On a hot July Friday a few years back, I bounced out of work early and headed for the airport. I was living in Topeka, Kansas, and had managed to befriend the owner of a flight school located at Forbes Field. He had two Cessnas, one of which I had reserved for a short flight to Salem, Missouri. I was excited to meet my brother and his wife for a weekend float trip on the Ozark National Scenic River Ways. When I arrived at Forbes Field, I was disappointed to learn the plane I had reserved was down for maintenance. Fortunately, they offered me an alternate -- but there was a catch. The alternate had just returned from maintenance with a new engine and had acquired just 6 hours of flight time. I was not comfortable with this situation, especially when I’d been told on many occasions not to fly a plane with a recently overhauled engine. I struggled with the decision, as I had no desire to become a test pilot. However, I wanted to make the flight, and the weather was perfect. Ultimately, I put on my “it won’t happen to me” hat and began preparing for the flight.
Being extra vigilant during my pre-flight run up, I tested and retested all of the aircraft’s systems. The engine ran smoothly, so I departed Forbes Field into the clearest skies a summer has to offer. I set the engine speed low and ran the mixture slightly rich just as I had been instructed before departing. The engine gave me no cause for concern as I headed southeast at a comfortable 5,500 feet. I contacted Kansas City Center for radar service and settled in for the 2-hour-and-15 minute flight.
As I approached Fort Leonard Wood, the controllers cleared me through the military’s restricted airspace. At this point, I began to feel some minor engine roughness and noticed a slight RPM drop. Since carburetor ice is common in highly humid conditions, I simply applied carburetor heat. I was getting close to my waypoint, the Maples VOR, which was approximately 10 miles from my destination. I throttled back and began a slow cruise descent into Salem. The next 10 miles were peaceful as I watched the ground moving higher on the horizon. Upon having Salem Airport in sight, I cancelled radar service and prepared to land.
When I crossed over the top of the airport, my altitude was too high. I pulled the throttle back further and began descending at a quicker pace. I flew around the airport, lining up for the final approach course--still too high. At this point, I slowed the aircraft to an acceptable approach speed while continuing the descent. As I neared the runway, the necessity to initiate a missed approach became evident. Salem’s runway is 3,000 feet long, providing ample length, but only if your airspeed and altitude is appropriate. Mine were not. A missed approach is common and safe so I decided to go around for a second attempt.
I pushed the throttle to full and began to reconfigure the aircraft when suddenly the engine coughed and sputtered. I was still descending when I pulled the throttle back out and pushed it to full power again slowly. It sputtered and nearly died when I pushed past 1800 on the tachometer (rpm gauge). I then set the throttle to 1800 RPM realizing the engine would give me no additional performance.
A pilot has two friends while flying, altitude and airspeed. With altitude, you have the ability to glide, which gives you time and range. Airspeed is the energy keeping the plane aloft. Losing either component can cause problems to mount quickly. With only 200 feet of altitude and 55 knots of airspeed, my options were limited, leaving only seconds to make a decision. As these few seconds elapsed, I had over-flown the runway. With nothing but rolling hills and trees in the windshield, an off-airport landing was not a good option. The airspeed had dropped to a level barely capable of keeping me airborne. I was shocked and sickened at how quickly this flight had turned bad. Fear enveloped me, but somehow I was able to focus on keeping the aircraft aloft.
I chose to attempt a 180-degree turn. To me, missing the runway was a better option than hitting a tree. If I could keep the airspeed high enough to stay airborne, a controlled crash was possible--maybe even a safe landing. The turn would be extremely dangerous. As an aircraft turns, it naturally loses altitude. Pilots counteract this effect by pulling back on the yoke (steering wheel). Unfortunately in my case, pulling back on the yoke was not an option, as it meant losing airspeed. I would need to push forward, losing altitude, to keep the aircraft flying. I banked right to give myself enough room and began the slow process of making a wide left turn, with the ultimate goal of lining up for a landing, preferably on the runway. I continually pushed forward on the yoke to maintain airspeed and watched the ground getting closer and closer. Once lined up for landing, I closed the throttle and the wheels immediately hit the earth-- thankfully, on a beautiful 3,000-foot strip of asphalt.
With the engine sputtering, my feet shaking, and sweat pouring out of me, I taxied to the ramp and parked. I called the owner of the aircraft and informed him I would not be flying home.
The mechanic and an instructor flew to Salem three days later to diagnose the problem and make necessary r
epairs. They determined that I had lost one of the four cylinders in my aircraft. It was likely lost when I suspected carburetor ice over Fort Leonard Wood. I didn’t notice because I was descending and had no need to increase power until initiating the missed approach. When they returned the plane to Topeka, I was summoned for discussions about the incident. The problem was severe. They were surprised the plane was at an airport -- as it should have been parts in a salvage yard. When I explained how the incident unfolded, they agreed with my course of action.The decision to attempt a 180-degree turn and land at the airport saved the plane and possibly my life. I was confident yet terrified while completing it. Thankfully, I had learned from my near disastrous full-flap takeoff. If not for that experience, the outcome in Salem would likely have been different. Then again, had I been successful in learning from the pilots who warned me about flying an aircraft with a new engine, this incident would have been avoided altogether. I don’t claim to know who should fly a plane fresh out of an engine overhaul, but I can say with certainty, not me.
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