Miracle in the Forest  

     In mid-August, 2008, the owner of an obscure pasture field located in the heart of Wayne National Forest, Ohio decided to brush hog the top of a small field on his property for no particular reason at all.  Unbeknownst to him, he was preparing it to become an airport for a day.  On this special day even the 17 horses and 35 cows had prepared to leave early from their normal grazing area and wonder off toward the lower regions of the farm in order to clear the landing zone.   

     On Friday, August 22, 2008 at approximately 7:00 p.m., I was flying from my home airport in West Virginia to Peebles, Ohio via Portsmouth when after about an hour of flight time my engine quit.  A crank bearing had broken which resulted in catastrophic damage and failure.  Prior to the outage I had actually commented to myself how well the engine was performing.  I noticed nothing peculiar other than that my rpm’s were running just a little high which was not actually anything to worry about.  I made a mental note to make a minor prop pitch adjustment after returning from the weekend long fly-in event that I was planning on attending. 

     The day was beautiful with a near cloudless sky and very few if any thermals - one of those magic carpet ride days.  I was cruising along at about 4300 feet msl or approximately 3800 agl (above ground level).  As I scanned the horizon, I suddenly noticed that the engine noise became very choppy and the rpm’s had fallen off to nothing.  Of course I immediately began losing some altitude.  My right hand, which is always on the throttle, instinctively moved forward to apply more power.  Nothing happened.  I immediately looked over the nose of the plane toward the ground then out of my left and right windows.  All I saw were the completely tree covered hills and valleys comprising that area of Wayne National Forest.  All this had occurred in a matter of seconds. 

     My respiration rose and a slight panic began to ensue.  I was on the radio announcing to fellow pilots that I had an engine out.  I extended my eyes far in the distance as I nearly turned around in my seat at one point to look behind me.  As I did, I relaxed my grip on the yoke and inadvertently let my plane’s nose rise just enough to cause a stall.  I immediately corrected the situation and then I gazed far out to my 9 o’clock.  I spotted a dot in the distance that my conscience self tried to ignore as I continued to look in all directions.  Yet, consciously or not, I turned the airplane in that direction.  The others spotted the same field and announced that it was my only option.  I replied that there were power lines everywhere.  I again attempted to restart the engine.  It actually kicked over and chugged like a big bag of nails being shaken until it finally gave out a few seconds later.  I am sure my actions contributed to the damage but I just had to give it one final try.   

     Even though I set my heading toward the so-called field, I still kept searching for other options.  However, I knew what I had to do.  I really hated looking at what might be my final resting place, but I needed to assess my options and plan for the best landing possible.  I knew immediately where I needed to set the plane down.  I really only had one spot that would work and it had to be perfectly executed.  I set my course for a right down wind landing.  There was no option for a straight in approach.  I knew that I needed to perform more than a 180 degree turn around a barn with very tall trees surrounding it as well as cross over power lines.  As I was in my downwind approach passing by the intended field, I gazed out of the right window and plotted my exact landing spot.  I needed to make sure that I was just left of and slightly above a hay bailer on my final approach just before touching down.  After that I needed to glide across one final small ravine or large dip in the field and then just catch the top of the next bank with my wheels while praying that I get stopped before crashing over a very steep embankment.  All this I had planned out in a matter of seconds.  Yet, still, in the back of my brain I kept wishing that the small gravel road near there would be better.  Even on my base leg I briefly glanced toward that road and then quickly dismissed it.   

     The timing of the last two turns was critical.  The first was a 90+ degree right turn onto the base leg.  I waited for as long as possible before deciding to turn the final 90 degrees right onto my final approach.  I had kept my altitude high enough to clear the power lines with my main focus on my landing spot.  I also monitored my airspeed.  I knew the landing zone was short so I attempted to keep my airspeed just a few knots above stall speed while adjusting my glide to land on the mark.  Just as I crossed the power lines, I decided that I needed to drop a few feet in altitude but I really did not want to drop the nose which would have increased my speed.  Instead, I navigated a very small S turn which adjusted my altitude perfectly.  I then continued on and passed the hay bailer just as I had planned - directly to the left and just above it.  I was on line and after crossing the last ravine or large dip, my eyes were fixed on the location that I wanted my wheels to set down, which was the ground just below the crest of the hill.  At that speed, a few miles per hour above stall, that bank looked as if it was coming toward me way too quickly and it all of a sudden looked very steep.  I felt I had a wall approaching me and all I wanted to do was just put on the brakes and stop.   

     My right hand, which is usually on the throttle at this point in a landing maneuver, reached over head to the brake lever and clamped on waiting for my wheels to touch down.  I needed to wait until the last possible moment to flare.  If I flared too soon I would pop up and totally miss my mark thus ensuring a certain over run and crash.  I needed to firmly plant that plane in the right place which was face up on that bank so I steadfastly resisted the urge to flare too soon.  Then, right before crashing headlong into the hillside, I flared very hard and planted the wheels in the dry deep dirt.  It was a very solid landing and I remember thinking that it hurt just a little.  I then pushed the yoke forward hard to keep from popping back up as I crested the top of the hill which was just a few feet away.  I also pulled the brake lever extremely hard, so hard that I remember thinking, as I was racing down that short runway, that it would definitely need repaired after this.  After cresting the top of the initial knoll, the field began descending very sharply toward an embankment that could only be described as a cliff.  This, in and of itself, made it even more difficult to slow down. 

