In 2005, one of my very first utility jobs was a power line inspection with a company under contract for the Bonneville Power Administration (BPA) in Oregon. I arrived there, a fresh new employee of a company which performs maintenance, patrols and inspections of power lines. I would be flying the venerable AS-355 Twin Star. Having gained a good understanding of the aircraft in an EMS job out of Reno, I felt very comfortable with this assignment.
I met the aircraft at the airport, near The Dalles, Oregon. Relieving a wizened old pilot named Don, a.k.a. The Texas Cadillac, we jumped in the machine for a quick checkout. After a few traffic patterns and landings he exclaimed I landed it better than him. As I was formulating a gracious and witty retort to his compliment, the copilot door was already closed. The last thing I saw, while still at ground idle, was his tail lights as he headed down the road.
My inspection crew loaded into the aircraft and we were off for some painfully slow and detailed visual inspections. It wasn't the most pleasant of experiences for a couple of reasons. The lineman doing the visual inspection had brought his wife to record the data. Every once in a while, they would bicker and snap at each other over what to write, as she was chastised to keep up as he rattled off minor discrepancies like a .45 caliber Tommy Gun. Also, the Twin Star, which had an image of Casper The Friendly Ghost emblazoned on the nose, carried a good deal of fuel, 3 hours worth...which for a coffee-a-holic like me, was anathema. I received a few raised eyebrows from the crew, while stopping several times to pee on various pinnacles, overlooking gorgeous river bottoms. Also unpleasant, the pilot station is in the right seat and the lineman insisted on removing the left door and inspecting from that side, making pilot visibility of the structure very poor indeed.
After days of wind, rain and hills, we finally entered some mountainous terrain in the vicinity of Mt Hood. The aircraft performed well and we maintained good hover power at these tall structures, in terrain close to 9000' above sea level. Keeping an eye on the closest airports to our work area, I determined the Suniver airport was the closest, and elected to stop there one day for fuel.
We land at Sunriver (S21) and hover taxi to a pay-at-the-pump fuel point, and shut down. I filled both tanks and began searching out the FBO office for the requisite bathroom stop and aviator lunch of champions; a snack machine. On my way to the FBO, I spy a disoriented man walking diagonally across the ramp, aimed at nothing in particular, like a 2.75" folding fin aerial rocket, all thrust and no direction. I'm like, "Hey man, what's up??" He's holding a hand to his ear, his hair is all messed up, and just looks generally disheveled. Turning his good ear towards me he says, "Do you know where I can buy a headset?" "No, man, maybe the FBO," I say. He asks where is it and I advise him it's right in front of him.
Now, I have to ask this guy what is up. I am compelled to. So I ask, "Why do you need to buy a headset?" He says, "Well.....I lost mine, somewhere near "The Sisters.""
NOTE: Nestled north of Mt Bachelor, the twin Sisters, named North and South respectively, are part of a group of what appear to be very large, extinct, or rather probably extinct, volcanoes. Having an extremely tall set of mountains (volcanoes) in a tight area can cause great currents of air to behave in a very disagreeable way, as this man is about to testify.
I ask the man to go on. He says that while he was flying a Long EZ, a small composite, home-built plane, he had to remove his seat beat to get something from behind the seat. While on his knees, facing aft, reaching over the back of his seat, the aircraft encountered mountain wave turbulence. (Mountain waves are some of the most severe winds you will encounter, especially in a light category plane) Suddenly and violently the nose pitched down causing the pilot to fly upward due to the negative G forces. He flew up so fast his head broke clean through the canopy and was sticking up outside the aircraft as it is plunging toward the ground, at a high rate of descent. Negative G forces are like gravity in reverse. This man is fully pinned to the canopy by these forces and therefore unable to reach the control stick. His headset is ripped off his head as the aircraft accelerates toward the ground nearing its highest V number...VNE (Velocity Never Exceed).
He told me it was pretty dicey at this point. The ground was coming up fast and he cannot reach the controls. However, it is more important to be lucky than good. (Just ask me) So through some twist of fate, the aircraft had a natural tendency to stabilize and it pulled out slowly from the dive, just enough to return to normal Gee's, causing him to fall back inside the aircraft. He was then able to regain control of the aircraft and recover around 200' above the ground. Once again, I find myself staring at a pilot, thinking, wow, you are so lucky to be alive. I told him to forget the headset, and call it a day.
