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Double Trouble at Denver

Article appeared in Flying Magazine May, 2015 by John King – John_05

After just over two years of flying our Comanche, we “needed” a second engine, and more knobs, levers, switches and gauges. In short, we “needed” a Twin Comanche. But we couldn’t afford one. That’s why the “bargain” Twin Comanche in Trade-A-Plane caught our eye. We knew the airplane would be rough, but we could swing it financially.

So in October 1972, off to Teterboro we went in our Comanche. We arrived late morning, did a quick flight in Twin Comanche N7026Y, and bought it on the spot. As anticipated, it was rough. The logs revealed this training plane had had 5 gear-up landings. The autopilot did not work. The door had no seal, and the heater didn’t work.

Our plan was for Martha to fly the Comanche home while I flew the Twin Comanche, despite the fact I had never flown a twin-engine airplane before. Back then, you could fly a twin without a multi-engine rating if you didn’t carry passengers—so I would be legal. Plus, I had read everything I could about flying multi-engine airplanes.

We started home to San Diego with both airplanes that evening, even though I would be flying an unfamiliar airplane in the dark. We flew to Lancaster, PA so Martha could drop the seller off. Minutes after my next takeoff, I heard a loud screaming noise. The right engine was way over redline. Pulling the prop lever back did nothing. So I retarded the throttle until the RPM came back under redline, leaving the engine nearly at idle.

A patient and concerned controller helped me get lined up with the runway at Harrisburg airport for an uneventful landing.

The prop had simply lost the nitrogen charge that balances oil pressure to control the prop pitch, and we were ready to go early the next morning.

After fuel stops in Indianapolis and Rolla, MO, we headed to Denver, knowing we would arrive after dark. We also knew that the trip would be IFR with icing in the clouds, so we planned to stay on top. We used the second com radio in each plane to stay in contact. As we flew, the clouds tops rose and we each repeatedly asked for higher. At 12,000 feet we entered the clouds and began picking up ice.

My inoperative heater was now significant. Ice covered the windshield and side windows, and there was no way for me to melt it off. With the door seal missing, cold air breezed through the cockpit and snow piled up on the empty seat beside me. With more than 2 hours left, I began to urgently need to relieve myself. I looked around for something like a sick-sack, but with no autopilot, I couldn’t spare the attention to find anything.

The accumulating ice began to deeply worry me. Due to an unforecast upslope condition, the weather at Denver was going down rapidly. Airports in all directions had become un-landable due to low ceilings and visibilities with snow. I lied to Martha and told her that I had a “little bit” of ice. I was astounded when she told me she had almost no ice at all. Gullibly, I couldn’t understand why, when she was only a little behind me, she was getting so much less ice. Still, I worried about her.

Then my right engine quit. As I had read you should, I pushed up the mixtures, props, and throttles on both sides. The engine came back to life. After I re-leaned both engines, the right mixture lever was forward of the left. Then the engine failed again. This time after leaning, the right mixture lever was even further forward. After several repetitions of this, the right mixture lever was fully forward. When the engine failed again, there was no way to get it back. I feathered the engine.

An hour out of Denver, with a load of ice, and only one engine, the airplane could no longer hold altitude and began a gradual descent. The reality of my situation began to sink in. When I got to the runway, with a 5,000-foot elevation, a load of ice, and on one engine, I would have to land right there. There would be no going around. Plus, I would have to spot the runway from the little hinged pilot’s vent window. Shaking from the cold and the need to relieve myself, I wouldn’t be the sharpest pilot ever.

At Denver, I requested a surveillance approach so that the controller would guide me to the runway with radar. Considering my distractions, I had decided that dialing in a frequency and following needles might be too much for me. Yet another calm, patient controller gave me the help I needed. I needed a lot. I couldn’t remember my minimum descent altitude of 5,832 feet, and I didn’t have the brain power to simplify the number to something like 5,900. I asked the controller for the number repeatedly.

Right of centerline, I spotted the approach lights through the little vent window, and sidestepped over. When I reduced the power to land, I was startled by a wild yaw. I had trimmed off the rudder pressure to compensate for the unbalanced thrust from only one engine out on a wing. I didn’t have the training or experience to anticipate the yaw from the power reduction.

The approach controller cleared me to land, and told me to contact ground control after landing. The runway was snow-covered and slick, with windrows blocking the taxiway exits. I told ground control, “I’m on the ground now, what would you like me to do?” The controller replied, ”Make a 180 and taxi south.” I responded, “You want me to turn around right here?” He repeated, “Yes, make a 180 there and taxi south.”

One of the many fire and rescue vehicles accompanying me on the parallel taxiway radioed, “Hey, he’s still on the runway!” The controller asked, “Are you still on the runway?” After I said “Yes”, I heard the roar of a jet airliner over the top of me on a go-around.

Once inside the FBO I realized I hadn’t heard Martha on the frequency for some time. Approach control reassured me: “We’re talking to her. She’ll be on the ground soon.”

