Never again: Why am I so high?

It was a normal departure and climb to 5,500 feet over the flat farms and lakes of southern Michigan. The fall colors were beginning to show their brilliance, and it was great to be airborne. Only light radio chatter was heard this Monday morning from Lansing ATC. Just a little mental math to start my descent into Howell, hand-flying this Cessna 182T without the autopilot on. I don’t need all that stuff.

The plan was to utilize Runway 31 based on the winds of 250 degrees at 9 knots. The active runway was confirmed by a few pilots in the pattern. My descent to pattern entry and power reductions on downwind were all normal. I was going to practice a continuous turn to final since, by now, I was alone in the pattern and wanted to do something different. So, being on speed, flaps at 10 degrees, manifold pressure set to 15 inches, bottom of the green, and abeam the numbers, I was about to start my continuous turn and descent to the runway. Knowing this 60-degree crosswind would blow me onto final, a slight heading adjustment was in order; reducing power a few more inches with a bump of nose-down trim gave me a nice 600 feet-per-minute descent rate. The airport was all mine.

As the runway came into view, my bank increased slightly with flaps now set to 20 degrees. I realized I was high but in good shape to get down. I put in full flaps and went to idle. Continuing to roll on to short final, things were still not coming together as expected. Why am I so high? Are my flaps full down? Let’s look—yup. Am I at idle, prop and mixture all set? Yup? GUMP check complete. This feels like I am in altitude-hold mode, so check annunciators, hit autopilot disconnect—no change? Should I pull the autopilot circuit breaker? I rolled into a left slip to the threshold to salvage my approach, trying to remember if the pilot’s operating handbook says slips with full flaps are “prohibited” or just “not recommended.” I eased up on the slip at 350 feet over the threshold and gave a nose-down push on the yoke. I realized I may need to go around, but with 5,000 feet of runway, I wanted to see what this slow descent was going to do. Coming up on midfield and still at 100 feet, it was time to go around. I leveled the wings, arrested the descent, and applied full power—and still nothing? With two more applications of idle to full power, I realized I had no throttle control and was stuck at partial power.

I know what you are all thinking: Why didn’t you pull your mixture? Was I more consumed with a safe touchdown?A quick check of manifold pressure and rpm confirmed there was too much power to land and not enough to go around. They say it takes about 5 seconds to realize something is wrong with the engine, and that is legit. I lost more runway behind me. All my training indicated I should have gone around, but without the ability to add power, a go-around was impossible.

I needed to land this thing—fly it on to the runway, manage the crosswind. A light application of brakes produced one short squeal and no effective braking because I was still too fast. Runway 13 ILS approach and threshold lighting were quickly coming into view like a dead-end road barrier with less than 1,000 feet to go. I distinctly remember telling myself that after almost 1,000 hours of flight time, I did not want to damage my first aircraft. So now what? I had taxiways on both sides with taxi lights and runway signs, but a gap at both corners. I needed to pick one.

I know what you are all thinking: Why didn’t you pull your mixture? That is my biggest takeaway. Was I more consumed with a safe touchdown? My memory-items emergency checklist does not include this scenario. I had not trained or expected to commit to an engine shutdown still airborne midfield. The mental gymnastics you go through during an emergency are hard to explain and the runway was passing by very quickly. I had no previous experience or training to draw from for this situation.

Once I settled on the runway, an immediate pull of the mixture to cutoff would have been appropriate. I do not believe that would have prevented a runway excursion because of the excessive speed. This action was delayed until I had sorted out my escape route. Besides, I would not have been able to enjoy three-wheeling into soft grass for about 150 feet in a Cessna.

The end result was two flat-spotted tires—one down to the tube, and good thing it did not blow. I have no idea what direction I would have gone and am certain damage would have occurred. There was no prop strike nor any other damage or injury. The airport manager was quick to respond and towed me to my on-time avionics appointment.

Some other takeaways could be to know your expected power setting, manifold pressure, and rpm in all phases of flight. Had I recognized I was still carrying too much power on short final my decision-making would have been different. I wonder what a second pilot on board would have contributed?

This aircraft had just come out of a 100-hour inspection and throttle cable replacement one flight before mine. The bolt was missing from the throttle control rod end to the fuel servo arm. Pilots, beware! This situation could have generated a very different outcome. I am just happy I was able to call my wife from Howell and say I was safe, as I do after every flight.AOPA

Gary McClure is a private pilot who lives in Michigan.