Cheated Death Again

By Jim Lamb

Back in the late ‘70s, I was living in Wichita, Kansas, as an instructor pilot in the KC-135. Wichita was the home of Cessna, Beechcraft, and Learjet, along with twenty airports within twenty miles. For a while, I was conducting simulator instruction during the evening shift. This allowed me to work on my civilian instructor rating during the day.

One day, I flew a short mission in the tanker in the morning on a nice day, except for the columns of smoke from farmers burning off their wheat fields. I wanted to get to my credit union in Bartlesville, Oklahoma, where Cathryn’s dad set us up with the Phillips 66 Credit Union. I was buying a new car. I could drive a big “L” shaped drive, it would be 2 ½ hours. I had flown there in rental Cessna 152s  before, and it is about an hour flight.

My friend, Bill Holroyd, whom I had first met in a simulator, had a half interest in a Piper Cherokee 140. He had a civilian instructor rating. The plane had recently finished an annual inspection, a 200 hour inspection, and an Aviation Directive Notice (AD) on the oil system. It had not flown yet. I asked Bill if he wanted to fly it to Bartlesville, so I could get my check. He agreed.

So, that afternoon, after my tanker flight, I took Cathryn with me to meet Bill at the little airfield southeast of Wichita, Cook Field. She had flown with me before in Cessnas. Bill and I both pre-flighted the Piper, especially checking the oil, although you can’t see much through the oil door. Nothing was dripping on the ground. It was my first flight in the low-wing Piper.

Bill did not file a flight plan, and it is not required with visual flight rules (VFR). I always filed a VFR flight plan. He did not have any charts, as far as I know. We took off with me in the right seat. The Pilot-in-Command (PIC), normally sits in the left seat, although control yokes are for both seats. He let me climb out towards 3,500 feet. I normally flew at 5,500 feet, (south) east bound.

I was enjoying the Piper, as was Cathryn. It was stable and smooth, with nicer instruments. While I was climbing out, I noticed a small vibration, but thought it was just from an unfamiliar engine or design. I scanned the instruments. Piper made the panel resemble a car’s dash panel, from the ‘60s. It had a trim strip around the cockpit. Below it were some small rectangular gauges. 

I found the oil pressure gauge… “0” (zero). I pointed it out to Bill. I knew of two ranch airstrips ahead and tried to point out one to Bill. He could not make it out. He took the controls and said “Where is the nearest airport?” Which was fine by me. I knew as an instructor, that two instructors in an emergency can be a disaster. It was his plane and he is the PIC. I was sitting on a chart that I had covered in clear shelf paper, and had an aeronautical protractor for distances and angles. I said “Winfield.” He said “Give me a reference to get there, turning right.

Winfield airport had a low-power navigation beacon and was where Cessna had some production. I determined that a lake was between us and the airfield. I said “Fly over the lake that looks like a hand with a thumb, and cross the dam.” Meanwhile, Bill was doing the drill for forced/emergency landing. We instructors/instructors-to-be, knew it well. He did not shut down the engine, but pulled it back to ≈1,500 RPM, which makes a proper glide, like on approach. It wasn’t running rough. The Cherokee had add-on droop wingtips, like modern jets, but pointing down, not up. They seem to help us glide down slowly.

His Piper had a mix of instruments that were added, two navigation (nav), and two communication (comm) gauges, but stacked uncommonly. I found it confusing. I tuned one to the airport navaid, but we wouldn’t get it until we were close, and the other nav to a long range navaid in Ponca City. It would be the north radial, so if we crossed it we would be past the airport. We tried calling out an emergency on what is called the Guard Channel, but we were too low to reach anyone. I was puzzled that we were not making much progress with the navaids, nor approaching the hand-shaped lake quickly.

I looked back at Cathryn, and she was figuratively biting her lip. No panic. Bill spotted a pasture, but there were cows in it. We flew through a column of smoke, (as in blind) and as we popped out the other side, the prop stopped, and so did the shallow glide.

Time to land. We knew from the smoke and prevailing winds in the Midwest, they would be out of the south. Bill looked south and spotted a plowed wheat field, surrounded by trees on three sides (section lines), but more open on the east side because of a ditch. It was longest going east to west, so he aimed for the east end, but had to make a 90° turn from south to west over the ditch.

