ILAFFT
Flyer Magazine - That Worse Day - Great learning points
Experiences from our group members:
Aletrnator failure
G-SFTZ October 2019.
Tango Zulu
.
Flyer Magazine - That Worse Day - Great learning points
Experiences from our group members:
Anon - April 2021
Recent incident when I left Keys in Magneto when stopping at pumps for petrol. I do not know what distracted me when I arrived at very busy pumps and was horrified to have it pointed out that my keys were still in the magneto switch, which were therefore live, and not in my pocket. I had manged to earth the plane and clear the cockpit for fuelling but missed the important bit. Think I will remember this for a long time.
.
G-SFTZ October 2019.
In the cruise at 4,000 ft. Low voltage warning light illuminated.
I switched off none essential loads (everything except the radio) and checked
the instruments. The ammeter was showing
a discharge and the voltage was down to 22 volts. None of the circuit breakers had popped out.
Another lesson
Looking back in my log books I see it was the 9th of July 1989. I had
about 250 hrs at the time and had done a few trips to the continent with my
friend Richard in GWERY a TB20.
After every flight I try to take a mental note on what went right and what mistakes I need to learn from. Previous flights had been very enjoyable and boosted by the confidence of “youth” we had been as far afield as Rimini ,largely without danger. I will always remember this flight.
Richard had agreed to take two non flying friends to Dortmund which we did
fairly smoothly on the 8th, apart from a rather late arrival against our flight plan which caused some local concern.
The weather on the 9th was poor so we sat all day in the GA terminal talking frequently to the very helpful Met office . Gradually the storms drifted away and we were told it would be calm across Holland once we had cleared the
Dortmund area.
We both held IMCs, not much official use in Germany, so late in the day we decided to file a flight plan for low level airways! (Looking back it still seems a daring move) We convinced ourselves that we would be safer under positive
control and high enough to ensure that the Area Nav could pick up the VORs, a problem we had suffered from on the way in. We took off without problems and were cleared initially to not above 3,500ft. We entered cloud at about 2,000ft no problem. Within 5 minutes we had been seized by a violent up draught whilst still in cloud which was followed by
intense hail, like a pneumatic drill. We were passing 7,500ft as Richard dived out of the towering Cu. We were going to live! All around us was a clear blue sky, below continuous grey out of which towered enormous white columns whose tops were not visible. I guess the experience must have lasted less than two minutes but the shock has lasted forever. With great trepidation I called the sector controller to admit to our situation. No problem, lots of traffic is having problems routing around the cells, continue at new flight level which we did smoothly without further incident.
Crossing Holland was a calming experience but as we approached Southend the adrenaline rose again as we were too low to talk to the airways controller but a helpful overflying BA pilot provided a relay until we left the airway near Southend.
Southend had continuous cloud cover but Richard executed a “perfect” surveillance radar approach though the tension was up again. I can still remember the wonderful silence as Richard turned off the engine. I got out on to the grass and the world slowed to normal pace, there was a bird singing, everything seemed to be in technicolour.
Eventually I flew back to Sherburn arriving at 19.30. Our non flying friends in the back thought it had all been a normal day out.
The lessons for me are mixed:
- Embedded thunderstorms are a real danger.
-IFR is probably a safe place to be but how do you explain yourself if things go wrong?
-When they do go wrong get on the radio and sort it out.
-Next time Richard suggested Dortmund I took a better look at the weather, and insisted he took a proper IFR pilot.
After every flight I try to take a mental note on what went right and what mistakes I need to learn from. Previous flights had been very enjoyable and boosted by the confidence of “youth” we had been as far afield as Rimini ,largely without danger. I will always remember this flight.
Richard had agreed to take two non flying friends to Dortmund which we did
fairly smoothly on the 8th, apart from a rather late arrival against our flight plan which caused some local concern.
The weather on the 9th was poor so we sat all day in the GA terminal talking frequently to the very helpful Met office . Gradually the storms drifted away and we were told it would be calm across Holland once we had cleared the
Dortmund area.
