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brother_737Коммент от себя: в авиации мелочей не бывает. Я уверен, что точно так же думал КВС польского Туполя Аркадиуш Протасюк: "Я сейчас снижусь, покажу Бласику, что зайти нельзя, и мы уйдём на запасной"...
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c250 в Катастрофа , или как совершаются ошибки приводящие к .......
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c250 в Катастрофа , или как совершаются ошибки приводящие к ....... ак делаются ошибки у опытных пилотов . Есть поговорка "если пилот выжил вы никогда не узнаете правды" , но это не относится к этой истории и к этому порядочному человеку . И так Randy Pack опытный пилот , прекрасный самолет Beech A36. При заходе в сильный туман и практически 0,2 видимости , врезался в землю в лесу перед торцом полосы на скорости 120 миль .
самолет Randy
аэропорт где это произошло недавно
вот и сам расказ выжывшего Randy о его катастрофе , читайте особенно пилоты , все детали очень скрупулезно :
самолет Randy
аэропорт где это произошло недавно
вот и сам расказ выжывшего Randy о его катастрофе , читайте особенно пилоты , все детали очень скрупулезно :
"It is hard to believe that it has been eight weeks since my crash. I can now sit up 15 to 20 minutes at a time. That doesn't sound like much but it's an incredible improvement over a few weeks ago. I have written this a few minutes at a time over the course of a few days so if it sounds out of sync and a little jumbled I apologize.
I want to start off saying that I know I am known here as a bit of a smart alec. I want to make it clear that when I know I am going to fly I become dead serious. I respect and acknowledge the dangers inherent in flying. I have a family that needs and depends on me and I want to be there for them. When I am passing through the gates of the airport I am all business. My wife always remarks how I change when I know I am going to fly. I always took that as a good thing. It is very difficult and terribly humbling to sit here and go over (and in my mind, over and over and over) the mistakes I made. But maybe someone will learn something from this. I sure know I have.
Looking at my logbook, I have 177 hrs this year up to mid-October. In the past 3 months I have 13 actual approaches, 3 to minimums, and 37 practice approaches. Even in VFR conditions I like to end with a practice IFR approach, sometimes hand-flying, sometimes using the a/p. I'm no ATP, but I try to keep as current and proficient as I can.
The interesting and most frustrating thing about my crash is that I knew conditions were so poor at the airport that I was not going to be able to land. I had absolutely no intention of landing. Conditions were something like 100 and 1/4 mile due to rolls of fog passing through the area. I figured that I would do a practice approach, go missed and go to the hold. I could see rolls of fog with clear areas between them. I was in no hurry and figured I could log an approach and a hold and then spend a little time enjoying the bright sunny day above the fog until the airport cleared. In other words, for whatever reason, I became very complacent about flying this approach.
There are a few things I do not remember about the approach which frustrates me to this day. I don't remember if I had my checklist out. I don't remember if I set my DA in the G600. I don't remember if I was hand-flying or on a/p. I don't remember if I dropped the gear.
I remember being cleared for the approach and turning to the fix. The approach was almost directly into the sun, and as I turned I was almost blinded by the sun itself and the bright sunlight bouncing off the undercast. I remember looking around quickly for my sunglasses but could not find them. I immediately descended into the undercast and was surprised by the darkness. Part of this was due to the fog itself and part was due to my eyes not yet being acclimated. I do remember that for some reason I did not report to CTAF. There was a discussion here on BT about that earlier, but I am certain I did not report. I have no explanation for that. Part of the complacency?
Once in the fog, things got weird. I had the approach loaded in the G600. I had a printed copy of the approach hanging from a clip on my yoke. But I really didn't study the approach like I normally do. I just glanced at it because I was going to go missed..... What the hell was I thinking? Then for some reason I found myself staring out the left side window trying to make sense of what was going on out there. Normally, when I am on approach and am in actual conditions I hunker down and stare intently at my instruments. This time I was somehow captivated by the sight of some clearing out the side to the point that I could see the surface......but I couldn't figure out what I was looking at. I didn't see any roads or homes or fields or farms, nothing but black, but I could tell I was moving over it. I had to have had complete brain lock because it didn't register that I was over water. Again, I would have recognized this if I had thoroughly briefed the approach. I had no idea how long I was looking to the side. It did not seem very long, but obviously, it was a little too long. Again, I was not spring-loaded like I normally am on an actual approach...............even though I WAS on an actual approach. I still can't figure that out.
