The weather could not have been better to give rides to some friends in my Hispano Aviacion Casa Saeta twin-engine jet fighter/trainer. At 8 a.m. on this cool September morning, with my first back-seater strapped in, we taxied to Runway 22 at Houston Hobby Airport for departure on a VFR flight to Galveston, Texas. The tower cleared us for takeoff and instructed that we climb to 2,000 feet and turn to a heading of 150 degrees for Galveston. As the gear retracted, the controller called and said: "Saeta Four-Hotel-Alpha, you are trailing an awful lot of smoke."
I had already started a left turn toward 150 degrees as the controller finished her warning. My first thought was that I had accidentally bumped on the smoke toggle switch, but my hopes faded when I saw it was Off. By now, I had climbed to 500 feet and was on a heading of 150 degrees. My scan indicated that both engines' oil pressures and temperatures were in the green. My brain declared an alert, and I remembered the old cliché "where there's smoke, there's fire." I saw no fire, but there was indeed a lot of smoke coming out of the right side of the nose-engine cowl. Continuing my scan as I throttled back, I still saw no fire indications on my gauges. The fire-detection light was off, and I could not determine from the gauges which engine was causing the problem. I rechecked the fire-detection light and it worked just as it had during my preflight.
"Saeta Four-Hotel-Alpha is requesting an immediate return to Hobby," I said.
"Four-Hotel-Alpha, you're cleared to land on Runway 22."
Hobby has several runways, and I knew that I needed to get the fire out and land. Since I was on a 150-degree heading, it would be quicker to land on one of the northwesterly runways than on a southwest-oriented one. I also knew that in most landing emergencies, pilots either undershoot or overshoot the runway. Accordingly, I radioed the tower and said, "I want Runway 30L." My reasoning was that by landing on the airport's longest runway I could protect myself from the undershoot by landing one-third down the runway and not overshoot.
The controller's response surprised me: "Hotel-Alpha, are you declaring an emergency? You are not cleared for 30L." Not fearing paperwork, I transmitted in no uncertain terms: "Tower, I'm declaring an emergency, and I want 30L!"
I was already turning a short base for 30L when the controller said, "Hotel-Alpha, you're cleared for 30L."
As we descended through 300 feet I shut down the engines, turned off the fuel, and lowered the gear and flaps. I remained calm and kept telling myself to fly the plane and not get distracted. Because there was a tailwind, I was a little fast on my approach; but neither of those factors would be a problem with 9,000 feet of runway. As we reached 250 feet, I calculated that we were right on the money for our landing. Looking toward the far end of the runway, I felt my heart skip a beat as I spotted a Boeing 737 landing on 12R (in the opposite direction on the same runway). It was only 20 feet off the deck and about to touch down when I queried the tower about my rights to the runway. Realizing the error in not rerouting the Boeing because of an emergency, the controller immediately told the 737 to go around.
Those few seconds seemed like an eternity. The 737 throttled up just as its main wheels touched down in a burst of smoke. The big airplane slowly climbed as it sidestepped to the right. As the Boeing continued its climb, I remembered that it generated strong wing-tip vortices. With that hidden danger lurking just in front of us, I made the decision to sidestep to the shorter Runway 30R.
The plan seemed to work as we touched down on 30R, but the end of the runway was approaching fast. I applied the brakes and vainly tried to stop. We were still traveling at about 15 knots when the airplane rolled into the grass.
Upon stopping, I told the tower that we were OK and were shutting down and abandoning the aircraft in case of fire. Luckily, there was no more smoke. Fire and rescue units were already moving toward us. As I opened my passenger's rear canopy, I felt stupid for forgetting to jettison the canopies during the emergency so we could egress easier after landing. I saw no indications of fire or apparent damage to the Saeta and realized we were very lucky. My back-seater did not say we were lucky; he said it was the greatest adventure of his life, and that he was ready to go again.
A subsequent inspection by my A&P revealed that an oil line on the right engine had ruptured, allowing oil to spill on the outside of the burner can, causing it to act like a smoke pump. I later went to the tower to thank the controller for her help and was allowed to listen to the tape recording of our emergency. The FAA paperwork was a breeze. My mechanic did a thorough inspection of the Saeta and the jet was declared airworthy again after the oil lines were changed.
Although the situation wasn't handled perfectly, I felt that I did the right thing by immediately returning to the airport, demanding the longest runway despite what the controller wanted, and not being afraid to declare an emergency.
J. Gary Trichter, AOPA 1150191, a Houston attorney, holds a commercial certificate with instrument and multiengine ratings.
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