Sudden silence…

The seaplane began to rise on the water as the floats made the transition from plowing to stepping, planing the surface of the water like the hull of a speedboat. A slight tug on the stick, and we were airborne, the perfect beginning of an Alaskan adventure.

As we passed over the end of the lake, the engine failed. It didn’t cough or belch or shake. It just went from loud to quiet as if a cosmic hand had pulled back on the throttle.

I lowered the nose a bit more than in a landplane because of the added drag of the floats, but the tall trees ahead were threatening. We seemed to have enough altitude to make a one-eighty and glide back to the lake. I banked left, but the beleaguered Cub sank more rapidly than I had anticipated. Floatplanes are poor gliders, especially when turning.

There were several seaplanes docked at the edge of the lake, which caused me to instinctively raise the nose, hoping to balloon over them and glide to the safety of the water. But the stick felt mushy, and I had no choice but to decrease pitch.

The bottom of my left float struck the wing of a Cessna 185 floatplane, and the Cub entered an uncontrollable but gentle nose-down roll into the water.

The next thing I remember is being inverted. I was enveloped in a cold, water-filled cocoon. Visibility in the cockpit was almost nil. I knew I had little time to escape. Because of my ensuing panic, I knew I couldn’t hold my breath much longer.

I tried to pound out a plexiglass window with the heels of my fists, but the water resistance prevented an effective strike. My chest began to ache, and I was filled with fear. So, this is how it is going to end.

Then it dawned on me that I wasn’t thinking and began to scold myself. Open the door! I found the handle, which moved easily. In less time than it takes to tell, I was standing in five feet of water, gasping for and filling my lungs with fresh air.

This accident resulted in one of the costliest lessons of my life. Any pilot who flies somebody else’s airplane—whether rented or borrowed—without a non-owner insurance policy jeopardizes his financial security and can become involved in an expensive legal quagmire that could last for years.

I discovered the hard way that insurance companies are obligated to protect the owner of the airplane against loss, but not necessarily its pilot. At such times, the insurance company might pay the owner and then sue the pilot for its loss, a process known as subrogation. This can be quite a shock to someone who believes that the owner’s insurance applies to him and can happen anytime a pilot has an accident involving a rented or borrowed aircraft.

The only way for a non-owner pilot to be assured of protection is for him to have his own insurance policy, which thankfully is relatively inexpensive.

Insurance companies are obligated to protect the owner, not necessarily the pilot.

If this isn’t enough of an eye-opener, listen to this. The owner of a single-engine turboprop airplane invited a friend to fly his airplane. The owner, who also was a flight instructor, sat in the right seat while his friend was offered the left.

The guest pilot—who had never flown this type of aircraft—had difficulty during the landing. When the dust settled, the airplane was totaled. (Neither pilot was seriously injured.)

The owner of the airplane did not want to file a claim with his insurance company, so he opted instead to sue his friend for the loss of his aircraft. Even though the owner of the airplane obviously was pilot in command, a California court held the friend responsible for the loss because he had made the botched landing.

Now for the sad news about my Alaskan adventure. After having had a non-owner insurance policy for 13 years, I had allowed my coverage to lapse two months before my accident. As a result, I had to pay for the airplane (less the salvage value of the floats). If it were not but for a good friend who also was an attorney, I would also have had to pay legal fees that would have amounted to more than the cost of the airplane.

My non-owner insurance policy has been in effect without interruption ever since this 1972 accident. I never leave home without it.

www.BarrySchiff.com