So Friday morning we got up early again and went out for breakfast. We got word from the office that our GPS tracking system, which continually uploads the aircraft's position so the office can track us wasn't working properly, so after breakfast the three of us headed out to the airport to do some troubleshooting. My operator fiddled around with it for a while and then the Chief and I took the airplane up for a quick test flight to check it.
After that we were pretty much good to go. I finished off the last bit of paperwork I needed done for my PCC (Pilot Competancy Check) and then we were good to go. I shook hands with the Chief before he headed out to go back to civilization. After that the two of us took off and flew north. It was an uneventful almost 2 hours. My operator is interested in getting his pilot's license (no suprise considering he spends so much time in an airplane) so I let him fly most of the trip up.
Once we landed we checked into our motel which is connected to the local northern store... and that's about all there is in this town other than some houses, a small school, and the native band office. On the plus side the motel is not luxurious obviously but its clean and well kept. There's only 6 rooms and we all have a communal kitchen to share. There's not a whole lot of other people using the kitchen here, just a lone police officer and occasionally a couple ground workers for an air service that flies out of here.
This morning we got up to go set up the survey base station, which is a radiomagnetic sensing unit that sits on the ground to provide a baseline for the readings we get from the airplane in the air. We can't start surveying yet. For one we're waiting for the the office to send us up new nav files because the client made some changes to the survey blocks. Also we need to perform a calibration flight first too, which requires that we climb to 10,000 ft and do a series of turns... but the weather isn't quite good enough up here to do that yet. So we're in a bit of a waiting game at the moment, which isn't all bad. We still have some equipment to get sorted out and things to get organized, so we're staying fairly busy at the moment.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Training and Vacation-On-The-Job
So We finally made it to what will be my home for the next 4 weeks or so. After leaving North Bay in the morning we spent another almost 8 hours driving to the small mining town where the airplane was. We got there by late afternoon, and checked into our motel, which was actually a quaint little lakeside cabin resort.
The plan was for the Chief and I to spend the required 3 hrs getting checked out in the airplane, and then another 5 learning how to do actually fly the surveying.
I also had a bunch of exams to fill out - again. Before I left London I was sent all the exams, and I had them all filled out and ready to be signed off, but it turned out they were the outdated versions, so I had to spend some time completing the proper exams.
All told we were there for 2 days, and it was actually a very relaxing time. The lakeside cabins were beautiful, and we had gorgeous warm sunny weather. The cabins all had fully equipped kitchens, so rather then going out for breakfast, lunch and dinner the three of us went to the grocery store to stock up on enough food to cook for ourselves for the next two days. The first night after dinner the Chief and I hung out by the little resort beech swapping aviation stories and watching the sun go down. I snapped a few pictures, and also eyed up a paddle boat that had been pulled up on the sand. I got the okay from the front desk and went down to push it into the water and hop in. Other than getting a wet butt when sitting down it was great to be out on the water with the fresh air and evergreen smell. I could get used to this.
The next morning the three of us were up early to go out for breakfast and then the Chief and I started my flight training. The first 3 hours consisted of the typical stuff - slow flight, steep turns, stalls, the different types of landings, and finishing off with our emergency procedures. It didn't start so well. We started our takeoff roll with about a 10 knot crosswind and 10 degrees of flap set. As we taxied out I asked what speed I should rotate with, but the Chief said he wanted me to feel the airplane off the runway. Fair enough, I recall the 206 I used to fly to have a tendancy to just rise off the runway on takeoff. This time it didn't quite happen as I remembered it. We began our takeoff roll well enough, but as we approached takeoff speed and the weight came off the wheels I pulled back ever so slightly. Nothing happened. I pulled with a little more pressure, but we were still rolling along, now at significantly higher speed. By this time the crosswind started to force the airplane to drift to the side of the runway, and it was clear I was starting to lose control of the airplane. The Chief reached up to take control at about the same moment I found the proper amount of brack pressure on the controls to bring us off the runway. Great first impression. I could just imagine what was going through the Chief's mind at that moment - this knob can't even get us off the ground without screwing something up! I did my best to shake it off and move on.
It didn't take long after that for me to get my flying legs back under me again, and I managed to shake the rust off of my skills quickly enough to avoid making a further fool of myself. We ended up doing the 3 hours of basic training all in one flight, and then took a break for lunch. We went back to the cabins where the operator was putting lunch on.
