short field takeoff. Not only that, we had barely cleared the trees at the end of the runway. We were so close that both my CFI and I had feared we had picked up some leaves along the way out. A visual inspection of the main gear found that we had not picked up any greenery on our way out.

Our third takeoff I decided to see if we could get off the ground by using the speed bump as a type of ski jump... I would then attempt to lower the nose and stay in ground effect till I got enough airspeed to climb out. I taxied to the very end of runway 4, almost falling into the grass with one of my main gear. I run the short field takeoff checklist and firewalled the engine. I let go of the breaks and away we went! I kept the nosewheel lightly on the ground so that we could gain speed up as quickly as possible. Right before we hit the speed bump, I yanked back on the yoke so hard the stall horn went off. I happily cried "stall horn!" as the main gear slammed into the speed bump. The aircraft shuddered like it had just hit the runway from a flare 25ft up, and the tail lept into the air. This lowered the AOA on the main wing, shutting up the stall horn and leveling the aircraft out 5ft above the runway fit for an acceleration in ground effect and a climb over the obsticles at the end of the runway. Plus, I had maintained directional control the whole time! As they say: SUCCESS!

During postflight, my CFI told me I earned the dubious honor of doing more damage to the wheels and struts on takeoff than on landing...

 

[350DRIVER]

In the early fall awhile back (which now seems like a past lifetime) I had the pleasure of flying into Virginia to pick up ex- Buffalo Bills hall of fame QB Jim Kelley, actor Chris McDonald (aka Shooter MaGaven from Happy Gilmore), Jim's brother, and a few others catching a ride into BUF for the Bills game against the Pat's. Having never have flown this particular group in the past (other than the lead pax) I thought this trip would be a very "uneventful" and a relatively "routine" trip with little or no worries or concerns since I had flown many higher profile clients in the past than this group. All I really wanted to do once we landed BUF was to catch a few hours of sleep once we got there, man was I mistaken if this was truly my plan!. All I really wanted to do was get to the fbo and rest/be lazy since I had a rather long late night in RDU the previous night with friends that I knew in the area. Although I had flown the lead pax many times to RDU to see his son who played football at Duke I didn't know what he had planned and arranged. I should have known since he would always try and talk me into going to the games, although Duke + football really is not a "great mix". Now if it was a invite for a basketball game then that would have been a different story all together. The lead pax was the kind of guy that would offer me anything/everything once we would land at any particular city but not wanting to mix professional relations with other interests I would always decline and say "next time" or " thanks but cannot this trip". I guess my excuses were finally running out and "NO" was not a possible answer on this trip. This guy was a complete trip and was as comical as they come.



The flight was smooth and uneventful once we settled into the FL's but I should have realized something was up when Jim and the lead pax kept coming up front at numerous times inflight to ask myself and the other guy if we would enjoy going to the football game. I later found out that this was planned well in advance of this flight. The other pilot much older said thanks but no thanks since we was not a sports fan and I said I would have liked to but I had too much stuff/paperwork to get done once we landed. There was no way, I thought I was a pro at saying I was just too busy and could not in any way shape or form accept, w r o n g !.Obviously Jim did not like this answer... ... Now if it would have been my favorite team the Dallas Cowboys I would have said YES in a heartbeat but Bills versus the Pats really did not excite me at all since I am not into either team and the game meant very little if anything to me.


We land BUF and as the other pilot goes to the back to open the door and attend to any last minute requests from the pax I stay up front and finish up the paperwork and make a call back to dispatch and I am really looking forward to that nap and catching up on the sleep that I missed the previous night (what a sweet thought of "sleep" at this point). I notice out of the corner of my eye that Kelley is still seated and is on his phone and is talking to someone explaining that he is "running late and waiting on one of the pilots", now I started to realize that I was going to be screwed and would have no choice but to go to the game but I was still holding out "some hope".. .. I was hoping he was getting ready to get up, get off plane and be on his way..


I get up to go towards the back of the plane and once again he is very outgoing and tells me that his wife who was supposebly also in BUF was not going to the game and he wanted to have someone use these extra tickets because he did not want them to go to waste so at this point I finally said "FINE", obviously I had no other option left after telling him "thanks but no thanks" many times on the ground in Virginia, inflight, etc. So he has his Toyota suv pulled up next to the plane and I change shirts and off we go. Talk about being in a uncomfortable situation at a time where you did not want to be present.

