From: [address removed] [mailto:[address removed]]
Sent: Thursday, September 29,[masked]:20 PM
To: [address removed]
Subject: [Mid-Island-Pilots-Club-Email] A One and a Half Minute Story

Sunday, January 14, 2007.

Time 2:00 PM.

Temp 21 degrees F.

Flying a 1955 Bonanza F35 aircraft with full gas tanks at 6000 ft. altitude (1500 ft. above terrain), on a blue sky Arizona day,3 miles west of Sedona.

It’s a nice, beautiful, cold, day, and I’m by myself on a thirty-mile trip to pick up a friend who is dropping his plane off at Prescott for maintenance. I am doing one of the joys of my life, when three miles out in a climb from Sedona headed for Prescott, the tone of the day changes in more ways than one.

A sudden loss of engine and only the noise of a spinning prop, followed by my total disbelief it is happening.

Slowing plane -- more disbelief!

I am still in denial, reasoning the problem is just temporary. I’m getting rid of the problem, it is going to fix itself, and is a short-lived situation.

I will now solve it.  Still on the same heading and still in disbelief, I start to check by switching the tank selector that gives no solution to a dead engine.

Switching mags, then cut off, turn on the mixture on new tank setting, but nothing is happening.  The engine is still dead.

I am in level flight now, 1500 feet above the ground. Location is a half-mile south of Hwy 89a and just a half-mile east of Page Springs Road. I start to think about attitude, or angle of the aircraft to the air, as I start slowing down. I nose down a little to establish more lift on the plane by a better glide speed.

I am still hoping I will have at least some power, but it’s not in the cards, just no way! I am in hope of a fix, but still in a dream world!

Total acceptance it’s not going to be fixed, then leads to total conviction that I now have to do something, and that is land at a spot of my choosing!

I learned a long time ago in the 1960s a couple of things that were coming into play at this moment. My instructors passed on a great attitude we should have in tight times, and their statements always stuck with me. They were, “I do not care what you do but do something!” and the other one was, “There are two types of planes, the planes that you fly and the planes that fly you. So if you are scared, go up and do the maneuver 10,000 times and get it out of your system so it’s no big deal.”

Now back to the story. I am over Hwy 89a. It has moderate Sunday traffic spaced out on the east

and west lanes, and also to the west a steep downhill towards Cottonwood, so it’s becoming more

promising to go remote and to go to the country.

Roads near Hwy 89a have road signs, ditches, or lights at intersections, and nothing is too

straight. Man has created much in this area to surprise me if I dare try to land, so I am thinking

more about wide-open spaces, and I start searching.

I’m still headed towards Cottonwood, but to the north, and after a second of jitters at my reality

I see some fields. My jitters are equal to the shaky feeling of a touch of water going through the

fuel system of a running engine.

Now I get back to the task at hand-- landing an airplane. I see two areas the same color of light brown and silver, and no green spots, which are large bushes. It looks inviting and soft, so I go for it. These targets look to be a long glide distance but

possible, if I set myself up in a decent glide.

The landing location calls for an 80-degree change to the right, as I’m going down at 1000 feet a

minute. I accept that general area and head for it with a gentle turn. I am strictly on attitude

control and direct flying with little movement. Concentration is so extreme that I never see my

instruments, just the general area my eyes are focusing on. I am going to make it happen.

A minute into the glide I am still accepting of this area, even though I go over a fairly decent

landing spot 3 blocks north of Hwy 89a just west of Red Canyon Road. I see my target with its soft silver browns of prairie grasses on easy uphill and downhill slopes, which I hope will make a good landing spot. I’m into big time concentration now and do not look

at much, for all focus is on where I’m going.

Another slow right bank lines me up with the two prairie grass areas that have good possibilities

to land without damage. I continue the glide down, then slow up again and do not even notice it

until the stall buzzer light jumps a couple times. The noise and light shake me out of the intent on

where I’m going. I then drop the nose ever so slightly to keep my speed up.

I’m total, intense concentration. My mind is just on attitude, distance, and how to keep going to

my target area. I’m now getting lower and running out of choices to land in this grassy area, but I know my

landing spot is there. I see a road and a small flat area in the prairie grass. I’m quickly coming

out of air -- just land the plane!

I move the controls only a little, knowing control drag keeps the plane from obtaining that good

glide. I’m nearing the two areas and coming over a hill. I can definitely see them now. My mind

focuses on the smaller flat spot that’s coming my way and getting closer by the second. The

buzzer is chattering once in a while, so nose down a little more and now I see my spot.

Two blocks away and thirty degrees to my left, I see that second opportunity of a promising dirt

road, but I keep straight on toward my spot in the field.

Then at a block and a half I can see the dirt road slowly becoming too rough, so I skip it. I head straight for a flat smooth area with no

green bushes.

Another plea to the Power in my life, “No damage to the plane or its propeller”, for

as Bob Luna, my mechanic says about me, I only carry the Jesus Christ Insurance Policy.

I’m now committed at this point, and I know I can hit that landing spot no matter what. I accept this

thought as the truth.

Ending the glide phase, I now concentrate on the landing. The landing phase gives me a second to

shift off the high intensity of getting there, and my mind relaxes for a millisecond.

Without thinking I switch automatically into a habit I do on every final in the Bonanza for the last 80

hours of retractable time. I physically point to the “GUMP” card on my panel. Seeing the “U”, I

immediately switch gear to down position, with my finger pointing down waiting for the light to

turn green. It’s in the green seconds later. It’s all a habit and a routine check. All instinct, little

reasoning power! (For the non-aviator, GUMP means nothing but each letter has meaning. The “G” is for gas

selection; the “U” is for the undercarriage, or landing gear; the “M” is for gas mixture; and the

“P” if for propeller pitch.)

Gear is now down at 200 feet or so above the ground. I hear again the stall buzzer coming on a

little more. I make a nose down correction that now moves me down toward the landing field.

I’m almost there. I have the field, and at a block or so I’m visualize in my head an elongated,

long box that outlines the runway. No need to pull up and float in, just get right on the 700 ft

runway and land at the first safe moment.

I pick a definite spot to hit, right past a drainage area that starts my runway. 100 feet up and

300 yards out from that grassy spot I tense up realizing I have no other choice and say to myself

affirming the location “This is it!”

A second later I was level with the ground and touching down with the loud noise of the prairie grass hitting the landing gear. The landing comes hard, but no worse than some other landings I’ve made.

In the next second over half of my make believe runway is behind me, and the rest is quickly

disappearing. I’m on full brakes action, and now see a ditch ahead for the first time before a

slight upward slope. It’s a day of surprises!

Hard left brake, skidding left turn, and then to a stop, missing the ditch by my chinny chin chin!

Landing done, plane and pilot intact, I sit there watching the propeller stop turning and then

silence.

I’m alive……

Frank J Wolfe

phone (928)[masked]