Flight Lesson: The power of habit

There was drizzling rain with a ceiling of 1,800 feet. I was cleared for takeoff on Runway 32 with a left closed pattern. On upwind and again on downwind I heard discussions between the tower and an inbound Alaskan Air flight and an aircraft inbound on the ILS 32 instrument approach.

On downwind, the gear warning horn sounded, and I increased the throttle slightly to silence it. Abeam the numbers, I contemplated an extended downwind to accommodate landing traffic. Tower asked if I could do a short approach. I quickly accepted and was cleared to land on Runway 32.

With the abrupt departure from the expected routine, the checklist went out of the window—or at least out of my consciousness—and habit took over. I retarded the throttle, lowered the flaps, began to descend, and turned toward the runway.

The tape of a subsequent radio transmission with poor-quality audio does not seem to have the gear warning horn in the background. I have no recollection of hearing the gear horn on descent, but I knew it was working a few minutes prior on the downwind leg.

I gradually reduced the airspeed to 80 knots during the short-approach turn and crossed the threshold faster than expected at 80 knots. I assumed that I was not performing as well as I expected because the flight was at night and I had no recent night experience, although I had performed well on a daytime short approach four days before. As the airplane settled on the centerline, a scraping noise began and the prop stopped.

Clearly, failure to lower the landing gear was the primary cause for the gear-up landing. Failure to perform the landing checklist was a contributing factor. An unplanned short approach had disrupted my anticipated routine. Of course, I had the ability to say “unable” and not accept the short approach.

One factor could have broken the accident chain and averted the gear-up landing but actually contributed to the problem: habit. My usual routine for local stop and goes is to raise the gear on takeoff, fly the pattern, and set power and trim for 100 knots. On reaching the numbers downwind, I use the GUMPS checklist. I lower the landing gear, retard the throttle, put in 10 to 15 degrees of flaps, and begin a descent. On turning base, I add additional flaps and pitch for 90 knots. On turning final, I confirm a green gear light and down indicator, add full flaps, pitch for 80 knots, and adjust sink rate with throttle as needed. Over the numbers, I pitch for 68 knots until the landing flare.

However, I use a different routine when approaching an airport from out of the area, which comprises the vast majority of my landings. I do a preliminary landing checklist after my initial call to the tower or initial position report. I use the GUMPS checklist, initially deferring the gear. Then, I lower the gear on entering downwind and repeat the GUMPS checklist. At the numbers I retard the throttle, lower the flaps, and begin a descent. On final I confirm a green gear light and down indicator for the nose wheel.

In this incident, I used the latter landing habit. At the numbers on downwind, I retarded the throttle, lowered the flaps, and began a descent. For a normal landing out of the area, my gear already would have been lowered.

I recall advice to always lower your gear at the same point on each landing so that it becomes ingrained. Why I seemed to think that this did not include stop and goes or touch and goes is beyond me. Making a habit of lowering the landing gear on downwind entry part of stop and goes—or always lowering the gear at the numbers—would have saved me embarrassment, money, grief, and time.

By Donald Rowell