We all read about the "running out of fuel just short of the airport" accidents. I have read my share of those stories and have always promised myself that I would never do that.
Being a flight instructor, I tend to be quite safety-conscious - maybe more so than the average pilot simply because I am constantly reminding my students about having a safe attitude and stressing common sense in any way I can. Though thought to be tough, I try to be fair with my students. However, I have a very low tolerance for idiocy in aviation.
All that being said, the following is a true story, and it would have turned into one of those "idiot" stories had I broken my promise to myself - which I nearly did.
My husband and I had spent the weekend at our newly purchased airport property. We had been spending weekends there for several months preparing the property to relocate our aviation business. During the course of those months I had taken on a student with whom I was scheduled to fly that weekend. We flew both our training airplane and our "freighting" airplane to the property that weekend because of the limited load capabilities of the Cessna 152.
Having flown the route many times, I had a very good feel as to how much time and fuel it would take to make the trip. Before leaving for home after the weekend, I checked my fuel tanks with the dipstick - as I always do - and didn't really like the amount that was left after the flying I had done with my student. If I could have called the fuel truck or taxied up to the pump, there's no question that's what I would have done. It wasn't that easy, though. We had a "standby" supply of aviation fuel just in case, but it was quite a process to get it from the storage tank into the airplane. Besides, the wind was picking up, and I needed to get back in time to get some things done before the workweek started the next morning.
I decided to go ahead and launch - with the back-up plan of stopping at an airport at the halfway point that has fuel and is open weekends. If, when I got to that airport, I had spent more than half the time it usually took me to make the whole trip, I would get fuel. I knew I had more than plenty to make it there with reserves.
I loaded my German shepherd in the airplane (we go everywhere together) and took off well ahead of my husband - his airplane is faster - with the idea that we would both end up at our home airport at about the same time. The wind had definitely picked up - and, of course, you know without my telling you that it was right on my nose.
To complicate things a little further, to clear the mountains I needed to climb steadily for several minutes after leaving the airport. Being on the lee side of the hills, there was a lot of sink, so I had to backtrack a little to get out of the sink and gain the last bit of altitude that I needed. I was only en route about 15 minutes when I needed to make this little adjustment and thought seriously about returning to the airport and taking on that fuel - my groundspeed wasn't great and the added time to climb wasn't going to help the situation. But I really needed to get home.... You guessed it - I didn't go back.
I finally got the altitude I needed and headed out over the mountains and into the next valley, where the back-up airport is. No problem at all. Another 20 to 30 minutes and I'd be there - then make the decision as to whether or not to stop for fuel.
The airport came into sight about 10 miles ahead and off to the right just as it always did. My en route time wasn't all that bad so far, so I'd make the decision when I got to the airport. Was my groundspeed picking up just a little? Could be... .
Now, exactly when are you "at" an airport you are flying past? Is it when you would enter the pattern by normal means? Or when you are abeam the whole airport, or when you are actually abeam the far end of the runway? It takes several minutes to fly past an airport - just which one of those times should you use as the cut-off point when a decision needs to be made? I flew past the far end of the runway. My groundspeed really did seem to be getting better - I probably had enough fuel to make it. My passenger was riding comfortably - even in the turbulence - and if I landed at a strange airport he was going to be very, very excited and would want to explore everywhere and everything. Marking every bush in sight would take even more time... .
About five minutes past the far end of the runway I said to myself, "Don't be an idiot." I turned around and went back for fuel. My husband beat me home, my dog had a grand time marking bushes, and I made it all the way home without so much as a sputter out of the engine.
Would I have made it without the extra fuel? No. I would have been one and one-half gallons short of my home airport. This story could very easily have had a different ending - that of another idiot giving aviation more bad press.
Related Articles