After lunch I got my first taste of actual survey flying. The guys at the office had put together a sample survey block for us so I could get a feel for what its like to do a real survey flight. We fly the block in a back and forth grid pattern, like plowing a field, with IFR style hockey-stick procedures turns to turn around and set up for flying the next line at each end of the block. Flying the lines with precision is critical, so the airplane is equipped with a special digital course deviation display on the top of the dash right at eye level which shows me how far off the line I am, down to less than a meter. Sitting next to that is the radar altimeter so I can follow the slope of the terrain as closely as possible. The lateral limits for flying the line are typically +/- 15 meters on either side of the line. Our drape altitude, which is the term for how high above the ground we follow the terrain, is 230 ft, meaning we have to try to follow the rolling hills of the earth as close as possible to 230 ft above ground. My first line I got a taste of how precise those requirements really are. We set up the tracking device, and I started into flying my first practice line. I intercepted the line, noting the display showing 900 meters off the line, then 800, 600, 400, 300, 200, 100, and then I blew right through it as the display showed 50, then 100, then 150 meters out the other side. I corrected slightly to re-intercept, and once again blew through it by 100 meters. And that is how my first line for the next 5 minutes went, as I'm thinking "holy moly, I have to stay within 15 meters?!!".
Luckily I quickly improved. In 15 minutes I had my track nailed down to within +/- 40 meters, with the odd excursion out to 60 or 70, and then soon it was within +/- 30 meters, until by the end of the first hour crossing back and forth over the wilderness at 230 ft agl I was finally starting to get my limits for the most part within 15 meters. But that was about as good as it got. As time went on I started to wander a little bit again. My hand was sweaty, my neck stiff and sore from staring so intently at the displays, and my brain fried. This isn't anything like normal flying, it takes it out of you really easily. The Chief likened it to flying an ILS for hours on end, and thats exactly what its like. It takes that much sustained focus. Every couple minutes during the 180 turnaround to start the next line I get a chance to climb up a few hundred feet and relax a bit before heading into the next line. Its a welcome mini-break. During our turns we climb up to 400-500 ft agl, which is normally considered extremely low for most other types of flying, but after you come up from skimming the tree-tops at 230 ft, 500 ft seems plenty high!
After just over an hour and a half I called uncle. I was toast, and any more practice wouldn't do much good, I needed a break. This is very challenging flying, also REALLY cool. Its far more challenging and far more demanding than flying freight back and forth up the coast. Everyone is patient and are stressing the fact that I don't have to worry about performing perfectly right away. The Chief said my boss isn't expecting a whole lot of production out of me right away, because there is a fairly steep learning curve to it. I lasted about an hour and a half flying the lines, before I started to lose my will to live, but eventually I'll be able to work my way up to about 4 hours flights without wandering outside the limits.
We landed and taxied in to secure the airplane for the night. The next day I assumed we'd go up again for more practice, we had initially planned for 5 hours of survey practice on top of the 3 hours of basic training, and I felt a little bit that I could still use more practice, because I was still wandering outside the 15 meter limit every now and then, but I guess the Chief is confident enough in me that we're not going to bother.
Today we finished up a little bit of paperwork still needed, and then the operator and I headed north to the work site, where I am now, checked into my motel room. More blogging to come later on our trip up.
The plan was for the Chief and I to spend the required 3 hrs getting checked out in the airplane, and then another 5 learning how to do actually fly the surveying.
I also had a bunch of exams to fill out - again. Before I left London I was sent all the exams, and I had them all filled out and ready to be signed off, but it turned out they were the outdated versions, so I had to spend some time completing the proper exams.
All told we were there for 2 days, and it was actually a very relaxing time. The lakeside cabins were beautiful, and we had gorgeous warm sunny weather. The cabins all had fully equipped kitchens, so rather then going out for breakfast, lunch and dinner the three of us went to the grocery store to stock up on enough food to cook for ourselves for the next two days. The first night after dinner the Chief and I hung out by the little resort beech swapping aviation stories and watching the sun go down. I snapped a few pictures, and also eyed up a paddle boat that had been pulled up on the sand. I got the okay from the front desk and went down to push it into the water and hop in. Other than getting a wet butt when sitting down it was great to be out on the water with the fresh air and evergreen smell. I could get used to this.
