Around the Patch

The most recent one involved a flight from Ohio to Maryland in April 2018. I had spent a fun, exhausting weekend practicing formation flying with some of the pilots in Cherokees 2 Oshkosh. Ten airplanes had flown together in groups of three, a rehearsal for the mass arrival of Cherokees that would occur in July. Now I was heading back home to Maryland.

About 20 minutes into the 2.5-hour flight, I noticed that the needle on the loadmeter was no longer registering a charge.

I knew what this meant: The electrical system was shutting down. I also knew this wasn’t an emergency. The engine would continue to run, thanks to the four-stroke engine with magnetos that are self-powered. I was flying in good visual meteorological conditions, during the day. I had plenty of fuel on board, so, knowing that the engine would keep my airplane flying, I decided to head straight to my home airport.

I had to decrease the load on the airplane’s battery, and so I shut off lights. For some reason it didn’t occur to me to turn off the avionics switch. So, not surprisingly, the radios and Garmin GNS 430 went belly-up in about a half hour.

I still wasn’t worried. All that was needed was to see the light gun signals at my towered airport.

Cruising over the Appalachian Mountains at about 7,500 feet, 65 miles outside Frederick, I started thinking. Was there more that could be done to prepare for this arrival? No worries lowering the manual flaps or the fixed landing gear in this Piper Cherokee 140. I’d reviewed the light gun signals, which were printed on the back of my kneeboard.

Could I somehow let the tower know I was coming? And how could I do that? Our airport gets a brisk amount of training traffic on weekends, and the prospect of arriving NORDO (no radio) into a busy pattern wasn’t thrilling.

Ordinarily I don’t use a cellphone during flight (well, OK, I’ll snap the odd wing view photo now and again). This was an extenuating circumstance.

I tried to call a flight instructor friend using the Bluetooth function on my headset, but the call did not go through. Then I sent her a text, but she was in the middle of a lesson and couldn’t help.

Eventually I thought to text a pilot friend who’s on a first-name basis with practically everyone at the airport. Not only did he contact the tower to let them know, but he also passed along my cellphone number to the controller on duty. That controller texted to ask my approximate location so he could watch for me, and he told me to expect a right base entry to Runway 5.

And that was it. I watched for the light gun signal, found it—in broad daylight, it’s not as bright as you’d think—and landed. I taxied to my hangar, shut down, and then called both the tower controller and my pilot friend to let them know all was well, and to thank them. A mechanic later determined that a loose electrical connection had caused the failure.

I wish all mechanical issues could be resolved so easily. We know they aren’t, and that’s why we train for emergencies. It’s why we keep emergency checklists handy and practice flows for when time is short and items must be accomplished from memory. Practicing flows, engine-out procedures, and other types of emergencies not only make us safer pilots, but also more confident pilots. It’s a great feeling that makes the flight itself more enjoyable.