Gary's AOPA Article
Wed Sep 24, 2008 9:12 pm
If this has been previously discussed, forgive me. Has anyone seen the new AOPA magazine with Gary Austin's Pitts story? Don't want to spoil it for anyone but... If you've ever flown a single seat Pitts you'll appreciate Gary's cool handling of an almost blind landing. Even more blind than the usual Pitts landing! Well written article Gary!!!
Steve G
Steve G
Thu Sep 25, 2008 9:37 am
Thanks Steve. I hate that they had to shorten up the article from it's original state, but I understand they're space limited. Nevertheless, I think the article that was printed at least gives a basic idea of the situation that was at hand.
Gary
Gary
when I fly GA aircraft..
Thu Sep 25, 2008 10:51 am
I never wear shorts, always long pants and usually cowboy boots. If its a plane I am not familiar with or confident in I wear my nomex gear (and face the onslaught of ramp tittering from others). I always take my navy gear in a helmet bag and have considered the helmet scenario and, of course with any bubble canopy its mandatory for me. I recently gave my HGU 55 to a friend with an RV and got a new hgu 68 (with the 600 mph visor of course!) for myself. Not that a c 150 would really need it but it could make the 50 seconds or so if difference that could mean life or death for you, a passenger and civilians on the ground. If more folks understood the possible dangers the ramp tittering might go down a notch or 2...
Thu Sep 25, 2008 3:18 pm
Just read it myself. How much did the cut? Any chance you could provide the full version?
Thu Sep 25, 2008 4:03 pm
It went from three or four pages, down to two. The basic stuff was still mentioned, so I reckon the other stuff was merely rambling on my part (news flash, huh?). 
I'm not at liberty to disclose the full story right now, as they have some rules against that sort of thing. Maybe after the allotted time runs out (I can't remember how long though
).
Gary
I'm not at liberty to disclose the full story right now, as they have some rules against that sort of thing. Maybe after the allotted time runs out (I can't remember how long though
).
Gary
Thu Sep 25, 2008 6:38 pm
The safety gear exists for a reason. I figure if it's there why not use it ? I have an old saying that I used to use with our Scouts. Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it. That works for me on so many different levels ! 
Thu Sep 25, 2008 8:23 pm
Gary,
I've always wondered how they put together the artwork for those articles. Is that your airplane pictured?
Steve G
I've always wondered how they put together the artwork for those articles. Is that your airplane pictured?
Steve G
Thu Sep 25, 2008 8:47 pm
Great story Gary as you never know when you will benefit from wearing a helmet but its nice to know you will.....
Lynn
Lynn
Fri Sep 26, 2008 8:59 am
Okay y'all, I obtained permission from AOPA to go ahead and post the long version of the story that was published. So, here you go.......
“Never Again” article…Pitts Canopy episode, rough draft…
It was a high overcast, windy spring day at the General DeWitt Spain Airport (M01), just north of Downtown Memphis, TN. Not a great day for flying, as the winds were 15 mph or so and gusty, but we had a “mission” to accomplish. The day before, I had ridden in one of the local TV news helicopters, with its pilot, to help him scout out a nice little island on the Mississippi River for him and his girlfriend (who was going to be there the next day) to spend some “quality time” on. So, on this day, we watched the news helicopter head north to his perfect getaway. Naturally, as good friends and fellow fliers, we couldn’t possibly let him get away with that without being somehow abused by us! So, having already briefed this flight, we waited about 15 minutes after seeing the helicopter leave and then scrambled to our aircraft, like a bunch of F-106 pilots in the Strategic Air Command.
I was flying the lead aircraft in this flight, since I knew the exact location of the target. I was flying a somewhat modified, hot-rod, Pitts S-1S (single seat, four aileron, symmetrical wings). Number two in the flight was an RV-8, followed by Number 3 in an Extra 300L. Neither aircraft a slouch by any means.
After takeoff, I lead the flight east of the island to keep our “target” from hearing us go by. Our approach was from the north. I put our flight in “trail” position and we each made two passes over the island, surely disrupting the planned “quality time” that was merely seconds away from happening, I’m told. Mission accomplished.
