drgwentzel
Pre-takeoff checklist
Flyers,
I thought I'd share a story that happened to me not long ago. AOPA featured the story in Never Again and Flying Magazine featured it in an article on distractions. Below are the details:
We had been trying to make this flight for three weeks now. There was always something that caused us to cancel the trip. If it wasn’t the weather it was a maintenance issue or it just wasn’t my weekend to fly. This was no major cross country or vacation here; this was simply an hour long jaunt from my home airport in New Jersey (N14) to Reading Regional in Pennsylvania with my fiancée.
The coming weekend weather was forecast to be fair. It was my weekend to fly and all the maintenance on the plane was finally finished. Everything looked like a go this time and I was itching for a flight.
Waking early on Sunday morning I sat at the kitchen table with a tablet of paper, a pen and a cup of coffee. My conversation with the flight service specialist was routine and brief. I wanted to fly so bad that I heard everything I wanted to hear and heard nothing I didn’t. I remember the first words out of the briefer’s mouth, “Well, I have no advisories for you…”
I think my brain shut off at that point and only listened for what I felt were the remaining big ticket items: ceiling, visibility and winds which were reported as 2,600’, 7 miles, light winds.
Don’t get me wrong, ice was on my mind as I knew I would be flying IFR with a ceiling of 2600 feet and a MEA of about 3000 feet. I quickly dismissed this fear as the gentleman clearly stated, “I have no advisories for you…” That means no ice, right?
I filed IFR and received the simple clearance: RBV, ARD, PTW, direct, maintain 2000, expect 4000 five minutes after departure. We took off in my Cardinal RG around 10 am for the short flight. As we climbed to 2000 we realized that the ceiling was a bit lower than was reported. We entered solid IMC at about 1700 feet. Hmmm, no big deal. We continued up to 2000, headed for Robbinsville VOR and contacted departure. They immediately told me to climb and maintain 4000 and proceed direct to Yardley VOR. That would be the end of what started as a routine flight.
At about 3800 feet I started noticing a rough gloss on the left wing. I turned quickly to the OAT probe and there it was! ICE!! By the time I got to 4000 I had about an 1/8 of an inch already and it appeared that it was accumulating very rapidly. I looked at the OAT and it read 0 degrees Celsius! This is when all the important questions popped into my head: What was the temperature at the surface? Where are the tops? What was the temperature at 3000? Are there pilot reports? Then I flashed back to me sitting at the kitchen table, safe, warm, in my pajamas, with a steaming cup of coffee and talking to the weather briefer. Why, oh why didn’t I ask these questions then?!
Now, I’ve never been in ice before and I immediately felt my stomach sink and my neck hairs rise. I looked over at Cherryl and saw that she already picked up on the trouble. She just looked at me seriously and proclaimed, “ICE!”
For such a serious problem I did find one bit of ironic humor in this. Just the other day we both sat and watched a video on airframe icing by NASA and AOPA. Cherryl was really moved by the stories and told me, with her finger wagging millimeters from my nose, that under no circumstances were we to fly into ice! Now here we were, 36 hours later, like unsuspecting understudies in a bad re-enactment of the very video that stirred her so vividly.
I contacted ATC and explained that I was picking up ice and could not stay at 4000. They immediately cleared me to descend to 3000. By the time I got to 3000 I had about a 1/4 inch on all the frontal surfaces of the airplane. I couldn’t tell if was continuing to accumulate, so I kept my eye closely on the OAT probe while I tried to sort things out in my head. Is this altitude ok? Can I go lower? What about the higher terrain of Reading? Should I turn back?
My passenger was getting nervous. I was nervous. The windscreen was now frozen over and that made me more nervous. I put the cabin heat on and pulled out the knob for the defroster. I didn’t have high hopes that it would be powerful enough to do anything, but I was rationalizing that intelligent engineers designed this thing just for this reason. So it must be good for something!? Right?!
I set the autopilot and informed ATC that I was still picking up ice and requested a lower altitude. The radio crackled, "No, I can’t clear you lower. Say intensions."
There was a long pause. I looked at the OAT probe and genuinely couldn’t tell if the ice grew any. I turned to Cherryl and her face said silently what was hiding behind her lips, “Let’s go home!”
I told ATC that my intensions were to return to N14. They explained that traffic was heavy and to standby. Next they gave me a couple of turns for traffic. Then a series of problems started.
First, my mind was focused on the ice and it was difficult to concentrate on my other tasks. My mind was also focused on my nervous passenger. She is my number one flying partner and I don’t want her to fear flying. I started giving her instructions to get the approach charts for N14 out of my flight bag and she's having problems finding them. The more she struggles the more I'm getting frustrated.
