Stories of your "successful failures."

LoLPilot

Line Up and Wait
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LoLPilot
The space geeks hopefully recognized the thread title as the nickname for the Apollo 13 moon mission. They failed to land on the moon but were successful in getting home safely, which resulted in several changes to the Apollo service module. Sometimes thing that don't go as planned still end up going well.

Mine that I'll share was an attempt at one of my solo CC's. I was supposed to be flying to Columbia, MO to do my towered takeoffs and landings. When I got airborne one of the two radio stacks wouldn't change frequency. Since I had a second stack I just decided I'd use it for both comms and weather (if I have two I usually tune one for ATIS / AWOS and one for communication). Then I started noticing that the throttle wouldn't stay locked and kept backing itself out. I decided to turn around because now I had two small things I didn't quite like in the airplane.

Got back and our mechanic took a look at it. The throttle, which was the issue I was more concerned with, came down to a problem with the friction lock. Our mechanic fixed it, tested it, said he also adjusted the idle speed on the carburetor and said I was good to go. Evening was starting to set in and I still had 1.5 hours left with the plane so I asked my instructor if I could do a local to go up to the practice area and do my airwork. He thought that was a good idea so off I went. I went up north and ran through my maneuvers. Our practice area is just across the Mississippi river in Southwestern Illinois, near the river bluffs. It was a beautiful late afternoon. Crisp but not cold, wonderful visibility, and air as smooth as glass. As I was finishing up doing some climbing turns after my "engine out" practice I heard one of our planes call that they were headed up to the practice area. The plane in question had (past tense - it was cartwheeled in a storm when its tiedown broke) a gold and white paint scheme. It was very popular with students and instructors because it had a new engine and a clean interior kit. I was on the lookout for it as I started back.

I had flown a bit further north than I'd planned on and had a couple minutes on my flight back towards the river, looking for -82G the whole time. Then I spotted gold and white flying south, what looked like a couple of miles ahead of me and about 1500' below me. I called them and asked "82G, HD is southbound back towards KSET. Are you flying ahead of me low to the ground?" They replied "Nope not us. We are just crossing the river northbound at 2000."

I looked at my target again. This was my lesson in optical illusions involving varying sizes and distances of targets. As I continued looking at what I was following southbound, it occurred to me that this was not an airplane a couple of miles ahead and a thousand feet below. This was a bird - a very large bird - a few hundred feet ahead and maybe fifty feet below. Since 82G had just been repaired after a bird strike, I didn't want to be the student who put another 172 in the maintenance hangar with feathers in it, so I took evasive maneuvers and practice an impromptu steep turn. As I banked I saw the bird rear up, fold its wings and dive away from me. It was a huge bald eagle. They stop at the river bluffs throughout the year and it's a known eagle spotting area. I'd done one better - I'd flown number 2 in a formation with one. I suppose it didn't hear me behind it and when I banked away it angled the exhaust pipe towards it and it heard the engine.

So far that ranks as one of my coolest aviation moments, and when my friends showed me the video of the guy in the ultralight flying in formation with a flock of Canadian geese, I was able to respond, "Yeah but has he flown with a bald eagle?"
 
Not really a successful failure, but on the optical illusion front, I was heading south from 5K6 on a clear morning with my wife over the Fox River 'Chain O' Lakes' (the one in Northern Illinois - I think that term is used a bunch) headed down to 06C to meet some friends and give a few rides. Over one of the lakes, I picked up something in my scan, assuming it was traffic. It wasn't moving horizontally, though, so my alarm bells went off figuring "We're head-on!" 'It' was getting bigger, and slightly higher, but not rapidly. I broke right and continued to puzzle over what it was and eventually everything snapped into focus/perspective - it was a cluster of red helium balloons right at my flight level. They slipped by silently under the left wing, and after I leveled off, my wife and I looked at each other and broke up laughing.

I haven't flown with an eagle yet, but I've startled (and been startled by) far too many red-tailed hawks. And yesterday, gulls really seemed to like my altitude. Get ready for migration season.
 
Not really a successful failure, but on the optical illusion front, I was heading south from 5K6 on a clear morning with my wife over the Fox River 'Chain O' Lakes' (the one in Northern Illinois - I think that term is used a bunch) headed down to 06C to meet some friends and give a few rides. Over one of the lakes, I picked up something in my scan, assuming it was traffic. It wasn't moving horizontally, though, so my alarm bells went off figuring "We're head-on!" 'It' was getting bigger, and slightly higher, but not rapidly. I broke right and continued to puzzle over what it was and eventually everything snapped into focus/perspective - it was a cluster of red helium balloons right at my flight level. They slipped by silently under the left wing, and after I leveled off, my wife and I looked at each other and broke up laughing.

I haven't flown with an eagle yet, but I've startled (and been startled by) far too many red-tailed hawks. And yesterday, gulls really seemed to like my altitude. Get ready for migration season.

We have turkey buzzards around SET that seem mostly unbothered by the planes. It's not uncommon to turn final and hear an instructor call out "BIRD!"
 
In Army Aviation we alwas called out B One R D and clock position
 
I’m going to combine my successful failure (that’s really quite plural in reality) with a suggestion.

On XC trips, and with two radio stacks, I personally set one of them to 121.5. You can put Weather in as standby on your Com 1 and switch back and forth easily enough there. And when not in busy airspace I’ll switch to Com 2 to monitor guard.

The failure? Well, I was always that guy in training who swore I would never forget to switch to Com 1 for local traffic announcements. Yeah. About that.
 
I’m going to combine my successful failure (that’s really quite plural in reality) with a suggestion.

On XC trips, and with two radio stacks, I personally set one of them to 121.5. You can put Weather in as standby on your Com 1 and switch back and forth easily enough there. And when not in busy airspace I’ll switch to Com 2 to monitor guard.

The failure? Well, I was always that guy in training who swore I would never forget to switch to Com 1 for local traffic announcements. Yeah. About that.

I was just about to start a reply asking how easy it would be to accidentally transmit on 121.5. Then I saw the last paragraph!
 
Thursday was my first time solo since '07. In my recent reviewing/de-rusting I've gotten it drilled into my head to monitor guard when able. I had GND and TWR in Com1 and put ATIS and 121.5 in Com 2 so once I flipped, I'd be monitoring. Made darn sure "Com2 Mic" was OFF on the audio panel. Just as I was on final, someone came up on guard "mewing" like a cat and chattering with someone I couldn't hear about 'darn millennials.' So you're definitely not alone @woodchucker I shut down before I heard anyone tell 'em to knock it off.
 
The failure: the alternator.

The success: A magical flight with everything turned off, through the wilds of Yukon, Canada. No blinky lights whatsoever, no sounds but the engine and my own thoughts. Flying at its most primitive, navigation at its most basic, pleasure at its most fundamental.

(Had enough battery left at the end, to call up Whitehorse Tower!)
 
The failure: the alternator.

The success: A magical flight with everything turned off, through the wilds of Yukon, Canada. No blinky lights whatsoever, no sounds but the engine and my own thoughts. Flying at its most primitive, navigation at its most basic, pleasure at its most fundamental.

(Had enough battery left at the end, to call up Whitehorse Tower!)

That must have been a neat experience!
 
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