Accidents often result from a chain of events and can be avoided by breaking one of the links before it can connect with others. The problem with most such links, however, is that they may not appear sufficiently prophetic to be perceived as an element that could lead to disaster. This is the story of how one such link almost did.
A pilot was checking out in his new Beechcraft F33A Bonanza at Reno/Tahoe Airport in Nevada. After spending the day flying to local airports, he and his instructor had dinner at Amelia's, an airport restaurant that overlooks the ramp where the aircraft was parked. The sight of the F33A glistening in the floodlights lured the pair back to the cockpit. They did not intend to fly. The instructor wanted only to familiarize the owner with the Bonanza's lighting systems. A night checkout was slated for the next evening.
Although the owner was too tired to fly, he suggested that the CFI make a few circuits of the airport while he, the owner, relaxed in the right seat. The instructor did not need coaxing.
After a few touch-and-goes, the pair climbed above Reno's Class C airspace to admire the view. A high overcast obscured the stars, but visibility beneath the altostratus was unlimited. The clustered and colorful lights of downtown Reno were a dazzling spectacle.
Moments later, the cockpit lights began to rapidly dim, and within seconds the cockpit turned black. Without warning, the F33A suffered a total electrical failure. The owner grabbed his flashlight and turned it on, but the batteries were dead.
At first blush, an electrical failure in VFR conditions at night might not seem challenging; the instructor and his student soon came to recognize, however, that their plight was not without peril.
Although the carpet of lights below provided sufficient outside reference to maintain control of the Bonanza's attitude, the pilots quickly lost sense of airspeed and altitude, which could be particularly troublesome during their eventual approach and landing. The electrically operated flaps would be inoperative, too, and the imperative need to avoid approaching too slowly would undoubtedly result in the opposite effect, excessive airspeed.
And where would they land? Reno/Tahoe is an airline hub, and the pilots of arriving and departing aircraft would be unable to see the darkened Bonanza.
Did the approach controllers notice the disappearance of the Bonanza's transponder squawk? If not, they, too, would be unaware of the stealthy Bonanza's arrival.
The pilots discussed diverting to nearby and uncontrolled Reno/Stead Airport, but this posed two problems. First, the runway lighting there is pilot-controlled. Without radios they would have to land in pitch-blackness. Nor could they see their chart to determine whether other nearby airports were similarly equipped.
Second, Reno is at the eastern base of the Sierras and is surrounded by other tall mountains. Leaving behind the haven of city lights and venturing toward such unlit obstructions left much to be desired.
The pilots decided to land at Reno/Tahoe and take their chances with traffic. They reasoned that they could remain clear of other aircraft by maintaining a careful watch for their lights.
While continuing to circle over the city, the instructor began to swear for not being intimate enough with the emergency gear-extension system to operate it without bloodying his hand. After the crank was turned until it would turn no more, the landing gear was presumably down. But there were no indicator lights to confirm this. Perhaps, he thought, pilots should learn to operate the controls of their aircraft while blindfolded, in the manner of soldiers who are required to field-strip their rifles without looking at them.
He was grateful, at least, for teaching and being proficient at making night landings without using landing lights.
While downwind for Runway 16L and for reasons he cannot explain, the CFI fumbled in the darkness to locate and turn off the master switch. In the process, he was stunned to discover that the adjacent switch, the alternator switch, was off. He immediately flipped it up, and the cockpit was instantly awash in light.
Without batting an eyelash, the owner reported downwind on the tower frequency, and the Bonanza was cleared to land. No one on the ground had noticed anything amiss.
The pilots later discussed how it was possible for the alternator switch not to have been turned on. They concluded that their normal prestart ritual and rhythm had been "out of sync" because they had not intended to fly when they had first turned on the master switch. (Strict adherence to checklists also would have prevented this overdose of anxiety.)
An unknown writer once penned: For the want of a nail, the shoe was lost; for the want of the shoe, the horse was lost; for the want of the horse, the battle was lost; for the want of the battle, a war was lost.
For the want of a flashlight or a checklist, an airplane could have been lost.
The instructor in this case could have avoided this distress. He was a retired airline captain with 26,000 hours (much of this in high-performance general aviation airplanes). He had been flying since he was 14, and, I am ashamed to admit, he was me.
Related Articles