ATC was really busy this day and they were talking very rapidly. The controller comes on the radio, changes my clearance to return to N14 and tells me to intercept the Robbinsville 232 radial and descend to 2000. As I am setting the frequency I notice with a heart shearing jolt that the airspeed is 55 mph!! I instinctively pitch down and feel us rise out of our seats and this scares Cherryl and she lets out a scream. Her scream gives me a second shock. It is not until I check the other gauges and the power setting that I realize I am not near a stall. I then realize that the pitot must have frozen over. I turn on the pitot heat with a slap to my forehead.
With my heart still pounding, I begin to turn the OBS to 232 when I hear a loud sound of air rushing!? It was getting louder! I feel some G forces!! I look at the attitude indicator and to my horror I am in a descending, right wing low attitude of about 35 degrees or more!! I would love to tell you what the airspeed was, but the indicator was rebelliously displaying 0. I pick up the wing, level the plane and notice that the autopilot cut out! Hmmm, or did I forget to turn it back on after the descent?! On my plane there is no audible warning if the autopilot is turned off.
The controller blurts through the radio with obvious frustration in his voice and wants to know why I'm not turning to intercept the 232 radial. Now I am caught between the adrenaline rush of all the previous blunders and an embarrassment flush for being so behind the airplane. I re-set the autopilot and advised him that I am turning now.
It was at this point that I realized that I am starting to sweat and this is when I begin to wonder what I got myself into. This is also the moment when my brain starts taking a holiday. I attempt to set the OBS again. “Ok, I need to put 232 on the top of the dial…no…on the bottom…wait…I want a TO flag …no…a FROM flag…232 radial… radial?…what’s a radial?…oh my God what’s my name! Think! Just think!!”
After all of the excitement and ATC’s vectors I'm now completely disoriented. I try to gain some comfort by looking down at my faithful and trustworthy portable GPS for situational awareness. To my amazement, somehow the GPS got zoomed all the way out to the continental U.S.!! What the heck!! Is this a conspiracy? All I can see is a little airplane on the east coast of North America! Twenty button pushes later and an equal amount of explicatives I zoom back in cussing that I don't need this or any more distractions.
ATC then comes on the radio and begins reading me the final clearance for the VOR-A approach, but had me maintain 2000 until PONDE (the FAF). They must have decided that my work load was not high enough, so they kept me in IMC and told me to prepare and write down modified missed instructions due to traffic congestion. After a quick scramble I locate my knee board which inexplicably found it’s way between the seats. I write down and read back the new clearance.
Cherryl finally has the approach plate for our home airport and she hands it to me. As I take the plate out of her hand and attempt to read it, the paper betrayed my tenuous veneer of calm and revealed my right hand shuddering uncontrollably. I had to make a conscience effort to steady my trembling paw and I prayed that Cherryl did not notice this. If she did, she never said anything.
I struggle to enter the VOR-A approach into the GPS and it won’t take. Now what? After two attempts and some head scratching I realize I have to uninstall the route to Reading first. I give myself a second head slap!!
Finally, I get the approach plugged in and the first sigh of relieve comes when I see that beautiful pink line from the little airplane on the screen to the FAF and then from the FAF to N14. It was literally a head clearing sight!
Next the pitot cleared and I watched the airspeed indicator jump to life. Sigh of relief number two. Now at 2000’ I was not picking up any more ice and, as a matter of fact, the ice began melting off the windscreen. When I finally got to the final approach fix and descended out of the clouds at 1800 feet and found myself on a 45 for the right downwind of runway 1, I blew a third sigh of relief.
As I entered the pattern I remembered that flaps are bad with ice, so I landed with only ten degrees and ten extra MPH. When I parked at my hangar I watched incredulously at all that ice sliding off my wings, tail, cowling and windscreen. As I stood there and contemplated about the unusual attitude, my mental collapse and all my poor decisions, I vowed that I will learn many lessons from this flight.
Most of all I should have queried the flight service specialist for more information about icing. I should have known that the freezing level was right inside my assigned altitude and I should have never launched. Second, I need to add pitot heat and defrost to my IFR Before Takeoff checklist section. Third, I need to have all the approaches out for the departure, alternate, as well as, the destination in case you find yourself coming back sooner than planned. Lastly, when I think back on this, I should have confessed to ATC that I was over-whelmed and needed assistance. They could have given me vectors when I was disoriented and this would have reduced my work load dramatically. Remember, they are there to help, not judge.
This was an eye opening encounter with a well known enemy. I guess we pilots are not very creative. We haven’t found many new ways to kill ourselves. We seem to persist with the same tried and true methods. This was also a most humbling experience and I really found myself caught off guard. On the bright side I am a better pilot for this. I just I have to take one more piece of luck from the Lucky Bag and tuck it carefully into my Bag of Experience.
