aps@decwrl.UUCP (Armando P. Stettner) (11/16/85)
Hi gang. On the issue of declaring an emergency, Andrew Koenig at BTL writes There is no reason for FAA hassle. Unfortunately, this is no guarantee that there won't be one anyway. The FAA seems to like to harass people for mysterious reasons. ... (story about CFI who gets tremendous problems because some random student faked an endorsement in his/her book) ... If you declare an emergency, you should assume that you will eventually lose your license as a result. That way, you can consider yourself doubly lucky if you survive the emergency and don't lose your ticket. Andy is a friend and it was he who gave me my first ride in a small plane (in this case small does indeed mean Cessna!). However, I disagree with his last statement saying that one should expect to be hassled. I was a 90 hour private pilot when I ventured into an IFR situation below MEA in mountainous territory of Vermont with Jean Wood. Before flying I called the FSS for a briefing. There was a line of showers approaching the airport from the west. I assumed I could take off and stay ahead of the weather since I was heading east. Soon after takeoff, I entered light rain. It quickly got so heavy that I could not see out the windshield and had to look out the side to see where I was going. From the briefing, and the fact that I was heading in the same direction as the weather, I assumed (not a safe assumption) that the rain would only last a few seconds. When the rain did stop, I found myself in clouds. For the first time in my life I actually felt a rush of panic (microseconds seem like years in the mind ...). After I came back to the present, I started to think of the options: standard rate turn 180 degrees or straight ahead (climbing). I was concerned about the mountains to either side but knew that my planned course was safe (assuming I was still on course) so I decided to keep my heading. (Descending would have been the last stupid thing I did.) All I could think of were the NTSB reports with headings like `VFR pilot ventures into IFR conditions ... spatial disorientation ... controlled impact with ground'. But I guess I realized what I had to do. So, I quickly started the nicest straight-ahead climb I could, dropped 7700 into the transponder and tuned in to 121.5. Come to think of it, I never actually said the words `mayday' or `emergency'. I called for any radio, gave my call signs and said that I was a VFR pilot in IFR conditions. Some Air India airliner picked me up and relayed messages to and from Boston Center who then switched me to a local RCO. Well, the controller asked for my situation (was I IFR rated, was I keeping the plane level, the number of souls on board, hours of fuel [good thing Jean can multiply under stress], and all that). He than said that I was 10 miles north of such and so airport. He did not know where weather was better but said that I was close to MEA and should continue climbing. I did and leveled out at the altitude and course he gave me. Another plane over the Concord New Hampshire area said that the cloud bases were better than 2000 feet above my then altitude. The controller gave me vectors for there. I looked at the charts. When I looked back up, I thought and felt like I was straight and level but Jean pointed out that I was turning. When I looked at the attitude indicator, I was in a 30 degree bank turn. Now, my instructor was an old retired Boeing instructor for American Airlines for decades and flew mail routes and in the war before that. I kept hearing his voice saying ``Now, I know you are going to get yourself into clouds, and *when* you do, just trust your instruments.'' (Then I knew what Luke must have felt like [but I didn't have a targeting computer]). I had to fight myself to bring the plane straight and level. When the plane was level according to the attitude indicator, it felt like I was turning in the opposite direction. It was hard not to follow my feelings. I managed (with Jean's help) to fly somewhat straight and level and follow the controller's instructions. It was so pleasing to see the ground when we finally broke out. My shirt and hair were soaked! The controller told me to squawk VFR and resume normal navigation but to contact flight service station on some freq. I expected to be flogged royally. But all they wanted was to get my name and tell me that the front was moving in my direction at about 25 knots, then wanted to know my intentions. I told them that I was going to head for home (my original destination). I expected the worst from the FSS/FAA (although when I got to Nashua, I literally kissed the ground and said I never wanted to fly again anyway ...). But I never heard from anybody about the incident; no papers to file, no phone calls to make or anything. Actually, I got more grief when I mistakenly entered a TCA by 500 feet! In fact, every dealing I have ever had with the FAA has been real good. I guess the point I am trying to make (rather long byted) is that I never want to have to think about the `official repercussions' resulting from me declaring an emergency. It has been the experience of me and many friends that there are none or at the most a short written explanation of the events. I would suspect that the FAA/NTSB would only be interested in making life difficult for you if you really broke some FAR or something and then had to declare some sort of emergency [like the jerk who took off from an IFR'ed field, headed to another IFR field and declared an emergency to get let down to the field, AFTER having received a briefing that both fields and enroute was IFR!]. Got an emergency, call 'em. That's part of the reason for their existence. Armando Stettner