In January 1979 the company I worked for was asked to inspect a Boeing B–29 Superfortress bomber housed at the Navy's China Lake Test Facility in Southern California. We were to see if the aircraft could be made flyable for delivery to England. I planned to fly myself to China Lake from our home in Tucson, Arizona, taking my wife, a supervisor, and his wife along. We planned to come back through Las Vegas for a little entertainment on the return trip to Tucson. I figured that since California is always sunny, there was no need to check the weather.
Tucson that morning was bright and sunny, with ceiling and visibility unlimited. I had at that time about 2,000 hours and held commercial and instrument ratings. We took off in my Cessna 337 Skymaster, and the weather was perfect until we reached Twentynine Palms, California. We were at 8,500 feet msl when we started to encounter some heavy overcast. I descended to 7,500 feet and soon was in a light mist, which began depositing a layer of rime ice on the airplane. I descended farther until the icing stopped and then proceeded on to Barstow, California.
By the time we got to Barstow the weather had deteriorated considerably. I decided to land and check the weather. After talking to flight service and the fixed base operator, who said we could probably make it on to Mojave, California, we took off. But we shortly found ourselves in fairly heavy snow conditions. We were at a very low altitude trying to scud run into Mojave. After about 15 minutes the snow was getting worse, so I decided to turn back to Barstow. We landed at Barstow and discussed our options with the FBO. He told us that it might be possible to get to China Lake by going just east of Boron and following the road up through Red Mountain and Inyokern. He said that he had done that on numerous occasions when the weather was bad.
We took off again and the weather seemed to have gotten better; it appeared that he was going to be right. We turned north around Boron and proceeded to follow the road north. The clouds kept getting lower and the terrain kept rising. We were down as low as we could get without being in danger of hitting the power lines along the road. We were actually able to read the road signs. Really dumb. We had just seen a road sign stating that we were entering the town of Inyokern, when we suddenly entered a snowstorm. I lost sight of any ground reference, and I told my passengers that I was going to turn around and return to Barstow.
I started my turn to the right and suddenly the whole windscreen was filled with trees, rocks, and snow. The sound that I heard next was one I will never forget. It was the sound of my passengers suddenly realizing that they were about to die. They were letting out the most dreadful moans that I have ever heard. It was as if they were taking their last breaths. I noticed that I had let the nose drop.
To this day I don't know how I avoided death that day. I already had the engines throttled back in order to fly rather slowly. At the instant I realized what the situation was, I rolled the control wheel to the left; pulled it all the way back; and shoved the throttles, mixtures, and props forward to the firewall in one motion. The engines and props screamed, and as the nose came up, I swear that the ground passed not more than two feet below the cargo pod. I put the airplane in as tight an upward spiral as I could, because I knew that there were 6,000-foot hills around us and we were at about 5,000 feet. I climbed up to about 7,000 feet and called Edwards Approach. I told them where I was and asked for vectors to Mojave. We were picking up ice and I wanted to descend. Approach told me they would get me lower as soon as I was clear of the terrain. They gave me vectors into Mojave along with a precision approach radar approach. The weather was at or below minimums when we landed. It was snowing and very cold. I literally kissed the ground when we got out of the airplane.
After we had some lunch and rented a car we proceeded to drive to China Lake—and almost didn't make it by road, it was snowing so hard. My mistake was believing that I could scud run and outwit the weather. As soon as we hit the first of the weather, I should have put my airplane and my passengers on the ground and out of harm's way.
John R. Gasho Sr., AOPA 386681, is president of Western International Aviation in Tucson, Arizona. He owns a Grumman HU–16 Albatross and a Cessna 320A.
"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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