A simulated carbon monoxide encounter
I was getting close to the end of my pursuit of a private pilot certificate. I had successfully completed the training requirements and only needed to polish my procedures before I'd be ready for the designated pilot examiner.
One Sunday afternoon in the spring of 2003, my flight instructor had me practicing unusual attitude recovery under view-limiting Foggles. We had been at it for awhile, and all those abrupt changes in pitch and bank without the benefit of seeing the horizon had left me feeling a little queasy. Nothing too bad, but I was still glad when he decided I'd had enough and let me remove the Foggles. What I didn't know is that while I was under Foggles he had replaced the carbon monoxide (CO) detector in the cockpit with an old one on which he had blackened the indicating spot with a Sharpie. Passive monitors like the one in this airplane have an indicator that darkens to signal the presence of CO. And now he had to get me to notice.
Soon he pulled the throttle all the way out and announced that I had lost the engine. I set up for best glide speed and started looking for a field while running through the engine failure and restart checklist. As we glided toward the Earth, he abruptly called off the procedure, saying that he didn't feel well. He speculated that maybe the earlier twists and turns had gotten to him. I thought that was a little strange since he hadn't been the one under the Foggles, but maybe something he'd eaten hadn't set well with him.
Something's wrong
We flew on, discussing my upcoming checkride. Every few minutes he would ask me if I felt OK. I did, but he said he was feeling worse and worse. He complained of dizziness, headache, and shortness of breath, and said he felt as if he was going to pass out. I began to get a little worried, but I have to admit I was also slightly put out. I mean, really, I was the one who should be feeling sick, not him. Get a grip! Then he asked me, "Why would I be feeling this way?" All of a sudden I thought -- carbon monoxide poisoning. I checked the indicator, and sure enough, the dot was black!
I immediately reached up and turned the air vent to blow directly into my face (hey, I was the one flying, he could get his own air) and started thinking about how to get out of this situation before it became really serious. I looked to my instructor for guidance and saw right away that he wasn't going to be much help. It seemed he could barely hold his head up. Every few seconds he would ask me if I was OK, even going so far as to check our fingernails for signs of oxygen deprivation. Aside from the slight queasiness from our earlier exercise, I was fine, but the more he asked, the worse I felt. I learned a lot about the power of suggestion that day.
He asked me what I thought we should do, and I said maybe we should divert and land immediately at a nearby airport. He agreed, and I turned toward what I hoped was the right direction. I've never been good with directions, and I wasn't exactly sure where we were at that point. I got on the radio to announce my intentions to land at the untowered field, all the while hoping that I could remain conscious long enough to get there. I was beginning to think that I was going to faint, although I was determined not to admit it. There was no point in admitting it anyway; clearly it was up to me to get us safely on the ground. Actually, I was more angry than frightened. Here was the man I had counted on to save my bacon many, many times, and all of a sudden he was worthless. Not fair!
With the field in sight and still hoping for some leadership, I mumbled something about not wasting time making a standard left downwind pattern entry. No response, so I decided to turn a right base and head for the runway. I honestly believed that there was a very real possibility that I might pass out before I could land the airplane. But it was all up to me. I wasn't going to get any help from the right seat. I managed to get the airplane on the ground with only a couple of bounces. As I began looking for the turnoff onto the ramp my instructor made a miraculous recovery and suddenly sat up straight, raised the flaps, and pushed the throttle all the way in, announcing, "I feel better now!"
There was no time to be indignant, so I transitioned from landing to taking off, and as we took to the air he chortled, "Did you know I was messing with you?"
An award-winning performance
I had suspected at first that he was trying to pull a fast one, but when I saw the black dot on the CO indicator I was convinced. For some reason, it never occurred to me that he was responsible for that, too. The black dot was all the proof that I needed. His Academy-Award-winning performance was just the icing on the cake. The only thing missing was for him to pretend to pass out and fall over onto the controls.
At least he had the graciousness to brag about me when we got back home. I had kept calm, and I did what I had to do without panicking. He was also generous enough to point out the things that I could have done better: I should have announced over the unicom frequency that I had a sick passenger, and I should have opened a window as soon as I suspected carbon monoxide poisoning. Believe it or not, he also had the nerve to complain about my landing. "What was up with that landing? When you have a sick passenger you don't want to be bouncing them around like that when you land."
Thanks to a slightly devious instructor, I found out that I have at least a little of the right stuff.
By Susan E. Scott
"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.
Related Articles
