I'm going to play Monday-morning quarterback and analyze some emergency decision-making in which the pilot turned a minor inconvenience into a self-made emergency–just my opinion, mind you.
On a boring layover I was perusing some aviation videos on YouTube and came across a number of “emergency” landings, which could mostly be described as landings with gear problems. I like doing this to put myself into the pilot's seat and think about what I would do in varying situations. Thankfully, I haven’t had any emergencies that landed me on the TV news or in an Internet video. I hope someday that this armchair flying will help me make the right decision during a real emergency. So, pardon me while I play Monday-morning quarterback of a particular incident.
A Cessna 310 with a dangling nose gear is featured in clips from several major news organizations. Of course, the news outlets have a Rolodex of pundits available to them to provide live commentary when such an event occurs. In some cases, you wonder where they find these so-called “experts,” given the things they say. In this instance it’s a video from CNN that can be seen online. At first glance, the pilot does quite a heroic job of bringing the airplane in with minimal damage. But in analyzing the video a second time, I realize that this pilot turned what should have been a minor inconvenience into a self-made emergency.
When the airplane was about three-quarters of a mile away from the runway, the pilot elected to shut down both engines and feather the propellers. “That’s a wise move,” the expert commentator says. Really? Instead of just a nose gear that’s dangling, now we have a dead-stick landing with a broken nose gear. The pilot uses the remaining glide time to blip the starters of both engines to position the two-blade props horizontally, presumably to minimize damage to the propellers, engines, mounts, et cetera. While this may save some airplane downtime in the subsequent repairs, I have to wonder what the pilot was thinking to put the value of his airplane above the safety of the occupants.
Thankfully, the airplane made it to the runway—barely. I noticed that the airplane skidded to a stop on the numbers of Van Nuys, California’s Runway 16R. In other words, the pilot landed in the 1,400-foot displaced threshold, well short of the official beginning of the runway. With 8,000 feet of runway available, this pilot came darn close to not making it to the runway and—with both engines shuttered 25 seconds earlier—no chance of a go-around. And by the looks of the airplane’s angle of attack at touchdown, there was little or no excess airspeed with which to play.
The pilot’s efforts to protect the airplane’s engines and propellers were quite involved, as you can imagine. He was dealing with unusual forces; first as the engines shut down and the propellers start windmilling, which creates tremendous drag. Then, one prop goes into feather, reducing the drag on one side and setting up a yaw. Later, the other propeller goes into feather and again changes the situation. All the while, we witness the airplane pitching and yawing in reaction to all these changes. Not exactly a stabilized approach. Once on the ground, the pitch excursions continue as our hero tries a little too hard to delay the touchdown on the airplane’s nose. In the process, he strikes the tail.
Damage-wise, the 310 will probably fly again—as most airplanes do after a landing-gear malfunction. Despite the painstaking efforts of the pilot, both propellers struck the runway, with one blade on each striking and dragging on the pavement. The engines are likely fine since the propellers struck with no more force than a person moving them by hand.
But, in a nutshell, Continental Motors’ Service Bulletin 96-11B requires a teardown and inspection of any engine involved in a prop strike. (This model 310 likely is powered by Continental IO-470s.) In the bulletin, a prop strike is defined as any incident, whether or not the engine is running, that requires repair to the propeller blade other than minor dressing. In other words, the engines still have to go through a teardown and inspection even though there’s likely no damage. So all the heroics of trying to save the engines were for naught.
Efforts to “save” engines make for great airport war stories, but they are incredibly risky. Isn’t that what we have insurance for? I would think making a normal, power-on approach in a Cessna 310, just as you’ve done hundreds or thousands of times before, would be the prudent thing to do. Only when over the runway would shutting down engines and electrics be warranted. If this 310 had crashed short of the runway, do you think the FAA would have defended the pilot’s decision to shut down two perfectly good engines while quite a distance from the airport?
Owners often cherish their airplanes, and I’m certainly one of them. But if the day comes that my airplane betrays me, I’ll be sure to sacrifice the airplane to get my passengers and me safely on the ground—and let the insurance company take care of the rest.
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