Relay-Version: B 2.11 6/12/87; site scolex Path: uunet!lll-winken!elroy.jpl.nasa.gov!usc!apple!stadler From: stadler@Apple.COM (Andy Stadler) Newsgroups: rec.aviation Subject: An actual engine-out emergency Message-ID: <50776@apple.Apple.COM> Date: Mon, 25 Mar 91 16:57:04 PST References: <7760095@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM> Organization: Apple Computer Inc., Cupertino, CA Lines: 126 This is a reprint of an article which appeared in the March 1991 issue of West Valley Flyer, the monthly newsletter of West Valley Flying Club. A few months ago one of our instructors lost an engine while giving dual. His account of his adventure is interesting and quite educational. Any typing errors are mine. --Andy stadler@apple.com THE REAL THING by Michael Thomas, CFI Copyright 1991, All Rights Reserved Reprinted by permission. All engine gauges indicating normal, the student (a private pilot who hasn't flown for two years) is flying Citabria 2508Z, straight and level at 2400 from the front seat. The instructor is in the rear seat as PIC. The airplane has performed normally for over 45 minutes from the PAO [Palo Alto] to the coast and is now ready to report the ATIS at SLAC [Stanford Linear Accelerator Center] for landing at PAO. Without warning, the engine begins to run a little roughly, and the RPM drops from 2400 to 2300. Carb ice? One would hope so. As full carb heat is applied, the engine gauges still indicate normal temp and oil pressure and the RPM drops only slightly. Fuel quantity indicates well over half full in both tanks. The primer is still locked. Now the engine roughness increases... it wasn't carb ice. The instructor takes the controls as the RPM has now dropped to 2200. Throttle is carefully moved to make a very slight reduction RPM as part of a possible problem rectification. That didn't solve the problem. Now the sound of metal working against metal in the engine adds to the roughness. It is apparent that the flight will terminate shortly, as the engine shudders and grinds, bringing the prop to an abrupt halt. Deafening silence. Only 20 to 30 seconds has passed from slight roughness to complete engine stoppage... there won't be any restart. This was an actual event that occurred while I was giving dual instruction on November 6, 1990 in Citabria N2508Z. It definitely reinforced what I have been taught and what I teach about inflight engine failure emergencies. As a CFI, you greatly benefit from all of the repetitive emergency pilot training that you give. Now that the engine has completely failed, let's continue through to the landing. With no restart possible, the landing checklist changes a little! First, best glide speed and trim. Next, a very critical decision... choosing and turning toward a suitable landing site. This was the point where the first "twinge" in my stomach occured. I knew where I was going, but I also knew that I couldn't return to where I had been. Total commitment. Now, mixture to idle cut-off, fuel valve off, mags off, master on for radio and transponder, remaining electrical off, seat belts and harnesses secure and tight. Then, "Mayday". I radioed PAO tower, since I had just switched from ATIS to tower when the "even" began. I informed ATC of my identification and position, that I was declaring an emergency (with complete engine failure) and finally my intentions and destination. Barely one minute had passed since this all began. Now, total attention to flying the airplane (a 12:1 glider). I was setting up the airplane for a large crosswind, downwind, and high base into final into a large open area called CTETA Horse Park, adjacent to Sand Hill Road and West of Highway 280, in Menlo Park. The PAO ATIS (1145 local) had given wind as 360 @ 20 kts. The landing site chosen allowed a slight uphill landing directly into the wind on a semi-soft dirt field. There was no equestrian activity and the horse jumping hurdles are widely scattered allowing plenty of obstacle clearance. Parallel to this site was my alternate choice: Sand Hill Road, with no fences or utility poles and a long straight section with little traffic; but a two-way, two lane road nonetheless. The alternate was chosen just in case the intended destination looked unsafe as I got in closer on the base leg. The downwind went by quickly. As we turned a high base leg, I made a final airborne radio call to PAO tower, confiming our position. Radio, transponder and master switch off. Cabin door unlatched. The second "twinge" in my stomach occured on base when it was time to make the final (no pun intended) decision: Slip into the field or extend to the road? The field still looked good. I began the slip and said goodbye to Sand Hill Road. At this point I must acknowledge the pilot in the front seat, Mr. Sanford Anderson. On his first flight in over two years, flying with a CFI that he had only know for approximately 2 hours. Sanford is sitting in the front seat of an airplane that is now really just a high-drag glider, his hands and feet away from the controls, knowing he will be first to arrive, and having to completely rely upon and trust the person sitting behind him to make a safe landing. I had great support. No panic. Sanford asked questions during the whole event wanting to learn as much as he could from the real thing. It made the emergency seem more like a routine lesson rather than the critical emergency situation that it was. I guess that's why we simulate engine failures so often. Ah yes, the final approach and landing. Most of the final approach was a long slip over some scattered low hurdles and a very thin plastic ribbon about 3 feet high tied to very thin (1/2") three foot high metal stacks (that didn't come into view until short final). Due to the wind, the ground speed was slow as we approached at about 55 to 60 MPH IAS initially. I wanted as short a landing as possible with enough airspeed to dig the tail wheel in first. I stopped looking at airspeed on short final and began to flare for the uphill grade. Just as I shifted my vision outside the aircraft again, a strong gust of headwind briefly changed my angle of attack. Some altitude had to be traded for airspeed close to the ground without power. There went the "perfect approach"! An adjustment was made, and the tail wheel contacted first with the mains immediately following. The right main wheel caught a gofer hole during initial roll-out and in less that 50 feet, using medium braking, the airplane came to a complete, silent stop. We both just sat for a moment, checking our personal physical status, and then we turned the master switch on and radiod that we were down safely with no injuries and no fire. The aircraft circling overhead relayed our message to PAO tower. Radio and master off, we exited the airplane. Other than a slightly bent-out right wheel, there was no damage to the airframe. We looked around for a horse to ride out on, but instead we were greeted by 5 CHP cars, 4 Sheriff cars, 2 fire trucks and 2 TV reporters. Somewhere between those visits Bill and Erik (club maintenance), Ann (club manager), and finally the FAA arrived. This was an interesting event for Ann, because she had trained both Sanford and myself to be private pilots, in tailwheel aircraft. In conclusion, preparing for the real thing is a continual process for a pilot. If you're ready, and "the event" does occur, you're more likely to respond as if it's a routine proceedure. As busy as it can get in the cockpit, remember to keep asking yourself "where will I go WHEN the engine quits?" That will give you that extra edge of readiness which may ultimately prepare you for a successful emergency landing, if ever necessary. (In case anybody's wondering why the engine failed.... The head of an exhaust valve separated from its stem in the number 4 cylinder, causing the piston to completely disintegrate, scattering metal into the crankcase and out the exhaust port, as well as bursting open the upper casing. And not a drop of oil was lost!)