Oh, Deer (Part 2)
Only now did I begin to realize the severity of the situation. The deer had completely broken the left main gear off of the airplane. Obviously, landing in this condition would not be ideal. Landing without a nose wheel is one thing, but landing without one of the mains would be a very dangerous and undesirable proposition.
The company’s maintenance guys arrived on the scene while I executed a few more low passes so that they could take a look. We all came to the same conclusion that the best situation for landing would be to retract the other two wheels so I could land on the belly. Unfortunately, the landing gear wouldn’t retract. Cranking the emergency gear handle didn’t work either as it is not designed to bring the wheels up, only to put them down.
I flew circles around the airport for a while as different options were all discussed. I owe a lot to the guys on the ground who were digging through the manuals coming up with solutions. Eventually, it was decided that I would try cranking the gear up by hand, even though the checklist in the airplane said that it could only be used to lower the gear. Even if we damaged the hand cranking mechanism, it would be worthwhile…plus, I’d already torn off the left main entirely, surely a little damage to the retraction mechanism wouldn’t be the end of the world!
Following the checklist, I pulled the CB for the gear motor and started cranking. To my great relief, the “in transit” light illuminated and the three green indication went away. It was difficult work to crank the gear up manually. The handle is in a very poor location in Barons and Bonanzas, plus I was working against gravity. It is also possible that there was some debris from the missing wheel causing friction or binding. While I was cranking, the rescue crews were being coordinated while extra vehicles and people had been called in from the city for support.
After some time had passed, enough to get a slightly sore arm from cranking, the lights indicated that the gear was up and locked. I lined up for one more pass hoping to verify that the landing gear was up and the landing gear doors were closed. After the final go ahead from everyone on the ground, all that was left was the landing.
I had been doing my best to keep the passengers informed of what was happening throughout the whole flight, but I felt bad for them as the news changed from the beginning of the flight: “precautionary landing” was quite different than the briefing I ended up giving them before we landed. I informed them that I was going to be “… killing the engines and landing with the gear up….” They did an impressive job of staying calm and being responsive. Before we landed, I made sure that they were all briefed on what to expect, how to unbuckle, and how to evacuate from the airplane. It is difficult to convince someone that everything is going to be fine when there are hordes of emergency vehicles (including ambulances) waiting next to the runway in anticipation of your landing.
Shortly before landing, I went through my flows and callouts, then verified by use of the checklist to ensure I hadn’t missed anything. I distinctly remember sitting in the airplane preparing for the landing, all the while being in complete disbelief that this was a real situation. I never imagined that I could be flying an airplane that was missing a wheel strut. Previously, my assumption had been that if there was an event serious enough to shear off one of my mains, the airplane wouldn’t continue flying. It all seemed like a bad dream.
I elected to use runway 26 since it was the longest. I wanted to be able to carry extra speed in order to give myself extra time between pulling the mixtures and landing so that I could feather the props and turn the fuel shut off valves to the off position (never thought I’d have to do that!) without being rushed. As I made my final approach with the engines shut off, I went through my final memory items and couldn’t help but laugh about just how backwards everything was from normal arrival procedure. GUMPS: Gas- Off (normally on the fullest tank), Under carriage- Up (Definitely not normal), Mixtures- Idle cut off (I normally save this for when I’m parked on the ramp), Props- Feathered (Again, never thought I’d have to do that in real life), Seatbelts- On (the only one that stayed the same!).
Photo Credit: www.lancasteronline.com
I’ve had several remarks about how quiet the airplane must have been during the final un-powered glide to the runway, and while that is absolutely true, I must confess that I never noticed. I was so focused on the task at hand that the silence in the airplane simply wasn’t something that stuck out to me. What did make an impression on me, however, was the acceleration the airplane experienced when the props were feathered. I’ve heard it preached many times the importance of feathering the propeller on a dead engine, but never truly appreciated the importance of it until I did it myself. I remember the airplane accelerating noticeably as though I had hit a boost button which was hidden somewhere in the cockpit for just such an occasion.
Although I didn’t notice the lack of noise upon killing the engines, the sickening, deafening noise which was produced during the touchdown and deceleration is something which I will never forget. Another thing that surprised me was the smoke which filled the cockpit and cabin as we slowed down. This was produced by the friction between the belly and the runway, although nothing was burning.
I don’t know how long the airplane actually slid for after touching down, but it felt like an eternity. However, when the noise subsided and the motion stopped everything returned to real time. I unfastened my seat belt, opened the door and climbed out onto the wing. I helped the passengers evacuate and we retreated to a safe distance on the side of the runway while the firefighters rushed in to do their job.
It was 8:35 am. So, from the time we took off to the time we landed was almost exactly an hour and a half. Not surprisingly, the passengers elected not to continue on to Pittsburgh and instead accepted a ride home in a car. The rest of my day was a blur of paperwork, reports, and phone calls.
To Be Continued…
Andrew Robinson is an airline pilot for Piedmont Airlines. He is a former 135 Charter Pilot and flight instructor who lives with his wife and 2 daughters in Pennsylvania. He instructs in Beechcraft Bonanzas.
One thing that I learned this summer was this. Sometimes, with an area of closely grouped storms, the cloud base is actually quite high (some storms I went underneath in New Mexico had cloud bases of 15,000 MSL). The thing to do here is just stay below the bases of the clouds and go around the areas of rain. These will be visible and you’ll be able to navigate around them. With bases even as low 9-10 thousand feet, it’s a much better idea to stay below the clouds, sacrifice some speed, and dodge the rain shafts.
