Canada
Ear Falls

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    • Day 2

      Arrival at Oak Lake Lodge

      September 6, 2018 in Canada ⋅ ☀️ 63 °F

      Another early start to the day. Stocked up on snacks, and quaffed a few cups of coffee before heading to the air field. Lots of fog over the water, so we had to wait for the sun to come up and burn it off. It set us back about two hours, but the ride over was pretty killer.

      When we got to the lodge, it was a mad scramble to unpack so we could get on the boat in time to catch some fish for the shore lunch. Forgot to bring my phone, but we snagged two or three keepers pretty quick which ensured that we didn't go hungry. Fried walleye and French fries hit the spot, and it was back on the boat to catch another half dozen walleye each before we switched to trying for Pike on the ride back. Dad caught two of those, and I snagged one to cap off the day.

      It's the end of the season and we're one of the few guests they have, so we have massive four bedroom cabin to ourselves
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    • Day 3

      Full Day of Fish

      September 7, 2018 in Canada ⋅ ☀️ 61 °F

      After watching the sun rise with a pot of coffee, we are breakfast and bundled up for the fridged ride over to the prime fishing spots. We did okay in the morning, catching enough for shore lunch, but watched some other boats haul in more fish which got our competitive spirit going to land lots and land big in the afternoon.

      Shore lunch was divine, with a delicious chowder that accompanied the fresh fried walleye. Mr. Bear smelled the cooking oil and paid us a visit, and posed for a picture (though we were careful to keep our distance).

      We killed it in the afternoon -- I don't think we caught a walleye smaller than 20", and Dad landed some large Pike.
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    • Day 5

      Emergency: Making an Impact

      June 12, 2017 in Canada ⋅ ⛅ 19 °C

      This report covers the period from recognition of the stopped engine to impact. I have always been interested in reading other accident reports, trying to glean anything that could learn to help me if faced with a similar situation. Evidently it is my turn to supply a case.

      I have noticed two general types of pilots: those who say "the engine does not know if it is over water" when discussing crossing water and those who believe in Murphy's Law " If anything than can go wrong it will go wrong". I fall into the latter group so have been concerned with how to react in various emergency situations.

      One's reaction to a situation is affected by one's background. I am a classic nerdy engineer who approaches everything with that mindset. Much of my career has been spent either designing things to work better or in quality assurance trying to determine why and how things can fail and to make them better. Because of a software background I often find it useful to think of the mind as a limited resource computer trying to share one mind with several tasks

      Another significant aspect for this case is that my initial flying was in gliders. I became fanatical and got heavily involved in teaching gliding. At one time I was chief flying instructor for my club.

      For this incident there is an additional opportunity as a learning tool. My instruments recorded a breadcrumb file containing position, speed and heading at one second intervals. With confidence I can say there are 3 aspects of looking at emergency: how I planned my actions, how I thought I performed my actions, and what actions actually happened. All were different.

      In this note, a few notations have been adopted. Occasionally a quote would come to mind. Where not specified, I was remembering a line I said somewhere in the past. Ponderings made after the fact are within angle brackets <>.

      Abandoned engine restart attempts, and recognized I had to shift to forced landing mode. Set aircraft speed to 75 knot and zero flaps for (near) maximum glide range. Established a mental mode where part of me tried to deal with the emergency directly, another 'observer task' tried to assess the quality of the decisions made and be on the alert for panic. I decided to make choices based on which way required the least finesse and precision: adrenalin would degrade skill and lead to excessive control motions.

      Called Red Lake radio and declared an emergency. A nearby twin aircraft told the operator that they would look for me. The observer in me noted that after taking the initial parameters from me, he never contacted me directly although frequently talking with the twin. I was impressed: he was not trying to divert my attention. The exception was at one point I decided he needed my coordinates so gave the GPS values to him. He requested clarification of the latitude.

