As almost everyone in the universe knows by now,
I managed to land the Grob in a field last weekend.
I thought it might be worthwhile to try and capture
the experience in written form before the details
fade, both as a personal debriefing, and as lessons-learned
for myself and other club members.
The facts:
After an approximately 1hr flight, the Grob with pilot and a guest landed in
a field approximately 3 miles East of CCSC. There was no damage to the Grob,
no visible crop damage, and no injuries to the pilot or passenger. The Grob
was retrieved without incident.
The story:
On Saturday June 10, I brought two guests (a work associate and his wife) to
CCSC for their first glider rides. We arrived at about noon, and signed up
for two Grob slots. When the time arrived the wife volunteered to go first.
We got in and situated, and took off at about 1430. The conditions looked
pretty good at takeoff time with several private ships heading out on cross-country
tasks. We got off tow at about 2500 as we seemed to be in good lift. Off
tow, we were in and out of moderate to strong lift and sink ¡ about
6kt peak up and down on the rear Grob variometer.
I worked our way up to about 4000' agl while
drifting toward Waynesville. Over the town we
were up to about 4500' and I thought I would
head out over the lake, to show my passenger
the recreational areas. We had about 30 minutes
remaining, and (I thought) plenty of altitude.
Over the lake we were talking back and forth
about the lake traffic and the view, so I wasn't
concentrating very much on finding and staying
in lift. We got down to about 2500' and then
encountered lift over the beach on the northwest
side of the lake. I worked this back up to over
3500' and then lost the lift. I noticed that
I wasn't doing a very good job of staying in
the lift, and at the time I attributed this to
concentrating more on chatting with my passenger
than on soaring. However, we still had plenty
of altitude and all was well. I spotted a camping
area on the south side of the lake, and knowing
that my guests were camping buffs, headed over
that way. We spent a few minutes looking around
the camping area, and then I decided we should
be heading back. I turned back west, and noticed
that the southwest end of the lake looked like
it was a loooonnnng waaayyy off. I glanced at
the altimeter and was shocked to see we had burned
off almost 1000' over the campground, and we
were now down to under 3000', and we had drifted
almost the entire length of the lake.
OK, so I was a bit low, and a bit far away
from home. However, the day had been reasonably
good up until now, and I didn't really think
I would have any trouble finding one or two more
good thermals on the way back. I put the nose
down a bit to penetrate more, and headed back.
I briefly considered heading back to the beach
on the north side where I had encountered lift
before, but decided to stay on the south side,
as this was more direct, and I thought the south
side had more landable terrain. I wasn't really
concerned about actually having to land out,
it was just my normal cowardice at work.
I continued southwest, but things weren't looking
particularly good. I was seeing a lot of 6-8kt
down, and not very much up. I went through a
couple areas of 0-2kt lift, and although I slowed
down and S-turned a bit, I did not stop to circle
(My previous experience with weak lift has been
that I make a couple of turns only to find that
I lose ground, so I was determined to continue
ahead until I found something worthwhile). As
we went through 2000' agl, I told my passenger
that we are getting a little low, and I'm going
to have to concentrate on the soaring for a bit.
Fortunately, she was having a pretty good time,
and seemed to be perfectly willing to trust the
intrepid birdman in the back seat.
Now I'm down to about 1500' agl, and I'm still
northeast of the spillway. I have been hoping
for a while now (two or three eternities, it
seemed), that I would be able to make it back
to the spillway with sufficient altitude to work
any thermals there. However, it was now pretty
clear that wasn't going to happen. I decided
to deviate a little more south to fly over several
plowed fields on the off chance I would run into
something useful. I still hadn't hit anything
more than about 2kt up, and I'd been going through
6kt down for quite a while. I'm also starting
to wonder if maybe I'm not going to make it back
after all, and starting to look at the fields
on the south side of the lake with 'landout'
a little more in the front of my brain. I tell
myself that I've been down below 1500' agl lots
of times on cross countries, and although a bit
nerve wracking at times, usually things work
out OK. About this time we passed over Harveysburg,
with nary a positive ripple on the variometer.
Now things are getting a bit serious. I'm down
to 1000' agl, still heading southwest, and I
know that unless something crops up in the next
minute or so, I'm going to have to seriously
consider setting this bird down in a field. I
really don¯t want to do this, because I
know that the retrieve will be a major PITA.
