Three in the Green?

“Out of altitude and common sense at the same time” is Ree’s nod to my (sometimes ridiculous) obsession with aviation. I’ve loved planes since I was a kid and now flying and teaching others to fly is not only a love, but a career. Kudos to Ree for not getting too fed up with my aviation mistress or the fact that I bring home peanuts for paychecks.

I hesitate to include this adventure on the blog because so many (Chris!) may be nervous flyers in light aircraft. Please understand that General Aviation is safe and, like many things in life, you just can’t predict or prevent this sort of adventure…

Last Thursday, I was practicing approaches into Ogden with another pilot (who incidentally is a student of mine, working on his commercial license). All was going relatively well until, toward the end of the approach, I tried to put the landing gear down. I keep my hand on the gear handle after putting the gear down, until I verify three green lights representing three wheels down and safely locked in place. This time, however, there were only 2 green lights and one big, red “Gear Unsafe” light illuminated. Hmmm. I broke off the approach, pulled up and advised Ogden tower we had a possible gear problem. I wasn’t too concerned at this point because in the past, I’ve had gear hang a bit and just cycling the gear up and back down again usually solves the issue. We told the tower we would fly away from the airport to troubleshoot. Unfortunately, after cycling the gear, and then going through various maneuvers and emergency gear extension procedures, the nose gear light still remained stubbornly dark. The mains were down and locked, but the status of the nose gear was unknown. This was getting serious.

We requested and were granted a low approach down the runway back at Ogden, asking the friendly controllers to take a look at our nose gear as we flew by. Officially, ATC parlance is, “Your gear appears to be down,” when it looks to be so. This is the good news we received. However, their news was a minor victory since there is no way to tell if the gear was limply hanging in the breeze or whether it was fully extended with the downlocks in place.

With the limp gear a possibility, I decided to fly back down to Salt Lake International where the runways are long, and the fire trucks are ever-ready. We flew back to Salt Lake and did another flyby, this time on their tower. I wanted to give them a good look, so I wasn’t shy in my proximity to the tower cab. I got so close, I could’ve seen the whites of the controllers’ eyes if I had been looking. Again, I received the official “Your gear appears to be down.”

Nothing left to do but burn fuel and make the landing now. All attempts to get a solid confirmation of the gear status had been exhausted. We told the tower we would circle downtown Salt Lake to burn fuel before attempting a landing. I wanted to be lighter and also reduce the fuel quantity in the small chance we had a fire on landing.

Then the wing fell off. Just kidding. I wanted to see if you were still paying attention.

After a nervous hour of circling, it was time. They say you make your best landings in an emergency, and I can attest to the truthfulness of that statement. On final approach and a few hundred feet above the ground, I shut the engine down and turned everything else off as well. We glided back down to earth and the main wheels gently squeaked on the concrete. I held the yoke in my lap to hold the nose wheel off the ground as long as possible. In a moment, we’d either be skidding on the propeller if the nose gear folded up, or I’d get a gentle thump as the gear held in place. And… the gear held up! As we silently coasted off the runway, we saw the green fire trucks and the majority of the airport operations vehicles start to head back to their respective homes. No firefighting today, thank you!

Turns out it was a broken switch. The switch turns on the green light, and turns off the unsafe light when the gear is fully extended. I figured as much when we were flying, but there was no way to know for sure until we were on the ground. The nose wheel was down and locked the entire time. Heaven smiled on us and we avoided calling the insurance company for an $80K claim.

I was proud of our performance. We were both calm, methodical and thorough. We train and practice for these emergencies all the time. Safety is number one in aviation. Train like you fly, fly like you train. Doesn’t hurt to have some extra blessings from above, though…