The next morning the three of us were up early to go out for breakfast and then the Chief and I started my flight training. The first 3 hours consisted of the typical stuff - slow flight, steep turns, stalls, the different types of landings, and finishing off with our emergency procedures. It didn't start so well. We started our takeoff roll with about a 10 knot crosswind and 10 degrees of flap set. As we taxied out I asked what speed I should rotate with, but the Chief said he wanted me to feel the airplane off the runway. Fair enough, I recall the 206 I used to fly to have a tendancy to just rise off the runway on takeoff. This time it didn't quite happen as I remembered it. We began our takeoff roll well enough, but as we approached takeoff speed and the weight came off the wheels I pulled back ever so slightly. Nothing happened. I pulled with a little more pressure, but we were still rolling along, now at significantly higher speed. By this time the crosswind started to force the airplane to drift to the side of the runway, and it was clear I was starting to lose control of the airplane. The Chief reached up to take control at about the same moment I found the proper amount of brack pressure on the controls to bring us off the runway. Great first impression. I could just imagine what was going through the Chief's mind at that moment - this knob can't even get us off the ground without screwing something up! I did my best to shake it off and move on.
It didn't take long after that for me to get my flying legs back under me again, and I managed to shake the rust off of my skills quickly enough to avoid making a further fool of myself. We ended up doing the 3 hours of basic training all in one flight, and then took a break for lunch. We went back to the cabins where the operator was putting lunch on.
After lunch I got my first taste of actual survey flying. The guys at the office had put together a sample survey block for us so I could get a feel for what its like to do a real survey flight. We fly the block in a back and forth grid pattern, like plowing a field, with IFR style hockey-stick procedures turns to turn around and set up for flying the next line at each end of the block. Flying the lines with precision is critical, so the airplane is equipped with a special digital course deviation display on the top of the dash right at eye level which shows me how far off the line I am, down to less than a meter. Sitting next to that is the radar altimeter so I can follow the slope of the terrain as closely as possible. The lateral limits for flying the line are typically +/- 15 meters on either side of the line. Our drape altitude, which is the term for how high above the ground we follow the terrain, is 230 ft, meaning we have to try to follow the rolling hills of the earth as close as possible to 230 ft above ground. My first line I got a taste of how precise those requirements really are. We set up the tracking device, and I started into flying my first practice line. I intercepted the line, noting the display showing 900 meters off the line, then 800, 600, 400, 300, 200, 100, and then I blew right through it as the display showed 50, then 100, then 150 meters out the other side. I corrected slightly to re-intercept, and once again blew through it by 100 meters. And that is how my first line for the next 5 minutes went, as I'm thinking "holy moly, I have to stay within 15 meters?!!".
Luckily I quickly improved. In 15 minutes I had my track nailed down to within +/- 40 meters, with the odd excursion out to 60 or 70, and then soon it was within +/- 30 meters, until by the end of the first hour crossing back and forth over the wilderness at 230 ft agl I was finally starting to get my limits for the most part within 15 meters. But that was about as good as it got. As time went on I started to wander a little bit again. My hand was sweaty, my neck stiff and sore from staring so intently at the displays, and my brain fried. This isn't anything like normal flying, it takes it out of you really easily. The Chief likened it to flying an ILS for hours on end, and thats exactly what its like. It takes that much sustained focus. Every couple minutes during the 180 turnaround to start the next line I get a chance to climb up a few hundred feet and relax a bit before heading into the next line. Its a welcome mini-break. During our turns we climb up to 400-500 ft agl, which is normally considered extremely low for most other types of flying, but after you come up from skimming the tree-tops at 230 ft, 500 ft seems plenty high!
After just over an hour and a half I called uncle. I was toast, and any more practice wouldn't do much good, I needed a break. This is very challenging flying, also REALLY cool. Its far more challenging and far more demanding than flying freight back and forth up the coast. Everyone is patient and are stressing the fact that I don't have to worry about performing perfectly right away. The Chief said my boss isn't expecting a whole lot of production out of me right away, because there is a fairly steep learning curve to it. I lasted about an hour and a half flying the lines, before I started to lose my will to live, but eventually I'll be able to work my way up to about 4 hours flights without wandering outside the limits.
We landed and taxied in to secure the airplane for the night. The next day I assumed we'd go up again for more practice, we had initially planned for 5 hours of survey practice on top of the 3 hours of basic training, and I felt a little bit that I could still use more practice, because I was still wandering outside the 15 meter limit every now and then, but I guess the Chief is confident enough in me that we're not going to bother.
Today we finished up a little bit of paperwork still needed, and then the operator and I headed north to the work site, where I am now, checked into my motel room. More blogging to come later on our trip up.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
And They're Off!
So I'm in North Bay for the night tonight. My day started with a 07:55 train departure out of London to Toronto, to meet up with the equipment operator who I'm driving up with. The train ride was pleasant and relaxing. From the train station I took a GO bus a little further north, where my coworker picked me up to start our drive. Its hot outside. The cargo van we're driving up with all our gear doesn't have A/C, which makes for a sweaty ride. Lots to talk about though, I don't know much about survey flying yet. As for right now however, I'm sitting in a nice cool hotel room, after a refreshing shower, out to dinner in a bit.
