C
Cillian
Guest
For almost a month, my single-engine plane with an IO-540 and a constant-speed prop had been agonizingly ground-bound, awaiting its Condition Inspection. But finally, all the squawks had been taken care of, and monies paid. It was time for a test flight.
On a beautiful morning, after a thorough pre-flight, I launched from the home 'drome. My plan was a wide circle around the Class C airspace, aiming for a full hour to test the newly replaced transponder and ADS-B unit. The takeoff was uneventful, climb out smooth. I settled into cruise, leaning the engine a couple of times to check different performance parameters. Having flown only once in 60 days, I was undeniably rusty, fumbling a bit with the avionics. But soon enough, I settled into my rhythm, following the planned route. Everything felt right... famous last words.
Making the turn around the northern apogee of my planned circle, I listened to the ATIS for the Class D airport I was near, then dialed in the tower frequency, monitoring Guard (as I had been doing all along the route for airports of note). I set up the autopilot to descend a thousand feet as I passed the next waypoint, to honor direction of flight VFR cruising altitudes.
And then it happened.
There was an obvious surge / overspeed of the prop, followed by a loss of thrust. In that instant, my mind went blank, a stark "WTF?" echoing. Per ForeFlight, I lost 40 knots of groundspeed in 14 seconds while the autopilot maintained altitude. Aurally, the throttle responded, but the prop remained stubbornly unresponsive. Then the autopilot clicked off – a distinct tone I clearly recall. That's when my brain finally registered the stark reality: "I am now a glider. I need to land." I knew I had just passed the Class D airport (though in fact I’d just lost sight of it under my nose), so I started a turn back. I did not look at my engine gauges, but I did grab best glide airspeed. Even at best glide airspeed, I couldn't maintain altitude. Trimming for that airspeed proved difficult; my "thorough" preflight had, regrettably, neglected to load the rear baggage compartment with the usual travel equipment and tools I put there when flying solo. This left my nose-heavy plane with a less than desirable center of gravity, rendering trim less effective at low speeds.
I broadcast a Mayday to Tower, but my radio configuration meant it actually went out on Guard. I quickly realized that, and with a quick flip-flop button push, did another Mayday call to the tower with my position, altitude, and loss of power situation. The controller (who I met on deck later) was cool and collected, dealing with the other traffic in the area and giving me unobstructed access to the active runway. He said he could not locate me and requested updated position reports. I told Tower I had made the inadvertent broadcast on Guard and that he should probably tell the powers that be I was now talking with him. Because, naturally, easing confusion for others is precisely what occupies your mind during an emergency landing.
After 270 degrees of turn, I visually acquired the airport and active runway. At that point, I was feeling pretty good about my energy package, and confident I could make the runway. This was all done visually. I had no clue what the field elevation was. I was not looking to make a High Key / Low Key at some predetermined altitude above ground level and location relative to the runway. I was just flying the plane, based on my own experience.
I transitioned to a high downwind. The runway looked ding-dang long, so I aimed for the 1,000-foot marker as my touchdown point. When I was abeam that touchdown point, I felt high and fast, so I lowered the flaps to half. I started my base turn. After starting the turn, I still felt high and fast, so I went to full flaps. Soon thereafter, I started to slip to slow down. But then the touchdown point appeared to walk away from me, so I banked harder to point right at it. In the end, I touched down pretty close to my target. In retrospect, not bad for my first landing in 30 days! Four minutes from prop surge to touchdown.
I found I had enough thrust to taxi on deck and got progressive instructions to the maintenance shop hangar. Before I shut down, I did a runup to cycle the prop lever, which did nothing. I confirmed continuity between the prop lever and the prop governor after shutting down. I've since learned this was likely a classic prop governor failure: an initial overspeed, then a shift to fine pitch, providing some thrust but nowhere near enough to fly.
While I was talking to the maintenance shop and working on getting some hangar space at the airport waiting for repairs to happen, the airport manager pulled up with a sticky note containing a phone number and contact person at the FSDO (that was fast). I called a few minutes later, and it must have been a good day to leave the FSDO, as I was asked if I could meet the Operations and Maintenance points of contact in an hour at the airport to go over things. Since I was waiting on transportation home anyway, I agreed. When they arrived, everything was very cordial. We discussed what happened; a copy of my ID, Pilot Certificate, and Medical were taken, as well as the AWC and Registration for the airplane. The maintenance person asked me to email a copy of the Condition Inspection entry when I got back to my hangar to complete the process. They confirmed that nothing required the NTSB to be notified, and that this would just be classified as an occurrence.
As it turned out, the new transponder and ADS-B unit hadn't been working for this flight. Had the outcome been less desirable, there wouldn't have been much for blancolirio to speculate on, save perhaps the tower frequency communications. There isn't much in the plane that an accident investigation could try and do a forensic extraction on; the engine analyzer only records CHT and EGT, everything else is analog. Maybe something could be had from the iPad running ForeFlight, which was essential for my own debrief of the flight,
Reflecting on the incident, several key takeaways emerged:
I drank the really expensive whiskey that night.
On a beautiful morning, after a thorough pre-flight, I launched from the home 'drome. My plan was a wide circle around the Class C airspace, aiming for a full hour to test the newly replaced transponder and ADS-B unit. The takeoff was uneventful, climb out smooth. I settled into cruise, leaning the engine a couple of times to check different performance parameters. Having flown only once in 60 days, I was undeniably rusty, fumbling a bit with the avionics. But soon enough, I settled into my rhythm, following the planned route. Everything felt right... famous last words.