It actually turned out to be a pretty interesting experience to be able to go into the locker room, meet players, onto the field at half time, and to see the motor home that they provide him in the Bills employee parking lot. I never realized how much the people of Buffalo admired and looked up to him. He was literally treated like a God by the people of Buffalo for leading them into 4 super bowls even though he was never able to win the big game. Chris was absolutely hilarious and we spent much of the afternoon and evening together and later that day found out that he is a private pilot and has his own plane out in LA. He has offered to get together and go flying when I am in LA but everytime I am out there I usually do not have a lot of free time to spare but we still email each other once or twice a week. For kicks I am going to get up with him in the near future and see how well of a pilot he really is- lol Jim turned out to be nothing that I had expected, the nicest down to earth guy and he said anytime I want/need tickets to a Bills game to give him a call and they are mine. If only I had those contacts to go see my Dallas Cowboys then I would be the happiest white man in America.


Out of all the celebs/famous people I have ever transported this group really put the icing on the cake and went the extra mile to make sure I was very well taken care of once on Bills property. I was amazed how down to earth this group was but the best part was seeing the women that he "knows" come into the motor home after the game and to his party. I thought I had a wild side until he told me what he has done and still does when he goes to other countries where he is not known.. I guess "marriage" may not be so bad after all. Now if only I had his 16,000 sq. ft house and his "star" credentials. lol It is very unique and interesting to actually hear some stories that most of us would think of as amazing and not normal.


This trip obviously is not the norm with regards to this type of flying but amazing the things that are offered. I just kick myself now that I did not take advantage of some of the other opportunities that presented themselves when I was in the charter game. If anyone needs tickets to a Bills game maybe we can work out some sort of deal/swap.?!!


I actually have some pictures that were taken from a friend of his at the game so PM me if you are a Bills fan and would like to take a peak.


No more interesting or "different" stories/flights from this end.. Nice thread by the way Mar


3 5 0

 

[FlyChicaga]

I particularly like this story, strictly because of a few passengers' reactions after the flight.

We were flying the terminator flight one night. We had been given a different routing that evening due to some icing reports on the normal plan. The flight ran fairly smooth for the most part, up until approach. During climbout, we quickly emerged from some low clouds at the hub and were out of the ice and IMC in clear skies for our entire time in cruise.

Coming into the airport, we didn't hit the clouds until around 7000 feet or so, which wasn't so bad. Some light rime ice, occasional light chop. Pulling up ATIS at the destination we found that weather was being reported as 600 overcast, 2 miles visibility, and light snow. Eh, not too bad. We were expecting an ILS approach to the northeast.

When we checked in with approach, we were given a descent to 4000 feet and a vector for the localizer only approach. Apparently a Delta MD-88 crew has to go missed due to an intermittent glideslope, so they were now using the LOC only. Still ok for the weather, since the MDA was just over 450 feet AFL, and visibility was above minimums. However, this active runway did not have any aids to assist in vertical guidance (VASI, PAPI, G/S, etc.). Not a large concern, but it would have been nice at night after flying a non-precision approach to near minimums.

As we descended to 4000 feet, we noticed the outside air temperature had risen to +7 C. Interesting! We looked outside, and the light to moderate rime was completely gone. A definitely plus. Now, a descent to 3000 feet, update on the weather: Still 600 overcast, 2 1/2 miles visibility, light snow. Delta just landed and are clear, so the runway is ours.

As we descended to 3000 feet, the turbulence began. Moderate. I put my hands on the controls just in case of an autopilot disconnect, since it was getting fairly rough. Eh, maybe it was getting somewhat severe. I was quickly slowing to our Vra speed for the jolts we were feeling, and turned up my EFIS displays and instrument lighting to help me see the indications. The rough air was making it difficult to focus. We did see shear indications +/- 20 knots. Now, 3 miles to the FAF.

As we were closing in on the FAF, we noticed the temperature was now -2 C. That was quite a shift from the +7 C at 4000 feet... a 9 degree shift in a 1000 foot descent. Looking outside, the light rime... well mixed ice was there now. Bump to level 3 again (engine A/I and the boots).