     I knew all along that there was a long trailer bed on wheels at the end of my landing strip.  However, I had no other options but to land heading directly for the front left corner of it - and it was coming fast toward my legs, face and body.  It is amazing how much your brain can multitask on other things in a very short span of time, even while performing such an overwhelmingly stressful act.  I thought about possible injuries; how I was getting home; what it would be like to experience a crash, going to a hospital, etc.  I was skipping down that field at brake neck speed, for such a small space, hitting rocks and pieces of random wood chunks.  From the moment my nose wheel made contact I was furiously attempting to turn the plane left to miss hitting the trailer, yet it just would not do it.  Then, right at the very last moment before plowing into the trailer, it quickly slowed down to a crawl.  I turned slightly left and came to a rest directly beside of the trailer with my right wing outstretched over top of it. 

     Very calmly and as if nothing had happened, I took off my helmet and put up my communications equipment.  I exited the airplane.  Then, blank.  After what amounted to an unknown period of time, my brain kicked back on and I heard planes circling overhead and realized that I was outside of the airplane just staring at the left wing.  I realized that I needed to speak with someone over head and then go find help.  I got back into the airplane, put my headset back on and began communicating that I would find a house in order get driving directions and then relay that information back to the pilots. 

     After walking some distance in order to find the nearest farm house, I actually had to try very hard to convince the residents that I had landed a plane in their pasture field.  They began to question my story and motives.  Understandably, they were somewhat skeptical when some female in shorts walks up on their front porch claiming to have just flown in.  They graciously gave me driving directions and handed me an ice cream bar.  Since I had no other place to go, I climbed back into my airplane and waited out the night until help finally arrived.  An eerie feeling crept over me as I sat alone in the dark in some field far from home.  I became very uneasy.  Then something happened that I will never forget.  I began hearing some very low snorting sounds approaching from behind and to the left of me.  As I strained to peer out of my cockpit into the dark, I discovered that I was actually not alone after all.  Several horses decided to return and keep me company throughout the night.  One horse in particular stood, as if on guard, beside of my cockpit door keeping me safe as I stared out into the tops of the trees which were dimly visible against a starry night sky.   

     As I sat there, my mind, in a post-traumatic sort of way, uncontrollably replayed the landing over and over and over.  I was stuck in a loop that lasted for a week or more before it finally ended.  Very early the next morning, the little field became a buzz with many friends and family members of the farm’s owner stopping by to see an airplane sitting in a field.  It was not actually visible from the tiny gravel road nearby so the farmer had to have made several calls to come see such a strange sight.  When help arrived which was comprised of one van, a truck and a trailer, we began the task of disassembling the airplane.  The wings were detached and strapped to the top of the van.  The fuselage was loaded onto the trailer and we made our way back to West Virginia and to my home airport.  I sent the engine to the manufacturer for repairs - the cause of which was determined to be a factory defect.  Four months later I was back in the sky. 

     When thinking back, I realize that there were very many circumstances that needed to all come together at once in order for me to have survived that day.  Was I that good of a pilot to have landed that plane in the only spot available?  The field was 160 foot in length to the cliff, with a trailer bed sitting on the edge.  That’s it.  That’s all the room I had, no more and definitely no less.  There was one way in and absolutely no way out.  Was I really that good?  The fact is, I practiced landings like that a lot, just for fun - not actually engine out but I would drop the throttle and head for many spots in various fields that dotted the river valley where I normally flew.  At the last moment I would power back up and fly just a few feet from the ground for a distance and then climb back up into the sky.  I flew several times a week just for fun for many years and performed many such maneuvers on a regular basis.  Yet, the question still remains - was I really that good? 

     All I can really say is, I can never ever claim to be that good of a pilot.  I know miracles when they happen and this was a big one - actually several in one.  They included: 

1. It was the only field for as far as the eye could see from 4300 feet msl or approximately 3800 agl (above ground level).  A minute earlier or later and there would have been no field to find. 

2. It just happened to be within the range of my glide path. 

3. There was a small approachable opening to the field that was clear of all tall trees.  However, it just happened to be the shortest cross section to the field.

4. A week earlier, the field was so overgrown that I could not have landed in it.  The farmer said that something just told him to go out and brush hog it. 

5. The field did not actually exist just a couple years prior.  Again, the farmer just had a notion one day to create it there behind that barn. 

6. All of the farm animals just happened to be very uncharacteristically elsewhere during the landing. 

7. A random trailer bed just happened to be located at the end of the runway which would have blocked me from going over a cliff.  It would have hurt but it would have been better than the cliff. 

     Now, as I ponder back upon that landing, it really felt as if I was not even doing the flying.  When I finally resigned myself to the fact that this was the only available spot to land, I suddenly lost the panic that I had initially felt when losing the engine.  As I entered the downwind leg of the flight, I became extremely calm and the landing process seemed almost automatic - routine in fact.  I wasn’t scared.  I just landed the airplane.  I truly believe that God was in control and that I was just along for the ride.  It felt that easy and I’ll never claim to have pulled that one off on my own. 

     So, were all of the above circumstances just a great many fortunately timed coincidences or was God in control of that day.  Of course it was God.  He knew what was going to happen and He determined what needed to be done - years prior.  The timing of the engine failure was perfect.  The field was prepared.  I am so grateful for a farmer who listened to that still small voice that told him to move.  I am grateful for the animals that sensed the urgency from God to move out of the way.  I am grateful to God for providing me with a protector and comforter for the night.  I am ultimately grateful to God for controlling the perfect landing. 

Truly it was a Miracle in the Forest. 

On final - the barn to the right and hay bailer to the left of it.

The final dip to the far left of the hay bailer where my sheels touched down.

The runway - 160 feet to the front end of the trailer bed.

After turning left to just miss the trailer, this became my final resting place for the night.

Beginning the process of moving and disassembling the airplane the next day.

           

© 2016 G. R. Workman