It wasn’t until I looked out to see the drooped wingtip clearance over the brush, that I realized this is not a training exercise… it’s real. I called out “Watch your wingtip!” Bill rolled out to align with the plowed rows, heading west, touching down softly on the main wheels. Landing on an unprepared surface can result in a nose-wheel collapse. Bill eased it down and turned slightly left into the corner in case we had trouble stopping, but we didn’t. He had full braking.

We stopped, shut things off, and I turned to Cathryn and said, “See, flying is safe.” That’s when she took a half-swing at me. Bill said “We need to get out, there may be an oil fire.” We did exit and gathered about 50 feet away. Now, what do we do? Cathryn’s dad would be waiting at the Bartlesville airport, but that is the only contact expecting us. (No cell phones.)

Nearby, a lady from a local farm had seen us go down below the trees, and not come back up. so we weren’t a crop duster. She and her kids drove over to the edge of the wheat field in a pickup. As we jumped into the truck, I asked “Where  are we?” 

She said “Burden.” I pulled out my chart, studied it, and saw what had  happened.

When I found the small lake like a hand with a thumb, and a dam, between us and Winfield, it was in the exact same orientation as a lake we had crossed, behind us. The only difference was it was larger and further away. We had made a 180° turn (NW). It should have been a 120° turn (W). We should have paid more attention to the heading to Winfield, not just geographic references. In other words, from the turn, both lakes would look identical, but one was larger and farther away, on the way over Burden.

I did call Cathryn’s dad from the farm house, while Bill called Cook Field for a flatbed. The Cook Field owner brought out oil. That wouldn’t work. Bill’s wife, Vera, picked us up. Later, the same mechanic that performed the maintenance, examined the engine. He said it was a blown oil line (that he put in). It might have been better to have someone independent to check it out.

My first instructor made me actually do a forced landing on a thickly forested island. I always emphasize practicing forced landings, so if it becomes necessary, it will be without panic.

(Based on deaths per million miles, a domestic commercial airplane is 750 times safer than a road vehicle.

How to Cheat Death

By Jim Lamb

I have a motto, “You make your own luck.” You need to improve your odds to get good outcomes. The Kansas forced landing wasn’t my first. 

Back in college, I was enrolled in Air Force ROTC at the University of Puget Sound. During my senior year, we pilot applicants were given 35 hours of flight instruction in Cessna 150s with civilian instructors. I was assigned the additional duty of Flight Instruction Program Monitor. I maintained the records of the students. I could see past students’ records. It looked like soloing would come between 8 and 12 hours for the earliest students. 

I had an excellent instructor with a military background. He wanted to instill confidence. He let me make the first takeoff. During the fifth lesson, I did a few landings, then he said “Stop” in the middle of a touch and go. “Give me your license.” “Do two touch and go’s, and a full stop.” Then he walked to the FBO. I soloed in 5.5 hours. A school record, maybe.

A little later, we were flying over an island in the Puget Sound to a work area, when he pulled the carburetor heat knob and the throttle. Forced landing. We were over a 90% forested island. I looked around as I started the cockpit procedures. The only ground visible anywhere was on his side, and it was just a small pasture cut in the woods. I turned base and rolled out on final. The usual drill was to continue until the instructor says “Go around.”

As we got close to the very tall trees, I kept glancing at him. He just kept his arms folded, saying nothing. I saw cows in the pasture, mostly in the shade to the side. Okay, a soft field/short field landing procedure. I aimed at a low spot over the trees, and dumped it in, catching the nose from digging in, and rumbled across the field to a stop before the tree line on the other side. I had noticed the cows watching us entertain them. I looked at my instructor… no words, no expressions. No wind down in the pasture, so I swung the tail around next to the tree line. No cows ahead. Picked out a low spot in the trees on the other side. Soft field/short field takeoff procedure. Max power while holding full brakes. Pop the brakes. Rumble across the pasture. Held it down as long as I could stand it, getting extra airspeed. Rotate. Is this real? I cleared the trees, cleaned it up, and took his pointed finger to head back to the airport for touch and go’s. No cows or airplanes were hurt in this adventure. No other students had to do that, that I am aware of.

So, “Been there, done that.” I got an FAA check ride at 35 hours and got my Private Pilot License. I have an Airline Transport Pilot rating in the Boeing 707.