Seeing how we were only airborne for approximately 5-10 minutes after that mission, we all three felt that although it was pretty miserable out, with the turbulence and such, we were already there, so we might as well have a little dogfight or two. We climbed to 3,000ft. agl and decided it would be Pitts vs. Extra, with the RV-8 flying as “referee,” circling overhead in high cover. I remember them being quite fun dogfights, as I won the first fight, the Extra won the second one, and the third fight being a draw. We stopped the third fight upon reaching our prebriefed floor of 1500ft. agl. The Extra was headed north and the RV-8 was still in high cover. I was in a gentle, R/H turn, to allow them to join up on me so that we could go back home.
While in this R/H turn, passing an easterly heading, starting to come up on South, I suddenly felt as if someone had hit me in the back of the head and right shoulder with a 2x4! I wasn’t sure if I’d hit a bird, or a plane, or a UFO, but what I was sure of was that my canopy had completely shattered and become unlatched on the L/H side (NOTE: this Pitts had a canopy which slid slightly aft to unlock pins, then swung over to the right side for entry/exit). It was also quite clear that the canopy had twisted so much that the front, left portion of it was now on the right side of the airplane, flopping in the airflow, while the aft portion had my head pinned down in such a way that my chin was nearly touching my tightly strapped down torso! The only visibility I had was through the Lexan floor of the aircraft and just slightly on the right side of where the canopy used to be, due to the way it had my head twisted. There was zero visibility out front.
I looked through the floor as a reference to try to level the wings, and as I did, the aircraft pitched suddenly and violently, nearly straight up! For a brief moment, my vision was blurred as the G forces caught me off guard. However, almost right away, I recovered and tried to right the airplane by applying an extremely light amount of forward pressure on the stick. The airplane then pitched violently down, again, nearly vertically. Unfortunately, this negative G load had no affect on the pressure that the canopy had on my head and shoulder. These vertical oscillations continued for two or three more series, although I felt they were becoming less intense as I tried to regain control of the situation. All I could figure at the time was that whatever caused that initial jolt and the canopy to shatter, must’ve also knocked the horizontal stabilizer loose at the leading edge. With that notion in my mind and me not being able to fully control the aircraft, I made the decision to bail out.
It was during this moment that the three classic signs of a true emergency came out in the open……….. Denial--- “I can’t believe I’m going to ruin this airplane by jumping out of it!” (I’m a mechanic, after all.) Anger--- “This is Bullsh*t!!! Son-of-a-B*tch!!!” and finally, Reality--- “You better hurry up and get your butt out of this thing or you’re gonna be a smoking hole!”
The first step in bailing out of this Pitts is to get rid of the canopy. With the canopy configuration on this airplane, it was a matter of simply pushing a handle that was made directly to the hinge pins to release them. However, upon removing the pins, the canopy barely even moved! The front portion only rose approximately 2” or so, due to the fact that its framework was so twisted up and entangled in the upper longeron of the airplane. It wouldn’t come loose. Not good.
The movement of the forward portion of the canopy, however, did two things…it seemed to slow down the severity of the vertical oscillations in the aircraft and also allowed me approximately 2” of forward visibility through the windshield. Nevertheless, I was still not in complete control of the airplane and stayed in the “bail out mode.” In an effort to manually get rid of the canopy, I slowed the airplane down to 120mph. The idea was that the airflow would be slow enough to allow me to simply push the canopy off the aircraft and for me to make a clean egress. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn’t get it to release and as I pushed on it, the resulting change in airflow would cause the vertical oscillations to start again.
During this time, I became so preoccupied with trying to get rid of that canopy, that I had not paid attention to my altitude. Eventually, I looked at the altimeter and discovered that I was only at 800ft. agl and was still descending! The excess drag on the airplane was keeping it from maintaining altitude, even at 120mph. At this altitude, or lower, the odds of surviving a bail out would be much less favorable, if at all.
It became time for yet another important decision…Give up, or fly. I chose the latter.
A poignant time for me in this flight is when I looked forward to read a placard I’d installed on the lower portion of the windshield of this airplane. It said, “Don’t do Nuthin’ Dumb!” And seeing how it was merely inches in front of my face, it had an impact on my mind more so than it ever had. I had to think clearly now. In order to regain some precious altitude for a bail out (and allow room for more of those oscillations), I shoved the throttle forward and leveled of somewhere around 1200ft. agl, still heading South, towards home. 150mph was all I could muster, but I was able to maintain altitude and somewhat control the oscillations now.