At the FAF, we continued with the approach as normal down to MDA. At about 2700 feet, the turbulence we had experience smoothed out to light. Thank goodness. Soon we broke out, leveled at MDA, and picked up the runway ahead. "Leaving MDA, flaps 20, landing checklist." After that wild ride, I was able to finish it off with a smooth landing on the snow-covered runway. (Honestly, the airplane just kinda stopped flying and layed itself nicely in the touchdown zone.)

On the taxi in, I mentioned how it seemed the boots didn't get much of that ice off, and we'd certainly need to deice in the morning (since we were doing a continuous-duty overnight). Little did I know.

Before the passengers could deplane, I hopped out to attach the prop ties, and check out the ice that was left. Well, to my surprise, it was no light ice. In fact, it was some serious ice. Ice 1/2 inch thick on the leading edge of the prop at the hub, decreasing to maybe 1/8-1/4 inch thick 3/4 the length of the prop. 3 inches of thin runback on the prop past the boots. Rough clear ice from the nose back to the AOA indicators and windscreens. Ice nearly a foot behind the wing deicing boots. Ice the entire length of the spinner. Practically every leading edge of anything had ice on it. A major chill ran down my spine.

As I went to the stairs to notify the Captain of my findings, the passengers were on their way out. Nobody really said much, besides a "the boots doing their job tonight?" and a "that was quite a ride." Then a woman came down the stairs, breaking the silence: "Son, were you the pilot?" "Yes ma'am, I was" I said. "Honey, the angels were with you tonight. You are quite a pilot. Those angels were watching you." I could just smile. What could I say?

Then I notice another woman in the doorway, shaking hands with the F/A and Captain. She makes her way down the stairs, and without a word, just walks up with open arms and hugs me tight. She mentioned a similar comment about the angels watching me, then went on her way.

All in all, quite a night. Too bad I didn't have more time to sleep it off, since 5 hours later we'd be back out for another flight.

Well, the next morning, we prepared the ice-covered machine as normal. Preflight, systems checks, hot jugs, and engine start-up to warm up the cabin. After startup, we notice a slight vibration from the engine. Must be that ice on the props. Some must have come off, causing a slight unbalance. Noted. They'll need to hit the props with some extra fluid once we get to the deicing pad. (Note: No gate deicing available. Airport ordinance, since the fluid gets in the water system.)

Once the passengers get boarded up, and we finish our flight paperwork, we start number 1. Same slight vibration. So as the Captain brings the condition lever into min-max (low pitch) on the number 2, the engine vibration gets very excessive. Serious vibrations which we immediately know is NOT good for the aircraft, so condition lever to fuel off. Nope, this is not going to work.

To make a long story short, we had to barter for a towbar of unknown existance, hidden in a maintenance hangar. It took negotiations with six different airlines to finally find one. It was our only solution: A tow to the deice pad to rid the airplane of the remaining ice from the night previous, and the current freezing rain which moved in during our delay. About four or more hours later, the freezing rain made it's way out of the area, we had a clean airplane, and we were able to depart for home.

Maybe those women were right. The angels were with us. It was quite a learning experience, to say the least. Thinking back, I should have known what would have happened with that inversion, but at the time getting knocked around in the turbulence it didn't occur to me. We were too busy flying. Plus, looking outside, we had no reason to think otherwise.

 

[skyking1976]

Captain G and The Rookie

Not one of my personal stories, but a good one nevertheless. 13 years later, it's still funny.



There is more than one type of guy flying for the airlines and more than just what's described here. He can be the old crusty captain; time-weathered and seen it all, yet a big softy on the inside. The "it's a living" guy; just there to make the (at one time) decent money. And the rookie; eager to learn, eager to please, sometimes a little bit overprepared for the job.

Captain G, we'll call him, shows up for an early A.M. trip. He one of the first types, just not as old as you would expect. Nothing really special about this one except that the F/O, not too terribly long out of IOE, is Mr. "Super-pilot". He's not an ego-maniac, mind you. He's one of these guys that has a tool or gadget for every conceivable situation you can think of. VERY technical minded individual, you see. This guy had no learning curve whatsoever with the EFIS system on the company's new aircraft as opposed to the older pilots, who had only flown steam gauges up until recently.