I met the aircraft at the airport, near The Dalles, Oregon. Relieving a wizened old pilot named Don, a.k.a. The Texas Cadillac, we jumped in the machine for a quick checkout. After a few traffic patterns and landings he exclaimed I landed it better than him. As I was formulating a gracious and witty retort to his compliment, the copilot door was already closed. The last thing I saw, while still at ground idle, was his tail lights as he headed down the road.
My inspection crew loaded into the aircraft and we were off for some painfully slow and detailed visual inspections. It wasn't the most pleasant of experiences for a couple of reasons. The lineman doing the visual inspection had brought his wife to record the data. Every once in a while, they would bicker and snap at each other over what to write, as she was chastised to keep up as he rattled off minor discrepancies like a .45 caliber Tommy Gun. Also, the Twin Star, which had an image of Casper The Friendly Ghost emblazoned on the nose, carried a good deal of fuel, 3 hours worth...which for a coffee-a-holic like me, was anathema. I received a few raised eyebrows from the crew, while stopping several times to pee on various pinnacles, overlooking gorgeous river bottoms. Also unpleasant, the pilot station is in the right seat and the lineman insisted on removing the left door and inspecting from that side, making pilot visibility of the structure very poor indeed.
After days of wind, rain and hills, we finally entered some mountainous terrain in the vicinity of Mt Hood. The aircraft performed well and we maintained good hover power at these tall structures, in terrain close to 9000' above sea level. Keeping an eye on the closest airports to our work area, I determined the Suniver airport was the closest, and elected to stop there one day for fuel.
 |
| Sunriver Airport |
We land at Sunriver (S21) and hover taxi to a pay-at-the-pump fuel point, and shut down. I filled both tanks and began searching out the FBO office for the requisite bathroom stop and aviator lunch of champions; a snack machine. On my way to the FBO, I spy a disoriented man walking diagonally across the ramp, aimed at nothing in particular, like a 2.75" folding fin aerial rocket, all thrust and no direction. I'm like, "Hey man, what's up??" He's holding a hand to his ear, his hair is all messed up, and just looks generally disheveled. Turning his good ear towards me he says, "Do you know where I can buy a headset?" "No, man, maybe the FBO," I say. He asks where is it and I advise him it's right in front of him.
 |
| a Long EZ |
Now, I have to ask this guy what is up. I am compelled to. So I ask, "Why do you need to buy a headset?" He says, "Well.....I lost mine, somewhere near "The Sisters.""
 |
| The Sisters |
NOTE: Nestled north of Mt Bachelor, the twin Sisters, named North and South respectively, are part of a group of what appear to be very large, extinct, or rather probably extinct, volcanoes. Having an extremely tall set of mountains (volcanoes) in a tight area can cause great currents of air to behave in a very disagreeable way, as this man is about to testify.
I ask the man to go on. He says that while he was flying a Long EZ, a small composite, home-built plane, he had to remove his seat beat to get something from behind the seat. While on his knees, facing aft, reaching over the back of his seat, the aircraft encountered mountain wave turbulence. (Mountain waves are some of the most severe winds you will encounter, especially in a light category plane) Suddenly and violently the nose pitched down causing the pilot to fly upward due to the negative G forces. He flew up so fast his head broke clean through the canopy and was sticking up outside the aircraft as it is plunging toward the ground, at a high rate of descent. Negative G forces are like gravity in reverse. This man is fully pinned to the canopy by these forces and therefore unable to reach the control stick. His headset is ripped off his head as the aircraft accelerates toward the ground nearing its highest V number...VNE (Velocity Never Exceed).
He told me it was pretty dicey at this point. The ground was coming up fast and he cannot reach the controls. However, it is more important to be lucky than good. (Just ask me) So through some twist of fate, the aircraft had a natural tendency to stabilize and it pulled out slowly from the dive, just enough to return to normal Gee's, causing him to fall back inside the aircraft. He was then able to regain control of the aircraft and recover around 200' above the ground. Once again, I find myself staring at a pilot, thinking, wow, you are so lucky to be alive. I told him to forget the headset, and call it a day.