Right around this time is when I noticed that the RV-8 & Extra 300L had been trying to talk to me on our discreet frequency. Naturally, during this course of events, my crappy handheld radio which was ty-wrapped to the fuselage tubing, quit transmitting. I could hear them fine though and they asked, “Gary, if you’re okay, wag your wings.” Knowing I was unable to transmit, I still said to myself, out loud, “I ain’t waggin’ sh*t!” The Extra then told the RV to catch up to me to see what was wrong and that he’d be caught up to the flight shortly.
I had no idea how far behind the rest of my flight was, but moments later, I heard the RV say, “Holy sh*t!!! Gary’s in trouble! His canopy is shattered and has partially come off…looks like it might be holding his head down.” I thought for him to see that, he must be tucked in pretty tight. So I stretched my eyes as far as I could and saw that he was only about 5ft. off my wing. Normally, that wouldn’t bother me whatsoever, but with my controllability issues and me still trying to get rid of that stinkin’ canopy, I motioned for him to loosen up.
As the Extra rapidly approached us, he said, “G*d-dammit Gary, get out of that thing!” Once again, speaking (loudly) to myself, I said, “If I could get out of this thing, I would!!!” The RV repeated himself by saying that I appeared to be pinned in by the canopy. The Extra had now joined up on my left wing and asked if I could hear the radio transmissions. I was able to give him a “thumbs-up” and he then briefed me about how we would handle the landing. He said that he and the RV would stay loose on each wing, guiding me in with radio calls. They would change frequencies to tell the local traffic (which there was none) our position and that we’d be making a straight in approach. This may seem like very basic stuff, but it was quite soothing to know that I had two of the finest pilots, who were also my friends, right there with me to do what they could from where they were to help me.
My wingmen had me pretty much lined up with the grass on the side of the runway and told me I was a mile out. I watched for familiar landmarks and became aware of my position right away. While still looking out the Lexan floor of the aircraft, I saw the airport boundry fence go by. I closed the throttle and held the speed at 120mph, which I remembered put me in a slow descent. At about 3-4ft, I flared by pulling the stick in my gut. I didn’t want to touch with the main wheels first and flip over on my back. Until the airplane landed, I knew I was just along for the ride. Upon landing, the airplane went straight ahead, with little input from me (you gotta love an oversized rudder and a locking tailwheel on a Pitts). Once I got the airplane stopped, the adrenaline was still flowing. I grabbed that canopy and was going to throw it across that Mississippi River, but it still wouldn’t let go! It merely flopped over to the side of the airplane, hanging on while I taxied back to the hangar.
After exiting the aircraft, I had to pry the canopy off of the longeron to remove it. The right side of the airplane looked as if it’d been shot with a shotgun, including a large tear in the rudder, presumably from the shards of Plexiglas and the huge yaw moment that took place during the initial event. To my surprise, the horizontal stabilizer was still firmly in place, although the leading edge had a nice dent in it and the stabilizer bar was bent. To this day, we still don’t know exactly what caused that canopy to fail like it did, but there were no cracks or anything noticed during the preflight. The pitch oscillations were apparently from the one large remnant of Plexiglas, flopping in the wind, making nasty air go over the tail section of the aircraft. Certainly a bizarre event.
Oh, and likely the most important thing we noticed after this flight was my helmet. You see, I rarely fly without one, and it wasn’t until later that we noticed a 3/8 inch hole was poked completely through the lower, right side of it, on the back. It’s difficult to say how this story would have changed had I not been wearing that helmet, but I can assure you that it would’ve been a mess. Many people often cringe when I tell them the price of a good helmet for aviation, but I always tell ‘em it’s much cheaper than a visit to the ER, or a funeral home.
Never again, will I fly an aircraft like this without a helmet.
See? I told you it was long-winded.
Oh, and here are a couple photos to help your mind picture what went on that day. First, what was left of the canopy.......
And second, the damage done to my helmet. Notice the "cracked egg shell look" surrounding the hole in it..........
