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Posted By:
Hal Brown
Date Posted:
Sep 17, 2008
Description:
“I can’t wait to splash in the big lake again!”
“Oh no you don’t. This is not your airplane. You may not land it in the salt water.”
“Peter and Paula didn’t make that rule.”
“No. It’s just common courtesy when using someone else’s SeaRey.”
“Harrumph. What do you expect us to do about the rising oil temperature, then?”
“Whaaaa? I didn’t notice that.”
“That’s what you get for gawking at all the sights. It’s on the top of the green right now.”
“Well, it has been getting warmer outside.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps right now the oil is spilling out of the cooler and the engine is getting ready to seize.”
“Oh, crap.”
“Right. We’d best make a precautionary landing and check it out.”
“I guess you’re right. The sooner the better.”
“Great! How about this road right here?”
“Out here? It’s miles and miles from anyone.”
“Would you rather be miles and miles from anyone out on the lake when the engine fails?”
“Fine, but if the gear collapses, we’ll be waiting a long time for a tow truck.”
“Cool.”
And it was cooler when the air blocking tape was removed from the oil cooler.
Date Taken:
Sep 17, 2008
Place Taken:
Not Near Park Valley, UT
Owner:
Dan Nickens
File Name:
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Category:
329, Taking Peli Home
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Dan Nickens - Sep 17,2008
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All Cracked Up<br /><br />The sad part of the tale is that a quick solution to the temperature problem really made no difference. Of more immediate interest was the bit of loose gravel on the side of the trail.<br /><br />From the air, the road looked quite substantial. A low survey flight found no ditches or ruts or fence railings that would impede a normal landing. Since the road was lined up with the wind, only a short section was needed for landing anyway.<br /><br />The SeaRey slowed nicely as the ground came up to greet us. The road, however, appeared to narrow greatly as it came time to put the wheels on it. Not seriously concerned, I kept a bit of power in to smooth out the landing.<br /><br />The wheels rolled easily on to the packed gravel surface. Sage brush flashed past as I worked to keep the SeaRey centered on the narrow road. All felt right for another uneventful touchdown.<br /><br />Suddenly a giant reached out and grabbed the left wheel, jerking it off the road with such extreme force that the airplane turned almost sideways. Kicking the rudder the opposite way had no effect. The airplane was skidding sideways, then whipping around in a tight ground loop.<br /><br />Sagebrush smacked loudly against the hull. White dust enveloped the spinning cockpit.<br /><br />A loud crack preceded a hard impact on the ground. I was thrown sideways towards the passenger seat as the airplane quickly ground to a stop.<br /><br />There was no sound as I sat there in the swirling white cloud. I saw nothing. I felt nothing. The world and time had suddenly been compressed into a senseless nothingness.<br /><br />As I sat there dazed, tilted uncomfortably, the dust began to clear and I could see sagebrush crushed up against the passenger side canopy.<br /><br />Slowly I took my headset off. That’s when I heard the slow idling of the engine overhead. Out of habit I reached over and switched it off.<br /><br />I felt no pain other than a rapidly developing feeling of sickness about the obviously broken airplane. Slowly I unfastened the safety belts and slid open my canopy. Pulling myself up, I stepped over the side rail and onto the wheel to get to the hard ground.<br /><br />Glancing at the twisting trail left by the SeaRey I searched for a reason. “What happened?” I struggled to comprehend. “How could I so suddenly have ended up in a pile in the desert?”<br /><br />Just beyond the newly bulldozed gash in the ground I spotted a black tire. I looked back at the SeaRey sitting on the left side of the hull. It didn’t take much imagination to realize that the wheel had formerly been attached to it.<br /><br />I stumbled around over the sparse brush to the passenger side. One piece of the gear leg had dug deeply into the ground. Where the tire should have been was nothing but a nub buried in the gravel.<br /><br />Struggling to pull my gaze from the broken gear, I looked out to the wing tip. It was lodged in the brush. The right float had broken free and twisted back towards the tail of the airplane. The only positive note I could make was that the wing seemed to be just as straight as the one on the other side.