Anatomy of a Near Tragedy

03 Mar Anatomy of a Near Tragedy

ANATOMY OF A NEAR TRAGEDY

A True Story by Lyle Wheeler

Get-there-itus – Get-home-itus, it really does not matter, they are both the same.  Not the most desirable trait to be found in any airplane pilot no matter what his or her experience.  There is very little doubt that if the truth were known, there is not a single pilot who, at one time or another, has not had, to a degree, this many-times fatal frame of mind.  It is intended that the following true account will keep at least one pilot from making the same mistakes made by the very “high-time” pilot who is the principle character of this little story.  Try to put yourself in the same situations in which he found himself and determine what you would do under the same circumstances.  Please make better decisions than he did!

Actually, the ground work for this misadventure was put into place long before the events took place.  Several years prior, after a lifetime of being away from home for much of the time, the pilot had vowed that no longer would anything keep him from being with his family when something of importance was happening with them.

This particular event took place in June, 1992.  In fact the dates were June 8 through June 12, 1992.  The aircraft involved was a 1946 Aeronca 7AC Champ (N-1151E) with only original instruments in the panel.  It had no electrical system, no radios, no instruments for even basic IFR flight, and only a map, watch, and compass available for navigation.  The pilot enjoyed flying old airplanes over long distances and volunteered to ferry them all over the country—free of charge, just for the fun of doing it.  He had made this type of trip many times over the years, so was not a “newcomer” to this type of adventure.  The above mentioned Champ had been purchased by a gentleman in Windsor, Ontario, Canada and it needed to be delivered to him from Venice, Florida, USA. It was mutually agreed that Customs would be a problem if a US registered aircraft, flown by a US citizen, was taken across the border and left in Canada.  Thus, this little trip would only go as far as Grosse Isle, Michigan, located on a small island near the middle of the Detroit River.  This nice little airport was only a few miles from the Windsor International Airport.  Also, the new owner would make sure the pilot had a place to sleep, if needed, and an airline ticket back to his home in Florida.  (A place to sleep would play an interesting part near the conclusion of this little adventure.)

Plans had been made for the pilot’s oldest grandson to spend three days with him and his wife beginning on Friday, June 11 and terminating in the evening of Sunday, June 13.  This was at least 6 weeks away and long before knowledge of the delivery flight had emerged.  This was an event the pilot promised he would not miss, no matter what might come up.

About 2 weeks before the “grandson date”, it was learned that the little Champ had been purchased by the gentleman in Windsor and it would be necessary to deliver it to him.  A quick check of the calendar indicated that the pilot would have no problem delivering the airplane and still get home well ahead of his grandson’s ETA.  It took a few days to finish all of the paperwork and all the charts that were needed to complete the trip located and purchased.  One chart, the Detroit Sectional, was not available, but that could be purchased at some airport during the trip north.  (This too is a fact that would create some concern as the flight approached the boundary of the Detroit Sectional chart.)  By the afternoon of June7, all was in order for an early morning departure the next day.  One last thing had to be done and that was the removal of the large “Venice Flying Service” logos from both sides of the Champ’s fuselage.  A call made later in the day confirmed that the airplane would be fueled and ready for a daybreak departure the following morning. The weather looked great and, as far as the pilot was concerned, it was just going to be a two day round-trip which would put him back home at least one and one-half days before the arrival of his grandson.  The plan was to fly a very long first day and a relatively short second day with an airline ride back home. Little did he know of what was in store as he could think only about getting back home in a couple of days.

Long before daylight on the morning of June 8 the pilot located the little Champ tied on the ramp in exactly the same place it had been the previous day.  Before he could see the sides of the fuselage he suspected there was a problem.   Oh, the weather and forecast were beautiful, but there was something wrong with the airplane.  Soon he discovered the logos were still intact on the sides and the fuel tank was almost empty.  An agreement had been made that the logos would be removed before delivery and it was no easy job getting them off of the fabric covering.  It was now almost 6 AM, the planned ETD, and no one from the staff of the FBO would be coming to work until 7:30 AM at the earliest.  The pilot was more or less a permanent fixture at the airport and he had been given a key to open up the hangars and office if it should be needed.  Well, it was needed this time and he proceeded to change into some “mechanic’s clothes” and get the equipment to start the required removal of the company logos.

