Unusable Fuel
I have heard just about every flying story ever told. Pilots enjoy confessing their unforgivable mistakes, as if to be proud of them. After hearing about hundreds of flying accidents in my career, it has occurred to me that the two biggest killers are bad weather and running out of fuel. And so I have always promised myself that I would never allow either situation to occur.
Pushing bad weather is a stupid thing to do, and running out of gas is completely inexcusable. You must plan your flight with care, always ensuring that there will be a "Plan B" for any given situation. If there are no suitable alternate airports on your route of flight, then don't go. It's that simple.
Earlier this month I was on a flight from Red Deer, Alberta to Springbank. It was a Piper Cherokee, which has two 25-gallon tanks. We departed Red Deer with exactly 30 gallons of fuel, which was more than enough for our 90-minute flight. Ten minutes from our destination, I noticed that our left tank was getting low. When I attempted to switch to the right tank, I could not budge the fuel lever. It would not rotate. I asked my passenger to fly while I unbuckled and climbed down head-first under the control column of the left seat.
As I did, I had mental flashes of various high-profile accidents that have occurred due to poor cockpit resource management. The big one that sprung to my mind was the Alaska Flight 262, where the pilots messed with the trim so much that it broke, and the plane spiralled into the ocean off the coast of California. The other big one was Eastern Airlines flight 401 in 1972, involving a dead light bulb. The pilots, in their attempt to diagnose the situation, managed to fly the aircraft into the Florida everglades.
And there was, of course, a situation of my own years ago involving a jammed trim wheel. How much do you really want to mess with something during flight? It is usually best to land at the nearest suitable airport and then play the mechanic.
I decided to leave the fuel lever alone and continue to my destination, only ten minutes away. I estimated that I had about 5 gallons left in the tank, and should have at least three gallons left upon landing. I had other options. A perfectly good airport sat off our left wing, but common sense suggested that we would manage fine to Springbank.
Eight miles south of the field, I checked the ATIS and called the tower. Apparently, the controller du jour was having difficulties managing the traffic, and she instructed us to remain clear of the zone. The two of us exchanged a look of concern. We had an estimated three gallons of fuel left, but how much of that is really useable? At low levels, fuel sloshes about inside the tank, and can cause an engine to fail. So realistically, we had only minutes remaining. I was outside of my comfort zone. I normally try to land with at least an hour of fuel remaining, to compensate for incorrect fuel burn estimation, and to provide options in case the weather has deteriorated at my destination.
I reduced the power to endurance setting, which is the minimum amount of power required to maintain flight, roughly 2100 rpm in the Cherokee. I leaned the mixture as much as the engine would allow. This is not a good thing for the cylindar heads, but I decided to make this one exception. The air traffic controller was struggling. I estimated she had five aircraft arriving simultaneously, and we were the unlucky sixth, the straw that broke the camel's back. She gave one aircraft a 360, told another to extend downwind, and cancelled all circuit traffic. We orbited for five minutes and could only guess as to how much time we had. I couldn't wait any longer, so I interjected with another inbound call.
The controller began to get impatient with me, reminding me that I had been told to remain clear. The fuel gauge had no reading left on it, and so I advised the controller that we were "minimum fuel" and needed to land. She cleared us in and we landed without incident. "Minimum fuel" is kind of an interesting loophole. When you declare minimum fuel, you aren't declaring an emergency at all. You are merely stating that any further delays could lead to an emergency situation. This definition was created after far too many situations where a pilot was afraid to declare an emergency. The catch is that air traffic control is only required to give priority to an emergency. She had every right to tell me to get lost, if she wanted to.
You're probably wondering what the problem was. Upon close inspection, a loose screw was discovered on the face plate of the tank selector. The screw was blocking the movement of the handle. Man, I love things that can be fixed with just a screwdriver.
So there you have it. We had the best intentions, and never once made a bad decision, but still fell into a trap. Even the best planning won't prepare you for every situation. That's why common sense and good judgement are the most valuable things a pilot can have, and are truly what airline captains are made of. Hindsight being 20/20, I would have landed at that first airport we saw. But then, who really ever knows how things will play out? You roll the dice when you get out of bed in the morning. Every risk I take is a calculated risk. I take comfort in the redundancy my aircraft offers me. Two magnetos, two spark plugs per cylindar, two air intakes, and two fuel tanks. Well, in this case, only one fuel tank.
~Brad Logan
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