Unusual situations can take controllers by surprise, too
My flight to San Diego was uneventful, although I was disappointed that I couldn't fly over Lake Powell and the Grand Canyon during daylight. I figured that the three-hour trip up the California coast to San Luis Obispo, the airplane's destination, would be the least significant part of the adventure.
Somewhere northwest of Los Angeles, Los Angeles Center asked if I would like "direct San Luis Obispo." I accepted the direct route and admired the beauty of the Sierra Madre mountain range, which seemed to be around 3,000 feet below my 10,000-foot altitude.
Suddenly, there was a noticeable difference in the sound of the 180-horsepower Lycoming. I turned on the fuel pump and quickly switched fuel tanks. The sound returned to normal, thank God. I had been flying two and one-half hours since topping off with fuel. About 10 minutes later the same thing happened again. There had to be something wrong with the fuel-maybe ice, water, or some other contamination.
This time, switching tanks didn't help. The gauges looked normal, even the tachometer, but there was a definite loss of power. I dropped 2,000 feet at 600 feet per minute while telling Los Angeles Center that I had an emergency. At the same time I was turning toward the Santa Barbara coastline and lower terrain. I was afraid to raise the nose to best glide speed for fear that the engine might stop completely. I had turned on the carb heat (it was about 30 degrees Fahrenheit outside, in clear air, so I didn't think carburetor ice was the problem), left the boost pump on, kept switching tanks, and even tried moving the mixture and the throttle back and forth in desperate attempts to find a solution.
Switching tanks often did seem to help, since I was able to hold altitude at about 8,000 feet, but the airplane couldn't climb. Center asked my intentions. I decided to bypass the slightly closer Santa Ynez airport for Santa Barbara, about 15 miles away, with more services and a longer runway. Center handed me off to a Santa Barbara Approach controller who seemed oblivious to my plight and tried to vector me for an approach.
I couldn't believe it! I told him that I had an emergency with a very rough-running engine and I was having trouble holding altitude. I explained that I was going to fly over the airport, then circle down for a landing. He said there was a layer of clouds over the airport at about 4,500 feet, and I would need an IFR clearance to do that. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. I emphatically told him that I had an IFR clearance, this was an emergency, and that I was going to do what would leave me with the best chance of putting me safely on the ground. This was the first time in 30 years of flying that I had ever intentionally not complied with air traffic control's directions. I could tell that the controller didn't like it, but he did agree by telling me to advise him when I was ready to descend. When he turned me over to the Santa Barbara tower, I once again had to tell the tower controller that I had an emergency and explain what I was doing. I remember thinking, "Don't these people talk to each other when there's an emergency?"
My next direction from the tower was to advise them when I was turning final for Runway 7. As I was circling through 3,000 feet on the northwest side of the airport, the controller asked me if I was turning final. I had to tell her, no, I was at 3,000, so it would be one more turn around. She held the departing traffic for me, and I was able to land uneventfully.
I taxied off the runway, right to a spot in front of waiting fire trucks. After I had parked the Archer a police officer drove over to where I was, asked what had happened, took my information down, advised me that I was not going to get arrested (whew!), then left. No paperwork; I couldn't believe it. (This sort of thing must happen all of the time.)
The Archer's new owners told me that they found a little water in the fuel; they had it checked by a mechanic and it ran fine for them from Santa Barbara to San Luis Obispo. I don't know what the exact problem was, but I am sure glad that I survived. I'm also extremely thankful that I wasn't over the mountains at night or in IMC.
"Learning Experiences" is presented to enhance safety by providing a forum for students and pilots to learn from the experiences of others. It is intended to provoke thought and discussion, acknowledging that actions taken by the authors were not necessarily the best choices under the circumstances. We encourage you to discuss any questions you have about a particular scenario with your flight instructor.
By Ronald T. Robbins
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