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Feb 2, 2006: Last week we were flying to Kosovo. I was in the right seat and managing the radios and navigation equipment. We just leveled off at 28,000 feet. It was a nice flight so far and things were going well. Earnie, the PC pulled out his is lunch and I just went to the back of the bird to get mine. I sat back down and unzipped my lunchbox. Earnie had a big salami sandwich and had just taken a bite when we got a few warning lights followed by a beeping sound that tells you the autopilot has disengaged. I looked up and held the controls while Earnie put his sandwich down. I gave the controls to Earnie. I looked at the lights and found that one of our inverters had gone out. We have two of them and each once helps to change power from DC to AC or vice versa. H e switched to the second inverter and things went back to normal. We continued to analyze the problem and made a decision to go back to Wiesbaden - our home base . Our regulations require us to have both invertors working. Had we made it to Kosovo, we would have had to wait there for repair parts to arrive before we would be able to leave. We turned around and headed home. Unfortunately, when we listened to the current weather at Wiesbaden , we found that a heavy fog and low clouds had moved in and we probably weren't going to be able to see the ground in order to land. Never the less, we headed in.
On the way, we talked to my IP Jerry who was now on his first jet flight. They had the same problem with the weather in Wiesbaden so we all talked about our options. We had enough fuel to stay in the air for a few hours so we could spend time shooting approaches into Wiesbaden and hope for the weather to break just enough for us to see the runway and land. We went first. Remember that everything we are doing is by the instruments. We fly by the beacons and markers that guide the way by radio frequencies. We began our approach and were told that the weather was well below minimums and we had to specifically say that we were going to try anyway – I think that was just a liability thing with the controller. So we headed inbound and got picked up by a PAR – precision approach radar – this type of approach brings us down to 250' off the ground at the approach end of the runway which is a great position to just continue forward and down to land. We got the experienced controller – a German – and he guided us down. “Turn right heading 250.” “Begin descent.” “Above glide path, turn left 248.” So on. He controls us until we land. As it turned out, we were at the decision height (250') which is the point where you have to either land or go back up into the clouds - we saw nothing but white. We opted to go back in the clouds. So, Earnie applied full power and I guided him ahead on the missed approach procedure which was climb to 5000' and head towards a certain navigation aid. At about 2000' we popped out on top of the clouds and went into holding. Holding is an oval pattern that keeps you at a specific place for an amount of time. Sometimes it is used to provide spacing other times it is a starting point for an instrument approach and most all other times it is where you go after executing a missed approach (which we had just done). So there we are, 3 passengers in the back, got a potential electrical problem, and we can't land at our home base. No big deal. We stay in holding and I check out how much fuel we have, how long it will take us to fly somewhere else and how much fuel we will have once we get there. We also take this time to talk to the jet (Jerry) and tell him what we saw. They try the approach next and soon after join us in holding 1000' below our altitude. We waited around for 30 minutes then head back in on the approach again. No dice. At the bottom of this approach, for a split second, I saw two or three blinking lights – these are approach path lights that people commonly refer to as rabbit lights because they are small and fast and guide you to the runway. I saw a quick - flash, flash, then poof – the clouds/fog covered them right up. Missed approach. Same procedure as last time. We headed back into the holding pattern and listened as the jet missed again also.
Now it was time to execute an alternate plan. We headed off to Stuttgart which is about a 30 minute flight south. We heard the weather report there and found that their weather was down a bit too but not as bad as at Wiesbaden . Bad enough to make you worry a bit that we don't have enough fuel to do more than one missed approach if we can't get in. We descended in on a ILS -instrument landing system approach – this one brings you in through radio navigation aids on a precision path to the runway.
We land in there after breaking out at 100 feet above the minimums. They had low ceilings, but excellent visibility so it wasn't bad at all. We hung out waiting for the weather to get better then take off again. While there I saw my buddy Tim – he works there. Tim is my hiking friend who is named, “The Pharmacist.” It was nice to see him at work and he hung around until we were able to leave.
