Flying a Beech Debonair from Jacksonville Florida to Troy Michigan for a wedding in July. This was the late eighties. A cold front was not supposed to make it to Columbus by the time we got there.

 

In West Virginia we see a solid line of what looked like thunderstorms between us and Ohio, so we land in Parkersburg, West Virginia to go to the flight service station and see what the hell was going on. That was an interesting landing, right over the Ohio river on an elevated runway kind of like a carrier landing.

 

Of course, the front had moved faster than forecast. The boys at the FSS say it shouldn't be any problem, these aren't thunderboomers on radar, everyone is reporting VFR along your way.

 

So we wait about a half hour, and take off again. About half way to Columbus the weather takes a sudden turn for the worse, completely closes in, and starts raining like hell. I've got about 150 VFR hours at this point, and some rudimentary IFR training. Complete IFR conditions at this point, and you can barely see the ground below on occasion. And I'm in the middle of Ohio with the only airports with an ILS are just about equal distance from me.

 

So I concentrate on keeping the damn thing level and flying with the instruments, and followed the VOR's I had picked out for the flight. Finally, thank God, about 25 miles from Columbus the skies started breaking, and we made an uneventful landing there. My frat brothers had no idea how stressed I was during this, as I didn't want to freak them out. But I had to use the washroom after we landed....

 

Then we get to Troy, and uncontrolled field without a tower, so I have to announce our arrival, which I do. I start to enter the downwind pattern and I'll be dammed if there isn't some numbskull who hasn't announced anything just about to run into us. I have to take an emergency dive and scramble out of there to reenter the pattern.

 

That champagne at the wedding was sweet that evening.

Flying my Piper Turbo Arrow IV with my wife and (then) very young son from Greeley, CO (KGXY) to Saratoga, WY (KSAA) on a severe clear VFR day for a fly-in lunch with a group of pilot friends.  Over very rugged, heavily forested terrain in the Medicine Bow Mtns. my cowling and windscreen were suddenly covered in oil.  The engine was still developing full power, so with nowhere to set down in the immediate area I stayed high and continued towards Saratoga, constantly scanning for places to land (initially pretty much non-existent) as we continued towards flatter, less-vegetated terrain.  With KSAA in sight as we came out of the mountains and over the valley cut by the N. Platte River, I reduced power, slipping to lose altitude, notified local traffic of the situation, entered a high right base to 05 and made a power off (not shut down, just throttled completely back) landing, ensuring I could make the field at any point should the engine shut down completely.

 

We landed safely and uneventfully and hitched a ride back with someone from our group after lunch.  As later explained by my mechanic, the seal/gasket at the back of the engine had failed, most likely as a result of blow-by pressure from one of the jugs which had apparently started going bad.  When we landed, we actually still had quite a bit of oil remaining.  Oil leaks, like cuts to the head, often look worse than they are.  Still, when your cowling is coated in oil and you've got so much oil on the window that it's hard to see and you're over mountains with no immediate emergency landing spots, it gets your attention.

 

BTW, in 25 years of marriage this was one of the few times my wife has gotten really angry with me.  She kept asking me what was wrong and what was I going to do and I had to tell her to please be quiet and let me fly (I admit I probably didn't say it that diplomatically in the heat of the moment) - I'd update her as required and I'd explain it all in detail later. 

 

Meanwhile my son was sound asleep in the back through the whole episode.

 

Scott

My worst flight was when I was doing my first solo 3 legged cross county. The plan was to leave early I the morning and fly from Apple Valley, CA to Palm Springs, then Palm Springs to Blythe, Blythe to Needles, and finally Needles back to Apple Valley.

 

I got to the airport slightly before sun up on a clear Sunday morning. Review my flight plan with my instructor, filed the flight plan, checked weather, preflighted and off I went in the clubs 152 as the sun was just coming up.

 

I was really excited. At the time I was 15 years old, couldn't drive a car yet and had my dad drive me to the airport. Every weekend I would take an hour lesson which always went by too fast so I was looking forward to finally getting more or less a whole day of flying in.

 

So after takeoff I was flying the north side of the San Bernardino mountains behind the Big Bear area and was going to head to Yucca Valley and cut through the pass between the mountains and head to Palm Springs. I contacted Palm Spring approach and was given a squawk code to which I read back and dialed into the transponder. A few minutes later I was contacted by approach again and asked if I was squawking the correct code to which I read back and confirmed. I was told they weren't receiving my squawk and was given another code. I put it in and they responded that they still weren't picking me up.