We both held IMCs, not much official use in Germany, so late in the day we decided to file a flight plan for low level airways! (Looking back it still seems a daring move) We convinced ourselves that we would be safer under positive
control and high enough to ensure that the Area Nav could pick up the VORs, a problem we had suffered from on the way in. We took off without problems and were cleared initially to not above 3,500ft. We entered cloud at about 2,000ft no problem. Within 5 minutes we had been seized by a violent up draught whilst still in cloud which was followed by
intense hail, like a pneumatic drill. We were passing 7,500ft as Richard dived out of the towering Cu. We were going to live! All around us was a clear blue sky, below continuous grey out of which towered enormous white columns whose tops were not visible. I guess the experience must have lasted less than two minutes but the shock has lasted forever. With great trepidation I called the sector controller to admit to our situation. No problem, lots of traffic is having problems routing around the cells, continue at new flight level which we did smoothly without further incident.
Crossing Holland was a calming experience but as we approached Southend the adrenaline rose again as we were too low to talk to the airways controller but a helpful overflying BA pilot provided a relay until we left the airway near Southend.
Southend had continuous cloud cover but Richard executed a “perfect” surveillance radar approach though the tension was up again. I can still remember the wonderful silence as Richard turned off the engine. I got out on to the grass and the world slowed to normal pace, there was a bird singing, everything seemed to be in technicolour.
Eventually I flew back to Sherburn arriving at 19.30. Our non flying friends in the back thought it had all been a normal day out.
The lessons for me are mixed:
- Embedded thunderstorms are a real danger.
-IFR is probably a safe place to be but how do you explain yourself if things go wrong?
-When they do go wrong get on the radio and sort it out.
-Next time Richard suggested Dortmund I took a better look at the weather, and insisted he took a proper IFR pilot.
NEXT
Lesson:
A retired US Air Force colonel told me ‘The first mistake creates the
problem. The second mistake is
the one that kills you’. He was wrong, but I did find out what he meant.
1994 and I was completing my FAA CPL in South Carolina. Lots of flying, lots of ‘unusual attitudes’, a
five hour flight ‘under the hood’ and finally the qualifying cross countries. Three flights of a minimum of 700nm total and four landings.
For anyone used to the UK, the size of America and lack of controlled airspace makes for easy flying.
With no GPS though, flight planning and navigation was treated very seriously. To travel 150 miles
over forest and see two small towns en-route was not uncommon but sensible use of VOR’s and
NDB’s would stop that lonely feeling.
With one qualifying cross country completed, (a trip to Kittyhawk to see where the American’s came
2nd after George Cayley), I had planned a South route from my home base at Conway, South
Carolina, about 15 miles inland of the coast at Myrtle Beach. The plane was a 172 Cutlass (180HP,
wobbly prop and retracts) with an afternoon start.
With a view to some fun along the way ( an ILS and proximity radar approach plus a trip down the
Eastern seaboard) the route was:
Conway, south overhead Charleston, to Hilton Head Island. Refuel. South to Fernandina Beach and
inland to Tifton in Georgia. Refuel. North through Georgia (miles of forest!) to Olympia. Food and
fuel then North to Columbia. Fuel and a final leg back to Conway which would be night flying. With
an average 170 miles/leg and a 4hr range, the Cutlass needed fuelling only once, but we operated
under a strict rule than any leg on cross-country had to commence on full tanks.
The first three legs were easy. Taking off around 2pm with decent viz and a trip down the coast.
Inland to Tifton was always a little odd as there is only one town in the first seventy miles and a lot
of trees! Quick snack and up to Olympia with radio contact at 40 miles, track the NDB in and told ‘no
conflicting traffic’ at 20 miles out! A quick turnaround and North to Columbia who will give anyone
who asks a proximity radar approach. Ex military controllers and they even got me on the threshold!
With only one leg to go and 550 miles behind me, the chance for a quick snack and to wait until dark
for the leg home. The leg to Conway had two notable nav points, a nuclear power station around 40
miles on track and a huge pig farm which was permanently lit. Few lit roads, few towns and as
always, a lot of forest.
Left at around 1900 local, with instructions to maintain runway heading for 5 miles and turn on
track.
Around 10 minutes from wheels up. Darkness. No instrument lights, no radio, no nav aids.
All pilots carry a Maglite but some don’t leave them in their flight bag on the back seat.