To make a long story shorter,  the little Champ finally lifted off the runway at 10 AM, 4 hours late, but the pilot had it all figured out that he would still get home the next night — he would just have to make the short day today and the long day tomorrow.  Even though the pilot did not realize the fact, the “time-to-get-back-home” pressure was starting to build and he has just left on the first leg of the trip.

Even with the delayed start, the journey for this first day had been very pleasant.  The weather and winds had both been working in the pilot’s favor.  After a couple of short stops to replenish the Champ’s 12 gallon fuel tank, a final landing of the day was made on the beautiful grass runway at Fitzgerald, Georgia,  just as the sun was sinking below the western horizon. The little Champ was secured to the ramp and the last airport staff member to leave the airport dropped the pilot at the nearest motel for the night.

Later that evening a call was made to the local FAA Flight Service Station for a complete weather forecast for the remainder of the trip the next day.  The information was not exactly what the pilot had expected, however it was still VFR weather with an occasional area of “marginal VFR” forecast.  Prior to departing from Venice the forecast had been for great Aeronca Champ flying weather for the whole trip over the next 2 days.  The pilot’s motel did not have the Weather Channel on the TV so it became a matter of getting a good night’s sleep and checking the weather again before a dawn departure the following morning.

Looking out the window in the predawn darkness, the pilot could see that it had rained during the night and the present weather did not look good.  It was quite foggy which produced no ceiling and very poor visibility.  This condition had not been forecast so the pilot made a quick decision that it was a local condition and he would still make the delivery and be home late that night or early the next morning.

During breakfast in the motel coffee shop, a young couple offered the pilot a ride because they were going past the airport as they went to work.  Very pleased and thankful for the offer, he rode in the back of the truck as it was only a couple of miles and the brisk air would do him good.  As they arrived at the airport, it was quite obvious that the ceiling was zero and the visibility was about 1/8 mile—much worse than at the motel.  Once again, the pilot chalked it up to a local condition that would clear as the sun came up and warmed the air.  Yes, his departure would be delayed a couple of hours but he would still have lots of time to make it home by Thursday night.  (Once again, “get-home-itus” was injecting itself into his thinking, even though he still had no idea that this was taking place.)

A phone call was quickly made to the FAA Flight Service facility and, much to his chagrin, the pilot learned that the present weather condition had not been forecast, but now that it was here, it was not expected to improve for at least 24 to 36 hours.  There would be short periods of time when it would become marginal VFR, but most of the time would be foggy, with drizzle and an occasional thunder storm could be expected.  However, if the pilot managed to get about 60 miles further north, he would find clear sky and pleasant Champ flying weather.

Waiting out the weather at Fitzgerald airport during the whole day did not lift the spirits of the pilot and he soon became a well known voice on the telephone to the weather office as well as quite an “airport bum” around the office and hangars. He became friends with a small group of crop-duster pilots who were working on their equipment in one of the hangars.  Learning of the pilot’s problems and desires, they all agreed that if the weather improved to at least one mile visibility, there was a safe way for him to proceed.  A sectional chart was produced and he was shown a route that followed a couple of roads which would lead him to the good weather in the North. Each crop-duster pilot was positive that if he flew about 100 feet above the roads there were absolutely no obstructions that would create a problem.  This sounded good to the pilot because, although he did not like doing it, he had covered many miles by “scud running” in this manner. By late afternoon it became very obvious that the little Champ was not going any place this day.  The pilot caught a ride back to the motel for the night.  True, one full day had been lost, but with good luck tomorrow he would still make it home by sometime Friday, the first day of his grandson’s visit.

The next morning presented little improvement in the weather.  The pilot decided to walk to the airport because it would appear that an early departure was out of the question again.  Only another call to the Flight Service facility would give the picture of what was happening to the weather. That call was made and the pilot was informed that indeed the weather would show a slight improvement during the next 4 or 5 hours and that the good weather had moved to only 40 miles north of his location this morning.  In less than an hour, the needed minimum one mile visibility was in all quadrants and the little Champ was once again in the air following the roads as suggested by the duster pilots.  The pilot really did not enjoy this type of flying, but it was nothing new to him and he was once again on his way with the possibility of getting back home on the first day of his grandson’s visit.