 

Turns out I had a non-operative transponder. I was told to report my position and to notify them when I was over interstate 10 and then contact the tower. When I passed interstate 10 I contact approach and was then told to contact the tower with and let them know about my transponder info. Since it was early Sunday morning with not much in the way of commercial traffic I was told that I could continue and maintain visual separation if I saw any other traffic.

 

The tower had asked for my position to which I gave them and they told me to fly a right hand pattern for runway 31. I reported that I didn't have the airport in sight and was given some landmarks to use to locate the runway. I still was unable to locate the field and was told to flying a circling pattern over I-10 until I located it and them report back that I had visual contact.

 

After flying in circles for about 15 minutes I spotted a large twin engine commercial plane descending towards the mountains. I conact the tower and was told that they were on final for the same runway and to follow them in maintaining a few mile separation. I was approaching that plane on a 90 degrees angle and when I turned in to follow it I finally made visual contact with the airport and proceeded to make a somewhat bumpy landing and taxied in to the FBO.

 

The rest of the flight to Blythe, Needles, and home went ok, albeit it did get pretty boring flying through the desert at 95 kts for hours battling the windy conditions the area is known for and I just got back to Apply Valley before the sun was setting.

 

When I landed and went into the FBO to turn in the key's the owner asked me how it went to which I told the story about the transponder not working.

 

Fortunately in all the years after that I never had any equipment malfunctions or bad things happen to me but a few years later when I was living in Tucson, AZ I was flying out of KTUS one morning to go for a fun morning sightseeing. The Air National Guard was flying that morning in F-16's and a Cessna 172 and I were waiting behind two F-16's that were waiting to taxi on to 10L for takeoff. The 172 ahead of me was a little to close to the trailing F-16 and when they were clear for take off and proceeded to taxi on to 11L, the trailing F-16 throttled up to get rolling and the blast from his engine flipped the 172 in front of me completely upside down. Fortunately no one was hurt, but I was surprised that the tower and/or the pilot flying the 172 taxied in so close to the back of the F-16. Lesson learned for the guy flying the 172 and me as well, not realizing that a jet could flip a small plane that easily from that distance.

My worst and scariest fight was on a USAIR 737 flight from New York to Pittsburgh back in the early 90's We were at cruising altitude and everything was normal no turbulence at all. Then without warning the plane banked hard to the left about 90 degrees, then back to the right, then recovered, flight was smooth from then on. Luckily only a couple of people had minor injuries (I believe they were coffee burns) and EMT's treated them upon landing. It was never explained what caused the wild gyration but I always suspected it was related to the 737 rudder reversal issue as those incidents were occurring during the same time period. If it was I'm thankful it happened at cruise, rather then on takeoff or landing, or I might not be writing this now!!

The very first flight after my first solo: (solo #2)

After takeoff, I was climbing through maybe 500 feet and the airspeed suddenly indicated 35 mph suddenly, so I pushed forward on the yoke thinking I was in a full stall..., and she passed through 85 and soon jumped to 100. I returned to 85, best climb out speed, and then she dropped right away to 32 mph.

This repeated about four times until I settled out at 1200, level, and the speed seemed OK

 

Landing was OK, emergency approach procedures.

I probably never actually stalled. Even tho it said 32 i was prob still at 88 or so

Upon post inspection of the pitot tube, there was a tiny evergreen needle in the tube's hollowed-out part, which as far as I could guess, would slide back inside the pitot when climbing out at a best rate of climb, causing the blockage of air, and erroneous airspeed. Also explains why I had no problems level flight.

Must have picked it up while taxiing, as they used to put these little 2 foot high pine trees along the edge of the taxiway as markers (circa 1972)

Removed said tiny pine needle and thankfully never over-panicked.

I dont think we looked right inside pitot tubes in our pre-flights, but I did after that...

My scariest flight ever was a return flight on Southwest from Orlando, Florida to KMDW. We landed on 31C, and the bloody 737 just floated in effect until we'd passed over 4R/22L...

 

...and continued to float over 4L/22R!

 

Just past that point the pilot crunched her down hard and must have stood on the brakes along with full reverse thrust. The plane finally stopped so close to the end of 31C that he had to use reverse thrust to back up far enough to make the turn off to the taxiway.

