Highways don't make good runways
Most off-airport landings that you read about, especially successful ones, occur in fields. Field landings tend to turn out pretty well for the pilots and passengers, because the aircraft usually takes the brunt of impact trauma. No doubt you've looked down from your cockpit and felt some comfort seeing an abundance of meadows, pastures, and cultivated fields along the route of flight. In heavily wooded areas, fields are precious, and a good pilot is always making note of glide distance, approach patterns, and obstacles around every usable field seen along the way. Instructors drill this mental exercise into primary flight students on cross-countries, hammering away relentlessly with the question, "Where would you go if the engine quit right now?"
Most of the accident reports about forced landings in fields are stories with happy endings. Damage sustained by the aircraft doesn't reflect poor technique by the pilot, but rather was caused mostly by hidden ditches, uneven surfaces, fences, tree stumps, or boulders.
What if the emergency landing can't be made in a field? Roads are often the next resort for an aircraft in distress. Roads are tempting because they may offer a more reliable landing surface than a field, but roads are a definite step down in quality for a forced landing, offering a lower likelihood of an uneventful outcome. Why? The advantage of an even surface can be far outweighed by risks: overpasses, hard-to-see electrical and telecommunications lines, street signs, traffic lights, the need for more maneuvering to make an approach--and ground traffic. A pilot setting up to land on a road has some tough decisions to make.
An aircraft in distress has the right of way over other aircraft. That's logical, and if you are ever taking off or landing when an aircraft with an emergency shows up, get out of the way, fast.
Are there times when a distressed aircraft does not have the right of way? Yes. The last thing a pilot bringing a sick aircraft to Earth needs to contemplate is someone not getting out of the way, but it happens. The other party may not even realize that he or she should get out of the way. Think how the average motorist might react to the sight of a low-gliding aircraft preparing to land on a highway. Forget about motorist reaction, think about mere comprehension. How long would it take most drivers to realize that the aircraft was in trouble, and not attempting some stunt? All this should enter into the decision-making process when a pilot must attempt a landing on a road. But who thinks about that? There's lots of advice given about whether to land with traffic or against it; there's less about what to do when you're out of options and there are innocents at risk below. Are you willing to take one for the team?
Look up cases in which a pilot was in a position to choose between a road and some other landing spot. You'll spend a lot of time reading about pilots who ran their aircraft out of fuel. On April 5, 2007, a Cessna 150 pilot ran the tanks dry while turning from base to final approach to the Grain Valley-East Kansas City Airport, Missouri. "The pilot reported that he tried to restart the engine to no avail and that he was not able to glide to the runway, so he elected to land on a nearby road. During the landing roll the right wing tip collided with a road sign and the airplane then veered into a ditch and nosed over," according to the National Transportation Safety Board accident summary. The report also noted that the aircraft was outfitted with non-vented fuel caps in spite of an airworthiness directive requiring installation of vented caps. The pilot was not injured.
Reading such reports, there's great irony in how close many pilots come to getting away with their fuel-management errors; commonly they make their off-airport landings in sight of the destination runway. Eleven days after the Missouri mishap, a pilot approaching Shawnee, Oklahoma, elevation 1,073 feet, ran another Cessna 150 out of fuel. This time a road was rejected as an emergency landing site at the last minute, according to NTSB summary. "The pilot reported that while descending through approximately 2,300 feet mean sea level, about 4.5 miles from his destination airport, the airplane experienced a total loss of engine power. The pilot stated that he began gliding toward the runway, but about 1.75 miles from the runway his altitude became 'extremely low.' The pilot further reported that because of highway traffic and housing in the area, he chose to land in a field. The pilot reported that after touching down in an easterly direction the airplane struck a tree with its left wing, resulting in substantial damage to the airplane."
A helicopter in mechanical distress also took its lumps in an effort to avoid ground traffic on April 5, 2008. The Robinson R44 experienced engine trouble after taking off for a local flight around a racetrack in Pahrump, Nevada. A precautionary landing with partial power was complicated by the auto racing in progress below. The pilot tried to adjust to the circumstances. "As he started the initial descent, the pilot noticed the clutch warning light illuminated for about seven seconds along with fluctuations in rotor rpm for about four seconds. The pilot shortened his approach and selected a landing area about 100 yards closer to his position as a precaution," recounted the NTSB. "As the helicopter descended through 150 feet agl (above ground level), he observed the low rotor rpm light illuminate and heard the low rotor rpm warning horn while noting the rotor rpm was 'diminishing quickly.' The pilot immediately performed an autorotation with the intention of landing on the race track directly in front of his position. As the helicopter descended through about 20 feet agl, the pilot maneuvered the helicopter slightly beyond the track due to oncoming high-speed vehicles on the track. The pilot performed a run-on landing to a level dirt area adjacent to the race track. Subsequently, the helicopter rolled over and came to rest on its left side."
On the subject of roads and aircraft, it's worth remembering that sometimes roads, and the vehicles traveling on them, start an accident chain, rather than conclude it. All it takes is a pilot flying too low on final approach. Roads that closely hug airport boundaries are the prime suspects, so add airport road traffic to the hazards of going below the glide path (along with contacting approach lights, fences, and buildings, and encountering wind shear that can plant an aircraft on the ground short of the runway).
On April 21, 2007, a student pilot in an Ercoupe was landing in Brighton, Michigan. The NTSB summary said, "The airplane impacted terrain while on final approach to Runway 22 (3,120 feet by 24 feet, asphalt). The student pilot stated that the airplane 'was caught in a downdraft/wind shear and was not able to clear the perimeter fence, even with application of full power.' The pilot reported there was a small valley to the northeast of the airport which 'probably caused the downdraft.'"
Things could have been worse. "An on-scene investigation revealed that the airplane impacted the radio-antenna of a passenger vehicle operating on the road adjacent to the airport. The airplane then impacted a rising embankment and proceeded through the airport perimeter fence, coming to rest short of the approach threshold," said the accident summary. The NTSB attributed the accident to "the student pilot's failure to maintain proper glidepath to the runway. Contributing factors to the accident included the passenger vehicle, the rising embankment, and the airport perimeter fence."
Sure, we like to think of roads as an ace in the hole for a possible emergency landing. Where I live in rural Maine, long, straight stretches of Interstate 95--Runway 95, we call it--cut across wooded, hilly, and boggy areas with few fields and fewer areas long enough, and level enough, for a damage-free landing. Meanwhile, road traffic is often light to nonexistent.
But having a Runway 95 down below is a rare opportunity. Closer to populated areas, roads are more of a gamble, for you and for the souls beneath. Better to have an alternative plan ready, and enough gliding altitude to carry it off.
Dan Namowitz is an aviation writer and flight instructor. A pilot since 1985 and an instructor since 1990, he resides in Maine.
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