One thing that my instructors always pounded into me was to set my DA or MDA or whatever on my whiz-bang G600 panel with 530W and terrain and synthetic vision and XM weather and stormscope and everything a pilot could have to ensure that he could NEVER have an accident. I do not remember hearing the aural warnings one gets from the G600. I am not sure if I forgot to set the altitude, or if I was just concentrating on what was going outside the window and didn't hear it. I find that very unsettling. Regardless, I should have been watching my altitude. I am not sure if I was hand-flying or on a/p. But being on a RNAV approach I should have gone missed upon reaching DA............but I missed it completely. I tend to think I did not set the altitude. What a stupid (and costly) mistake.
I then hit some pretty fair turbulence and realized nothing was right about this approach and I decided to get the hell out of there and go missed. I would regroup at the hold and get things back on track. I turned my head to the front and immediately saw the trees and hill rush from out of the mist...like something from a horror movie........and bam, I heard the loudest noise I ever heard in my life, then felt the most pain I ever felt for my life, then nothing.
120kts to 0 in a fraction of a second. (Beat that, you Cub drivers.) I know I passed out for a while, and when I awoke I was absolutely astonished at the damage I saw all around me. The panel was six inches from my face, the door was gone. My God, the wings were gone! I smelled fuel and felt an overwhelming urge to turn off the mags and fuel.....although it was probably too late for that...and the next thing I knew I was outside the aircraft, lying on my back on an incline with my feet up and head down and I was on my cell phone with someone yelling at me to stay awake. I had somehow crawled out of the plane and fell a bit down the hill on my back. I had dug my cell phone from from my pants pocket and called 911 without being aware of it. I remember a faint, almost feeble voice calling out for someone to please hurry because the pain was so bad.......after a few seconds I realized it was me. I hurt from head to toe, and was lying on something hot on the left side of my back. And I couldn't move.
The man on the phone told me to listen for aircraft overhead. The fog was so thick the planes couldn't see me, but one passed right over me and that gave them a good indication where I was. The EMTs and ground crew found me almost instantly. I cannot say enough good things about them. They where out searching before even knowing for sure where I was, and after one quick pass of the aircraft they were right on top of me. My eternal thanks and appreciation goes out to them.
Anyway. I had an incredibly gorgeous, incredibly equipped, state-of-the-art aircraft. I shudder to think how much money I put into that panel. I wanted to be able to fly almost any time, almost any where and be absolutely safe doing so. I flew a lot, practiced all the time. The question always arises how a TAA can do a CFIT. Now I know how. You get complacent, stop paying complete attention for just a little while, and stop doing things the way you have been taught and the way you always do them. I am so glad that I have never said "It can't happen to me."
I've had other pilots, some friends, some not, say things to me from "It was a downdraft and it probably wasn't all your fault."(Friends) to 'What a careless dumbass" and "You suck as a pilot"(Not). I am fully aware I screwed up. Pilot error. I am just about done beating myself up over it. It hasn't done any good, anyway.
The docs told me yesterday I may need another surgery in 6 weeks, hopefully not. Either way, I shouldn't expect to be walking normally (or flying) till March. That's 5 months since the crash.
Hard lesson learned."
I want to start off saying that I know I am known here as a bit of a smart alec. I want to make it clear that when I know I am going to fly I become dead serious. I respect and acknowledge the dangers inherent in flying. I have a family that needs and depends on me and I want to be there for them. When I am passing through the gates of the airport I am all business. My wife always remarks how I change when I know I am going to fly. I always took that as a good thing. It is very difficult and terribly humbling to sit here and go over (and in my mind, over and over and over) the mistakes I made. But maybe someone will learn something from this. I sure know I have.
Looking at my logbook, I have 177 hrs this year up to mid-October. In the past 3 months I have 13 actual approaches, 3 to minimums, and 37 practice approaches. Even in VFR conditions I like to end with a practice IFR approach, sometimes hand-flying, sometimes using the a/p. I'm no ATP, but I try to keep as current and proficient as I can.
The interesting and most frustrating thing about my crash is that I knew conditions were so poor at the airport that I was not going to be able to land. I had absolutely no intention of landing. Conditions were something like 100 and 1/4 mile due to rolls of fog passing through the area. I figured that I would do a practice approach, go missed and go to the hold. I could see rolls of fog with clear areas between them. I was in no hurry and figured I could log an approach and a hold and then spend a little time enjoying the bright sunny day above the fog until the airport cleared. In other words, for whatever reason, I became very complacent about flying this approach.
There are a few things I do not remember about the approach which frustrates me to this day. I don't remember if I had my checklist out. I don't remember if I set my DA in the G600. I don't remember if I was hand-flying or on a/p. I don't remember if I dropped the gear.