Gary
“Never Again” article…Pitts Canopy episode, rough draft…
It was a high overcast, windy spring day at the General DeWitt Spain Airport (M01), just north of Downtown Memphis, TN. Not a great day for flying, as the winds were 15 mph or so and gusty, but we had a “mission” to accomplish. The day before, I had ridden in one of the local TV news helicopters, with its pilot, to help him scout out a nice little island on the Mississippi River for him and his girlfriend (who was going to be there the next day) to spend some “quality time” on. So, on this day, we watched the news helicopter head north to his perfect getaway. Naturally, as good friends and fellow fliers, we couldn’t possibly let him get away with that without being somehow abused by us! So, having already briefed this flight, we waited about 15 minutes after seeing the helicopter leave and then scrambled to our aircraft, like a bunch of F-106 pilots in the Strategic Air Command.
I was flying the lead aircraft in this flight, since I knew the exact location of the target. I was flying a somewhat modified, hot-rod, Pitts S-1S (single seat, four aileron, symmetrical wings). Number two in the flight was an RV-8, followed by Number 3 in an Extra 300L. Neither aircraft a slouch by any means.
After takeoff, I lead the flight east of the island to keep our “target” from hearing us go by. Our approach was from the north. I put our flight in “trail” position and we each made two passes over the island, surely disrupting the planned “quality time” that was merely seconds away from happening, I’m told. Mission accomplished.
Seeing how we were only airborne for approximately 5-10 minutes after that mission, we all three felt that although it was pretty miserable out, with the turbulence and such, we were already there, so we might as well have a little dogfight or two. We climbed to 3,000ft. agl and decided it would be Pitts vs. Extra, with the RV-8 flying as “referee,” circling overhead in high cover. I remember them being quite fun dogfights, as I won the first fight, the Extra won the second one, and the third fight being a draw. We stopped the third fight upon reaching our prebriefed floor of 1500ft. agl. The Extra was headed north and the RV-8 was still in high cover. I was in a gentle, R/H turn, to allow them to join up on me so that we could go back home.
While in this R/H turn, passing an easterly heading, starting to come up on South, I suddenly felt as if someone had hit me in the back of the head and right shoulder with a 2x4! I wasn’t sure if I’d hit a bird, or a plane, or a UFO, but what I was sure of was that my canopy had completely shattered and become unlatched on the L/H side (NOTE: this Pitts had a canopy which slid slightly aft to unlock pins, then swung over to the right side for entry/exit). It was also quite clear that the canopy had twisted so much that the front, left portion of it was now on the right side of the airplane, flopping in the airflow, while the aft portion had my head pinned down in such a way that my chin was nearly touching my tightly strapped down torso! The only visibility I had was through the Lexan floor of the aircraft and just slightly on the right side of where the canopy used to be, due to the way it had my head twisted. There was zero visibility out front.
I looked through the floor as a reference to try to level the wings, and as I did, the aircraft pitched suddenly and violently, nearly straight up! For a brief moment, my vision was blurred as the G forces caught me off guard. However, almost right away, I recovered and tried to right the airplane by applying an extremely light amount of forward pressure on the stick. The airplane then pitched violently down, again, nearly vertically. Unfortunately, this negative G load had no affect on the pressure that the canopy had on my head and shoulder. These vertical oscillations continued for two or three more series, although I felt they were becoming less intense as I tried to regain control of the situation. All I could figure at the time was that whatever caused that initial jolt and the canopy to shatter, must’ve also knocked the horizontal stabilizer loose at the leading edge. With that notion in my mind and me not being able to fully control the aircraft, I made the decision to bail out.
It was during this moment that the three classic signs of a true emergency came out in the open……….. Denial--- “I can’t believe I’m going to ruin this airplane by jumping out of it!” (I’m a mechanic, after all.) Anger--- “This is Bullsh*t!!! Son-of-a-B*tch!!!” and finally, Reality--- “You better hurry up and get your butt out of this thing or you’re gonna be a smoking hole!”
The first step in bailing out of this Pitts is to get rid of the canopy. With the canopy configuration on this airplane, it was a matter of simply pushing a handle that was made directly to the hinge pins to release them. However, upon removing the pins, the canopy barely even moved! The front portion only rose approximately 2” or so, due to the fact that its framework was so twisted up and entangled in the upper longeron of the airplane. It wouldn’t come loose. Not good.
