Distractions lead to missed checklist
I asked Linda if she wanted me to take her to Wisconsin. The flying time is less than two hours in the Socata Trinidad I share with two other pilots. She had some paperwork she wanted to finish, and was uncertain what to do. As the afternoon slowly wore away, the decision was still not made to go or to stay. Finally, about 6 p.m. she decided to go, but how? Driving would take more than five hours; flying would be a four-hour round trip, but it was getting dark.
As an instrument-rated private pilot I knew that I could take her, but I was not night current. I had almost 200 hours in my logbook with more than 100 hours of cross-country time, but only about 45 hours in the Trinidad, and fewer than 15 hours in actual instrument conditions. The prospect of the night cross-country was both exciting and daunting. And, I needed to re-establish night currency, with three take-off and landings to a full stop before we could leave. Further, I had not flown the Trinidad at night before. But, I did not want her to have to drive, and she finally agreed to fly.
I did my flight planning and found the weather to be benign; there were no issues in the route briefing on DUAT that were a concern. I filed an instrument flight plan from Indy to Rockford, Illinois, to Milwaukee, as I did not want to fly over Lake Michigan and needed to avoid Chicago's Class B airspace. We loaded the car and headed for the airport. My partners and I keep the Trinidad fueled and in a hangar, and all the current charts and approach plates were in the airplane. After preflighting and getting the airplane out, I started up, taxied to the FBO, and offloaded my wife so I could do the required three full-stop takeoff and landings solo.
Runup was fine, except that I noted that the light for the airspeed indicator was out. Using dim cabin lights allowed me to see the airspeed, but was a nuisance and made taxiing more difficult. As I was completing the final pretakeoff checklist, the runway lights came up. I had not heard any radio calls that indicated incoming traffic, and did some rubbernecking to try to locate the airplane that would have lit up the lights--but I did not find anyone. When this event took place, the taxiway at our airport was being rebuilt, and the markings were not good, so I had some issues with visibility made worse by the interior lights, but I lined up on Runway 18, still wondering who else was approaching the pattern.
Takeoff was routine, and the view of the Indianapolis skyline was beautiful. I knew Linda would enjoy the view as we rounded Chicago. Climbing out I went through the normal steps, retarding the prop rpm and throttle to keep the noise level down and raising the gear. I announced my location in the pattern on the radio. As I turned crosswind, it occurred to me that I should probably keep the gear down, as the laps around the field would not take long, but I dismissed the thought. On the downwind leg the runway lights went down, so I felt better about the potential of incoming traffic. I kept my airspeed lower than cruise as I was just going to slow for base and final anyway.
At the threshold I throttled back further and dropped in the first notch of flaps. Turning base I keyed the microphone and announced my position, then again seven times to bring the lights back on, then again five times to moderate them--but they went to dim. I put in full flaps, and kept trying to get the lights on medium instead of either high or low, but with no luck. I noticed a warning sound in the cockpit, but checking the panel found no issues of concern. On final I had to accept the fact that the field lights would not be as I wanted, so I left them on low. My approach was by the book, but that noise was still a bother.
Crossing the threshold my airspeed was right on, and I flared. The Trinidad settled in normally, and touchdown was smooth. But, instead of rolling out, there was a loud scraping noise. Then I realized that I had landed without the landing gear! As the airplane slid to a stop, still on the centerline, my heart sank. I sat a moment as the reality of my landing settled in.
Finally, I turned off all the electronics, put the fuel tank selector on Off, and killed the master and the mags. I had to turn the electrical system back on to call the unicom. When the FBO responded, I said, "I have made a gear-up landing." There was a perceptible silence, then "Are you OK?" I answered that I was, and he said he would be out. Turning off the electrical system again, I climbed out and almost hurt myself stepping down from the wing, as it was on the ground.
I got out a flashlight and walked around the airplane. The prop was a mess, but otherwise there appeared to be little damage. As the truck arrived from the FBO my sense of embarrassment grew worse, and increased when I called my airplane partner Mike to tell him of the incident. Another local pilot appeared and was taking pictures, just to add to my shame. The office had told my wife what happened, and the lineman took me to the hangar to get our car. I picked her up at the office, and she was pretty upset but very relieved to see me with no damage.
As we surveyed the airplane while waiting for the airport staff to arrive and move it, the lineman asked if I hadn't heard the gear warning horn. Light dawned; the noise had been the warning horn! I had never heard it before. On further reflection, I realized that with the concerns about my wife and her dad, the potential incoming aircraft, regaining night currency, end-of-the-day fatigue, flying that airplane at night for the first time and myriad other things, I had also neglected to do a GUMP (gas, undercarriage, mixture, prop) check and prelanding checklist.
I reluctantly returned to the airport the next morning to talk with the FAA inspectors. They complimented my landing, saying that the damage was minimal. They also inquired as to my health, sincerely interested that I had not been hurt. The airport manager was surprised that I had made the effort to regain night currency at all. My partners were relieved that I was not hurt, and that the airplane sustained little obvious damage, but I could tell they were disappointed to be without a plane for the next two months. The final conversation with the FAA a couple of weeks later was as satisfying as it could be, as the operations inspector concluded that I had been trying to be compliant, and that with all the other things going on had done a good job managing a bad situation. There would be no consequences beyond those I already had incurred.
So, when I read in the magazines that there are many steps leading to an accident, and that fatigue, pressure, and distractions are major contributors, I am certainly a believer. I looked forward to getting the Trinidad back in the air and flew a Cessna 172 to keep up my skills, but felt sad and embarrassed by my incident. I also built all the airplane checklists into the Trinidad's Garmin GNS 430, which is Com 2, so that those lists would be more readily available for the next time that things are not routine.
"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.