<br /><br />With a lot of trepidation, I walked around to the tail. The left stabilizer rested firmly on short sagebrush. Slowly walking over I kneeled down to see the bottom side. I saw exactly what I had expected: tears where the short, stubby branches had lodged.<br /><br />I don’t know how long I stared at the airplane. Eventually I had to wipe the sweat from my forehead. As I did, I gazed across the scrub to the distant horizon.<br /><br />Nothing. There was nothing for miles to see except the scrub. The salt flats surrounding the lake were barely visible in the distance to the south. Other than a few small hills, there was nothing visible in any direction.<br /><br />It didn’t make any sense to me. I just couldn’t get into my mind how this could have happened. Without any other plan, I slowly walked back to the road following the path I had cut through the sagebrush.<br /><br />I arrived at the point where the left wheel had left the road. The edge of what had seemed to be a hard packed road was just loosely raised gravel. I tried to walk up onto the road only to find the gravel sliding away from underneath my shoe.<br /><br />There had been no giant to pull the airplane from the road. I had simply gotten too close to the edge and the gravel had given way. It was nothing more exotic than just plane bad judgment leading to an off road excursion.<br /><br />It was mid-afternoon and the late summer sun was still hot. I sat down on the side of the road to get my bearings.<br /><br />I made a mental list of my immediate situation. The good news was that other than a few bruises I was just starting to feel, I wasn’t hurt. The airplane was pretty badly beaten up. I was on a remote road many miles from the closest ranch house. No one was expecting me to be anywhere anytime soon. It was hot. I was thirsty. It would be getting dark in a few hours.<br /><br />“Now what?”<br /><br />In the airplane were means of communicating with the outside world. I got up and walked back over to retrieve my cell phone. “Any problem can be solved with a cell phone and a credit card,” I told myself.<br /><br />It didn’t take long to figure out that the cell phone wasn’t going to work. There was no signal.<br /><br />I did, however, have two emergency beacons. A tap of the button on one of my EPIRBs (Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon) would alert authorities to my predicament. All I would have to do is sit and wait to be rescued. The thought of explaining what I was doing out in the middle of the desert suddenly made that option seem a lot less attractive.<br /><br />The other option was to use the “send help” button on my new Spot beacon. Instead of using the “911” button, there was another to urgently request help from a designated contact.<br /><br />My designated contact was Ann. With just a push of the button I could send a signal with my current position via satellite that some assistance was urgently needed.<br /><br />There was only one problem with that strategy: I hadn’t briefed Ann on this situation. Assuming that the Spot message would be texted to her phone, I tried to imagine what she would do. Ann is a cool character, but this would have been a completely new and unexpected proposition.<br /><br />I’m sure she would try to call me but wouldn’t be able to get through. “What next?” What could she do? The only thing I could figure is that she would call the FAA. That’s what I’d do if I got a message that she had been flying and “urgently” needed assistance. That made the option a lot less attractive than simply confessing the problem directly via the standard EPIRB.<br /><br />“The only thing to do is simply fix the airplane and fly out,” I told myself.<br /><br />“Sure. Sure. It didn’t look that bad.”<br /><br />It did look that bad when I looked at it again. The gear leg had snapped off about three inches above the axle housing. It wasn’t pretty and it sure wouldn’t be easily reattached.<br /><br />The broken float was of no concern. I could easily remove it.<br /><br />Rips in the fabric under the horizontal stab were another story. After looking at it carefully I convinced myself that I could simply tape it well enough to fly out.<br /><br />The heat was really starting to get oppressive. I went around to the cockpit and pulled out a bottle of water. I took a big drink without thinking. I looked at the bottle. It didn’t look very big now. I didn’t know how long it would have to last. I put the cap on it carefully and sat it back in the seat.<br /><br />I needed something to fix the gear leg. “If only I had something to strong to stick into the tubes….”<br /><br />Scenes of the landing jumped into my head. There had been a culvert on my approach. There had been a metal stake with a reflector on it marking it. I remembered it distinctly because I sure hadn’t wanted to hit it on landing.