 

 

Just past that point the pilot crunched her down hard and must have stood on the brakes along with full reverse thrust. The plane finally stopped so close to the end of 31C that he had to use reverse thrust to back up far enough to make the turn off to the taxiway.

 

This reminds me of the phrase, "Real men don't go around."

 

This was at Midway, I take it?

 

Mike

 

 

My scariest flight ever was a return flight on Southwest from Orlando, Florida. We landed on 31C, and the bloody 737 just floated in effect until we'd passed over 4R/22L......

 

That wouldn't be my scariest flight! My scariest flight would be if I was on another Southwest Flight afterwards, and he was my pilot!!!

This reminds me of the phrase, "Real men don't go around."

 

This was at Midway, I take it?

Yes it was. I thought I'd put that in my post but obviously not. I've edited to add that information.

That wouldn't be my scariest flight! My scariest flight would be if I was on another Southwest Flight afterwards, and he was my pilot!!!

You've got a point there. I haven't flown on Southwest since that near-crash landing though!

 

The only thought foremost in my mind at the time was a replay of the horrific crash* where the aircraft didn't stop, and proceeded out onto the highway. It hadn't been too many months before when that happened.

 

* https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Southwest_Airlines_Flight_1248

Great thread!

 

Two experiences for me. I'll try to be brief.

 

First, I was in Japan in 1987, and was flying home to Vancouver. I hadn't planned it this way, but I had been staying in a small city near Nagoya, so my then-Japanese girl friend arranged for me to take a domestic flight from Nagoya (RJNN, I think) to Narita (RJAA). Once I was at RJAA, I'd catch my flight home.

 

I can't remember the carrier, but it was a domestic one. Anyway, I got on the plane and quickly realized I was the only gai-jin (foreigner) on the plane--a 707 if I recall correctly. Everyone else, and I mean everyone else, was Japanese. The flight, which was packed full (no business class or first class, either) went well, right up until we were about to land at Narita. I heard all the usual sounds that accompany a landing--gear descending and locking, flaps extending, etc.-- and I saw the ground getting closer and closer. I could see the tops of the trees on the approach to the runway.

 

All of sudden, the gear and the flaps retracted, the plane tilted up suddenly, and we started climbing--rapidly. The captain addressed the passengers over the intercom system ... entirely in Japanese. Which I don't speak. At all. After he finished, the passengers around me looked very concerned. "Great," I thought. "I'm in Japan, in a plane with some sort of problem, and if we all die, I'll never know why."

 

I was starting to feel alarmed when once again, the gear and flaps were extended, and we started our approach. After a long delay, almost right up until we landed, the pilot or co-pilot came over the intercom and announced in very halting English that we had had to abort our landing because another plane was on the runway. I guess one of the flight attendants went to the cockpit to let the captain know that there was one foreigner on the entire plane and that someone should make an announcement in English.

 

Second, I had been at a conference in San Diego and again was coming back to Vancouver, this time by way of Seattle. I was travelling in a 737, so I had an older woman beside me and a young man in his late teens or early twenties beside her. The young guy slept most of the way, right up until we were just south of Seattle. At that point, he woke up and started screaming, "we're going to crash! I know it! We're all going to die!"

 

The older lady turned out to be the young guy's mother, and she apologized to me and everyone around us that her son had been experiencing some mental issues and that she was taking him home. Looking back, I know now that the young fellow was just at the age when bi-polar disorder can make itself known, so that is probably what had happened. She probably had to pick the kid up in San Diego to bring him home. Quite sad, really.

 

In any case, she managed to get him calmed down, and he stopped screaming about everyone dying in a plane crash a few minutes before we landed.

Had just returned early from a trip to France (I have a holiday home there). So it's the middle of the day and I decided to hang around the field and clean the Europa. It's a lovely warm sunny day and there was almost non-one about - everyone had gone flying. As I was waxing the ol' pride'n'joy one of the field veterans pops over and asks if I'd like a quick trip in his plane as he needed some`human ballast`for a flight test.

 

I knew the guy by sight as a `regular` (y'know them - one with the perfectly-matched buttock shaped creases on the stool in the flying club bar) I knew he was ex-military, ex-oil company pilot with more than 10,000 hours so thought nothing of it, and thought it might be a nice opportunity to fly in something else. 

 

And that's how I ended up on a barely-tied down (with string !) wooden bench in a De Havilland Fox Moth in some of the worst convective turbulence I've ever encountered, with only a lap strap and no headgear.