Unfortunately I did but retrieved it with the aid of my lighter! Circuit breakers all in, master switch
checked and adrenalin starting to rise! Columbia is controlled airspace and behind me. I do not need a
night stuck there and the bollocking for dropping in unannounced so Plan B. Spot the power
station, climb so I can see the pig farm and straight line it to Conway. T’s and P’s good so stay on
track and should see the power station in a few minutes. 2nm a minute and should be about 20
miles on track.
There was no power station. Pretty confident I was now 40 miles on track so start to climb. Plenty of
scattered lights but nothing I could identify or match to my chart. Getting twitchy and decide to
track North five minutes then, if needs be, South ten minutes. Climb to 4000ft with good viz, so if I
am off track, I will intercept it north or south of my position. I didn’t.
This is when you see how big America is. Orbit gently, with a small lit road beneath giving both a
point on the ground and a relative bearing. Fly the plane, work out where you must be and realise
something is very wrong. By my maths, I must be able to see the power station. It is huge and I am
high enough but I cannot see it. Plan C. This is getting dangerous. Find Columbia and swallow your
pride. Roll out on 260. It will be a long way out but visible. I couldn’t see it. Back track 5 minutes but nothing that looks like a city. I am lost.
Starting to get pretty scared now. A huge amount of black, lots of scattered lights and not that sure
how long my torch will last. They have ashtrays in older aircraft and I used it. Didn’t help! Climbed
further, flew a 20 mile box on the compass and saw nothing I was confident to use as a position fix.
Adrenalin is a funny thing as you only have so much. From being scared I was genuinely resigned to
this flight killing me. You just run out of adrenalin. Wish I had done it sooner! After another hour, I
opened the chart right out and the largest nav-aid for 2000 miles was in front of me. The East coast.
There are towns on the coast, there are lit roads on the coast and then there is nothing. And the
good thing is there are lots of airports on the coast. Wilmington, Myrtle Beach, Savannah and loads
more. Every large resort has an airport. They all have beacons and they are all East. By this time,
approaching 3hrs into the flight and a fuel load of 4 hours so keep going East. God it was dark!
Thirty minutes in a straight line ( and it seemed like a lifetime!) and I could start to see lights then darkness. The coast. Only minutes later I saw a town that looked like Conway – a place I had flown
over many times at night. A beacon for the airfield but the runway lights were off – they are pilot
controlled. In the distance, another town and an airport beacon. This had to be Myrtle Beach and
somehow I had flown directly to Conway on a guessed heading. Passed overhead heading for Myrtle
Beach as it was lit up like a Christmas tree. As I flew over, the runway lights came on! It wasn’t me, I couldn’t turn them on without electrics. I could see no other plane in circuit that had switched them
on but getting very nervous about fuel. Drop in the circuit and land, taxi in and nearly cried with
relief. The only thing I saw on the airfield was a motorcycle heading off. Very strange.
Picked the car up, went home, caught up with my flat mates and told them the story. It was odd to
be disturbed half way through by a guy dashing in the apartment to tell everyone I was dead! In my
rush to get down, I had done a steep spiral descent to drop 2000ft. Not a good idea at night and it
apparently sounds like a Battle ofBritain power dive!
So what happened?Unlike the UK, the American’s do have one quality in the FAA. There is no blame
culture, you just
learn. They were asked to give some input from whatever they might have seen on radar (not much)
but also to help make sense of what had happened.
The electrical failure was just that. The bus-bar failed.
The power station lights were off. Don’t know why but they had always been on before so they were
bound to be on.
Somewhere in tracking North and South, my heading or the wind did not leave me where I thought I
would be and…………….I panicked.
For an hour or more I made it worse and then simply calmed down and saw the obvious. You cannot
miss the East coast even it is 100 miles away. Sooner or later, you will get there. Where I was very
lucky was in flying straight over Conway.
The motor-bike lights. That was the CFI. I was hugely late and he waited until he heard a plane in the
overhead and turned the lights on. Then just went home. I never did ask him why he thought to do
it and still have no idea. I would have gone on to Myrtle Beach but never look a gift horse in the
mouth
The lessons are, for me, pretty obvious. I should have turned back – only the thought of busting
airspace stopped me. One mistake. I was fixated on the next point on track, the power station. The
second mistake! From there it goes downhill.
Oh, and you can never carry too much fuel.
the one that kills you’. He was wrong, but I did find out what he meant.
