As a professional photographer and writer I was assigned to cover a story on helicopter logging. On the scheduled day of the interviews and photo shoot I awakened early and was en route to the Lemhi County Airport in Salmon, Idaho, where I keep my Cessna 150L. I was to meet the operations manager of the logging company at the Ennis-Big Sky Airport in Montana. The 150-mile flight to Ennis over some of the most spectacular scenery in the Rocky Mountains proved to be uneventful and right on time. I had earned my private pilot certificate a year earlier, and flying a 150 over those mountains proved always to be a challenge.
After a long day of covering the logging story, I was a bit uneasy about flying back to Salmon. I didn't like the idea of flying through mountainous terrain at night. Committed to spending the night in Montana, I suggested to the operations manager that we use the remaining daylight to fly over a nearby controlled burn that the U.S. Forest Service was conducting. He readily accepted the invitation. After a complete preflight at Ennis, we headed south toward the burn. We flew by the fire and took a few pictures for keepsake. Because it was getting dark and I was unfamiliar with the area, I told my passenger that it would be prudent to head back to the airport.
Below, I spied a large canyon that would lead us to the road that went to Ennis. It was now dusk as I neared the highway that led to town. I rolled the Cessna level to complete the turn. Just as I leveled the wings, much to my horror I saw a set of high-voltage wires screaming above the cockpit windshield. All I could think was, "How in the world did those wires get above us?" In the blink of an eye, we struck another set of high-voltage cables that set off a blinding explosion of sparks. The aircraft yawed violently to the right. After a few seconds of fighting to maintain directional control of the aircraft, I was able to stabilize the airplane and climb. I quickly scanned the cockpit instruments for any problems and noticed that they were all within acceptable limits.
I knew that there had to be damage, but I didn't know how much. I didn't know if the engine had ingested anything or if there was burning debris infused into the wing. The 150's fuel tanks are located in the wings and both my passenger and I were extremely concerned that a rupture of those tanks could result in a subsequent explosion. As I maintained level flight, I could not see any fire on the aircraft or other damage and decided to head for the Ennis airport.
I called the airport's unicom and waited for a reply. I was elated to hear a response. I told the operator that we had just struck some high-voltage wires, gave my present position, and requested that the fire department and the power company head to the accident site. When we looked behind to check our tail, we saw that the hillside was aflame from the live wires dangling about. I also requested that the police be notified in case we crashed while en route; they might be able to give assistance.
Although I looked at the wheels, I couldn't verify their integrity because of the wheel fairings. The fairings themselves looked intact, but it still disturbed me that I didn't know the full extent of damage to the aircraft. I contacted unicom again and indicated that I wanted a qualified individual to be near the runway to check the landing gear. We were silent on the way to the airport. I believe both of us thought that at any given moment during the 30 miles back to the airport, we could turn into a fireball over the sky of Montana — and there was simply no place to land safely.
As we flew, we saw the fire trucks racing out of town to put out the fire at the accident scene. The fly-by at the airport indicated no damage to the landing gear, and we had an uneventful landing. After we shut down, a close inspection by flashlight revealed that, indeed, holes had been burned into not only the right wing, but the wheel strut fairing as well. The wing also suffered impact damage from the cable, and inspection of the propeller disclosed shards of metal impregnated into the leading edge. What saved both our lives was that the fact that the prop had severed the cables as we attempted to gain altitude after passing under the first set of wires. After they severed, they struck the right wing, causing the yaw to the right, the damage, and the burn holes in the skin of the aircraft.
The lesson learned? Never fly low in terrain that you are unfamiliar with. No matter how safe you deem low flight, you will always place yourself and your passengers in jeopardy by doing so. In my logbook I inscribed the following: "In just the blink of an eye, you can pass from life to death. Today, two lucky pilots by the names of Jim and Mike were able to come back for one more go-around."
Jim Oltersdorf, AOPA 1134357, of Tendoy, Idaho, has accumulated more than 500 hours as a private pilot. He still owns the Cessna 150L.
"Never Again" is presented to enhance safety by providing a forum for pilots to learn from the experiences of others. Manuscripts should be typewritten, double-spaced, and sent to: Editor, AOPA Pilot, 421 Aviation Way, Frederick, Maryland 21701.
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