Typical friendly exchanges between G and the rookie. Shortly thereafter they make their way out to the sleeping aircraft for its wake up call. The rookie, ever eager to please his captain, volunteers for the walk-around. After stowing his overnight bag, he sets his loaded-to-the-gills flight case next to his seat and produces the largest Mag-lite in production. It took something like 20 D cells for this two million candlepower behemoth. The rookie wants to inspect the exterior lighting of the airplane, but, instead of a friendly tap on the side of the airplane, Captain G gets a face full of ultra-bright krypton bulb. "Oh well", our Captain thinks. "New guy on the job. I made mistakes too. He'll figure it out." Remember the definition of assume?

Walk around completed, the young F/O finds his seat and settles in for the first of an 10 leg day. Ever over-prepared, the rookie begins to unpack his support media from the flight case. Sennheiser headset, multiple sun shades, insulated coffee mug with spill-proof lid, Jepp charts, two types of sunglasses (one for cloudy conditions, one for bright sun the rookie explains), earplugs, flight time forms, flying gloves, post-it notes, and a real serious looking mechanical pencil.

Watching the unusual unpacking ritual, Captain G starts take more of an interest as to the strange habits of his new companion. The rookie begins to get the ATIS when he realizes that his mecha-pencil is out of lead. More unpacking ensues as he searches for his pencil refills. The cockpit floor is fast becoming a resemblance to an aviator yard sale. Now that his flight case is almost completely unpacked, the rookie finds his conatiner of lead and proceeds to fill robo-pencil. Maybe it was nerves, maybe it was too much coffee, the tiny lead container proved to be too elusive for Mr. Rookie. Pencil lead goes flying everywhere. If Captain G were a Vietnam Veteran he would be having flashbacks with all the shrapnel that had just entered the cockpit. Apologizing the entire time, the rookie begins searching for pencil lead amongst the flight case jetsam and dark grey-colored cockpit floor. Finally he gets himself together, cyber-pencil reloaded, and flight case repacked.

Passengers board, engines start, the ritual begins. After the "first flight of the day" run-ups are completed, Captain G asks the rookie if he wantsto fly the first leg. Naturally the answer is yes and the airplane is turned over to the rookie. As weather in the Midwest is prone to do, a nice, thick fog layer accompanied my an overcast layer was the order of the morning. Rookie gets his EFIS set up, radios tuned, flight director up and directing, and the take off roll begins. As our rookie friend climbs though the fog and clouds, eventually breaking out on top, the "New Airplane Syndrome" kicks in. EFIS goes completely black, both sides. Not an electrical failure, just EFIS. Rookie starts to show signs of panic. "What do I do now?" he asks Captain G. "Were on top, right?" asks G. Rookie: "Yeah." G: "Look outside." Rookie: "Oh..."

The next day, in another airplane of the same type, our captain discovers that the transponder has decided to select completely random numbers when the dials are turned. Eventually it settles on one code despite any attempts to change the numbers. Captain G calls clearance delivery and explains the predicament. Eventually he gets clearance to give him the squawk that is displayed in the transponder. Problem solved, right? Guess again. The rookie gets himself up to the cockpit, performs his unpacking ritual and begins to get the clearance. Captain G stops him and explains the transponder issue and that everything had been rectified.

They continue on for a couple of legs with the same transponder number assigned. Eventually ATC asks if they can get their transponder fixed. Captain G says they can on the next stop through their maintenance base which happened to be only two legs away. ATC begrudgingly gives the clearance with the same squawk again. The whole negotiation process had incurred a slight delay, so the F/A comes up to the cockpit, wondering about the cause while Captain G is in mid-negotiation with ATC. Our rookie friend fields the F/A's question. "We're having problems with our transponder. We can't get it to display anything but what's already in there, see?" Rookie grabs the transponder knob and gives it a violent twist. All "8's" appear in the display and now it's in permanent test mode. The captain looks like he's going to cry...





I'll have to pick some brains for more stories. More to come...

 

[ibaflyer]

And there I was......

weather was 0/0; one engine out, hauling cancelled checks in my pocket and my co-pilot on fire.

No really, I do not have a airline story or even a charter flight tale to tell. I just have a story about my friend (a partner in my plane).

Here we are, He is in the left seat, I am in the right and it is not that long after he gets checked out in our t-tail Lance. I guess he wanted to impress me with his knowledge and skill so he is telling me how he sets up for his landings, speeds on final, when he does his GUMPS check, etc..