I remember being cleared for the approach and turning to the fix. The approach was almost directly into the sun, and as I turned I was almost blinded by the sun itself and the bright sunlight bouncing off the undercast. I remember looking around quickly for my sunglasses but could not find them. I immediately descended into the undercast and was surprised by the darkness. Part of this was due to the fog itself and part was due to my eyes not yet being acclimated. I do remember that for some reason I did not report to CTAF. There was a discussion here on BT about that earlier, but I am certain I did not report. I have no explanation for that. Part of the complacency?
Once in the fog, things got weird. I had the approach loaded in the G600. I had a printed copy of the approach hanging from a clip on my yoke. But I really didn't study the approach like I normally do. I just glanced at it because I was going to go missed..... What the hell was I thinking? Then for some reason I found myself staring out the left side window trying to make sense of what was going on out there. Normally, when I am on approach and am in actual conditions I hunker down and stare intently at my instruments. This time I was somehow captivated by the sight of some clearing out the side to the point that I could see the surface......but I couldn't figure out what I was looking at. I didn't see any roads or homes or fields or farms, nothing but black, but I could tell I was moving over it. I had to have had complete brain lock because it didn't register that I was over water. Again, I would have recognized this if I had thoroughly briefed the approach. I had no idea how long I was looking to the side. It did not seem very long, but obviously, it was a little too long. Again, I was not spring-loaded like I normally am on an actual approach...............even though I WAS on an actual approach. I still can't figure that out.
One thing that my instructors always pounded into me was to set my DA or MDA or whatever on my whiz-bang G600 panel with 530W and terrain and synthetic vision and XM weather and stormscope and everything a pilot could have to ensure that he could NEVER have an accident. I do not remember hearing the aural warnings one gets from the G600. I am not sure if I forgot to set the altitude, or if I was just concentrating on what was going outside the window and didn't hear it. I find that very unsettling. Regardless, I should have been watching my altitude. I am not sure if I was hand-flying or on a/p. But being on a RNAV approach I should have gone missed upon reaching DA............but I missed it completely. I tend to think I did not set the altitude. What a stupid (and costly) mistake.
I then hit some pretty fair turbulence and realized nothing was right about this approach and I decided to get the hell out of there and go missed. I would regroup at the hold and get things back on track. I turned my head to the front and immediately saw the trees and hill rush from out of the mist...like something from a horror movie........and bam, I heard the loudest noise I ever heard in my life, then felt the most pain I ever felt for my life, then nothing.
120kts to 0 in a fraction of a second. (Beat that, you Cub drivers.) I know I passed out for a while, and when I awoke I was absolutely astonished at the damage I saw all around me. The panel was six inches from my face, the door was gone. My God, the wings were gone! I smelled fuel and felt an overwhelming urge to turn off the mags and fuel.....although it was probably too late for that...and the next thing I knew I was outside the aircraft, lying on my back on an incline with my feet up and head down and I was on my cell phone with someone yelling at me to stay awake. I had somehow crawled out of the plane and fell a bit down the hill on my back. I had dug my cell phone from from my pants pocket and called 911 without being aware of it. I remember a faint, almost feeble voice calling out for someone to please hurry because the pain was so bad.......after a few seconds I realized it was me. I hurt from head to toe, and was lying on something hot on the left side of my back. And I couldn't move.
The man on the phone told me to listen for aircraft overhead. The fog was so thick the planes couldn't see me, but one passed right over me and that gave them a good indication where I was. The EMTs and ground crew found me almost instantly. I cannot say enough good things about them. They where out searching before even knowing for sure where I was, and after one quick pass of the aircraft they were right on top of me. My eternal thanks and appreciation goes out to them.
Anyway. I had an incredibly gorgeous, incredibly equipped, state-of-the-art aircraft. I shudder to think how much money I put into that panel. I wanted to be able to fly almost any time, almost any where and be absolutely safe doing so. I flew a lot, practiced all the time. The question always arises how a TAA can do a CFIT. Now I know how. You get complacent, stop paying complete attention for just a little while, and stop doing things the way you have been taught and the way you always do them. I am so glad that I have never said "It can't happen to me."
I've had other pilots, some friends, some not, say things to me from "It was a downdraft and it probably wasn't all your fault."(Friends) to 'What a careless dumbass" and "You suck as a pilot"(Not). I am fully aware I screwed up. Pilot error. I am just about done beating myself up over it. It hasn't done any good, anyway.
The docs told me yesterday I may need another surgery in 6 weeks, hopefully not. Either way, I shouldn't expect to be walking normally (or flying) till March. That's 5 months since the crash.
Hard lesson learned."