Look up `Fox Moth` to see what the cabin looks like. Then imagine one in the middle of a refurb without any of the furniture or head linings and just a plank to sit on. The triangular door had big gaps around the edges where it didn't fit properly in the hole and you could actually see the fuselage bend and twist. So not disconcerting. At all. 

 

Take-off was alright, a Fox Moth vibrates and shakes, the noise level rises and then it kind of drifts into the air in its own time, but immediately we cleared the field the turbulence started. First I banged my head on the roof, then I banged my knee on the floor, then the string at one end of the plank slipped off and with every balloon or downdraught the seat was lifting and sliding and the fuselage was creaking and groaning. I ended up holding it in place by scrunching my leg under the seat with the plank in the crook of my knee, while trying to turn round and get the pilots attention. Now, in a Fox Moth the pilot in the open cockpit sees the passengers through a porthole-style device in the panel (pilot sits behind and above the `ballast`, and just like a porthole it was hinged on one side so you could turn a screw on the other and open it to shout at the occupants of the cabin. 

 

So I'm contorted six ways from Sunday, trying to draw attention to my plight through the little window. And then the door came off the latch. It starts vibrating in the airstream and I happen to remember that the open door could also disrupt the airflow over the tailplane and rudder, and the Fox Moth had borderline stability about the longitudinal or yaw axis. I'm now thinking we are heading into a potentially dangerous situation as not only could I fall out the door were it to open, even if I didn't the aircraft could become uncontrollable, so with my left hand I grab the door handle and hold it for dear life as near closed as possible. 

 

The flight continued like a boneshaker over a cobbled street for what seemed like a lifetime, before I finally heard the engine throttle back and the aircraft make contact with terra firma.

 

By the time I climbed out I must have looked like a yoga master or Quasimodos' stand-in as I couldn't stand up straight, my arm was hanging limp from the effort, and my head was skewed over at an angle from trying to avoid bouncing it off the crossmember in the ceiling.  All my pilot said was: "I saw you leaning over in the cabin and thought you were just trying to look out the window."

 

Two years later I finally got my revenge. I made him suffer the indignity of using the pilot relief system in flight when I flew him to Little Gransden where his engine was being rebuilt and we hit some turbulence causing splashback. He had pee stained trousers foe the rest of the day !

What an interesting story! I see the "porthole" you referred to in this beautifully restored panel.

 

 

Is this a photo of you hanging on to the door? :Just Kidding:

Fr. Bill, 

 

Nope, nowhere near white-knuckled enough,   

 

Besides they look like they were trying to get out. I was trying to stay in.  :Nail Biting:

 

Anyhow, we get close to Colorado Springs and the weather is brutal. Turbulent, poor visibility, thunder bumpers left and right, and we ended up going around twice. The pilot (this is before cockpit doors were closed all the time) hollered that we could only do one more attempt, and it would be hairball. But not to worry, he was a helo pilot in 'Nam and was confident he could do. The alternative was to go back to Denver. An informal poll yielded a "go for it" vote, and in we went. Super steep dive through a hole in the clouds and we popped out to see the lights of the airport right in front of us. Pilot got an ovation for that one.

 

 

 

Great story, miss the days when the door was open for some or all of the flight.

 

 

Then we get to Troy, and uncontrolled field without a tower, so I have to announce our arrival, which I do. I start to enter the downwind pattern and I'll be dammed if there isn't some numbskull who hasn't announced anything just about to run into us. I have to take an emergency dive and scramble out of there to reenter the pattern.

 

 

I think this guy might be on Vatsim now!

Wow really enjoying the stories from RW pilots.

 

My story is on a South African Airways flight from London to Johannesburg sometime in the early 70's flying on a Boeing 707-300.  In mid flight one of the engines had a problem and had to be shut down and the airplane had to make an emergency landing.   Landing was fine but the only problem was that the airport selected for the emergency was Entebe, Uganda.  For those that are not aware at that time Uganda was run by Idi Amin...a maniac dictator and world pariah.  SAA made the decision to leave the PAX at Entebe and fly the plane back to South Africa empty , replace the engine and then come back and pick us up.  So we were there for 48 hours.  Now, I was a small child at the time, but my parents have told me this was a very terrifying 48 hours on the ground and everyone was significantly relieved when the plane took off again for Jo'Burg.