<br /><br />Looking up at the road, I couldn’t see anything like that memory. “It has to be there. A metal stake would be perfect for jamming into the two tubes and making a connection.”<br /><br />I started off for the road. Though I still didn’t see anything, I decided to walk back north in the direction it should have been.<br /><br />“There it is!” About 600 yards down the road was a little rise that ended in stakes on both sides. Despite the heat, I quickened my pace.<br /><br />“Beautiful,” was all I could think about the two green metal stakes. They were about the same size as the gear legs. “Perfect.”<br /><br />I pulled up on one expecting it to come right out of the ground. It didn’t budge. I tried to wiggle it. It moved a little, but was firmly fixed to the ground.<br /><br />I went over to the other side and tried the same thing. Same result.<br /><br />Something was holding the stakes firmly in the ground. I knelt down and started digging into the hard ground around the stake. Just a few inches down I found the problem. The stakes had been set into concrete.<br /><br />I stared at the stakes. “Now what? Maybe I can break it by bending it back and forth.”<br /><br />I got up and pulled hard trying to get it to bend. It didn’t budge. I was really starting to sweat.<br /><br />“Wait! Peter has a small hacksaw in Peli’s toolkit!”<br /><br />Shaking my head and laughing out loud I walked back to the airplane and retrieved it. It was a small thing, but just what I needed. It seemed to take forever to cut a one foot section off the top. There were long shadows by the time I headed back to the airplane with my new part.<br /><br />I was dying of thirst. I took another swig from the precious bottle of water. Reluctantly I screwed the cap back on. If only I had packed another bottle…<br /><br />“Wait! I landed in the Snake River several times today. There is probably water in the bilge.”<br /><br />Yes there was. I soaked my shirt in it and then rubbed off accumulated sweat and grime with the cool river water.<br /><br />Invigorated, I turned to the task. The stake had a “u” shape in the middle with wide shoulders. There was no way it was going to fit into smaller gear tubes. I had to bend the shoulders somehow.<br /><br />A big hammer would have been perfect. It was quickly evident that there nothing in the meager toolbox up to the task. I needed something hard and massive…..like a big rock!<br /><br />There were big rocks over by the hill. It was quite a walk to get there. I picked up some large pieces of crystalline chert, and headed back to the plane. The sun sank behind the nearest mountain.<br /><br />I was getting a bit frantic as the darkness rapidly descended. Smashing the rocks against the metal did little but break the rocks. I needed to do something different.<br /><br />Checking the time in the dimming light, I realized if I didn’t contact Ann soon she would alert Flight Service about my overdue status. I picked up the Spot messenger and pressed the “OK” button. The light flashed indicating a message had been sent.<br /><br />The problem was that I wasn’t “OK.” I was tired and thirsty and night was definitely setting in. It got dark fast.<br /><br />Overhead the stars quickly grew into a billion brilliant spotlights in the black void. They were so bright I could see the outlines of the hills. One on top of a hill to the north was especially brilliant. After staring at it for minutes I decided it wasn’t a star or even a planet: it was a house light.<br /><br />How far away? I could only guess. With a flashlight I checked my chart. It showed a ranch about fifteen miles to the north.<br /><br />“Never leave the airplane” had been drilled in to me in every survival class I’d ever attended. Of course, that didn’t seem important when I could see electric lights. I quickly decided that the best time to walk would be during the dark anyway.<br /><br />Taking my bottle of water, a light jacket, the Spot messenger, a flashlight and stuffing some granola bars into my pocket, I stumbled towards the road. The gray streak that was the road was barely visible in the star sprinkled darkness. I decided to save the flashlight and started walking towards the light.<br /><br />The walking was not very difficult. The terrain was slowly rising towards the distant hill, but at a low gradient. The road was generally obstruction free and I only stumbled when I came to the infrequent drain culverts.<br /><br />I had walked for a long time by my estimation. The electric light on the hill seemed no closer. I stopped and checked my watch with the flashlight. I had walked for more than an hour. I decided not to check the watch again any time soon.