Tomorrow it'll be an even longer day driving to finish the trip up to where the airplane is sitting. The chief pilot will be meeting us up there, and I'll spend a couple days in training with him before I fly the airplane up myself to the site location to start the actual surveying work.
The operator I'm driving up with seems pretty chill. I think we'll get along pretty well, which is good, considering the amount of time we're going to be spending together.
Thats all for now, just thought I'd fire off a quick blog while I had the time.
Tomorrow it'll be an even longer day driving to finish the trip up to where the airplane is sitting. The chief pilot will be meeting us up there, and I'll spend a couple days in training with him before I fly the airplane up myself to the site location to start the actual surveying work.
The operator I'm driving up with seems pretty chill. I think we'll get along pretty well, which is good, considering the amount of time we're going to be spending together.
Thats all for now, just thought I'd fire off a quick blog while I had the time.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
A Good Problem to Have
So my second bit of news, on a much happier note than my accident is that I found a job again! It kind of happened right out of the blue actually. I had applied to a number of places back in the early spring, and had a job interview for an aerial fire patrol position, but I only made it to their second-pick list, meaning I didn't get the job but if someone didn't work out they'd give me a call. I wasn't about to hold my breath.
Other than that it appeared that I had struck out for flying work this year, and I resigned myself to finding a job in construction again, which I have several years experience in, and has always been my fallback, even though I don't really enjoy it.
All of a sudden about a week ago I get an email from an aerial survey company I've been sending resumes to every few months for the last year, and they're hiring now. Next thing I know two days later I'm on my way driving down to Toronto for a job interview. The job interview went terrific. I liked the sound of the job, I got a warm and fuzzy feeling about the owner and business, and I thought he was impressed enough with me as well. It turned out he was, because later that night I was offered the job! It seemed like it all happened about as fast as you just read it.
THEN all of a sudden the next day I get another phone call - the fire patrol company. Someone on the primary hiring list didn't work out apparently, and I'm next in line. So in the span of 3 days I go from no real prospective flying jobs this summer and working construction to deciding between 2 offers! A nice problem to have. Both companies seem like great companies to work for, with advantages to each, but I decided to stick with the survey position. It was a tough decision, and some people may think I'm crazy because I just gave up a multi-engine flying job for a single-engine flying job, but I'm pretty happy with my decision. For one, aviation is a small industry, and I didn't want to burn bridges by bailing on one company in favour of another, I already made a commitment and I'm going to stick with it. Secondly, the survey job pays better, and I think its going to be more interesting work overall, and more flexible with time off, which is appealing to me. The job is actually a low-level surveying position flying a Cessna 206, which means that most of the flying will be done at 200 ft agl - pretty intense. I'll be away for 4-6 weeks at a time, and then I get to come home for some time off before heading off to a new location.
Even though I won't be logging multi-time, I'm pretty comfortable with my decision, I think it just may be a job that I'll enjoy enough to stick around for a while, rather than just taking it to build time and move on. We'll see what happens however. As for now, I don't start for another week or so. I was supposed to start right away, but the airplane is down for maintenance, and waiting for parts, which is good cause it won't be such a scramble for me to get packed and gone. Nonetheless I'm itching to get going! Looking forward to more adventure!
Other than that it appeared that I had struck out for flying work this year, and I resigned myself to finding a job in construction again, which I have several years experience in, and has always been my fallback, even though I don't really enjoy it.
All of a sudden about a week ago I get an email from an aerial survey company I've been sending resumes to every few months for the last year, and they're hiring now. Next thing I know two days later I'm on my way driving down to Toronto for a job interview. The job interview went terrific. I liked the sound of the job, I got a warm and fuzzy feeling about the owner and business, and I thought he was impressed enough with me as well. It turned out he was, because later that night I was offered the job! It seemed like it all happened about as fast as you just read it.