      <This brings up one serious error I made. My attention got diverted to listening to the radio and 'correcting' them when I felt they got my location wrong. I should have concentrated on Aviating the plane while Navigating to a good landing location not Communicating. This was an especially significant blunder for me since I am easily distracted by a radio. When driving a car in town I turn the radio off as it it distracts from my attention. Significant brain capacity was wasted by not turning the radio off. My observer task eventually noticed my foolishness and I managed to ignore the radio from that point.>

      Places to land were either small diameter trees, logging roads and lakes. I decide I would make choices based on what would be the most easy approach to adjust if needed.

      I immediately eliminated the single lane logging roads as possibly too narrow to negotiate: I did not want to catch a wing tip at speed. “Choose northern trees before water”, from a conversation with a bush pilot a few years ago. I was not experienced enough to judge the massiveness of those trees. Ultimately since the trees were big enough for logging roads, I would look for alternatives. Looked for wider logging road sections and found an offshoot that had an uphill grade into wind. Selected that. Would make a downwind/base/final circuit to land there.

      Then I began to stare a the selected landing area. I noticed that the end of the area sloped up more sharply than I originally thought. Became fixated keeping it in constant view. Zombie mode (became totally consumed with its form, sucking down all my mental capacity, observer task getting no time to break in).

      <This fixation might be similar to what happened when an airliner went into a swamp in the Everglades in 1972 while the crew fixated on trying to understand why a minor alarm light was on.>

      Finally noticed tree tops were closer to me than I wanted and that I had drifted too close to the landing site for a proper circuit pattern. I was amazed and annoyed I had fallen for the newby error of setting up a circuit to close the field. This was a big deal for me since from my gliding instruction days it had become almost a prime directive to “Watch the attitide (angles) to the flare point. Started to ponder how I had become so inept. Promised to practice circuits after the trip. Zombie mode. Found myself having finished both a base and final turn and was now lined up on final. These were not conscious decisions but mechanical motions that I knew had to be made. It was very steep angle to the threshold of the field. The far end was at a more reasonable angle to meet. Perhaps my earlier fixation with the hill at the far end had either affected where I should turn to base or I just made a base and final turn automatically without thinking. “Make good turns in the circuit” i.e. looking out of front for good attitude/speed control and coordination. I don't remember the turns at all but suspect they were well executed... just in the wrong place.

      Angle judged too steep to land in the space available. Contemplated full spoilers with side slip vs a figure 8 S turn. Rejected the full spoilers because if that was insufficient there would be no room for another maneuver.

      Also a steep turn figure 8 was a common practice maneuver I made when working on coordination and speed control. In fact, during the flight previous to starting on my trip, I performed some to evaluate and hone my skills.

      Began my S turn to the right. I estimated I got about 45 degrees beyond a right angle (135 degrees) when “Don't turn away from the field” was remembered form an instructor while practicing forced approaches. Banked left to form the right hand loop. Zombie mode. Noticed speed had dropped 10 knots on asi. “Tweak stick forward to reduce angle of attack” from my instructing days. I was half way through the the left hand loop and was over trees with the field at at a shallow angle. Straightened the bank and took the shortest distance to the clearing. Zombie mode.

      I mentally heard, “Cleared the trees now let see where I can land. Oh, I'm here”. The observer noted the words which were of a common thought when clearing trees to get into a small field. There was probably a fixation on clearing the tree tops. The aircraft altitude was below the flare point. Impact was imminent. "Freeze the stick”. Was concerned about a panic jerk back of the stick so locked stick in current position. The thought would have been fortified by the instructing tip of freezing the stick after ballooning or bouncing while landing to let the aircraft settle is almost always a safe response.

      Impact. The observer was back noting the behaviour of the aircraft during the crash particularly windshield destruction.

      The attached image is the final two and a half minutes of the breadcrumb trail. The little hook at the end should be ignored as an artifact of the gps coordinates becoming more accurate while being stationary. The landing site differs significantly from when the aerial photography was done. The terrain is semi-soft sand surrounded by a trees and a few more logging roads.