Anyway, I guess I am feeling a little devilish, so, while we are starting downwind, he is looking for other traffic that called on the radio so I just reach up and pull the breaker for the landing gear. I just wanted to see if he would notice. We continue downwind and he starts his GUMPS check. Fuel pump ON, gear DOWN and so on.. flaps as needed and calls his BASE turn.

Nothing.... He has NO idea that his gear was not down. He calls FINAL and I finally say, "Is the Gear down?" He looks up and notices that the three green lights are missing. He reaches up and takes the gear switch to the UP posisiton and back down again. NOTHING. He repeats this two more times all while flying down final. I ask him, "What are you going to do?" He says "I'm not sure why the gear will not come down? and he is still flying down FINAL. I ask him again, "What are you going to do?" He says, I am going to get the book out and see what the problem is? I ask him, " are you going to do this before or after we impact the ground?" I call out MY PLANE and start a go around before he realizes just what is going on.

After a few seconds, he then says, "You fly the next approach I am shaking too bad." I push the breaker back in, fly the pattern from the right seat and proceed to smash it on the runway. (I am not used to flying from over there and I think that I set ELTs off in other planes with that landing) Anyway, I think that we both learned a valuable lesson. #1 He learned that just because the gear selector is in the down position, the gear may not be down and #2 I can not land from the right seat.

 

[Singlecoil]

Great thread, Mar. You forced me to scan my hard-drive for the emails I used to send to friends and family from up there....like this one....

A flight on the rocks? February 6, 1995

The native girl cautiously creeps toward the barstool. A bush pilot is draining a cold one after earning his daily pay. “Excuse me, were you my pilot today?”
“Oh, that was you from Brevig Mission?”
“That was such a scary flight!”
“Oh, well, umm, I’m sorry about that, I didn’t think the weather was going to be that bad or I wouldn’t have taken any passengers.”
“It was so white and there was all that ice on the airplane!”
“Well, I didn’t get any ice on the way up, and it was kind of unexpected. By the time we were icing up, there was little to do but get to Nome as soon as possible, and then we taxied into the snow drift, it was too dark to see.”
“I was so scared, I was wishing I stayed home, but I’m glad I got here safe, and I’m glad you were flying, and…will you dance with me?” Like I’m going to turn that down.
The weather was not forecast to get below 3000 feet with ten miles of visibility. Now I know why they call them “weather guessers.” My gut was telling me that something was rolling in, but we had lots of mail and our other plane was broken, so I kind of had to take a look. I think I’ll listen to my gut a little more the next time.
The first twenty miles north were a pretty solid white-out, but the weather improved from there and my first two stops were uneventful. In Wales I had to wait 30 minutes in an 80 below wind chill for our agent to show up, making the flight late. Wales had warmed up from a 101 below wind chill earlier in the week. I took off and called Nome to extend my flight plan. They answered by telling me Nome had gone down to a 600 foot ceiling with a half a mile visibility, essentially closing the airport. I headed to Teller to wait out the storm at our agent’s house. I was there for 90 minutes with another pilot, admiring the agent’s collection of gold nuggets from his 15 claims.
Nome came back up to three miles so I went to Brevig Mission, only 8 miles from Teller, to load up passengers and head for Nome as darkness approached. We were following the coast only about 30 miles from Nome when it started—freezing rain. The worst kind of icing with the fastest accumulation rate, and of course, a 207 has no de-icing equipment. In 15 minutes, the wings, tail, and prop were covered, forcing me to use full power to keep from descending. My defroster was working well so I had a little hole in the windshield I could see out of. The clouds were low and full of more ice so I couldn’t climb to find warmer temperatures. The passengers kept looking at the wings, then at me, then at the ground, then at me, etc. I naturally ignored them and acted as if this always happened. The wind had increased to a thirty-five knot headwind, slowing my progress and lengthening my time in the icy rain. Nome weather had come back down to a little over a mile, forcing me to get a clearance to approach the airport. Usually this means a ten to thirty minute delay, far too long in these conditions; the airplane wouldn’t fly that much longer if I kept putting on ice. I was thinking I would have to declare an emergency to get first in line to land when the controller told me there was no other traffic. Lucky—an emergency commands lots of unwanted attention, and even more unwelcome paperwork.
Two miles out I saw the runway and lined up. I reached for the flap handle but caught myself. Ordinarily flaps will allow the airplane to fly safer at slower speeds, but with this much ice on board, it would surely stall the tail and nose in. I touched down smoothly with no flaps and started to taxi in. In the darkness, I managed to find a snowdrift, forcing us to shutdown and deplane. I pointed in the direction of the terminal, and the two ladies on board walked off, saying nothing. I noticed the two men looking at the ice on the wings and shaking their heads. I had to inform them that the ice was unexpected and to my surprise they thanked me for the flight and helped me push the plane out of the snow. I quickly ran next door to see if I could put the plane in a hangar before the FAA saw it. I chipped a piece off the tail and one off the wing; perfectly clear, thick ice. I closed out my paperwork and headed for town. What does a pilot do with thick chunks of ice from his wings? He puts them in a glass and pours scotch over them; after all I had the next two days off.