1994 and I was completing my FAA CPL in South Carolina. Lots of flying, lots of ‘unusual attitudes’, a
five hour flight ‘under the hood’ and finally the qualifying cross countries. Three flights of a minimum of 700nm total and four landings.
For anyone used to the UK, the size of America and lack of controlled airspace makes for easy flying.
With no GPS though, flight planning and navigation was treated very seriously. To travel 150 miles
over forest and see two small towns en-route was not uncommon but sensible use of VOR’s and
NDB’s would stop that lonely feeling.
With one qualifying cross country completed, (a trip to Kittyhawk to see where the American’s came
2nd after George Cayley), I had planned a South route from my home base at Conway, South
Carolina, about 15 miles inland of the coast at Myrtle Beach. The plane was a 172 Cutlass (180HP,
wobbly prop and retracts) with an afternoon start.
With a view to some fun along the way ( an ILS and proximity radar approach plus a trip down the
Eastern seaboard) the route was:
Conway, south overhead Charleston, to Hilton Head Island. Refuel. South to Fernandina Beach and
inland to Tifton in Georgia. Refuel. North through Georgia (miles of forest!) to Olympia. Food and
fuel then North to Columbia. Fuel and a final leg back to Conway which would be night flying. With
an average 170 miles/leg and a 4hr range, the Cutlass needed fuelling only once, but we operated
under a strict rule than any leg on cross-country had to commence on full tanks.
The first three legs were easy. Taking off around 2pm with decent viz and a trip down the coast.
Inland to Tifton was always a little odd as there is only one town in the first seventy miles and a lot
of trees! Quick snack and up to Olympia with radio contact at 40 miles, track the NDB in and told ‘no
conflicting traffic’ at 20 miles out! A quick turnaround and North to Columbia who will give anyone
who asks a proximity radar approach. Ex military controllers and they even got me on the threshold!
With only one leg to go and 550 miles behind me, the chance for a quick snack and to wait until dark
for the leg home. The leg to Conway had two notable nav points, a nuclear power station around 40
miles on track and a huge pig farm which was permanently lit. Few lit roads, few towns and as
always, a lot of forest.
Left at around 1900 local, with instructions to maintain runway heading for 5 miles and turn on
track.
Around 10 minutes from wheels up. Darkness. No instrument lights, no radio, no nav aids.
All pilots carry a Maglite but some don’t leave them in their flight bag on the back seat.
Unfortunately I did but retrieved it with the aid of my lighter! Circuit breakers all in, master switch
checked and adrenalin starting to rise! Columbia is controlled airspace and behind me. I do not need a
night stuck there and the bollocking for dropping in unannounced so Plan B. Spot the power
station, climb so I can see the pig farm and straight line it to Conway. T’s and P’s good so stay on
track and should see the power station in a few minutes. 2nm a minute and should be about 20
miles on track.
There was no power station. Pretty confident I was now 40 miles on track so start to climb. Plenty of
scattered lights but nothing I could identify or match to my chart. Getting twitchy and decide to
track North five minutes then, if needs be, South ten minutes. Climb to 4000ft with good viz, so if I
am off track, I will intercept it north or south of my position. I didn’t.
This is when you see how big America is. Orbit gently, with a small lit road beneath giving both a
point on the ground and a relative bearing. Fly the plane, work out where you must be and realise
something is very wrong. By my maths, I must be able to see the power station. It is huge and I am
high enough but I cannot see it. Plan C. This is getting dangerous. Find Columbia and swallow your
pride. Roll out on 260. It will be a long way out but visible. I couldn’t see it. Back track 5 minutes but nothing that looks like a city. I am lost.
Starting to get pretty scared now. A huge amount of black, lots of scattered lights and not that sure
how long my torch will last. They have ashtrays in older aircraft and I used it. Didn’t help! Climbed
further, flew a 20 mile box on the compass and saw nothing I was confident to use as a position fix.
Adrenalin is a funny thing as you only have so much. From being scared I was genuinely resigned to
this flight killing me. You just run out of adrenalin. Wish I had done it sooner! After another hour, I
opened the chart right out and the largest nav-aid for 2000 miles was in front of me. The East coast.