      Note my attempted S turn near the top. The admonition to not turn away from the field did not happen at 135 degrees. It was 45 degrees. The intent was for the S turn to not consume much landing length. Because it was so skewed, final touchdown was at the far end area, perhaps less than 200 ft remaining. Fortunately (?) I had zero rollout,

      By the way, if you look are trying to find the impact point from my Inreach track (https://share.garmin.com/RayStl), the final point is at the Red Lake hospital. that was where my Inreach satellite device was returned to me and I shut it off. Impact point was further east, just south of Little Trout Lake at the point labelled 4:22 pm on June 12. That is Atlantic time while the impact point was in the Central Time zone.
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    • Day 5

      Emergency: Crunch

      June 12, 2017 in Canada ⋅ ⛅ 19 °C

      I wrote the first part of this based on my memory. I had no pictures. At the current date, August 17, I have received pictures from the crash site. Instead of simply editing my earlier report with real data, I am adding pictures as well as appending a section describing things as they really happened. In addition to being able detail more fully what happened, it turns out I can be a crappy witness about some things.

      Doors consist of full glazing with a frame surround . Glazing disintegrated on impact. Body impact felt on left lower leg and forehead.

      Soon as I stopped, I released my safety belt and reached for the main power switch but could not find it. I saw and smelled fuel streaming from a fuel line break in the line from fuel valve to gascolator (Estimate only 50 ml max available since the wing valves were shutoff.) After a more frantic search I still failed to find that switch. I did notice the battery cutoff lever was hanging loose so knew there was no power active.

      My left foot was not aligned with the rest of of leg. Still concerned about a fire developing, I dragged myself from cockpit which was simplified because entire glazing/door was gone and fuselage was lying on ground. Dragged about 15 feet from right door (pilot side) and downhill from plane. A conscious effort was made to maintain foot/leg orientation to avoid further damage. Then the adrenalin effect stopped and leg pain started. Stopped moving and rested with the foot lying downhill and in line with leg.

      The twin engine aircraft arrived overhead. I waved as it circled a few times before leaving.

      Literally, having nothing better to do, I examined the wreckage from my vantage point. Aircraft position was upright and horizontal, on its belly on the semi-soft sand surface facing uphill. The main landing gear appeared intact but located approximately 15 feet behind the tail. An impact trench was not evident. The firewall and forward part if the plane appeared to have cleanly separated and 5 feet forward of the rest of the the fuselage.

      The lower fuselage shell of the front cockpit suffered extensive damage. The rest of the fuselage appeared intact except for one semi-circular crack behind the baggage area along the circumference. Door glazing was gone and the the windshield had major cracks and missing sections. The wings and empennage appeared intact.

      I estimated between 100 and 200 feet of landing area remained before a wall of trees.Surface was semi-soft sandy soil with occasional depressions.

      When I receive photos of the accident area next week I will post some here and update the narrative to reflect reality.

      I estimate about forty minutes after the crunch the pain became more noticeable. I began to say, "Ok I am ready to be rescued". After a few recitations of my new mantra I heard the whop, whop, whop of a helicopter. It was a Ministry if Natural Resources helicopter. The first of the crew arrived and jauntily announced, "We're first aid". Good. I needed first aid.

      They splinted my leg with a cut sapling and electrical tape (no duct tape apparently) then hauled me to the helicopter which took me to the Red Lake hospital. The smooth landing was noticed. Rub it in.

      Many X-rays of many parts were taken. I began to wonder if a more politically correct term could be used when dealing with a patient named Ray with unknown injuries. It just does not set the right frame of mind. Radiograph could be more appropriate.

      After radiating me, pulling my broken tibia back into line, splinting me and cathetering me (most unpleasant), I got medivaced by Pilatus aircraft to Thunder Bay. The smooth landing was noted.