There is also the minor consideration that I
haven't ever done an off-field landing before,
and doing it in the club Grob 3 miles from home
with a first-time soaring passenger is not exactly
how I had envisioned this event. In any event
I have been looking out ahead and both sides
for suitable fields, and I now have my eye on
a really nice looking field coming up over the
nose. The field's long dimension (and the furrow
orientation) is northeast-southwest. On the near
side is a north-south row of trees, a house,
and some north-south power lines from the road
to the house. At the far end is another line
of trees. The field is bordered on the north
side by a paved road (I don't realize right away
that this is Oregonia road). I spend a few seconds
trying to remember which way the wind is blowing
until it dawns on me that of course the wind
is right on my nose! If it weren't, I wouldn't
be in this fix! With that settled, I'm pretty
confident that I can land in this field if I
have to. However, I'm still hoping that something
will kick off and give me the 500 ¡ 1000'
feet I need to make it home.
I notice, in sort of a detached way, that there
now appear to be three of me in the back cockpit,
and time has slowed down to a crawl. One of me
is calmly informing my passenger that it looks
like she is going to get the deluxe ride today,
complete with a 'Thomas Crown Affair" field landing.
Another one is still hoping for a big thermal
at the west end of the field, and thinking that
a save from 500' agl is still perfectly doable,
and the third one is methodically setting up
for a landing pattern. Pilot #3 knows that Pilot
#2's thermalling skills go to hell below about
1000', and none of them/us have done any low
altitude work in the Grob. Pilot #3 informs Pilot
#2 in no uncertain terms that unless we happen
to stumble across a 10kt blowtorch at the end
of this field, we are going to enter a left downwind
for a landing. At the end of the field there
is some lift, but certainly nothing that's going
to help at this stage. Pilot #2's hopes die hard,
but they die nonetheless. Pilot #3 is now in
full control, and is concentrating on smooth,
crisp, coordinated turns around the pattern,
spaced out a bit from the field so we won't have
to bank too hard on the turn to final, but close
enough to be sure of making it in. I'm not sure
what the exact airspeed is at this point, but
I know I have plenty of energy from control feedback
and wind sound. Energy is good. The downwind
leg is pretty quick, so I know I have a pretty
decent headwind. A distinct thought about the
gear (OK, the Grob is fixed gear, no problem).
I start the turn to base a little early, anticipating
some sideways (downwind) drift around the turn,
and as the turn progress toward base leg I crack
about _ spoilers, checking the drift as I do
so. I immediately see some angle change, and
retract the spoilers. The angle starts climbing
nicely, so I come back out to about _ and hold
that for a bit. I started the base leg pretty
much abeam the east end of the field, and the
downwind drift took me maybe 100yds past the
end. Still plenty of energy as I go over the
power lines and trees at about 50-75'. As I made
the turns onto base and final I started picking
up the field topography details, and I confirm
my suspicion of a slight rise in the middle and
then a mild slope down to the trees at the other
end. The angles and energy look right for touching
down on the upslope, and rolling up and over
the crest. I play the spoilers and flare angle
to match the slope, and touch down somewhere
on the upslope. I note somewhere in the back
of my mind that the touchdown was pretty nice ¡ did
something right, anyway. We roll up over the
crest, and I see a big "Coldwell Banker" realty
sign next to the road. I have this thought that
there might be a good entry to the field there,
and its got to be a hell of a landmark for the
retrieve crew, so I continue the ground roll
and stop about even with the sign.
As we roll to a stop, Pilot#1 comes back out
to cheerfully announce to my guest that it looks
like we've arrived, and she can open the canopy
by pushing the little lever on the left to the
release position and pushing up firmly but gently
on the canopy. Pilot #1 also has the presence
of mind to call on the handheld for a relay to
the field to inform someone that a retrieve is
needed. Ed Lopez in EW hears me and tries to
relay, but no one on the ground is answering
right away. So, I pull out my cell phone only
to realize that I don't remember the club number.
Ed comes to the rescue again with "It's Yankee
Echo Alpha, Sierra Oscar Alpha Romeo". After
I put that together in my head, I dial the number
and lo and behold, someone answers. It turns
out that 'someone' is 11-year old Michael, who
dutifully records the information I give him,
repeats it back, and then hightails it out to
the flight line on a rescue mission (Thanks Michael,
you did well). I release my belt, and pull myself
up and out of the back seat. I notice my hands
are shaking a bit, and my legs feel a bit weak
for a moment. Clearly Pilot #3, having done his
thing, has left for the day and left the rest
of us to vibrate in the aftershocks.
The next five hours are spent getting the Grob
retrieved, putting up with very good natured
ribbing from the retrieve crew and my (fortunately
very understanding) guests, and trying to bribe
the retrieve crew into relative silence with
beer and chips from the spillway market. Bill
Gabbard is ecstatic, because I have now taken
his place as the most recent "Grob landout artist" (he
has been carrying the cross for almost two years!).