<br /><br />Sometimes the road had larger rocks in it and I stumbled several times. Steps came slower and harder as the night dragged on. Occasionally I stopped and took a quick drink of water. Though hungry, I was afraid to eat the granola bars for fear they would make me thirstier.<br /><br />My steps droned on and on. Sometimes my eyes closed and I had to make them open to keep going. I thought about stopping for a short rest, but quickly rejected the idea since I doubted my resolve to start walking again.<br /><br />The bright, distant light suddenly disappeared. I stopped and blinked several times to make sure. It had definitely disappeared. My beacon was gone.<br /><br />I was immediately drained. I sat down on the cool, hard road and just stared at where the light had been.<br /><br />“Now what?” had no immediate answer. I wanted desperately just to take a quick nap, right there in the middle of the road. “There is no sense in going forward as you might walk right past the house in the darkness.” That was a good argument for resting until morning.<br /><br />“No!” I resolved. “I’ll go on until I get to the top of the hill. Then I’ll rest.”<br /><br />Slowly I rose and started walking again. I don’t know how long I had walked before I stepped off the road and fell.<br /><br />I wasn’t hurt. I just didn’t want to get up. I decided a little nap couldn’t hurt.<br /><br />“Are you okay?”<br /><br />Someone was gently shaking my shoulder. It didn’t make any sense and I had no answer. Instead I sat up on the ground and tried to figure out where I was. It was daylight, but just barely. A large man with a shaggy beard and overalls was staring at me. A big white pickup truck was idling up on the road.<br /><br />“Hi.”<br /><br />“Hello. What are you doing out here?” he said in a polite tone.<br /><br />“Ummm…I was trying to walk to a house I saw last night. I had a problem with my airplane.”<br /><br />“An airplane? Did you crash?”<br /><br />“Not exactly. I landed on the road and landing gear broke.”<br /><br />“How long have you been out here?”<br /><br />“I don’t know.”<br /><br />“Well, come with me. I’ll take you to my ranch and we’ll get you some coffee.”<br /><br />“I don’t drink coffee.”<br /><br />“Well, I’m sure we can find something you’ll drink.”<br /><br />I slowly nodded my head, trying to all of this new situation in. The rancher reached over and gave me hand as I stood up shakily.<br /><br />Bryce’s house was a good drive away. It had been the one I’d seen on top of the hill last night. Bryce’s wife was there and fixed a hearty breakfast as I drank three glasses of water.<br /><br />I told them about the broken gear leg. “You reckon it could be welded?,” Bryce asked.<br /><br />“Yes.”<br /><br />“Well, sir, I’ve got a welder in the barn.”<br /><br />Before heading back for to the airplane, I borrowed a phone and called to check in with Ann.<br /><br />“Where have you been?” she asked with relief tinged with possible irritation (depending on the answer, of course).<br /><br />“Out in the desert. I broke the landing gear, but I’m pretty sure I can get it fixed. Did you get my Spot message?”<br /><br />“I got a text message saying you were okay. That wasn’t much to go on for a long night.”<br /><br />“Sorry. I’ll tell you the whole tale later.”<br /><br />By lunchtime the leg was welded and back in place on the airplane. I took the float off and put in the airplane. Duct tape was applied liberally to the horizontal stab’s wounds. Bryce pulled the airplane back onto the road.<br /><br />“Are you sure it’s going to be okay to fly outta here?” Bryce asked.<br /><br />“Yeah. The road is a little wider down here.”<br /><br />“Why don’t you come on up and have some lunch with us before you leave?”<br /><br />“No thanks, Bryce. You’ve done plenty. In fact, I’d like to pay you something before I leave.”<br /><br />“You don’t owe me anything, friend. Just be careful.”<br /><br />And that is good advice for anyone. Fortunately little care was needed for an uneventful departure. Though I was highly concerned about staying on track, Peli jumped right into the air without a swerve.<br /><br />As is said, “All’s a tale that ends well,” or something like that.<br /><br />
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Lee Coulman - Sep 17,2008
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Thanks Dan for the exciting tale. Just goes to prove that landing in the desert isn't all it's cracked up to be! Glad to hear you survived the experience with excellent prose. Can I pass on your experience to our Canadian Owners and Pilots Assoc (COPA) with SPOT? They have been championing its use over mandating 25 yr old technology 406 MHz ELTs.<br />