      I arrived at Thunder Bay hospital around 11 pm Monday night, was operated on Tuesday morning and discharged from the hospital Friday morning. I left with a titanium tube in my left tibia and a pair of crutches. My fibula broke too, in multiple locations, but apparently it is left to reconnect itself in these situations.

      Barb, my wife, arrived Wednesday pm. She stayed, then we stayed at the nearby Days Inn until the one week post-op observation and redressing. That happened Monday morning. Although Barb had rented a car, tourist opportunities were hampered by my inability to remain vertical except for short periods.

      We flew back to Fredericton on Tuesday. That involved two aircraft with a stopover in Toronto. I noted the landings were not the greasers of either the helicopter or the medivac plane. But they were much smoother than my lawn dart technique by Primok Lake.

      **** NEW SECTION BASED ON PHOTOS ******
      The attached photos were taken by members of the Ministry of Natural Resources who administered first aid and then helicoptered my to Red Lake Airport. The areal view was taken from the helicopter before it landed.

      From the tracking log on the aircraft and the data recorded with the first photo, my waiting time was approximately 25 minutes before the helicopter arrived.

      The other views are from the left side. Its damage was much more severe than the right. I am not including a right side view since all I have were taken after the baggage area contents had been strewn about to gain access to the Emergency Locator Transmitter.

      The second photo indicates I landed adjacent to line of boulders on the left. These were not visible from the right. The first time I noticed the boulders was when I saw the photos.

      The third pic focuses on the area around the left side of the fuselage. Although there is an indentation in the sand from the rear fuselage and tailwheel, there is no trench. Apparently the plane impacted the grounded, ceased all forward motion and crumpled in place. The aircraft tail impacted, bounced up while the aircraft yawed slightly to the left before the tail dropping to the ground at its final resting position.
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    • Day 5

      GUFY grave

      June 12, 2017 in Canada ⋅ ⛅ 19 °C

      End of GUFY tripping. Not my best landing. Sorry for the delay in reporting. Just got released from Thunder Bay Hospital. While GUFY is essentially totaled, the only major injury to me was a broken left leg, the tibia above the ankle. Fortunately there is a procedure where they insert a titanium 'rod' down the soft center of the bone and screw it in place. The leg is instantly weight bearing. A couple of days later I was ready to leave the hospital without any cast but some crutches. Due to an administrative confusion I finally got to leave Friday morning.

      The staples come out in a couple of weeks and they say in a month I will be back to 'normal'. Could have been worse.

      I will give some details of the accident (it was not on purpose). But first I will address the elephant in the room. No I am not heartbroken because I have lost my beloved plane.

      When I first got the plane, I set the goal of visiting all the provinces in Canada. I did that in 2013. Everything since then has been a bonus. I am happy and grateful for them all but have always been aware that some day I would have to stop. The most likely reason was "losing my medical" due to advancing age. That is why I have been so vigorous in pursuing these voyages regularly. Literally, it was fun while it lasted.

      I have been aware of the risks inherent by my flying trips, with the understanding that the aircraft could be destroyed under certain circumstances. That was acceptable to me for the increased benefits from these voyages. On the other hand, I was not prepared to accept any significant increase in risk to anyone's life, including mine. I always said I would trash the plane to save a life. I did what I could to keep the plane as reliable and decided the worse acceptable case was to crash somewhere where it would take a couple days for rescue. I instrumented my plane and survival equipment accordingly. A serious but reparable injury was acceptable. In effect, I have already gone through potential anguish of losing the plane and considered the physical and mental pain acceptable.

      As it turned out, the crash was quite close the outside limit of my acceptability, Rescue arrived in less than an hour. I was ready.

      I would have rather sold the plane due to advancing decrepitude then adding to the landscape of northern Ontario, but evidently a very small risk is still not zero. Bit like winning the negative lottery.

      I will write another note on what led up to the accident. For now I will just state that while approaching Red Lake airport around 2:30 pm local time the engine suddenly stopped with the prop pitch in feathered mode. The terrain was wooded with numerous small lakes and some logging roads.

