Forced landing during the Airventure Cup race.

[Guitarmaster]

This was from a  friend that flies a Vari-eze.  I know, not a Mooney, but we all can't be perfect right??  LOL!  His airplane's name is "Speedy."  Anyway, it's a good read and food for thought so I thought I would post it here.  This especially applies to you carbureted guys!

Here is the write up from him:

Speedy's AirVenture Cup Adventure

 

    2016 was the fourth Airventure Cup race for my VariEze, Speedy, and me.  My schedule does not allow me to get to more than a couple SARL races per year but I always make time for the AVC.  The race and Oshkosh have become the highlight of my year and a solid tradition for my children and me.  The nickname “Speedy” is an affectionate name my daughters have given OUR VariEze.  As much as I find AirVenture to be an opportunity for my passion for flying to flourish in the presence of like-minded people, the AVC is total immersion.  I find myself surrounded by extremely capable, proficient, experienced, and passionate aviators all together for a common purpose:  to truly enjoy this exciting world we are a part of.  The feelings of fraternity along with friendly competition and pride in our machines is palatable throughout the entire experience.  There was a healthy turnout of canards this year including four VariEze's.  Canards dominated the Sprint class this year and I hope to see that continue.  Whether you are a serious, hard-core racer or just a casual fun seeker, the AVC is right for you.  One of the benefits of participating is an undeniable increase in your motivation for making improvements to your plane.  Its fun to see what others have done year to year.  Most are happy to share their successes and failures so there is always much learning to be had.  Speedy gave me 172 mph TAS on his first AVC.  This year, four years later, he flew a solid 196 mph true. For real.

    Speedy did not finish the race this year.  My race experience was a bit more exciting than I care for.  Speedy and I both survived an off-field landing after a partial power loss over the hills of western Wisconsin without a scratch.  I share the following experience hoping that others will benefit from reviewing in their own minds what they would do.  As I have learned throughout my long flying career, it is much better to listen and learn vs. question and criticize after someone else's emergency.  So here's my story:

    After recovering the entire race field at KOWA due to weather on the second half of the route, we were once again launching the hoard toward the finish line, 200 miles away.  Unlike the first leg, I elected to fly this leg low to take advantage of horsepower vs. tailwind (the “pilotage” part of cross country racing).  Speedy was running as smooth and powerful as ever at about 1000' AGL crossing the Minnesota border into Wisconsin.  I was distracted.  I was looking outside at the beautiful scenery.  I was mesmerized by how well my homemade Stratux was displaying the race traffic on my iPhone.  I was doing TAS calculations in my head.  I was NOT keeping close track of my emergency divert options as I always try to do.  As my first flight instructor pounded into my head, and as I have tried to instill in all of my students:  Always have an option. Know what it is, good or bad.  I was not thinking about options at that moment.  

    My engine suddenly went from full power to nothing.  No noises, smells, or vibration. All engine indications were normal.  Fly the plane.  Throttle, Mixture, Carb Heat, Mags.  No change.  Showing 1000 rpm.  Is it running or windmilling? Better terrain to the right a bit.  Slowing to my best glide, 100 KIAS.  I gave a quick radio call on race common, “Race 25 abort, 67 nm from finish.”  I think its still running! Maybe I can make an airfield.  Zoom out Foreflight on my iPhone.  Turn 90 left, straight north to the closest pavement, KLUM, about 12 miles away.  LOTS of radio chatter.  Is it running?  Yes, but it feels like near idle only.  More engine control fussing, no change.  Maybe I can hold altitude at best glide.  That's when my peripheral vision was caught by the trees atop one of the large hills moving by.  There was no way I was going to hold altitude over this terrain for the ten remaining miles to my closest field.  I was instantly in survival mode.  As time-compressed as this had been up to this point, I now knew I very well could have 30 seconds left to live.  I had to make this count.  

    To digress, before I had flown my VE for the first time, I had done an exhaustive search of NTSB reports on EZ accidents resulting in fatalities and destroyed aircraft.  This information is what I built my preflight and cockpit flows from.  Let's just say I was acutely aware of my chances of survival of what was about to happen.  

    Paved road to my left, one vehicle moving away, not ideal.  Better road ahead less than 2 miles with multiple vehicles both directions, unsurvivable and dangerous to others.  Besides these, only trees and hills, unsurvivable. Over my left shoulder, that vehicle was clearing away from me on the first road.  At this point I determined this to be my only survivable option.  Should I make a right 270 to align with the east/west road?  I wasn't sure I had enough altitude to make it all the way around without stretching it. I heard in my head the words of my first instructor many years ago: “You cannot stretch your glide by pulling back on the controls, to do so could cost you your life. Get to your best glide and keep it.”  I rolled hard left and brought the nose down to slice back to that first road, accepting the extra speed vs. getting slow.  I gave one last call on race common “Race 25 is going down.”  That call was answered by words from Jeff Lange in his Sonerai racer that set my resolve and brought my focus in laser sharp.  “Just fly the airplane, Bud.” I did.  

