That's Not Good...

My plane partner Dave was doing a fine job of flying 26Mike up to our target altitude of 11'000 feet when I felt a very slight shudder shimmy up through the floor, my seat and then my butt. It was gone a second later and although I noticeably perked up and intently scanned the instruments, I didn't feel the need to take any action. It happened again as we were approaching nine thousand feet and I became quite unsettled. But once again it disappeared and things seemed normal.

Today's assignment was a very large vertical job covering an area of seven by five miles which would require flying twenty parallel flight lines. As we approached our intended altitude I looked out my side window seeing Mount Hualalai several thousand feet below us.

Since I would be flying the flight lines during the photo runs, I took control of the plane and began to line up for our first track. Dave reached down to the floor to remove the floor mat  carpet in order to place the vertical camera mount in position. The instant he did so a thick dark cloud of burnt oil smelling smoke shot up into the cockpit from the floor.

"That's it, we're get out of here" I said. "Yep" Dave agreed.

I mentioned to him to cover up the camera port with the carpet and keep his foot on top of it. I opened the side window to let the smoke out and pushed the throttle forward to increase our speed to make our way back to Kona International Airport. As I increased power close to cruise speed the front end of the plane began violently shaking like a coked up hula dancer. I've been flying for thirty years and this is the first time I have ever experienced what felt like an engine about to shake itself apart. I pulled the power back to reduce the shake to a bearable level.

"That's not good" I said to Dave, who I appreciate for his preferring to use short to the point words, "Nope" He said.

"Carb heat?" Dave suggested. I pulled the lever. But inside I knew it wasn't carburetor ice that was the issue. One of the squirrel's in the engine box had gone belly up on his treadmill and the resultant power imbalance would tear the engine apart if we tried to climb or even use enough power to level off.  Oh well, it looks like we'll be flying a glider back home today. No big deal,  people fly gliders all the time. The only difference being they took off knowing that's what they were doing while our first glider lesson had come pretty much as a surprise.

Nothing to do at this point but keep up a good glide speed and look around for a safe emergency landing site and then see if we could make it back to the airport. We had at least tem minutes off glide time ahead of us. I have to say I am very happy that this occurred at almost 11'000 feet over the Big Island instead of 2'000 feet over downtown Honolulu or even worse over the Alenuihaha Channel between Hawaii and Maui I so often fly over. Had that happened, there would have been some severe deep water swimming involved.

I called the  Kona tower and told them our situation. "Do you wish to declare an emergency?" he asked. "No, not at this time." I responded. If you officially declare an emergency the FAA has to get involved and reems of paperwork and misery ensue. The official motto on the FAA crest on their badges states in Latin: "We're Not Happy Until You're Not Happy". Check it out, I'm telling the truth.  Then the fateful sounding question they are required to ask in situations like this: "26Mike...how many soul's on board?" I looked over at Dave and asked if he in fact had a soul? Yes, he said, with a smile,  he did indeed have a soul. "Kona Tower,  26Mike has two souls on board."

The old airport runway on Kailua Bay was withing gliding distance should we need it. I look west and see the runway at Kona. The tower has told us it's our choice, runway 17 or 35. "What do you think Dave, 35 or 17?" I ask. "35 " says Dave.

"Good choice" I respond. "Kona Tower, 26Mike will be landing on 35." I tell the tower.

We glided to a safe landing and were greeted like returning hero's by a herd of bright green fire trucks and emergency vehicles all with lights flashing away!

The poor lads in their silver suits manning their foam cannons looked as if they wished we might just burst into a little flame so they could use their hard earned skills to hose us down. These poor guys train intensively for fiery catastrophes that never happen. I felt bad looking at their eager young faces. Thanks anyway guys! Maybe next time.

After pulling into our tie down spot, I tried advancing the throttle again on the ground to see if the engine had somehow healed itself. The incredibly violent shaking began instantly and I quickly reduced power and shut it down. Nope, it was broke and we were lucky to make it down safely.

 We got out and walked over to thank the firefighters for their assistance and tell them what had happened. Back at 26Mike the view inside the engine compartment was not a pretty one.

 Engine oil covered everything inside as well as pooling on the ground below and coating the bottom of the fuselage.

I have no idea what went wrong but I believe that before it flies again 26Mike will require more than just tightening a bolt and putting another quart of oil back in. I'm glad that we made it back down without bending any aluminum or having to try and access gummint' health care! 

Just another day at the office.

Now I gotta go sell a kidney to pay for the repairs so I can get back in the air and back to work!

Mahalo,

Brian