      A number of people, especially non pilots, heard the story of my accident and remarked that I was lucky to have survived. I disagree with that sentiment. It implies that flying is an inherently risky activity where mishaps tend to lead to fatalities. Not true. It is true that serious mishaps, although relatively rare, when they do happen tend to result in serious vehicle damage. But pilots are trained to handle these emergency conditions and respond accordingly to maximize the likelihood of survival. It is not a matter of luck, or great skill, but training. Or at least that is the way is is supposed to work, and did in this time too.

      As a former glider pilot/fanatic, it took me a long time to trust the engine enough not to fear that it could fail at any time, so always kept within range of a good landing spot. Ironically an engine stoppage was involved in the destruction of my plane.
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    • Day 5

      Emergency: Getting there

      June 12, 2017 in Canada ⋅ ⛅ 19 °C

      The crash will be discussed in five parts. The first is the occurrence of the failure that necessitated the emergency landing, the second is the sequence of events and thought processes that happened from there to the point of impact, the third is the results of the impact and the fourth covers hindsight and what might have happened if I I had behaved flawlessly (that was the toughest to write) , and the fifth has musings and a revelation that came out of the accident.

      This is Part 1.

      This was to be a trip from Armstrong Airport (CYYW) to Red Lake Airport (CYRL) with an estimated airtime of one hour 55 minutes.

      Recall I had a propeller vibration issue theorized to be from the development of irregularities in the paint along the leading edge of the prop blades. The only tools and supplies locally available to smooth the blade profile were 400 grit sandpaper, rags and Varsol from the local store, Scotchbrite, water, gasoline and a sanding pad from Art, the local who happened to become my chauffeur and local knowledge source. Acetone or any other strong solvent was not available. Neither Varsol or gasoline had any effect on the paint.

      Very careful wet sanding with first the sandpaper and then the Scotchbrite worked surprisingly well. I 'finished' my handiwork with some spray wax I carry when I travel.

      Flight test results were good. When I landed it was already 12:40. After adding another 20 L of mogas donated by Art, what a nice guy, I was finally able to start my flying day... what was left of it.

      But not yet. To get at the spray wax I had to unload most of the baggage compartment. By the time it was all repacked it was 1:15. I was itchng to go.

      But not yet. I was hot, hungry, thirsty and antsy. Part of me realized that I needed to calm down and take a break. So I drank some water, ate some figs, added nitrogen to the local soil. I rested a few minutes before departing around 1:35 pm in a more relaxed state. A calm initial state helps in understanding and responding to unusual conditions. Yup, I know what I am like when tired, not good at making decisions. I am glad I took the break.

      I hoped the lack of vibration could be maintained, at least til my next destination. As the trip progressed, the vibration level felt was noted. It seemed normal and stable so I felt more relaxed as the destination approached. Height above ground was 4500 ASL, 3400 AGL by my GPS enabled device. I performed regular observations of the terrain for landing suitability... no change for awhile, treed with small diameter tees, narrow logging roads, lakes.

      While about 10 minutes from the airport, I radioed position and intent to the airport radio operator. I noted wind conditions and the active runway was 26.

      When returning my eyes to the front after a side scan I noticed the propeller was stopped vertically in a feathered position. I did not notice the absence of sound until a few seconds later.

      I was puzzled by the lack of fuel engine effects and that the propeller was feathered. The right tank was in use. Fuel level is measured directly by a sight tube in each wing. Fuel valves are near each fuel gauge. I immediately turned the fuel valve on for the left tank noting it showed approximately 15 L remaining. Shifted to right side to turn its valve off then noted it also had about 15 L of full so turned the valve back on.

      Although part of me was aware that you should not start an engine with feathered prop, I pressed starter button anyway. No blade movement.

      I reflexively reached for the feathering pitch control and started to move it by beginning to pull. Then I noticed it was already in the normal, not feathered, position and pushed it back. I don't recall feeling any resistance to moving the control either way but might not have been in a frame of mind to notice.