After Martha joined me I learned she had had her own drama, complete with fire and rescue vehicles. Her propeller had become unbalanced with ice. She pulled the prop control back and pushed it in, which we had learned helps shed propeller ice. This time the propeller control broke, leaving her prop stuck at 1,900 RPM. With the ice and reduced power, she began her own inexorable descent, ending with a surveillance approach and landing at Denver.

Our reaction to this trip at the time was that this string of close calls was due to bad luck. We weren’t close to understanding that we had brought them on ourselves. Worse yet, I unwittingly put myself in a position where I was especially vulnerable to a poorly maintained airplane. Given the circumstances, our close calls were almost inevitable.

We were the epitome of “pilots who should scare us.” Over-optimistic and devoid of wariness and skepticism, we left little room for things to go wrong.

Our big hurry clouded our judgment. We bought a rough airplane without a pre-purchase inspection. Then we rushed to take off at night with me in that unfamiliar airplane that, although legal, I was not rated to fly. On the leg to Denver we took off planning to fly in instrument conditions at night and to stay out of icing conditions by keeping on top of the clouds. Far from conducting surveillance for risk and developing risk mitigations plans, we were oblivious to risk.

What made us so poor about recognizing and mitigating the risks? In large part we were young and hadn’t yet seen many things go wrong. We didn’t think bad things would happen to us. And like many attracted to flying, we were blessed with “fine self-images.” We thought we could manage just about anything.

So what is the aviation community to do about pilots like us who should scare us? I don’t think we can do much about the hard-wired tendency to be in a hurry. But perhaps we could make pilots understand that the desire to hurry must be offset by the management of risks. I think the answer is teaching pilots to include risk management in their preflight planning from their very first flight lesson. I hope pilots who are thoughtfully taught to identify, assess, and mitigate the risks of flight will understand that risks are real and ever-lurking, and continue the habit of risk management for the rest of their aviation lives.

35 Comments

  1. David Wallace Johnson

    I am very thankful for my instructors who flew charter on their day off and instructed on their days off. Risk management was prime even though it was not common in the late 60s!

  2. Bill Blackburn

    Thank you again John and Martha! I truly admire you sharing your very humble and transparent experiences! Your willingness to be open and honest about your aviation stories have saved many accidents I know!

  3. Lou

    John & Martha,

    Thanks again for making me a better flight instructor……

    For me and my students a typical lesson usually starts out with a phone call or text saying “Hey are you IMSAFE today ???” usually with a reply…..” Hey Lou – all good here, gonna head over for preflight”. So for me it’s a green light before a flight lesson signifying that what I have taught my student about being “Fit for Flight” he or she completely understands the importance of the IMSAFE checklist.

  4. Ed Sarkisian

    AND. I thought I took OCCUPATION-RETAINING risks flying single pilot C310 ALL Weather Night cancelled checks AND (OVERGROSS) Cargo “MUST GO or be FIRED” in the northeast in 80-’81. this Martha/John experience makes my Cargo experiences look like a Part 121 operation!!!!. Guardian Angels were about them, NO DOUBT.,, as they were with me -..in 1980-81.

  5. dan nelson

    a sobering and excellent reminder that we all can learn from, even the most experienced pilots can look back and remember some set of circumstance(s) we wish we had not imposed upon ourselves. the takeaway, you survived…make sure not to revisit that scenario again going forward!

  6. Bill Clary

    This story is hard to imagine. I am a 20,000 hr+ pilot, most of it 4 engine time all over the world, and the thought of undertaking such a flight scares me to death! The only thing in my experience that comes close was a Lockheed JetStar flight in an airplane that had been on the ground over a year in an older model with smaller engines that this pilot had never flown. He also did no takeoff weight calculation, filled it with fuel, and never got off the ground, crashing into a barrier at the opposite end of the runway destroying the aircraft and killing everyone on board.

  7. Reo Pratt

    What you’ve described is the way many pilots flew in the post WW II and post Viet Nam era, and many didn’t survive. I’m glad you did, and I’m glad that most pilots reading this story today find these attitudes unacceptable, an indication that we’re making progress as an industry, thanks in part to your efforts and candor.

  8. Rod Smith

    You could fly a multi without passengers in those days but I am pretty sure you had to have a solo sign off from a cfi for solo flight anyone remember if this is correct?

  9. Barry T Borella

    Scary beyond belief. Going IFR in an airplane you aren’t familiar with is a risk. My personal rule is to plan to be on the ground one hour before sundown if it’s a personal or ferry flight, especially in a single.

  10. Charles Angle

    I have benefited from all the excellent training from John and Martha’s effort for a very long time. Perhaps there is another aspect of accident consequences we should consider. If something had happened during this epic trip would we have the King School available to us? Think about how many pilots have benefited from all the materials available! Aircraft of all types aid in public safety, the helicopter being the best. In my 51 year helicopter year career I have flown people (and once a dog) to medical facilities, found missing people, missing boats and participated in many law enforcement flights where the helicopter was instrumental in successful resolution. I know there is a large pool of pilots, but we can all a useful tool for public safety. We all need to available not lost due to accidents.