I thought I'd share a story that happened to me not long ago. AOPA featured the story in Never Again and Flying Magazine featured it in an article on distractions. Below are the details:
We had been trying to make this flight for three weeks now. There was always something that caused us to cancel the trip. If it wasn’t the weather it was a maintenance issue or it just wasn’t my weekend to fly. This was no major cross country or vacation here; this was simply an hour long jaunt from my home airport in New Jersey (N14) to Reading Regional in Pennsylvania with my fiancée.
The coming weekend weather was forecast to be fair. It was my weekend to fly and all the maintenance on the plane was finally finished. Everything looked like a go this time and I was itching for a flight.
Waking early on Sunday morning I sat at the kitchen table with a tablet of paper, a pen and a cup of coffee. My conversation with the flight service specialist was routine and brief. I wanted to fly so bad that I heard everything I wanted to hear and heard nothing I didn’t. I remember the first words out of the briefer’s mouth, “Well, I have no advisories for you…”
I think my brain shut off at that point and only listened for what I felt were the remaining big ticket items: ceiling, visibility and winds which were reported as 2,600’, 7 miles, light winds.
Don’t get me wrong, ice was on my mind as I knew I would be flying IFR with a ceiling of 2600 feet and a MEA of about 3000 feet. I quickly dismissed this fear as the gentleman clearly stated, “I have no advisories for you…” That means no ice, right?
I filed IFR and received the simple clearance: RBV, ARD, PTW, direct, maintain 2000, expect 4000 five minutes after departure. We took off in my Cardinal RG around 10 am for the short flight. As we climbed to 2000 we realized that the ceiling was a bit lower than was reported. We entered solid IMC at about 1700 feet. Hmmm, no big deal. We continued up to 2000, headed for Robbinsville VOR and contacted departure. They immediately told me to climb and maintain 4000 and proceed direct to Yardley VOR. That would be the end of what started as a routine flight.
At about 3800 feet I started noticing a rough gloss on the left wing. I turned quickly to the OAT probe and there it was! ICE!! By the time I got to 4000 I had about an 1/8 of an inch already and it appeared that it was accumulating very rapidly. I looked at the OAT and it read 0 degrees Celsius! This is when all the important questions popped into my head: What was the temperature at the surface? Where are the tops? What was the temperature at 3000? Are there pilot reports? Then I flashed back to me sitting at the kitchen table, safe, warm, in my pajamas, with a steaming cup of coffee and talking to the weather briefer. Why, oh why didn’t I ask these questions then?!
Now, I’ve never been in ice before and I immediately felt my stomach sink and my neck hairs rise. I looked over at Cherryl and saw that she already picked up on the trouble. She just looked at me seriously and proclaimed, “ICE!”
For such a serious problem I did find one bit of ironic humor in this. Just the other day we both sat and watched a video on airframe icing by NASA and AOPA. Cherryl was really moved by the stories and told me, with her finger wagging millimeters from my nose, that under no circumstances were we to fly into ice! Now here we were, 36 hours later, like unsuspecting understudies in a bad re-enactment of the very video that stirred her so vividly.
I contacted ATC and explained that I was picking up ice and could not stay at 4000. They immediately cleared me to descend to 3000. By the time I got to 3000 I had about a 1/4 inch on all the frontal surfaces of the airplane. I couldn’t tell if was continuing to accumulate, so I kept my eye closely on the OAT probe while I tried to sort things out in my head. Is this altitude ok? Can I go lower? What about the higher terrain of Reading? Should I turn back?
My passenger was getting nervous. I was nervous. The windscreen was now frozen over and that made me more nervous. I put the cabin heat on and pulled out the knob for the defroster. I didn’t have high hopes that it would be powerful enough to do anything, but I was rationalizing that intelligent engineers designed this thing just for this reason. So it must be good for something!? Right?!
I set the autopilot and informed ATC that I was still picking up ice and requested a lower altitude. The radio crackled, "No, I can’t clear you lower. Say intensions."
There was a long pause. I looked at the OAT probe and genuinely couldn’t tell if the ice grew any. I turned to Cherryl and her face said silently what was hiding behind her lips, “Let’s go home!”
I told ATC that my intensions were to return to N14. They explained that traffic was heavy and to standby. Next they gave me a couple of turns for traffic. Then a series of problems started.
First, my mind was focused on the ice and it was difficult to concentrate on my other tasks. My mind was also focused on my nervous passenger. She is my number one flying partner and I don’t want her to fear flying. I started giving her instructions to get the approach charts for N14 out of my flight bag and she's having problems finding them. The more she struggles the more I'm getting frustrated.