There are towns on the coast, there are lit roads on the coast and then there is nothing. And the
good thing is there are lots of airports on the coast. Wilmington, Myrtle Beach, Savannah and loads
more. Every large resort has an airport. They all have beacons and they are all East. By this time,
approaching 3hrs into the flight and a fuel load of 4 hours so keep going East. God it was dark!
Thirty minutes in a straight line ( and it seemed like a lifetime!) and I could start to see lights then darkness. The coast. Only minutes later I saw a town that looked like Conway – a place I had flown
over many times at night. A beacon for the airfield but the runway lights were off – they are pilot
controlled. In the distance, another town and an airport beacon. This had to be Myrtle Beach and
somehow I had flown directly to Conway on a guessed heading. Passed overhead heading for Myrtle
Beach as it was lit up like a Christmas tree. As I flew over, the runway lights came on! It wasn’t me, I couldn’t turn them on without electrics. I could see no other plane in circuit that had switched them
on but getting very nervous about fuel. Drop in the circuit and land, taxi in and nearly cried with
relief. The only thing I saw on the airfield was a motorcycle heading off. Very strange.
Picked the car up, went home, caught up with my flat mates and told them the story. It was odd to
be disturbed half way through by a guy dashing in the apartment to tell everyone I was dead! In my
rush to get down, I had done a steep spiral descent to drop 2000ft. Not a good idea at night and it
apparently sounds like a Battle ofBritain power dive!
So what happened?Unlike the UK, the American’s do have one quality in the FAA. There is no blame
culture, you just
learn. They were asked to give some input from whatever they might have seen on radar (not much)
but also to help make sense of what had happened.
The electrical failure was just that. The bus-bar failed.
The power station lights were off. Don’t know why but they had always been on before so they were
bound to be on.
Somewhere in tracking North and South, my heading or the wind did not leave me where I thought I
would be and…………….I panicked.
For an hour or more I made it worse and then simply calmed down and saw the obvious. You cannot
miss the East coast even it is 100 miles away. Sooner or later, you will get there. Where I was very
lucky was in flying straight over Conway.
The motor-bike lights. That was the CFI. I was hugely late and he waited until he heard a plane in the
overhead and turned the lights on. Then just went home. I never did ask him why he thought to do
it and still have no idea. I would have gone on to Myrtle Beach but never look a gift horse in the
mouth
The lessons are, for me, pretty obvious. I should have turned back – only the thought of busting
airspace stopped me. One mistake. I was fixated on the next point on track, the power station. The
second mistake! From there it goes downhill.
Oh, and you can never carry too much fuel.
Next Lesson:
Several years ago I had an annual check flight in a 2 seat glider
somewhere in North Yorkshire
with the CFI.
Looking down from about 2000', I saw a glider at the launch point but it looked like its wings
were bent back. We both stared at it and realised it was actually upside down and bent.
Using full airbrake we came into land as the ambulance arrived. The pilot ( a complete idiot on a
good day) had taken a launch, pulled hard back, 'pinged off' the cable at about 30', managed a half
loop and hit the ground.
He was taken to the hospital complaining only of having hurt his foot. The glider, a six month old
LS4 (about £55k) was totalled.
His flight was recorded as 8 seconds and he was charged for the launch.
That evening, as we had a post flying beer, he arrived back in the bar with his foot in plaster,
demanding to know who was paying for one half of a pair of Reebok's. The ambulance crew had
cut it off to get his foot out - without his permission.
Does this prove that Darwin was wrong? 2 million years of evolution and they still exist
with the CFI.
Looking down from about 2000', I saw a glider at the launch point but it looked like its wings
were bent back. We both stared at it and realised it was actually upside down and bent.
Using full airbrake we came into land as the ambulance arrived. The pilot ( a complete idiot on a
good day) had taken a launch, pulled hard back, 'pinged off' the cable at about 30', managed a half
loop and hit the ground.
He was taken to the hospital complaining only of having hurt his foot. The glider, a six month old
LS4 (about £55k) was totalled.
His flight was recorded as 8 seconds and he was charged for the launch.
That evening, as we had a post flying beer, he arrived back in the bar with his foot in plaster,
demanding to know who was paying for one half of a pair of Reebok's. The ambulance crew had
cut it off to get his foot out - without his permission.
Does this prove that Darwin was wrong? 2 million years of evolution and they still exist
Tango Zulu
.