THEN all of a sudden the next day I get another phone call - the fire patrol company. Someone on the primary hiring list didn't work out apparently, and I'm next in line. So in the span of 3 days I go from no real prospective flying jobs this summer and working construction to deciding between 2 offers! A nice problem to have. Both companies seem like great companies to work for, with advantages to each, but I decided to stick with the survey position. It was a tough decision, and some people may think I'm crazy because I just gave up a multi-engine flying job for a single-engine flying job, but I'm pretty happy with my decision. For one, aviation is a small industry, and I didn't want to burn bridges by bailing on one company in favour of another, I already made a commitment and I'm going to stick with it. Secondly, the survey job pays better, and I think its going to be more interesting work overall, and more flexible with time off, which is appealing to me. The job is actually a low-level surveying position flying a Cessna 206, which means that most of the flying will be done at 200 ft agl - pretty intense. I'll be away for 4-6 weeks at a time, and then I get to come home for some time off before heading off to a new location.
Even though I won't be logging multi-time, I'm pretty comfortable with my decision, I think it just may be a job that I'll enjoy enough to stick around for a while, rather than just taking it to build time and move on. We'll see what happens however. As for now, I don't start for another week or so. I was supposed to start right away, but the airplane is down for maintenance, and waiting for parts, which is good cause it won't be such a scramble for me to get packed and gone. Nonetheless I'm itching to get going! Looking forward to more adventure!
Update
So its been a few months since I've written. I can truthfully say that both a whole lot has happened since and not a whole lot has happened, and both are the reasons for not really writing.
Up until last week its been a rough couple months as far as my flying career was concerned. A big reason being that I was in an airplane accident. Ya, you don't have to re-read that, you read it right the first time. Rather then give you all the details upfront I'll make you read the story.
My instructor and I were doing an IFR practice flight in the Twin Comanche to polish off some things for my upcoming flight test. We had done a number of approaches already, and were just flying over the city finishing up some DME holding patterns. During the course of our flight the sun had set and it was now dark. We were on our inbound leg heading towards the airport, and I was just getting ready to make my turn for the last hold outbound before calling it a day. Suddenly the right engine started surging, like it does when I run the auxiliary fuel tanks dry before switching to a full tank. I checked the fuel selector - it was on the main tank just like it had been the whole flight. For training I kept the rest of the tanks empty cause you can only use them for level flight, but I filled the mains which were good for over 3 hrs of flying. I checked my watch and did the easy math in my head, we had been up for an hour and a half, should have lots of fuel. The fuel gauge also showed just under a half a tank, not that airplane fuel gauges are accurate in the least, but it confirmed what our flight time and fuel load indicated. "It looks like we have a real live engine failure." I said as I double checked the gauges, the fuel selectors. I finished up my checks by pushing all the levers forward, and turning on the fuel pumps.
"Do you want me to declare an emergency?"
"Yep, you have the radios."
My instructor called the tower and told them he was declaring an emergency and would like to return to land immediately. ATC acknowledged.
At that point there was very little doubt in us that this would turn into anything but a single engine landing. We were lightly loaded, had the airport 5 miles away directly in front of us and were at 4500 ft. It'd be no problem to fly it in on one engine. Then all of a sudden the left engine sputtered out. In the business of the cockpit I almost didn't notice, there wasn't much change in engine sound since the props were still spinning like mad. Also the Manifold pressure gauges on both engines still indicated in the high 20's, just like they would indicate if we had the engines at full throttle. RPM was indicating around 2000, which was low for what the prop levers were set at. It was only the fuel flow gauges and the fact that we were descending that indicated both the engines had quit. Not what I had expected a real engine failure to be like.
As we glided the airplane in on our long final, you could hear ATC redirecting traffic to clear the way for us. It was a warm and fuzzy feeling in contrast to the frusteration of losing TWO engines. I tried to rack my brain to figure out the problem. I double checked and triple checked the fuel selectors and pumps, played with the magneto switches, and cycled all the levers again. Nothing changed anything. I couldn't imagine what would cause both engines to give up on me.
I mentioned we were 5 miles from the airport at 4500 ft, which is just about 3500 ft above airport elevation. For those that haven't already done the math that requires a glide ratio of just under 9:1 - that is for every 9 ft forward we get a 1 ft drop in altitude. Glide ratios aren't listed for light twins, but 9:1 is pretty close to what a slippery airplane like a Twin Comanche should be able to handle. It was gonna be close. Unfortunately we had almost a 20 knot headwind against us.
I tried to settle on what airspeed to fly it in on. Being a light twin, best glide speeds aren't published. I decided that since the best rate of climb speed typically is in the range of speeds that gives the best lift for the least drag, I'd glide the airplane in at that, which was 112 mph. As we got closer to the airport and lower in altitude, it became apparent that we were in more trouble than we first thought. It was completely dark out, but I could see the lights of cars driving along a country road that rounded the airport perimeter. Beyond that was the dark field before the runway with only the approach light strobes flashing their way into the runway. Roads mean power lines. We have to clear that road at all costs. I fought the almost irresistable instinct to pull up, which would have bled off our airspeed even further, and at best increased our drag and reduced our glide range - or at worst ended in a stall into the ground.
