Flight Training - July 2015 - 22

FLIGHT LESSON

By John Godfrey
FLIGHT LESSON offers the
opportunity for pilots to learn
from the experiences of others.

THE LAKE BEHIND ME

FUEL EXHAUSTION IN A FLOATPLANE

n a bright July morning I stepped enthusiastically onto the
T-shaped dock of Folsom's Flying Service in Greenville,
Maine, looking forward to an hour of solo seaplane practice
in a Cessna 172 for my upcoming single-engine seaplane rating flight test. Tethered in a north-facing line, with right wings over the
dock, was a collection of high-wing seaplanes. Beyond the dock was a
half-mile of sparkling blue water, green hills, and the town of Greenville
to the left, at the south end of Moosehead Lake. To the right, the lake

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wind to practice landings and takeoffs. On
my first takeoff, I back-taxied to what I
thought was a sufficient point, turned, and
applied power. I left the water and passed
over the shoreline at about 500 feet. I
thought, This is a little low-if the engine
failed now, I could not turn back to the lake.
I looked straight ahead and saw a football
field with a hayfield beyond. I could only
imagine how my name would be mud if I
landed Folsom's 172 on a football field after
deliberately foregoing the chance to backtaxi on a 41-mile-long runway.
I turned downwind and then made
several touch and goes, touching and going
from farther north, thus providing myself
touchdown space straight ahead if necessary after takeoff. As I made circuits, there
was never a point at which I could not
have returned to the lake in the case of an
engine failure.
After the fourth landing, just after
touchdown, the engine stopped cold.

ALEX WILLIAMSON

widened and stretched 41 miles north. I
completed a preflight of the 172, starting
with pumping water from the floats and
then proceeding as with a landplane. I
climbed up and found full fuel in the right
wing tank, but did not bother with the left
tank since it was standard practice at Folsom's to leave the left tank empty. Because
floats are heavy, seaplanes have a chronic
weight problem, and Folsom dealt with
this by leaving the left fuel tank empty and
always operating with the left/right/both
fuel selector on the right tank. This gave
plenty of fuel for training flights and saved
one tankload's weight burden.
With the wind from the south, I needed
to back taxi northward and then turn into
the wind for takeoff toward the town of
Greenville. It was necessary to taxi far
enough north to give sufficient "runway"
to take off and achieve a comfortable altitude before crossing the shoreline, passing
over Greenville, and then turning down-

I found myself drifting in the middle
of Moosehead Lake, forced to contemplate use of the wooden paddle that was
attached to the float struts.
I ran through the engine failure
checklist, mighty glad to be doing so as
an Argonaut rather than aeronaut. First
item: Switch fuel tanks. I looked at the
selector valve and, sure enough, it was on
left. I glanced at the left fuel gauge, which
in this 172 was a sight tube in the wing
root: Empty. I glanced at the right: Full.
With the fuel selector switched to Right,
the engine fired up, and off I went for
another half-hour's practice-after which
I returned to the dock and tied
up the Cessna.
In the 47 years following that July day, I
have often reflected on the links I forged in
a chain that might have led to an embarrassing incident, or worse. 1: I was lulled
by the security of "full fuel" after observing a full right tank, where only the right
tank mattered (so I thought); 2: I did not
check the fuel selector; 3: because of my
inexperience, I did not back-taxi as far
as I should have to give enough distance
for a safe emergency landing on my first
departure. 4: fuel exhaustion-at exactly
the wrong time-did not occur.
What did I learn? Before every
flight, I ask myself: "What is peculiar?"
Many accidents are preceded by some
insidious, non-routine event or situation
poised to adversely affect a flight, but
escaping notice in a routine preflight.
Any peculiarity should set off hypervigilance prior to flight. In my case, the
Folsom fuel tank procedure was peculiar,
and I did not properly respond. Second,
I repeat to myself the adage about the
three most useless items in flying: The
altitude above you, the runway behind
you, and the gas back at the airport. The
adage that July day, modified for seaplane flying at Folsom's was: The altitude
above me, the 40.5 miles of Moosehead
Lake behind me, and the gas in the nonselected, full fuel tank.

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Flight Training - July 2015

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