      To myself, “I can't fix this.”
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    • Day 25

      Emergency: What if?

      July 2, 2017 in Canada ⋅ ⛅ 19 °C

      So what if I had made all the right decisions and executed them perfectly? How different would the outcome have been? Is there anything to be learned by studying what happened?

      I'll answer the last question first. You can always learn from others or your own experiences.

      First let's go to the starting point of the emergency. What caused the propeller to feather and the engine to stop? Unfortunately that cannot be answered yet. The Transport Safety Board said their investigation of this incident will be limited to gathering and filing data. Evidently they feel their finite resources would serve aviation safety better if they were used on more common aircraft failure scenarios, especially since injuries were (relatively) minor and property damage was nil. I cannot fault them for that assessment but it does leave me as the sole driving force looking for a solution.

      The uncommanded feathering of the propeller is key. Pitch is controlled by a mechanical linkage. The propeller stopped vertically so that I could only see one blade. But both blades had to be feathered otherwise there would have been massive vibration.

      Looking at the pitch control mechanism, there are only 2 points of failure that could allow the prop to get to a feathered position without being commanded it from the cockpit:a spring and a bolt that attaches the prop control rod from the hub to the position lever. If either of those disconnected somehow, only aerodynamic forces on the prop blade determine the pitch.

      Nevertheless, I would be surprised if Pipistrel would allow a design that could fail leaving the propeller feathered. More likely is that there was some variation in my installation that allowed this failure mode. I have contacted Pipistrel regarding the failure mode.

      Now for how the emergency situation was handled. From the breadcrumb file, there was about six and a half minutes from prop failure to impact. In these situations there are no certainties, you are just trying to choose the way that maximizes the probability of a safe outcome.

      It is clear that planning was better than delivery. If I had to do it again, I would still pick the wide upward grade. Trees would probably have been ok but more of an unknown for me.

      It was good that I planned to establish a standard circuit about the flare/landing point. It was good that I was vigilant against succumbing to panic. It was also a good idea to seek solutions that did require great skill to perform in my adrenalin compromised state.

      Getting diverted by the radio while wrong had little effect on the outcome in this case... only because there were over 6 minutes before impact. But it still would have been better to have declared the emergency, given the latitude and longitude from the beginning and, once sure they got that right, signed off from the radio and shut it down.

      The fixation on the landing area was another matter. It allowed me to unwittingly drift too close and low to the landing site. It is hard for me to over-emphasize the shock, wonder and disgust I felt when I realized I had botched the circuit. In my gliding/instructing days circuits were my specialty. Every landing was a spot landing where I had intended it to be. Complications like other aircraft, winds or high lift or sink encountered were handled easily.

      This time I ended up too high and too close on final for spoilers to be sufficient to get down to the threshold. That led to a snap decision to do a figure 8 bowtie to lose altitude while consuming less runway. Unfortunately I had never done this on final and I did not perform this higher skill maneuver as planned, ending far down the runway. From examining the breadcrumb file, full spoilers and full flaps would have used a bit less of the runway than actually consumed.

      Let me be clear, the biggest mistake was allowing myself to get diverted from the planned action to an irrelevant analysis of the already selected landing site. The second biggest mistake was not realizing that I had allowed myself to drift from the task at hand. That is not as bad as blind panic, but it was pretty bad.

      If things had gone as planned, almost everything would have been routine. I would have reached final with full flaps and using spoilers to control the glidepath to the flare point. That would have led to a lower touchdown/impact speed and since energy varies with the square of the speed, less impact energy to dissipate.

      Nevertheless, for this case, it is probable that there still would have been significant damage, although possibly less destruction to the aircraft and perhaps no broken bones for me. Since the sandy surface was fairly soft, the wheels could have dug in or locked by sand being trapped by the wheel pants. This could have led to the aircraft flipping over to its back.
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