ICE is NOT so NICE

“There are old pilots, and there are bold pilots. There are NO old, bold pilots.”

This SHOULD go without saying, but more than a couple of the stories I’m posting here are not for the purpose of boasting or promoting myself as anything more than a once young and bold pilot who was lucky enough to survive, learn from my mistakes, change my way of thinking and doing things, and live long enough to become an old pilot. Please learn from my mistakes, so that you too can live to be an old pilot.

January 4th, 1979

I was a pilot in the employ of Triangle Air Service, based at the Olney-Noble (Illinois) Airport, assigned a trip originating out of Mt. Vernon, Illinois in a T-tail Piper Lance. I was to pick up three passengers and take them to Springfield, Missouri, wait and return late that night.

The Lance was well-suited for the trip. It’s a roomy six place airplane – two in the cockpit and four more in the rear in a comfortable club seating configuration. For a single engine aircraft it had reasonably good performance, courtesy of a 300 horsepower Lycoming engine. You could depend on a healthy rate of climb and about 145 knots true air speed at cruise.   

The weather was not bad for January, cloudy with a high in the low to mid-twenties. We enjoyed a smooth, uneventful flight to Springfield. I was a bit concerned about the weather for our return trip, but there was nothing I could do about it. Any go/no-go decision would have to wait until departure time.

Two of my passengers were high school coaches and were going to attend a Missouri State University basketball game in which one of their former high school players would be playing. I gladly accepted their invitation to accompany them rather than wait all afternoon and evening for them to return to the airport.

Prior to going to the game, we stopped at a local diner for a late lunch. I remember that because while there I saw a woman who bore a striking resemblance to my mother, who had passed away only a few weeks before. It kind of shook me up, but no one noticed.

We all enjoyed the basketball game. My passengers got a chance to visit afterward with their protégé they’d come to see, and then it was time to go to the airport. As I’d been expecting, the weather forecast for the flight home wasn’t good. IFR ceilings and visibilities, with icing forecast in the clouds.

I was confident in the Lance’s performance and decided to go. We would no doubt pick up some ice on the leading edges of the propeller, wings and tail, but I had no doubt we could climb up on top of the clouds and fly home in the clear. Once we got close to our destination, I’d let down and do an ILS into Mt. Vernon. I’d done it several times before. Never a problem. So I filed an IFR flight plan and we were on our way.

As expected, we picked up ice during the climb. A LOT of ice, and it was accumulating rapidly. I could barely see through a little patch on the windscreen that was heated by the cabin heat and defrost. Shining a flashlight on the leading edge of the left wing, I did NOT like what I saw, so I turned the flashlight off.

The clouds were thicker than I’d expected, and we never did get on top. We just kept accumulating more and more ice. Eventually, we could no longer climb. Then, not long after that, we could no longer maintain altitude. The Lance started down. I knew better than to fight it. Doing so would result in a stall and we’d spin in.

Behind me, in the comfortable cabin area, my passengers chatted about the game, about their upcoming plans, the usual things people talk about when they have no idea their lives are in mortal danger. I saw no need to say anything to them. Panicked passengers would be of no help to me.

The best I could do was set up the best rate of climb speed with climb power in hopes of maintaining the lowest rate of descent. And hope I would break out of the clouds and at least stop accumulating more ice. I briefly considered making an approach to the Farmington, Missouri airport, but it was dark as a cave, I was not familiar with the airport, and that approach was not a straight-in. I only had a small area of the windscreen heated by the defroster to look outside and my airplane was loaded with ice. I opted to press on to Mt. Vernon, where at least I would have an ILS precision approach.

We eventually got low enough that with a little coaxing I could maintain altitude. The ceiling and visibility at Mt. Vernon was good, so no need to do the ILS. I could make a visual approach on the southwest runway. I entered the downwind leg, put on a notch of flaps, and lowered the landing gear.

Holy crap!!! As the gear was coming down, the airplane began porpoising, and I was afraid I would lose control. It occurred to me that I might have to retract the gear and slide the airplane in on its belly just to keep it under control. I didn’t like that idea. Luckily, once the gear locked in the down position everything stabilized and from there it was more or less a normal visual approach. I put on the last two notches of flaps, carried extra power and a few extra knots on the approach just to be on the safe side. Looking out my left side window for reference as much as I could, with a glance every now and then through the peephole on the windscreen.

We landed without incident and taxied to the ramp. My passengers thanked me for a great flight, and I thanked them for their business.  Once they were gone, I went about the business of knocking ice off the wings and propeller blades and wiping the windscreen clean before flying back home to Olney.

My best guess regarding the instability during gear extension is that there was enough ice on the leading edge of the tail stabilator that it was flying just above stall speed. The interruption of airflow over the surface during gear extension was enough to induce a stall on the stabilator. Once the gear was down and locked the airflow was undisturbed and I once again had control. Carrying the extra power and airspeed didn’t hurt.

I had taken out another rather large withdrawal from my bag of luck, but I did at least learn a bit from it and made a small deposit in the bag of experience.

Just a reminder to my friends, I would love to post your stories here at The Rusty Hangar. Pilots, Flight Attendants, Air Traffic Controllers, Drone Operators, Maintenance Personnel, ANYONE who has an aviation-related story that would be of interest.

We’ve all done some things we are not particularly proud of. We worry about our reputations. We might be concerned that it could impact our careers if the wrong people read about what we did. (Fortunately for me, I’m long-ago retired, and I don’t worry about it. I lay it out there - EXCEPT FOR THAT ONE STORY THAT I WILL NEVER TELL … THE STUPIDEST THING I EVER DID AS A PILOT. )

Stupid mistakes are often the best teachers. Maybe your story can save someone else from making a bad decision. IF REQUESTED, I WILL POST YOUR STORY ANONYMOUSLY!

To submit a story, or to inquire about it, please contact me at rustyhangar@gmail.com .

Thank you!

WB