  11. Mike Troici

    So John, you purchased a twin with 5 gear up landings and then began a flight back to San D. in the winter, at night and never flown a twin before and then survived an egine failure while in icing? That’s quite a feat, and probably one of the poorest decisions I have every heard a pilot write about. Glad you survived the incident.

  12. James M Barnes

    In the bad old days of aerial firefighting we were pressed to fly airplanes with multiple deficiencies. That is the way it was. You could either accept it or look for another job. The old airtanker companies were undercapitalized and the victims of a rock bottom low bid system that did not foster sound operating practices. On one of the jobs I took I had to fly a DC-4 from Arizona to North Carolina with a fuel stop in Texas. My plane had been sitting in a field for more than a year and we failed to get all the water out of the fuel tanks. Long story short it resulted in the fuel lines icing up resulting in a series of engine failures and restarts. With only two fuel gauges that were working I decided to put all the engines on cross feed with the boost pumps on high. It was the worst thing I could have done because it froze too killing all four engines. With almost no time to troubleshoot I glided into Sherman Texas and landed at the airport dead stick. We had began to forge an accident chain two weeks before that near fateful flight while trying to perform maintenance on this derelict airtanker. When we couldn’t afford to one more thing wrong pure luck intervened to saved our lives. Upon examination we found about 30 gallons of water in the tanks. It was as dumb as it sounds but that kind of bad judgment prevailed in the tanker business in those days and not always with a happy ending.

  13. George

    I always say, “The core competency that makes us a BETTER pilot, is aviation decision making.” I think that’s what I also got from John’s story. Always adhere to your own personal minimums and listen to that voice that knows you’re pushing your own limits and maybe that of the aircraft your flying.

  14. Mary Ann Serian

    Thanks for sharing your mistakes John. We can all learn from others without making every mistake ourselves! Every pilot has to make their own list of self-imposed limitations and that is related to their comfort level as well as their skill and the environment.

    • Crystal L Campbell

      And that is the problem with computer based training. In my opinion, ground schools should not be taught with a computer course that has no interaction. You miss the stories of “this is the stupid thing I survived.” A private pilot ground school from a computer program to me misses most of the point.

      Sorry, Martha and John. Not trying to say you’re classes aren’t good; I’ve taken many. Just pointing out the flaw in a solely computer based course without interaction.

  15. Thomas Golson

    John and Martha had a legion of angels with them on that Denver landing. I can’t even imagine John managing the landing with the twin Comanche under that set of circumstances. The Comanches are privy to undocumented and mostly unknown stall tendencies, some I inadvertently uncovered while preparing myself to give insurance required training to a young private pilot for a 260 hp Comanche C many years ago.
    My background is 13,000+TT,9,000 multi, 2500 dual given, 5,000 actual, Instructor at 141 aerial applicator school, etc, mid west night freight, light and medium twins. I tell students there is no such thing as ice protection, the ‘weeping wing’ technology may be close.
    Inattention on an IFR approach and icing both nearly ended my career.

  16. Kieth Merrill

    Great article, thanks for sharing the experience. You both were very lucky to have survived the encounter with weather. I have been flying for only 15 years and started when I was 40. My age and life experience has helped me to make mostly correct decisions while flying but even so, I have had a few close calls brought on by my bad decisions. I constantly teach my students to slow down, think and listen to that inner voice telling you to be careful. I personally know three pilots that have died making bad choices and two of the three, killed other people that were flying with them. Thanks again for sharing your bad decision with all of us.

  17. FRANK INGELS

    WELL IT WAS A STORY SO FAMILIAR FOR NEWER PILOTS WITH PLANES WE DID NOT REALIZE WERE NOT CAPABLE OF WHAT WE WERE ASKING.
    I LEARNED IN TIME THAT MY HIGHER RATINGS AND JET PLANES DID NOT MAKE MY OWN PLANE (A BONANZA) HAVE THE CAPABILITY OF THE CORPORATE PLANES.
    I JUST FIGURED MY PLANE, MY TIME, TAKE MY TIME.

    THANKS FOR YOUR ARTICLE.

  18. Greg

    Thanks for sharing. Risk management is such a great change from the way things were and this your sharing of these stories really helps the young pilot. I remember watching your videos in a college library back in 86 and they really helped. Now, the content is really great. Keep up the good work!

  19. Lynn Burks

    What a story: I think many of us in that time period had a few trip you would like to forget but survived and learned. Thanks for sharing. Lynn Burks

  20. Colin Fallwell

    Wow,

    Inspiring story, John. Just jumping back into flying myself. When I last flew regularly over 1990-2000 there was not much emphasis on Risk Management. I’ve really enjoyed the video’s you guys have put together on managing risk. Great stuff and looking forward to taking my time at moving the bar on my personal minimums…

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