We finally got “legal” weather to take off. That basically means that the weather was at least as good as the planning minimums to fly the approach. This means that the ceiling was at least 250' and the visibility was 1600m or 1 mile. It was exactly that. While taxing out at Stuttgart – an international airport (quite busy), the fog got so bad that we can no longer see the jet in front of us which was only 50 to 100 meters away. The fog got thicker and thicker so that by the time we were ready to take off and were holding short of runway we couldn't see the aircraft landing in front of us. It was pretty nasty. It was night time so we should at least been able to see the lights of the landing aircraft…but nooooo!
So now it's our turn. We taxi into position and take the runway, push the power up and take off through this fog bank. About half way down the runway it clears out and we lift off into the night sky. As we get above the clouds we can see the orange/pink hue of a beautiful sunset.
We climb up to 14,000' and listen intently as we re-check the weather in Wiesbaden – it is suddenly broken at 200' with visibility of 1200 meters (3/4 mile). The regular approach that uses the navigation aids takes us down to 339' so we need something to get us down lower. We opt for the PAR – the radar approach that gets us down to 250'. With the bottom of the clouds hanging at 200' we have no hope of making it in but now we are in the air so we will at least try. If it doesn't work, we will have hold, try again and then head back to Stuttgart .
We listened as the jet in front of us attempted the approach. Things were somewhat tense as we listened to their approach. They get to the bottom and we hear them let out a sigh, “Missed approach.” They climb up and back into the night sky. I am a bit tense to say the least. We get cleared in and start in. We were just at the top of the clouds and slowly let down into them and into the dark of the night.
As we commence the approach and are getting all serious, I rip a big fart – I had been holding it in since we began taxiing at Stuttgart and now I figured I needed to loosen up and relax for this approach! I was hoping it didn't stink but sure enough I could smell it seeping up, out of my flight suit and into the cabin. Of course, it was really at the most inopportune moment because Earnie was bent over plugging information into one of our flight computers so he was sort of at ground zero when it let loose. I started laughing pretty hard and Earnie asked what's going on? I laugh, “I am sorry man, I just ripped a huge one.” By this time it was all through the cockpit and had to be making its way into the back of the airplane. J Man it was funny. We both laughed almost hysterically – you know how things are extra funny when you are on the edge of doom!? This was one of those moments.
Things quickly went back to being serious though. What an eerie feeling though as we descended out of the beautiful night sky and down into the clouds for which we knew we would have a problem seeing the ground– as we got lower were over a shopping area and I could see the glow from the lights trying to reach out to us. At this point we are continuously getting lower and lower to the ground and now, seeing these lights made me feel a bit nervous that I may run into a tall building, light post, cars and trucks or whatever J . In all reality, we are being watched on radar by the controller or, in a non radar type approach, we would be in an area that has been thoroughly checked for hazards to flight – after all, instrument approaches are designed to get you down out of the clouds.
In front of the runway is a fairly large, 4 lane highway. We can usually see that through the clouds as we get close but the clouds were so thick and so low that even though it was a dark night, we still could not see any indications that we were close. As we got down to the minimums, I suddenly, faintly saw a few of the flashing lights guiding me to the runway. I still couldn't see the busy highway as we approached. It was nasty. All I could see were the lights in front of me. No runway, no buildings, no cars, nothing. Just like I was in a dark, grey tunnel flying into the ground. I fixated on the lights and followed them until I could clearly see the runway threshold. I was still 100' off the ground and needed to get on the ground before we ran out of runway or worse yet, went back in the clouds. Earnie told me, “get this thing down and on the ground.” I focused on bringing it down and eventually touchdown with a nice, smooth landing. I could hear the passengers in the back hooting and hollering! They were happy to get on the ground and certainly didn't think they would make it in – or that we would be able to land. It was intense and I felt my heart beating heavily well after we were shut down and safe.
-Gordon