I also thought about how and when to lower the landing gear. The landing gear is electrically driven, and a typical extension takes about 4-6 seconds of transition time from retracted to down and locked. With neither of our engines that would mean we'd be counting on the battery alone to crank down the gear. I didn't want to burn up more altitude by extending the gear too early, but leaving it last minute would mean we'd have no time to troubleshoot problems resulting from the battery not being strong enough to lower the gear on its own. And as you recall we had recently been having some landing gear issues, which had been sorted out, but I was still paranoid and didn't want to take any chances. I decided to do a manual gear extension, which means disengaging the landing gear from the motor and allowing it to free-fall into place. It happens almost instantaneously, so there'd be less valuable time chewed up by waiting for the landing gear to crank itself down, and a manual gear extension is problem free. I briefed my instructor on my intentions with the landing gear, and we agreed he'd handle that task, so I could continue flying the airplane. He stand ready to drop it on my command. As per our cross country flight he'd already seen it done before which was good that he already knew what to do. He pulled up the floor panel and chucked it in the back seat to get ready.
Eventually it became clear we were going to come up short of the runway. It was an unfamiliar feeling to be so close to the ground at night. The runway was just a thin mash of lights on the horizon now we were so low. I steered left to avoid the approach lights and breathed a sigh of relief as the lights of the road beneath me disappeared from my peripheral vision.
"Gear down."
Instantly my instructor popped the lever to allow the gear to free fall into place, and I could hear and feel the clunk.
"Gear's confirmed down and locked." We were a well oiled machine, and I was so thankful to have another set of competant hands in the cockpit.
It was gonna be close, we just barely crossed the airport fence into the open snow covered field short of the runway. I started my flare and watched the airspeed bleed off from 112 to 110... 105...100...
BAMM!! I wasn't expecting such an impact. I felt it in my back and my butt. I thought we were still a few feet from touching down still. The next moment was a flash of flying again, and then sliding along in the snow on the airplanes belly. We came to rest. The lights in the cockpit were still on. Off to our right an approach light strobe flashed. A siren wailed through our headsets, the ELT (emergency locator transmitter, which activates on impact). I was oblivious to all of it though, I could believe or understand what just happened. I looked at my instructor. He looked at me,
"Are you all right?"
"Ya. Are you alright?"
That snapped me out of it. I called the tower. "We're on the ground short of the runway. No injuries... as of... yet." I trailed off and added the "as of yet" as an afterthought. I thought it sounded stupid when it came out, but I was aware that we were still sitting in the airplane, hadn't tried to move yet, and could be in shock. I shut the master switch off and undid my seat belt.
"We should probably let the tower know we're shutting down."
"Ok." I flipped the master back on and made the last transmition that I ever will in that airplane. "Tower we're shutting down."
I don't remember what their response was exactly, something like "Roger, trucks are on the way."
We got out of the airplane, and only then did the whole experience sink in. I looked at my airplane. It was sitting on its belly in the snow. The right wing outboard of the engine had a gash all the way back to the spar. It looked like it was a hair from being seperated from the aircraft completely. The left wing sat limply on the ground, its spar broken as well. Hoooooly crap. It was at that point that the adrenaline kicked in and my hands started shaking. The emergency vehicles pulled up and a fireman asked us if we were alright. The rest is history.
It turns out that the impact was from hitting the side of a small berm at the edge of airport property. We just grazed it actually. We walked back to look at where we hit, and there were 3 deep groves in the snow for where the landing gear struck. We marvelled at how close we came to missing the hill - or plowing straight into it. If we were a mere 5 ft higher we would have missed the hill completely and made a soft touchdown in the snowy field short of the runway. Five feet lower - and well, rather than just the landing gear being sheered off by the hill we would have plowed straight into the side of it, and probably not been around to continue blogging.
The airplane is gone, but we walked away, and insurance covered the loss of the airplane. So ultimately it is a happy ending. As for the cause of a dual engine failure... Transport Canada never did a full investigation since there were no fatalities. Our insurance company conducted only a very small one. A failure in the fuel selector caused the left fuel selector to become stuck in the crossfeed selection. Therefore even though we thought we had the engines selected to feed each from their respective main tanks (as the position of the selector handles indicated), what was actually happening was that the entire flight both engines were feeding from the right main tank, which was eventually exhausted with fuel, while the left main tank was left completely full. Thankfully neither myself nor my AME who maintained the aircraft was singled out as the cause of the accident, the insurance company covered the loss of the airplane, and all ended well.