The movement of the forward portion of the canopy, however, did two things…it seemed to slow down the severity of the vertical oscillations in the aircraft and also allowed me approximately 2” of forward visibility through the windshield. Nevertheless, I was still not in complete control of the airplane and stayed in the “bail out mode.” In an effort to manually get rid of the canopy, I slowed the airplane down to 120mph. The idea was that the airflow would be slow enough to allow me to simply push the canopy off the aircraft and for me to make a clean egress. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn’t get it to release and as I pushed on it, the resulting change in airflow would cause the vertical oscillations to start again.
During this time, I became so preoccupied with trying to get rid of that canopy, that I had not paid attention to my altitude. Eventually, I looked at the altimeter and discovered that I was only at 800ft. agl and was still descending! The excess drag on the airplane was keeping it from maintaining altitude, even at 120mph. At this altitude, or lower, the odds of surviving a bail out would be much less favorable, if at all.
It became time for yet another important decision…Give up, or fly. I chose the latter.
A poignant time for me in this flight is when I looked forward to read a placard I’d installed on the lower portion of the windshield of this airplane. It said, “Don’t do Nuthin’ Dumb!” And seeing how it was merely inches in front of my face, it had an impact on my mind more so than it ever had. I had to think clearly now. In order to regain some precious altitude for a bail out (and allow room for more of those oscillations), I shoved the throttle forward and leveled of somewhere around 1200ft. agl, still heading South, towards home. 150mph was all I could muster, but I was able to maintain altitude and somewhat control the oscillations now.
Right around this time is when I noticed that the RV-8 & Extra 300L had been trying to talk to me on our discreet frequency. Naturally, during this course of events, my crappy handheld radio which was ty-wrapped to the fuselage tubing, quit transmitting. I could hear them fine though and they asked, “Gary, if you’re okay, wag your wings.” Knowing I was unable to transmit, I still said to myself, out loud, “I ain’t waggin’ sh*t!” The Extra then told the RV to catch up to me to see what was wrong and that he’d be caught up to the flight shortly.
I had no idea how far behind the rest of my flight was, but moments later, I heard the RV say, “Holy sh*t!!! Gary’s in trouble! His canopy is shattered and has partially come off…looks like it might be holding his head down.” I thought for him to see that, he must be tucked in pretty tight. So I stretched my eyes as far as I could and saw that he was only about 5ft. off my wing. Normally, that wouldn’t bother me whatsoever, but with my controllability issues and me still trying to get rid of that stinkin’ canopy, I motioned for him to loosen up.
As the Extra rapidly approached us, he said, “G*d-dammit Gary, get out of that thing!” Once again, speaking (loudly) to myself, I said, “If I could get out of this thing, I would!!!” The RV repeated himself by saying that I appeared to be pinned in by the canopy. The Extra had now joined up on my left wing and asked if I could hear the radio transmissions. I was able to give him a “thumbs-up” and he then briefed me about how we would handle the landing. He said that he and the RV would stay loose on each wing, guiding me in with radio calls. They would change frequencies to tell the local traffic (which there was none) our position and that we’d be making a straight in approach. This may seem like very basic stuff, but it was quite soothing to know that I had two of the finest pilots, who were also my friends, right there with me to do what they could from where they were to help me.
My wingmen had me pretty much lined up with the grass on the side of the runway and told me I was a mile out. I watched for familiar landmarks and became aware of my position right away. While still looking out the Lexan floor of the aircraft, I saw the airport boundry fence go by. I closed the throttle and held the speed at 120mph, which I remembered put me in a slow descent. At about 3-4ft, I flared by pulling the stick in my gut. I didn’t want to touch with the main wheels first and flip over on my back. Until the airplane landed, I knew I was just along for the ride. Upon landing, the airplane went straight ahead, with little input from me (you gotta love an oversized rudder and a locking tailwheel on a Pitts). Once I got the airplane stopped, the adrenaline was still flowing. I grabbed that canopy and was going to throw it across that Mississippi River, but it still wouldn’t let go! It merely flopped over to the side of the airplane, hanging on while I taxied back to the hangar.
