TED'S MISADVENTURES
CHALLENGER II GOES DOWN
Ted C. D'Eon
I remember when I was in my primary year of school, in 1955, the teacher asked the
class what we wanted to be or do when we grew up. I answered "naviguer dans les
boules de coton". I assume I was attempting to impress the teacher with a poetic
answer; I knew what clouds were composed of, even at that tender age. Essentially I said I
wanted to fly.
In the fall of 1992 the Yarmouth Flying Club decided to give an ultra-light aircraft
flying course. Steve Sawler would be the instructor. I applied, and in December of that
year I took several ground school lessons in safety and communication, etc.
The aircraft we were using was a two seater
Challenger II
Ultralight. Instructor and student are sitting one behind the other; there are two sets of
rudder pedals and two control stick. It is powered by an engine with a propeller in a
"pusher" configuration which is mounted to the rear of the cockpit .
During the training, we did several sessions of circuits around the airport. Steve
would demonstrate taxiing, take-offs and landings, etc. During this time, I was the
observer in the back seat soaking it all up and finding it very exciting, even thrilling.
Apparently, I was one of only a few students taking this course. Actually, I did not
meet anybody else, so I may have been the only student. By January, 1993, the owner of the
aircraft wanted it back in Hali because not enough hours were being logged onto it. I
would not be able to finish the flying course.
Steve asked me if I wanted to fly it back with him at the earliest opportunity, and I
agreed. He would do the take-offs and landings; I would fly it cross-country to a small
landing strip near Liverpool to refuel, and then he would fly it and land at the Hali
International Airport. A second aircraft from the Yarmouth Flying Club would accompany us,
carry our extra fuel, and bring us back to Yarmouth.
The morning of February 3, 1993, was the perfect winter morning. The air was clear and
cold; no wind and no clouds; some snow on the ground, and frost on the wings which would
have to be brushed off. I arrived at the Flying Club at about 8am and by about 10am the
Challenger had been fueled, cleared of frost, checked all over and I was sitting in the
front seat in a Ski-Doo suit with chemical "Foot-Warmers" in each of my
insulated rubber boots. The temperature outside was about -15C and about the same inside
the cockpit. The gull-wing plexiglass doors were fastened shut with "bungee
cord". The cockpit, even though not air-tight, would protect us from wind-chill as
the craft flew through the air at 75mph. The take-off was uneventful except we had
radio problems communicating with the tower. Communication with our accompanying aircraft
was O.K., and once we were up 2000ft. or so, Steve gave me control and I was flying on my
own for the first time.
Everything seemed perfect. Altitude was 3000ft. We were flying level and in the right
direction for Liverpool. The accompanying aircraft was being piloted by a student
practicing his turns. All this time , Steve was giving me instructions which I had trouble
understanding because of the noise, or he was in communication with the other aircraft,
however, we were doing fine. Engine rpm and temperature were right on the mark.
Steve pointed me out the East Kemptville tin mine in the distance in my left field of
view. Then, like a blast from a shotgun, and an accompanying shudder, everything went
quiet.
Steve took over the controls; he told me to remove my feet from the rudder pedals and
depress the starting button as he nosed the craft down. The engine turned over but no sign
of starting. We tried again with the same result. He then said he would have to choose one
of the many lakes below us to make an emergency landing. I should stow all loose items in
my jacket and zip it up. I placed my head set over my thigh; the communication set, my
camera, and a paperback of maps and runways, into my jacket. He chose the lake with the
longest landing strip.
All this time we were going down, there was no communication with the other aircraft.
Soon after they realized we were not with them, they spotted our aircraft at what appeared
to them to be just above the trees in what seemed like eminent disaster. However, at this
time, Steve was just making our final approach to the landing on the lake. He banked the
ultralight to the left, changed our direction 180 deg. and align our flight path with the
proposed landing area.
We were coming down slowly. The Challenger has a stalling speed of less than 30mph
(50km/h). There was snow on the lake. We hoped the ice was strong enough. One second I was
in the air; the next second, I was knee deep in snow.
The aircraft came to a stop in about 40ft. (12m) of heavy snow. The right landing gear
broke off and was left dangling by a steel cable. The nose wheel popped into the cockpit,
under my seat. Snow was instantly scooped in by the hole created, and in a flash, I was up
to my knees in the white stuff.
Steve was the first one out. He asked me several times if I was O.K. I answered back
"yes" each time. I must admit I was slow getting out because I wanted to get a
photograph of the instrument covered up with snow, and of the snow up to my knees, before
I got out.
Steve was quick on the set to let the other pilot know we were fine, and to ask him to
contact Search and Rescue to come and pick us up. I used my cellular phone to phone my
wife, Michelle, to tell her and the pharmacy staff what had happened.
About half an hour later, a
Sikorsky S-76 helicopter
arrived on the scene and flew us back to the Yarmouth airport.
WHAT HAD HAPPENED:
The muffler had broken from its mounting bolts and it caught into the propeller,
breaking off a blade. In the process, the right "flaperon" was also slightly
damaged. The two carburetors were jarred from their mounts
and were dangling by the fuel lines and dripping fuel.
A new propeller was ordered, the landing gear was fixed, and with skies attached, one
week after the incident, a noisy Challenger was flown back to Yarmouth. The muffler had
not been replaced.
The Challenger II made it back to Hali, dismantled, in the back of a truck.
My flying career is on hold.
Ted C. D'Eon
P.O. Box 100
West Pubnico
Nova Scotia
B0W 3S0
Canada
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