AOPA Pilot Magazine - March 2008 - 154

EMPLOYMENT OPPORTUNITIES American Flyers is recruiting individuals for Management, Sales and full-time & part-time Instructor positions. # Administration # Sales # Operations NEVERAGAIN set and called Lafayette radio for another weather check. The report was the same I had heard at take off: Chicago and Milwaukee, both 8,000 feet with rain showers; visibility, three-and-a-half. Not much worry. I hung up the earphones and relaxed as well as I could with the scattered clouds below me. When I reached the southern shore of Lake Michigan, there was a layer of haze above the water, through which I could barely discern the big peninsula of Inland Steel where it juts out into the blue. At my altitude of 2,000, however, the air was relatively clear. I could distinguish cloud outlines without trouble at a higher altitude ahead of me. The Chicago Heights weather report came through as I charged out over the water. It was still reassuring. I elected to fly above the cloud layer, which hung ominously before me. With Milwaukee showing 8,000 feet, I should be able to climb easily over the wall of white clouds, ﬂy at least 1,000 on top, and then drop in for a routine VFR landing when I smelled Schlitz. The haze thickened, however, as I reached 5,000 feet. I had been out of contact with the ground for about five minutes. But I was apparently above the cloud wall. All I had to do was wait it out and then coast back down beyond the white mist. The difﬁculty was that it became increasingly nerve-wracking to separate the cloud mass from the “clear” air. The visibility was down to about a mile and a half, I estimated. I crossed my fingers and hoped that the jets from Glenview Naval Air Station played their tag elsewhere. And there, at last, was a dark spot ahead, which could be nothing else except the hole in the clouds for which I had been waiting. Impatiently, I turned the Angel’s head ﬁve degrees and raced toward the hole. Then, before I realized what had happened, I plunged headlong into the thickest black cloud I ever hope to see. I had fooled myself into the worst spot a pilot can ﬁnd: I was ﬂying blind, without even a turn and bank indicator! The instant I hit the cloud mass, I banked steeply to the right, in an effort to make a belated 180-degree turn and recover myself. All I did, however, was render the compass useless for direction, because from that moment onward, the compass gyrated madly. AOPA PILOT • 154 • MARCH 2008 MANAGEMENT OPPORTUNITIES # Full-Time Salaried # Part-Time # Ground Instructors FLIGHT INSTRUCTORS # Introductory Flights # Classroom Instruction FLIGHT DIRECTORS 800-362-0808 Call Tim Genc But that is scarcely a marvel, because so did the plane! I attempted to straighten out when I guessed that I was headed south. But regardless of my control, the Angel just didn’t feel straight and level. In my imagination, I was still in a steep right bank, although I realized that I had the left rudder pedal jammed into the floor plate. The impression of a right bank was so vivid that I couldn’t lift my left foot! I watched the airspeed build up: 150, 160—still increasing. The altimeter began to unwind. My instinct was to pull back on the wheel, but I checked it because somewhere I had read that a spiral dive tightens when the victim attempts to maintain altitude. And I knew now that I was in the clutches of that deadly killer, the “graveyard spiral.” What does a man think of during such a moment? I can recall only three distinct thoughts. The first I framed with my lips, as though I still disbelieved what was happening. “So this is how it feels!” Spiral dives were not unheard of to me. I had read about them; I had read about pilots killed in them; I had read about tests made when the AOPA 180° Rating was first taught— tests that proved that a plane would be in a spiral dive within minutes after the VFR pilot lost outside contact. “So this is how it feels!” The second thought was the one that hurt. I wondered how Carol would react to the news. She was the right kind of a girl for a pilot. She had told me, “I’m glad you fly, because I know you wouldn’t be happy otherwise.” She had a deep understanding, but underneath it all, I knew she was somewhat uneasy. And her worst fears were coming true. She’d probably want to marry a mole, after this. Last of all, my thoughts centered on the Angel’s wings. Previously, I had hesitated to make a power glide above 120 mph. Now a quick glance at the indicator showed an airspeed, which shuddered between 190 and 200! Apprehensively, I studied the wings. Suddenly the outline of a black cloud dived down before me, spun crazily in the center of the windshield, and jumped upward out of sight again. A split second later, a white thread of light seemed to glow for an instant, vertical to the horizon of my dashboard. My eager hands seized upon that memory as being the true horizon, and leveled the Angel accordingly. Miraculously, the airspeed fell to 60! I glanced down—and what a wonderful feeling to be sure of

http://www.pilotsupport.com http://www.pilotsupport.com

AOPA Pilot Magazine - March 2008

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of AOPA Pilot Magazine - March 2008