Sure enough, about 30 miles from Sandersville, Georgia, the weather was clear with very good visibility.  After a quick stop for fuel at Sandersville and another short fuel stop at Anderson, South Carolina where a check was made on the weather ahead, the Champ was headed for Hendersonville, North Carolina.  One of the statements made by the weather-briefer created a little concern in the pilot’s mind.  Although it was nice and clear in his present location, he had been cautioned about the possibility of low clouds, fog, and rain as he approached the Smokey Mountains en-route to Hendersonville.  Marginal VFR and possible mountain pass obscuration was forecast for all of the south slopes of the mountain range.  This was of no real concern to the pilot as he had flown under the same conditions among many mountains much larger than the Smokes. Besides, things were going so well and this was only Thursday, June 10.  There was no doubt that he would be home by late the next evening.  (It was at this time that the “stalking” get-home-itus problem was fast becoming the “stalking killer”!)

The flight from Anderson was proceeding very nicely as Pilot and Champ came upon the major highway that would lead them to the airport at Hendersonville.  About 10 miles north of Greenville, South Carolina, they started encountering those low ceiling, fog, and rain conditions that had been forecast.  No problem as the road made a very good track to follow through the mountains.  However, within a few minutes it was determined that maybe it would be a good idea to return to Greenville for a full load of fuel, just in case it was needed to circumnavigate a little weather. (The only smart decision made by the pilot so far during the whole trip.)

Obtaining another full 12 gallons of fuel, the Champ departed Greenville for Hendersonville.  Very quickly the weather was observed to be much worse than when passing this way the first time.  With all of his experience the pilot was sure he could find his way to Hendersonville.  After all, it was only 40 miles further and there was a great road to follow below.  That road was even wet which made it much easier to follow in this low cloud and reduced visibility condition. (By now the “stalker” had indeed become a “killer” and the trap was now set ready to slam shut on the victim—a high time pilot who should have known much better than to even try what he was about to do.  The driving force was that he knew that once he had passed this area of “unpleasant” weather, he would have nice flying weather the rest of the way to Windsor and would get back home no later than tomorrow evening.)

As they (the Champ and the pilot) proceeded up the pass, the weather continued to get worse.  All was not good, but with that great road below and at least 2 miles visibility it would work. True, their altitude was well below the top of the mountains on either side of the pass, but the only real problem was a high voltage transmission power line stretched across the pass about 30 miles into the mountains.  A close watch was maintained for the towers that held these cables and they were found just below the altitude the Champ was flying.  It was quite a long span between the two towers and the cables sagged well below them as they crossed the pass.

After clearing those cables, the weather really started to deteriorate.  Finally, about 9 miles short of his destination, the pilot realized that all the cars he was meeting had their headlights turned on and were emerging from a very thick cloud bank less than a mile directly in front of him—-at the same level the Champ was flying!  There was no way he could continue so a 180 degree turn was mandatory.  (The trap was about to snap closed!)

A short distance off the left wing tip was the solid rock face of a mountainside, thus a turn in that direction would be immediate disaster.  The only option available was a very tight turn to the right, putting the Champ about 75 feet in the air over a small mountain lake.  That was a great idea until the 180 degree turn was completed and our pilot found that the pass behind him had also closed – thus trapping him and his trusty Champ over a very small lake between some very high mountains in very low visibility and ceiling conditions.  Not a nice place to be in an airplane!!

Thank goodness the pilot had lots of time in the air and flying the airplane came as “second nature” to him.  Thus, no thought was given to the flying of the Champ—that came naturally.  The big problem was getting out of this “trap” that his stupidity had allowed them to get into. The first turn continued into a 360 degree steep turn.  The pilot’s mind was racing now. How could he get out of this mess?  With all of his experience, how could he explain to anyone that this nice little airplane was at the bottom of the lake just a few feet below?  How could he explain why he violated the rules that he had been preaching for many years?  Was the pilot frightened?—-you bet he was—big time!  There had to be a way out of this jam but where was it?

Halfway into the 3^rd 360 degree steep turn, he saw a small spot of brightness directly over the road through the pass that had brought him to this small lake.  No instruments were available to climb into the overcast so that ditching in the little lake or making it through that “bright-spot” were the only two options at this time. He went for the light-spot.

By now the pilot was nothing more than a robot and for the next 20 minutes would remain one.  Someone with a much Higher Power than his was flying that little Champ.  His mouth was very dry.  His pulse rate was high and his breathing was in short quick breaths. The knot in his stomach was the size of a soccer ball and getting tighter and larger by the second. The realization of just how stupid he had been would not come to him until later.  All that mattered now was not hurting that little airplane and getting back on the ground at Greenville.  (In other words getting the trap to open and force the “killer” to give up its victim!)