It is nonetheless a sad way to part with my beloved airplane, but that is the inherent nature of aviation I guess. Stuff just happens sometimes. Overall it has been a valuable experience, and believe it or not, in some ways a confidence builder. How many people can say they've made an off-runway dead-stick landing, at night, and walked away from it?
So thats my first big piece of news, my next big piece of news is on a happier note which I'll cover in another post. This post has become long enough.
Up until last week its been a rough couple months as far as my flying career was concerned. A big reason being that I was in an airplane accident. Ya, you don't have to re-read that, you read it right the first time. Rather then give you all the details upfront I'll make you read the story.
My instructor and I were doing an IFR practice flight in the Twin Comanche to polish off some things for my upcoming flight test. We had done a number of approaches already, and were just flying over the city finishing up some DME holding patterns. During the course of our flight the sun had set and it was now dark. We were on our inbound leg heading towards the airport, and I was just getting ready to make my turn for the last hold outbound before calling it a day. Suddenly the right engine started surging, like it does when I run the auxiliary fuel tanks dry before switching to a full tank. I checked the fuel selector - it was on the main tank just like it had been the whole flight. For training I kept the rest of the tanks empty cause you can only use them for level flight, but I filled the mains which were good for over 3 hrs of flying. I checked my watch and did the easy math in my head, we had been up for an hour and a half, should have lots of fuel. The fuel gauge also showed just under a half a tank, not that airplane fuel gauges are accurate in the least, but it confirmed what our flight time and fuel load indicated. "It looks like we have a real live engine failure." I said as I double checked the gauges, the fuel selectors. I finished up my checks by pushing all the levers forward, and turning on the fuel pumps.
"Do you want me to declare an emergency?"
"Yep, you have the radios."
My instructor called the tower and told them he was declaring an emergency and would like to return to land immediately. ATC acknowledged.
At that point there was very little doubt in us that this would turn into anything but a single engine landing. We were lightly loaded, had the airport 5 miles away directly in front of us and were at 4500 ft. It'd be no problem to fly it in on one engine. Then all of a sudden the left engine sputtered out. In the business of the cockpit I almost didn't notice, there wasn't much change in engine sound since the props were still spinning like mad. Also the Manifold pressure gauges on both engines still indicated in the high 20's, just like they would indicate if we had the engines at full throttle. RPM was indicating around 2000, which was low for what the prop levers were set at. It was only the fuel flow gauges and the fact that we were descending that indicated both the engines had quit. Not what I had expected a real engine failure to be like.
As we glided the airplane in on our long final, you could hear ATC redirecting traffic to clear the way for us. It was a warm and fuzzy feeling in contrast to the frusteration of losing TWO engines. I tried to rack my brain to figure out the problem. I double checked and triple checked the fuel selectors and pumps, played with the magneto switches, and cycled all the levers again. Nothing changed anything. I couldn't imagine what would cause both engines to give up on me.
I mentioned we were 5 miles from the airport at 4500 ft, which is just about 3500 ft above airport elevation. For those that haven't already done the math that requires a glide ratio of just under 9:1 - that is for every 9 ft forward we get a 1 ft drop in altitude. Glide ratios aren't listed for light twins, but 9:1 is pretty close to what a slippery airplane like a Twin Comanche should be able to handle. It was gonna be close. Unfortunately we had almost a 20 knot headwind against us.
I tried to settle on what airspeed to fly it in on. Being a light twin, best glide speeds aren't published. I decided that since the best rate of climb speed typically is in the range of speeds that gives the best lift for the least drag, I'd glide the airplane in at that, which was 112 mph. As we got closer to the airport and lower in altitude, it became apparent that we were in more trouble than we first thought. It was completely dark out, but I could see the lights of cars driving along a country road that rounded the airport perimeter. Beyond that was the dark field before the runway with only the approach light strobes flashing their way into the runway. Roads mean power lines. We have to clear that road at all costs. I fought the almost irresistable instinct to pull up, which would have bled off our airspeed even further, and at best increased our drag and reduced our glide range - or at worst ended in a stall into the ground.