ATC was really busy this day and they were talking very rapidly. The controller comes on the radio, changes my clearance to return to N14 and tells me to intercept the Robbinsville 232 radial and descend to 2000. As I am setting the frequency I notice with a heart shearing jolt that the airspeed is 55 mph!! I instinctively pitch down and feel us rise out of our seats and this scares Cherryl and she lets out a scream. Her scream gives me a second shock. It is not until I check the other gauges and the power setting that I realize I am not near a stall. I then realize that the pitot must have frozen over. I turn on the pitot heat with a slap to my forehead.
With my heart still pounding, I begin to turn the OBS to 232 when I hear a loud sound of air rushing!? It was getting louder! I feel some G forces!! I look at the attitude indicator and to my horror I am in a descending, right wing low attitude of about 35 degrees or more!! I would love to tell you what the airspeed was, but the indicator was rebelliously displaying 0. I pick up the wing, level the plane and notice that the autopilot cut out! Hmmm, or did I forget to turn it back on after the descent?! On my plane there is no audible warning if the autopilot is turned off.
The controller blurts through the radio with obvious frustration in his voice and wants to know why I'm not turning to intercept the 232 radial. Now I am caught between the adrenaline rush of all the previous blunders and an embarrassment flush for being so behind the airplane. I re-set the autopilot and advised him that I am turning now.
It was at this point that I realized that I am starting to sweat and this is when I begin to wonder what I got myself into. This is also the moment when my brain starts taking a holiday. I attempt to set the OBS again. “Ok, I need to put 232 on the top of the dial…no…on the bottom…wait…I want a TO flag …no…a FROM flag…232 radial… radial?…what’s a radial?…oh my God what’s my name! Think! Just think!!”
After all of the excitement and ATC’s vectors I'm now completely disoriented. I try to gain some comfort by looking down at my faithful and trustworthy portable GPS for situational awareness. To my amazement, somehow the GPS got zoomed all the way out to the continental U.S.!! What the heck!! Is this a conspiracy? All I can see is a little airplane on the east coast of North America! Twenty button pushes later and an equal amount of explicatives I zoom back in cussing that I don't need this or any more distractions.
ATC then comes on the radio and begins reading me the final clearance for the VOR-A approach, but had me maintain 2000 until PONDE (the FAF). They must have decided that my work load was not high enough, so they kept me in IMC and told me to prepare and write down modified missed instructions due to traffic congestion. After a quick scramble I locate my knee board which inexplicably found it’s way between the seats. I write down and read back the new clearance.
Cherryl finally has the approach plate for our home airport and she hands it to me. As I take the plate out of her hand and attempt to read it, the paper betrayed my tenuous veneer of calm and revealed my right hand shuddering uncontrollably. I had to make a conscience effort to steady my trembling paw and I prayed that Cherryl did not notice this. If she did, she never said anything.
I struggle to enter the VOR-A approach into the GPS and it won’t take. Now what? After two attempts and some head scratching I realize I have to uninstall the route to Reading first. I give myself a second head slap!!
Finally, I get the approach plugged in and the first sigh of relieve comes when I see that beautiful pink line from the little airplane on the screen to the FAF and then from the FAF to N14. It was literally a head clearing sight!
Next the pitot cleared and I watched the airspeed indicator jump to life. Sigh of relief number two. Now at 2000’ I was not picking up any more ice and, as a matter of fact, the ice began melting off the windscreen. When I finally got to the final approach fix and descended out of the clouds at 1800 feet and found myself on a 45 for the right downwind of runway 1, I blew a third sigh of relief.
As I entered the pattern I remembered that flaps are bad with ice, so I landed with only ten degrees and ten extra MPH. When I parked at my hangar I watched incredulously at all that ice sliding off my wings, tail, cowling and windscreen. As I stood there and contemplated about the unusual attitude, my mental collapse and all my poor decisions, I vowed that I will learn many lessons from this flight.
Most of all I should have queried the flight service specialist for more information about icing. I should have known that the freezing level was right inside my assigned altitude and I should have never launched. Second, I need to add pitot heat and defrost to my IFR Before Takeoff checklist section. Third, I need to have all the approaches out for the departure, alternate, as well as, the destination in case you find yourself coming back sooner than planned. Lastly, when I think back on this, I should have confessed to ATC that I was over-whelmed and needed assistance. They could have given me vectors when I was disoriented and this would have reduced my work load dramatically. Remember, they are there to help, not judge.
This was an eye opening encounter with a well known enemy. I guess we pilots are not very creative. We haven’t found many new ways to kill ourselves. We seem to persist with the same tried and true methods. This was also a most humbling experience and I really found myself caught off guard. On the bright side I am a better pilot for this. I just I have to take one more piece of luck from the Lucky Bag and tuck it carefully into my Bag of Experience.