    Now committed, I then notice my road was in a valley with my approach over higher terrain, it had a 20 deg bend in the middle, and it was lined with a power line on the right.  I also noticed an intersecting road at the bend in the road.  Once again, my old instructor:  “If there is an intersection or house, there is a power line across the road.”  I dove down hard between the trees on the nearside hill of that road to ensure I was either on pavement or low enough at that intersection just in case.  As I was zipping through that slot in the trees at about 120 knots over my chosen road that now looked anything but flat or straight, I saw the power lines crossing at the bend ahead of me.  I was now committed to flying under them while aligning with the remainder of the road.  By the way, my instructor never mentioned that intersections not only have power lines, they have lots of roadsigns.  I saw all of them up close as I zipped under the wires, finished my turn to align, set my landing attitude and touched down. Squeak squeak.  I'm still breathing. “Race 25 is safe on the ground.”   Keep in mind all of this occurred in less than 90 seconds.

    I slowed as I coasted up the far hill and turned into a farmhouse driveway, right behind the pickup truck I had watched clearing my precious County Road T just seconds earlier.  Two hard working farmers got out of that truck and stood there in their muck boots and overalls, mouths agape, looking at me like I was a space alien.  “You fellas mind if I park my plane here for a bit?”  The kind family gladly accommodated my parking between cattle pens for a few days.  As I retracted my nose gear to park I realized I did not even remember putting it down to land.  Grampa Frank gave me a ride to Euclaire airport.  David Adams sacrificed his race to come look for me during all this.  He then took the time to come pick me up and fly me to OSH in his Long EZ where my worried daughters were waiting to hug their dad.  Three days later Speedy was with me in camp Schoeler on a flatbed trailer donated by a close friend.  A week after the incident, Speedy was safe in our hangar in Hermann,  Missouri with just some minor scrapes from the transportation.

    Before we loaded Speedy on the trailer, we tried a quick engine start, much to the chagrin of the napping cattle all around.  Speedy started normally and had a normal idle but nothing more.  My O-200 would simply try to die when the throttle was moved even slightly above idle.  To be honest I was a bit relieved that he didn't start and run perfectly, making me look foolish.  

    With lots of help back at OSH we started trouble shooting. There was plenty of speculation from many smart people but it did not take long to find the smoking gun.  The fuel flowed unrestricted from all tanks.  The gascolator was clean.  The finger screen on the carb was clean.  BANG! The smoking gun:  A significant amount of rust flakes came out of the bowl on my antique Marvel Schebler carburetor when I pulled the drain plug out.  Somehow the tip of the steel drain plug had rusted and was leaving flakes and sediment in the bowl.  The inside of the bowl was covered with loose rust flakes from the plug.  These had apparently successfully clogged the main jet holes while leaving the idle jet functional.  I had a new carb ordered by the end of the day.

    Here are my lessons learned.  1)  Always have an option.  Always. Especially while flying low. I knew this already but was caught off-guard ignoring my own advice.   2) Trust your instincts and training.  For me it was right there when I needed it with surprising focus.  It will be for you too but only if that gun is already loaded.  3)  Practice engine failure landings often.  Don't cheat yourself on this.  Exercise those muscles frequently 4) Be decisive.  When its time, its time.  Delaying execution to further troubleshoot when there is no time left to do so could be disastrous.  5)  Expect and plan for invisible power lines.  6) Check that carb bowl.  I did not have that on my annual checklist.  It is now.  Mine had not been checked in over 2 years.  7) Most importantly, never pass-up an opportunity to hug those that you love.

 

Edited August 22, 2016 by Guitarmaster

[jetdriven]

I was there that day.  Since we were 45 miles from finish, we monitored.  It was a tense 3 minutes until he reported he was on the ground safe. 

[carusoam]

GM,

Thanks for sharing the success story.

Rust bits in the fuel system are pretty scary.  They can be of any size, and have a tendency to pack tightly.

It was a tense few minutes just reading the page!

Note for C owners: Check to see if you have mild steel in places like the fuel neck (top of the tank where the fuel cap sits) and your carb as this one did.  Stainless steel is an excellent alternative...

Keep in mind I am only a PP and my C had rust in it's fuel from the mild steel fuel necks...

Best regards,

-a-

[Hank]

Wow, great story! Some things to think about, and points about forced landings that I've not heard mentioned before.

[MyNameIsNobody]

REALLY pleased to read your story.  The story is awesome and extremely well told, but it pales in comparison to your airmanship when the chips were down and you played the hand dealt.  Well done!

I really prefer altitude to airspeed for my cross-county flights.  My take-aways from your tale are many, but altitude is your friend is my ringing mantra.  Options are wonderful.