The Story that Must be Told

I am a murderer. I killed Isabo. My precious Cessna 172 that carried me from student to pilot, on adventures through and into 15 states. Now, well over a year later, the proud owner of a new plane, I still mourn my Isabo.

The story is a common one. Pilot error and overconfidence. My daughter Candace and I had been camping at Grand Coulee Dam (3W7) and our planned trip home included a stop at Lake Wenatchee State (27W). We landed at 11:00, ate lunch, took a few photos and prepared for departure. The runway is dirt, gravel and some grass, 2,573 feet. Elevation 1936. All well within the capabilities of my plane.

But it was at this point that the chain of events started gaining links. One. Its now Noon. Two. temp is upper 80’s. Three. Candace is nervous about non-paved field (this is actually an early link that was forged on arrival as I didn’t stop to think that she had never been with me when landing at a non-paved field so landing and taxi to parking was upsetting to her, thus causing me spend too much time assuring her.) Four. I did not walk the field to pick a take-off direction, just noted a limp sock. Five. I did not practice sterile cockpit so babbled constantly during taxi and take-off roll explaining and reassuring my daughter, when my attention should have been solely on piloting. Six. On takeoff roll our speed was not what I would have liked on the rough ground and I could have aborted then, but kept thinking Isabo would gain speed. Seven. I pulled her up into ground effect at 55 knots and we began to climb – a good two thirds of the runway behind us.

Just before we reached field end I realized our climb out was not going to result in enough height to make it over the trees which now loomed like tall mountains ahead. “Shit. We’re not going to make it.” I made the decision to abort the takeoff, pulled power and literally threw the plane onto the ground which resulted in a lot of loud sound and ended with our hanging upside down from our seatbelts.

We were safely on the ground, completely uninjured. Isabo would never fly again.
Date of her purchase: Sunday July 20th, 2003 at Noon. Time of death: Sunday July 20th, 2008 12:30 pm Exactly five years and just minutes apart.

Those of you who have been in any kind of crash know what is like – the feeling of unreality, the what I should have done differently tape replaying. I still second guess myself, and I believe that is good.

New flying policies are in place. One. No conversation with pilot during pre-flight inspection or run up. Two. Sterile cockpit (no talking at all) during take-off’s and landings. To make sure no backsliding happens I look at photos and have included this story in my Blog as a reminder to myself and maybe to others, that Overconfidence is BAD.