After exiting the aircraft, I had to pry the canopy off of the longeron to remove it. The right side of the airplane looked as if it’d been shot with a shotgun, including a large tear in the rudder, presumably from the shards of Plexiglas and the huge yaw moment that took place during the initial event. To my surprise, the horizontal stabilizer was still firmly in place, although the leading edge had a nice dent in it and the stabilizer bar was bent. To this day, we still don’t know exactly what caused that canopy to fail like it did, but there were no cracks or anything noticed during the preflight. The pitch oscillations were apparently from the one large remnant of Plexiglas, flopping in the wind, making nasty air go over the tail section of the aircraft. Certainly a bizarre event.
Oh, and likely the most important thing we noticed after this flight was my helmet. You see, I rarely fly without one, and it wasn’t until later that we noticed a 3/8 inch hole was poked completely through the lower, right side of it, on the back. It’s difficult to say how this story would have changed had I not been wearing that helmet, but I can assure you that it would’ve been a mess. Many people often cringe when I tell them the price of a good helmet for aviation, but I always tell ‘em it’s much cheaper than a visit to the ER, or a funeral home.
Never again, will I fly an aircraft like this without a helmet.
See? I told you it was long-winded.
Oh, and here are a couple photos to help your mind picture what went on that day. First, what was left of the canopy.......
And second, the damage done to my helmet. Notice the "cracked egg shell look" surrounding the hole in it..........
Gary
Last edited by retroaviation on Fri Sep 26, 2008 9:37 am, edited 1 time in total.
Fri Sep 26, 2008 9:11 am
Holy crap. That's one heck of a story! 
Robbie
Robbie
Fri Sep 26, 2008 9:18 am
Wow Gary That is one heck of a story!
Glad ya made it back.
That is one heck of a story!
Glad ya made it back.
Fri Sep 26, 2008 9:24 am
The original is certainly more "colorful" than the printed version. Thanks for posting!
Fri Sep 26, 2008 9:47 am
Gary,
You did one heck of a job getting that ship down. And sounds like you had the right wingman with you that day. Have you thought what you would have done if you were by yourself?
Steve G
You did one heck of a job getting that ship down. And sounds like you had the right wingman with you that day. Have you thought what you would have done if you were by yourself?
Steve G
Fri Sep 26, 2008 9:52 am
bipe215 wrote:.... Have you thought what you would have done if you were by yourself?
Steve G
Hmmm, good question. I reckon I would've had the same attitude of "Give up, or fly." My guess is I'd have still tried to make it back to the airport, but not sure if I'd found it as easily without my buddies helping me. Of course, you can "what if" these situations to death...I'm just glad it turned out the way it did.
Gary
Fri Sep 26, 2008 10:08 am
Gary -
Although your take-away at the end of the article is "wear a helmet", I think the equally important take-away is formation mutual support.
Based on your description of the event and your limited ability to see and talk, the actions of your wingmen played a significant part in you getting on the ground safely.
From their initial advice to you to get out of the airplane, to handling the radios for you, and finally bringing you down on their wing to the runway to land, you all exercised key elements of mutual support that make formations phenomenally helpful for handling emergencies.
With one small exception, it looks to me as if the other aircraft in your flight performed their chase-ship duties very well. My questions about that:
- What are their (and your) levels of formation pilot training?
- How did you brief you would handle emergencies like that?
- Did the in-flight execution go as briefed?
Overall, bravo handling a tough emergency and thanks for sharing it!
Although your take-away at the end of the article is "wear a helmet", I think the equally important take-away is formation mutual support.
Based on your description of the event and your limited ability to see and talk, the actions of your wingmen played a significant part in you getting on the ground safely.
From their initial advice to you to get out of the airplane, to handling the radios for you, and finally bringing you down on their wing to the runway to land, you all exercised key elements of mutual support that make formations phenomenally helpful for handling emergencies.
With one small exception, it looks to me as if the other aircraft in your flight performed their chase-ship duties very well. My questions about that:
- What are their (and your) levels of formation pilot training?
- How did you brief you would handle emergencies like that?
- Did the in-flight execution go as briefed?
Overall, bravo handling a tough emergency and thanks for sharing it!