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Dan Nickens - Sep 18,2008
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That might not be such a good idea, Lee, because it would be unreliable anecdotal evidence from a guy who hears voices (and it is, after all, a 'ferry' tale). You don't actually believe this stuff, do you? Good thing I didn't share the part about having dinner with the coyote....<br /><br />Instead, how about using actual data available through the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration? According to the NOAA, as of 8/15/08, 191 people have been rescued due to rescue beacons in the US this year, including: 148 rescued at sea in 42 incidents, 3 aviation rescues in 3 incidents, and 40 PLB rescues in 25 incidents.<br /><br />
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Thomas Alexander Bowden - Sep 18,2008
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YOU MEAN YOU MADE IT ALL UP?<br />Well I guess its good you did not damage the plane but you had me crying at the end there. and now I am going to have a hard time beleving your storys now.
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Eric Batterman - Sep 18,2008
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Quick guide to the Nicken's literature: <br /><br />1. Anything technical, aeronautical, historical, geological, geopolitical, and just about anything else ending with 'cal' is probably mostly true, correct, and/or accurate (some exceptions: allegorical, nonsensical, metaphysical, whimsical, diabolical) .<br /><br />2. Tales longer than 500 words are probably mostly fiction. Note: The yarn above is approx 3,000 words.<br /><br />3. Everything is entertaining, fascinating, and most appreciated.<br /><br />
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Dan Nickens - Sep 18,2008
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Disbelief is a prudent policy, Thomas. Please note, however, that whenever a reference to 'tale' is included with a story I'm telling, it is mostly made up. That concession was forced on me years ago by consensus of the SeaRey group after a bunch showed up at my hangar demanding to see the damaged airplane!
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Tom Rammel - Sep 18,2008
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You never know if Dan is writing about something from his head or a true life experience. Either way it is always interesting.
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Tony Gugliuzza - Sep 18,2008
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I have to admit, even knowaing about Dan's stories, this one was so plausible that I was beginning to think it might have been factual. The only thing that gave me doubt about its veracity was the picture of the road - I didn't belive that Dan could have screwed up a landing there.
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Joe Varner - Sep 18,2008
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I was just curious if you are a professional writter ? This was an excellent tale. I could just picture the whole experience in my mind. You should write books if you are not already doing so.
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Dan Nickens - Sep 19,2008
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What a nice thing to say, Joe. Thanks. I'm not a professional anything. 'Professional' implies work, and I'm definitely not in favor of that. Unlike Charlie P., who introduces himself as a 'professional airport bum,' I'm just an amateur airport bum. I simply enjoy flying around and sharing the sights with my friends.
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Frank A. Carr - Sep 19,2008
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I must be getting old, it seems like I've been a DAN FAN for the better part of a decade and now a new generation has arrived. I too got trapped by a Dan story, clinging to my seat to see if he survived--which he did thanks to some porpoises; after cheering his rescue or whatever, I too was subsequently admonished to look for the secret word burried within ('tale', as explained by Dan above). Dan's stories played a big role in getting me through my (endless as Lima would say) build. There are times when Dan seems to abandon his tales, but like the new generation, I'm thrilled that they are back. Thankyou Dan.<br /><br />BTW, surely Dan you have enough material for several books, fiction and non-, but I hope you never stop SeaReying to write them. We like them here. And besides, they're free!
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