Last week I received a cryptic phone call from my crash pad roommate.
“Rob, who would you call if you had just been forced to land in someone’s field?”
OK, is this a trick question? Hypothetical? But I could hear the wind whipping in his cell phone’s mike. Maybe he was serious.
“Um, I’d probably start with the owner of the airplane,” I stumbled. I had no idea. It sounded like he was trying to keep this as discreet as possible, an improbable task fraught with all kinds of issues.
“Rob, I’ll call you back.” Click.
Now what was that all about? Obviously the FAA would have to be notified, not to mention the owner of the field. I first called a friend who works for a different airline. I caught him in the middle of getting a flight ready for the passengers to board, but he promised to call back in a few minutes. I then called my Dad, who is a retired airline pilot. After talking with each of them I hopped on the internet and looked up definitions to see what constitutes an “accident” versus and “incident.” (Yes, there are very specific definitions and requirements.)
I then called my roommate back. He was talking with someone else, and said he’d call back. When he did I got the rest of the story.
It seems he was flying his step-dad in his step-dad’s plane from Utah to Florida. It was a small, single engine four-seater, about six years old. About 10 minutes after taking off from Midland, Texas he noticed a fluctuation in the oil pressure gauge. Never a thing a pilot wants to see. He decided not to take any chances and informed Air Traffic Control that he was turning back to the airport. A couple of minutes later the engine died.
Gliding to the airport was clearly not an option, so he began to look around for a suitable landing spot. Fortunately he was over northwestern Texas and not western Colorado. He quickly found a nice cotton field and gently landed into the wind, making not a scratch on the airframe. Crisis over.
Or was it? Now what? Where was he exactly, and now what should he do. I’m gratified that he called me. I only wish my initial help could have been more, well, helpful. The questions were answered for him shortly, as numerous police, fire and media vehicles arrived at the scene, informed by Air Traffic Control. You can watch the local news report about it here and read about it here.
When all was said and done he had nothing more than some paperwork to fill out, plus find a way home. It was a very stressful day, even though the forced landing was no fault of his own and could even be seen as a testament to his good judgment and skill. Nevertheless, after something so emotionally draining his reaction was not elation but exhaustion.
“Rob, who would you call if you had just been forced to land in someone’s field?”
OK, is this a trick question? Hypothetical? But I could hear the wind whipping in his cell phone’s mike. Maybe he was serious.
“Um, I’d probably start with the owner of the airplane,” I stumbled. I had no idea. It sounded like he was trying to keep this as discreet as possible, an improbable task fraught with all kinds of issues.
“Rob, I’ll call you back.” Click.
Now what was that all about? Obviously the FAA would have to be notified, not to mention the owner of the field. I first called a friend who works for a different airline. I caught him in the middle of getting a flight ready for the passengers to board, but he promised to call back in a few minutes. I then called my Dad, who is a retired airline pilot. After talking with each of them I hopped on the internet and looked up definitions to see what constitutes an “accident” versus and “incident.” (Yes, there are very specific definitions and requirements.)
I then called my roommate back. He was talking with someone else, and said he’d call back. When he did I got the rest of the story.
It seems he was flying his step-dad in his step-dad’s plane from Utah to Florida. It was a small, single engine four-seater, about six years old. About 10 minutes after taking off from Midland, Texas he noticed a fluctuation in the oil pressure gauge. Never a thing a pilot wants to see. He decided not to take any chances and informed Air Traffic Control that he was turning back to the airport. A couple of minutes later the engine died.
Gliding to the airport was clearly not an option, so he began to look around for a suitable landing spot. Fortunately he was over northwestern Texas and not western Colorado. He quickly found a nice cotton field and gently landed into the wind, making not a scratch on the airframe. Crisis over.
Or was it? Now what? Where was he exactly, and now what should he do. I’m gratified that he called me. I only wish my initial help could have been more, well, helpful. The questions were answered for him shortly, as numerous police, fire and media vehicles arrived at the scene, informed by Air Traffic Control. You can watch the local news report about it here and read about it here.
When all was said and done he had nothing more than some paperwork to fill out, plus find a way home. It was a very stressful day, even though the forced landing was no fault of his own and could even be seen as a testament to his good judgment and skill. Nevertheless, after something so emotionally draining his reaction was not elation but exhaustion.
I extend my congratulations to him for a job well done. I’m very glad it had a happy ending, but I’m also glad it happened to him and not me.
3 comments:
Holy Hannah...glad he was okay. By the way, does this dampen your inherent desire to fly over the desert this summer?
The engine DIED and not even a scratch on the airplane? Now that's some good piloting for ya!
Teachinfifth--heck, no. The odds are pretty remote. It was just his lucky day (not necessarily good luck.
Annette--an airplane without a functioning engine is just a heavy glider. Find a safe place to put it and it flies just fine. We practice it as part of private and commercial pilot training. Routine. The tricky part is judging the winds and the length of the field plus avoiding any wires, ditches, etc. Judge wrong and you will scratch the airplane.
Post a Comment