I was once again truly impressed and amazed at
how well the CCSC all-volunteer army rallied
to help. Thanks guys, I owe you big time!
Safety Analysis and Lessons Learned.
Usually an incident or accident is caused by a combination of minor things
that adding up to major problem. The major problem can usually be avoided
entirely if proper attention is paid to the (usually many and clear) warning
signs. In this case, the landout could have been easily prevented by simply
paying more attention to the altitude and position over the ground. In other
words, my positional awareness suffered because I was too busy talking to
my guest and sightseeing. Had I turned back west even 3 minutes earlier,
I would in all probability have made it back to CCSC with altitude to spare.
The "cost" of those 3 minutes was extraordinarily high!
Once I allowed myself to get too far away and
too low, my options and alternative courses of
action were dramatically reduced. Not only that,
but the stress of knowing that I was going to
have difficulty getting back surely degraded
my thinking processes and skills somewhat, making
it even more likely that I would fall short.
I realized as I was trying to make my way back
that I had no real idea of the optimum speed
to fly for the Grob under the conditions. I knew
I needed to speed up, but not by how much. I
had to literally force myself to push the stick
forward, and I could only make myself go about
10kt faster (I think I spent most of the way
back at about 60 ¡ 65kt). More than likely
I would have been better off at 70kt than at
60kt, but I didn't know for sure.
I flew pretty much in a straight line from
where I turned back to where I landed. I decided
not to go back across the lake to the last place
I had encountered good lift, and I didn't deviate
from the straight ¡ line path very much,
even though that meant I stayed close to the
south shore of the lake, and over the large stand
of trees at the southwest corner. I knew the
trees were more likely to cause sink than lift,
but I was mentally locked in to making as much
distance as I could, rather than actively searching
for lift.
I made a big mistake by not religiously adhering
to the pre-landing USTALL checklist. Even though
I was (and still am) sure that I was in no danger
of a low speed stall, I should have consciously
confirmed my airspeed at least once in the pattern.
This is something I will definitely have to work
on.
Once having made the initial (large) mistake
of getting too low and too far away, I'm reasonably
satisfied with my decisions and thought processes.
At about 2000' agl I told my passenger I needed
to concentrate on flying, and I stopped talking.
At about 1000' agl I started concentrating on
finding a good landing area, even while hoping
some lift would show up. And at about 500 agl
I mentally committed to the landing. I was determined
that I was going to pick a good field and fly
a good pattern rather than having a landing area
forced on me. I may have (and likely did) ignore
lift sources on the way back, and I certainly
disrupted the club's soaring activities for the
day (for which I again apologize!), but that
was, and should be, an insignificant factor compared
to the rapidly escalating risks of forging on.
.Even though I made it sound like I was suffering
from severe Multiple Personality Disorder, I
think we all have to deal with conflicting emotions
in soaring. We continually have to weigh the
desirability of going there against the risk
that we won't be able to get back to the home
field. Or weighing the prudence of landing out
in a nice big field against the knowledge that
in doing so you will become the laughing stock
of the club. Ultimately though, we are each responsible
for the safety of ourselves and our passengers
(if any), and that must take precedence over
everything else.
Other Observations:
I had both a hand-held transceiver and a cell phone with me. I consider a cell
phone and transceiver to be pretty much mandatory equipment for cross-country
work, and so I have grown used to having them with me in the aircraft. Although
I think it was an alert tow pilot that first got the word of my landout back
to the ground crew, the hand-held and the cell phone sure came in handy.
There's no substitute for low-altitude experience in this sort of situation,
and just about the only way to get this experience is from cross-country
work. In a manner of speaking, I have been preparing for this landing ever
since I started going cross-country in EW and later in X3. I realize this
will come as no shock at all to the more experienced pilots in the club,
but it is all the more reason for those of us with less experience to find
a way to get away from the home field. Once I made the decision to land,
it was actually pretty easy. I had picked out a huge field, and could have
landed in half the space I actually took. I suspect that most of us who haven't
yet landed off-field dread the event (I know I did!), but it's not bad when
it actually happens.
Conclusion:
In summary, I allowed my desire to show my passenger a good time to overtake
my responsibility to maintain good situational awareness at all times, and
to maintain an adequate altitude reserve for a landing back at CCSC. I didn't
have to go circle over the campgrounds - my passenger was having fun as it
was. And, having decided to go there, I should have maintained better awareness
of the altitude and the fact that we were well downwind of the airport. Having
made that mistake, I was able to recover the extent of executing a successful
off-field landing, with no harm done to anything but my ego (and a mild dent
in my wallet). I hope that this account is useful to other club members,
either as an example to be avoided at all costs, or an illustration of one
pilot's mental approach to dealing with a bad situation.