 

[Singlecoil]

Village Life Part One March 7, 1995

Maybe that little voice should have been telling me something. There I am holding short of the runway with my hand out the window making sure this rain isn’t freezing on the wing. The weather has been down to the ground for two days, backing up the passengers and mail.
Our friendly FAA inspector has been lurking in the shadows, busting my balls when I least expect it. Luckily when he stopped by the weather was bad enough that I had left the plane in the hangar. Apparently that wasn’t good enough. Picture a fat scaly man with thick glasses and bad skin; the kind of guy that doesn’t wash his hair for fear of losing it. Picture your average bush pilot, swilling coffee and brooding over the weather. Freezing rain, low ceilings…crap I have to leave it in the hangar. Enter Mr. Smith, “Do you have approval to operate in ’ground icing’ conditions?”
“Uhhh, well, we can’t take off with snow, ice, or frost adhering to the surface of the aircraft. I saw freezing rain in the observation, and in the forecast and elected to leave it in the hangar.”
“But that’s not what I asked you. I want you to show me your approval to operate in ’ground icing’ conditions in your company operations manual.”
In all my years of flying and instructing, I had never heard of the term “ground icing.”
“Umm, could you define that?” I ask trying to stifle any hint of disgust in my voice.
“We have it today. (Long pause.) Anytime you could have ice adhering to the aircraft when it is on the ground, whether it be freezing rain, or pushing the plane out of a warm hangar and having snow melt on it and freeze, etc. Turn to page A1-4 of your ops manual.”
“Okay, let’s see…there doesn’t seem to be a page A1-4.”
“Well this manual is obviously not up to date.” (Punishable by death or suspension at the discretion of the Administrator.)
“I’d be very upset if this manual is lacking, because I have diligently kept this manual up to date.” The bush pilot affirms defensively.
As it turns out, we never had such a page. I’ve seen the FAA pull amazing things out of their a$$es, but never imaginary terms and even more elusive sheets of paper. I’m sure it was in there in between one of those Schultzy’s Sausages.
So there I was waiting for Alaska Airlines to land and making dam sure my airfoils weren’t suffering from “ground icing.” The weather was steadily getting worse, but the weather at my destination was considerably better. The thought crossed my mind that I might end up getting stuck out, but if you can get the people home, you’re kind of obligated to do so. The 737 fades into view out of the muck at a frightening angle to the runway. Without a chance of landing, the jet powered up and went around. The pilots sheepishly advised Nome that they missed the approach and were going to contact the radar controller. I expected another 15-minute delay for them to try again, but was suprised to find them entering a holding pattern, allowing me to take off immediately. Keep in mind, they are flying on instruments and can’t find the runway, but I’m taking off under visual flight rules in my trusty 207. I quickly take off and exit the airspace to return the favor all the while thinking how they must feel having botched their approach in a stiff crosswind.
The trip down the coast was kinda white. Hugging my programmed GPS course to dodge the cliffs, I warily creep along the coast over the pack ice. Twenty minutes later, with no improvement in the weather, I start to question the destination report, but am reassured by the village agent over the radio. I pop up to 1500 feet to cross over the hills back over the land and find excellent visibility and higher ceilings. The three passengers and pilot raise their eyebrows and grin noticeably. I deliver the two passengers to Golovin and drop the other one off in White Mountain and plod on to Nome. Shortly out of White Mountain, I manage to raise Nome and check the weather.
“Nome ceiling 400 overcast, visibility 1 and one quarter of a mile, VFR flight is NOT recommended.” By the tone in her voice, I wondered if the FAA guy was standing over her shoulder. “What are your intentions, Flight 460?”
...to be continued.