Making the turn around the northern apogee of my planned circle, I listened to the ATIS for the Class D airport I was near, then dialed in the tower frequency, monitoring Guard (as I had been doing all along the route for airports of note). I set up the autopilot to descend a thousand feet as I passed the next waypoint, to honor direction of flight VFR cruising altitudes.
And then it happened.
There was an obvious surge / overspeed of the prop, followed by a loss of thrust. In that instant, my mind went blank, a stark "WTF?" echoing. Per ForeFlight, I lost 40 knots of groundspeed in 14 seconds while the autopilot maintained altitude. Aurally, the throttle responded, but the prop remained stubbornly unresponsive. Then the autopilot clicked off – a distinct tone I clearly recall. That's when my brain finally registered the stark reality: "I am now a glider. I need to land." I knew I had just passed the Class D airport (though in fact I’d just lost sight of it under my nose), so I started a turn back. I did not look at my engine gauges, but I did grab best glide airspeed. Even at best glide airspeed, I couldn't maintain altitude. Trimming for that airspeed proved difficult; my "thorough" preflight had, regrettably, neglected to load the rear baggage compartment with the usual travel equipment and tools I put there when flying solo. This left my nose-heavy plane with a less than desirable center of gravity, rendering trim less effective at low speeds.
I broadcast a Mayday to Tower, but my radio configuration meant it actually went out on Guard. I quickly realized that, and with a quick flip-flop button push, did another Mayday call to the tower with my position, altitude, and loss of power situation. The controller (who I met on deck later) was cool and collected, dealing with the other traffic in the area and giving me unobstructed access to the active runway. He said he could not locate me and requested updated position reports. I told Tower I had made the inadvertent broadcast on Guard and that he should probably tell the powers that be I was now talking with him. Because, naturally, easing confusion for others is precisely what occupies your mind during an emergency landing.
After 270 degrees of turn, I visually acquired the airport and active runway. At that point, I was feeling pretty good about my energy package, and confident I could make the runway. This was all done visually. I had no clue what the field elevation was. I was not looking to make a High Key / Low Key at some predetermined altitude above ground level and location relative to the runway. I was just flying the plane, based on my own experience.
I transitioned to a high downwind. The runway looked ding-dang long, so I aimed for the 1,000-foot marker as my touchdown point. When I was abeam that touchdown point, I felt high and fast, so I lowered the flaps to half. I started my base turn. After starting the turn, I still felt high and fast, so I went to full flaps. Soon thereafter, I started to slip to slow down. But then the touchdown point appeared to walk away from me, so I banked harder to point right at it. In the end, I touched down pretty close to my target. In retrospect, not bad for my first landing in 30 days! Four minutes from prop surge to touchdown.
I found I had enough thrust to taxi on deck and got progressive instructions to the maintenance shop hangar. Before I shut down, I did a runup to cycle the prop lever, which did nothing. I confirmed continuity between the prop lever and the prop governor after shutting down. I've since learned this was likely a classic prop governor failure: an initial overspeed, then a shift to fine pitch, providing some thrust but nowhere near enough to fly.
While I was talking to the maintenance shop and working on getting some hangar space at the airport waiting for repairs to happen, the airport manager pulled up with a sticky note containing a phone number and contact person at the FSDO (that was fast). I called a few minutes later, and it must have been a good day to leave the FSDO, as I was asked if I could meet the Operations and Maintenance points of contact in an hour at the airport to go over things. Since I was waiting on transportation home anyway, I agreed. When they arrived, everything was very cordial. We discussed what happened; a copy of my ID, Pilot Certificate, and Medical were taken, as well as the AWC and Registration for the airplane. The maintenance person asked me to email a copy of the Condition Inspection entry when I got back to my hangar to complete the process. They confirmed that nothing required the NTSB to be notified, and that this would just be classified as an occurrence.
As it turned out, the new transponder and ADS-B unit hadn't been working for this flight. Had the outcome been less desirable, there wouldn't have been much for blancolirio to speculate on, save perhaps the tower frequency communications. There isn't much in the plane that an accident investigation could try and do a forensic extraction on; the engine analyzer only records CHT and EGT, everything else is analog. Maybe something could be had from the iPad running ForeFlight, which was essential for my own debrief of the flight,
Reflecting on the incident, several key takeaways emerged:
- Goods:
- I had practiced engine-out landings quite a bit in this plane, to include pulling the prop lever back to fine pitch. The plane flew exactly as it did during practice.
- I picked a cruising altitude 7,000 feet AGL, and a nice Class D airport with a big runway as a waypoint. That gave me time and options.
- I aviated, then navigated, then communicated.
- Others:
- I should have pre-flighted the rear baggage compartment.
- I should have done a transponder check with ATC early in the flight.
- I should have done a bit more confirmation of the situation by looking at and processing the information displayed on the engine gauges.
- I should have looked at my navigation displays to ascertain my actual position relative to the airport and not wasting energy doing a 270 degree turn.
- I should have done a landing checklist (luckily, I was in the fixed gear airplane that day).
I drank the really expensive whiskey that night.