I also thought about how and when to lower the landing gear. The landing gear is electrically driven, and a typical extension takes about 4-6 seconds of transition time from retracted to down and locked. With neither of our engines that would mean we'd be counting on the battery alone to crank down the gear. I didn't want to burn up more altitude by extending the gear too early, but leaving it last minute would mean we'd have no time to troubleshoot problems resulting from the battery not being strong enough to lower the gear on its own. And as you recall we had recently been having some landing gear issues, which had been sorted out, but I was still paranoid and didn't want to take any chances. I decided to do a manual gear extension, which means disengaging the landing gear from the motor and allowing it to free-fall into place. It happens almost instantaneously, so there'd be less valuable time chewed up by waiting for the landing gear to crank itself down, and a manual gear extension is problem free. I briefed my instructor on my intentions with the landing gear, and we agreed he'd handle that task, so I could continue flying the airplane. He stand ready to drop it on my command. As per our cross country flight he'd already seen it done before which was good that he already knew what to do. He pulled up the floor panel and chucked it in the back seat to get ready.
Eventually it became clear we were going to come up short of the runway. It was an unfamiliar feeling to be so close to the ground at night. The runway was just a thin mash of lights on the horizon now we were so low. I steered left to avoid the approach lights and breathed a sigh of relief as the lights of the road beneath me disappeared from my peripheral vision.
"Gear down."
Instantly my instructor popped the lever to allow the gear to free fall into place, and I could hear and feel the clunk.
"Gear's confirmed down and locked." We were a well oiled machine, and I was so thankful to have another set of competant hands in the cockpit.
It was gonna be close, we just barely crossed the airport fence into the open snow covered field short of the runway. I started my flare and watched the airspeed bleed off from 112 to 110... 105...100...
BAMM!! I wasn't expecting such an impact. I felt it in my back and my butt. I thought we were still a few feet from touching down still. The next moment was a flash of flying again, and then sliding along in the snow on the airplanes belly. We came to rest. The lights in the cockpit were still on. Off to our right an approach light strobe flashed. A siren wailed through our headsets, the ELT (emergency locator transmitter, which activates on impact). I was oblivious to all of it though, I could believe or understand what just happened. I looked at my instructor. He looked at me,
"Are you all right?"
"Ya. Are you alright?"
That snapped me out of it. I called the tower. "We're on the ground short of the runway. No injuries... as of... yet." I trailed off and added the "as of yet" as an afterthought. I thought it sounded stupid when it came out, but I was aware that we were still sitting in the airplane, hadn't tried to move yet, and could be in shock. I shut the master switch off and undid my seat belt.
"We should probably let the tower know we're shutting down."
"Ok." I flipped the master back on and made the last transmition that I ever will in that airplane. "Tower we're shutting down."
I don't remember what their response was exactly, something like "Roger, trucks are on the way."
We got out of the airplane, and only then did the whole experience sink in. I looked at my airplane. It was sitting on its belly in the snow. The right wing outboard of the engine had a gash all the way back to the spar. It looked like it was a hair from being seperated from the aircraft completely. The left wing sat limply on the ground, its spar broken as well. Hoooooly crap. It was at that point that the adrenaline kicked in and my hands started shaking. The emergency vehicles pulled up and a fireman asked us if we were alright. The rest is history.
It turns out that the impact was from hitting the side of a small berm at the edge of airport property. We just grazed it actually. We walked back to look at where we hit, and there were 3 deep groves in the snow for where the landing gear struck. We marvelled at how close we came to missing the hill - or plowing straight into it. If we were a mere 5 ft higher we would have missed the hill completely and made a soft touchdown in the snowy field short of the runway. Five feet lower - and well, rather than just the landing gear being sheered off by the hill we would have plowed straight into the side of it, and probably not been around to continue blogging.
The airplane is gone, but we walked away, and insurance covered the loss of the airplane. So ultimately it is a happy ending. As for the cause of a dual engine failure... Transport Canada never did a full investigation since there were no fatalities. Our insurance company conducted only a very small one. A failure in the fuel selector caused the left fuel selector to become stuck in the crossfeed selection. Therefore even though we thought we had the engines selected to feed each from their respective main tanks (as the position of the selector handles indicated), what was actually happening was that the entire flight both engines were feeding from the right main tank, which was eventually exhausted with fuel, while the left main tank was left completely full. Thankfully neither myself nor my AME who maintained the aircraft was singled out as the cause of the accident, the insurance company covered the loss of the airplane, and all ended well.
It is nonetheless a sad way to part with my beloved airplane, but that is the inherent nature of aviation I guess. Stuff just happens sometimes. Overall it has been a valuable experience, and believe it or not, in some ways a confidence builder. How many people can say they've made an off-runway dead-stick landing, at night, and walked away from it?
So thats my first big piece of news, my next big piece of news is on a happier note which I'll cover in another post. This post has become long enough.
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