Entering that “light spot” put them into instrument conditions.  With no instrument flight equipment on board, the only thing to do was to keep the airplane straight and level and to hope for the best.  Within three seconds – it seemed like hours – the road was once again visible directly below.  Map reading became very important at this time because, due to the very low altitude, the airplane had to be navigated by the contour lines on the chart.  Nothing else would keep them out of the rocks.  It was raining very hard now and the pilot realized that they were rapidly approaching the area where the electric cables were stretched across the pass.  The weather was still much worse than the northbound flight and now it was a matter of making sure that enough altitude was maintained to clear the droop in those cables.  Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, one of the towers was spotted through a small break in the fog and rain.  The Champ was flying level with the base of that tower, thus it was mandatory to remain as high and as near the center of the span as possible in order to clear those cables.  Finally, the tower was abeam on the left side of the airplane and the cables had been cleared although the other tower and the cables had not been seen.

Within a few more miles the rain let up and the visibility started improving.  About this time the pilot noticed the airplane seemed very noisy.  Upon examination, it was found that he had unknowingly pushed the throttle to the stop in this all out effort to get out of the weather and mountains.  Reducing the power back to normal, the flight continued toward better weather.  About 10 miles north of Greenville, the sun was starting to break through and visibility was at least 7 miles.

After landing and parking on the ramp at Greenville, the pilot spent at least 15 minutes just sitting there in the airplane, contemplating what he had done during the past hour.  He cursed his stupidity, counted his blessings and thanked the Good Lord for watching over him and the little Champ.  It was at this time that the pilot realized just how stupid he had been and why he had done the things that had transpired.  From here on out, the trip would be flown without any deadline at home, no matter that he would be reneging on the vow he had made a few years ago.  Even missing the long weekend with his grandson was far better than never seeing him again.  (Yes the trap had been opened and the “stalking killer” had lost—this time.

The little Champ was put in the hangar and it sat there for about 40 hours while the rain fell and the fog hugged the ground.  Finally on Saturday, June 12, the weather cleared and the delivery flight was completed.

But wait just a minute.  There are a couple of more benign happenings before this misadventure is completed.  Remember the need to purchase a Detroit Sectional before leaving Venice?  The pilot thought he had finally located one when he stopped at Big Sandy, Kentucky.  Yes, the person behind the desk pulled one out of the file and the pilot was ready to pay for it when he discovered that the chart had expired about 2 years earlier.  That did not seem to matter to the gentleman behind the desk as he offered to sell it to him at ½ price!  Finally, a chart was located at Metcalf, Ohio, the last stop just before entering into Detroit Sectional airspace.

There is one more stupid thing that this pilot did before heading home.  The sun was just setting upon his arrival at Grosse Isle, Michigan.  A call was made to the Canadian citizen who had purchased the airplane and within the hour he and his family arrived to take the pilot to a hotel.  Of course the whole family needed to look at the airplane which was done in the headlights of their van and with a flash-light.   Finally, it was off to the hotel—located on the Canadian side of the frontier.  The pilot’s host suggested that he not say anything as they went through the check point because he possessed no passport nor birth certificate and that his accent might alert the inspector.  Passage was simple and, before long, our pilot was in a room at a very nice hotel.  Then it hit him—he was now an illegal alien in a foreign country without any papers!  What dumb thing would he do next??

The conclusion of this little adventure ended with an uneventful passage back into the US and a pleasant airline flight home, arriving about 4 hours before his grandson had to depart for home.

If by now you have not figured out the identity of the pilot who made these stupid mistakes, I will introduce you to him.  It was me, Lyle D. Wheeler, the guy with 47,000 hours of flight time!  (At that time.)  I should have known better, but I allowed a very bad case of “get-home-itus” to influence my thinking.  The author of the following is unknown, but it is worth reading and heeding. “If you think that you know all the answers; you should stay on the ground because you are headed for a big fall”.  (I should never have left the ground the first day of the above journey.)

I would like to leave you with one final sobering thought.  (Again, the author is unknown.)  “Every pilot that loses his or her life in a weather related accident is almost always buried in the sunshine”.  Think about it — I do.

Lyle Wheeler