AOPA Pilot Magazine - March 2012 - 84

Hendricks Field Gouverneur, New York

Lake Huron Crash site Harbor Beach

Eau Claire Wisconsin

The pilot took off from Hendricks Field in northern New York state and flew in Canadian airspace before reentering U.S. airspace. The ditching occurred in Michigan’s Lake Huron.

At dawn there had been another moment of hope. The seas had calmed, and three men in a small fishing boat had motored out from the harbor, passing within 100 yards as he treaded water. He had shouted and waved furiously, until he was exhausted and choking on the water in his throat, but they didn’t see or hear him and proceeded casually on their way. In all, 13 boats had passed him by, including a freighter, a commercial fishing trawler, and a sailboat; but invariably the eyes of the crews were elsewhere. And the rescue effort— where were the search boats and airplanes? He had long since shed his trousers and shoes to stay afloat and had wrapped one of his socks around his hand, together with a credit card in the hope that waving it might attract someone’s attention. Now the feeling in his hands and legs had gone, and his body had begun to constrict into the fetal position. Staying afloat was no longer the priority it had been. His strength was fading. The will to survive was leaving him. He was cold and nearly exhausted. The idea of simply going to sleep and letting his mind and body drift off to someplace warm was becoming more and more inviting. Flight plans Mike Trapp, 42, of Gouverneur, New York, was headed for Wisconsin. His intended destination was Eau Claire to attend a family reunion with his mother and father. He had planned to depart Hendricks Field (NK16) Wednesday, July 27, 2011, but the forecast of bad weather in Wisconsin made him alter his plans. In order to fly VFR, he would leave a day
AOPA PILOT •

earlier. So he hurried home, grabbed some lunch, packed a bag, and kissed his wife. He would take off at noon. The 1966 Cessna 150 lifted off the runway on schedule, and the next three hours of the itinerary were routine, with the airplane flying comfortably along at 3,000 feet, passing across western New York; then Ontario, Canada; then out over Lake Huron (see map above). About 30 miles off the Michigan shore, the airplane’s engine began to sound troubled. Trapp tried to restore power, but the airplane continued to lose altitude. He enriched the mixture, adjusted the throttle, and moved the fuel selector. Nothing helped. The surface of the lake loomed dangerously close. Alarm bells were going off in Trapp’s mind. He radioed ATC at Lansing, told them his situation, gave his location, and warned that he was likely “going in.” The aircraft continued to lose speed and altitude until it reached its stall speed of 48 mph, just above the water. Ironically, the engine began to regain power just before the crash. But it was too late. The airplane went in violently, perhaps five or six miles off Harbor Beach, and sank to the bottom—in nearly a hundred feet of water. The response to his mayday was lost in the crashing water. It was 4:12 p.m. The ditching The Cessna had gone in hard, tripping over its own wheels as they hit the water, then cartwheeling upside-down with such force that the windshield was ripped away and a flood of cold water hit the pilot squarely in the face. Within seconds, both airplane and pilot were under water. Fortunately, moments

before ditching, he had remembered to unlatch the door on his side of the airplane to prevent the fuselage from jamming the door on impact. The seatbelts, too, had fortunately held, and, as he recovered from the violence of the crash, there was just enough time to free himself and swim through the open doorway to the surface. The pilot broke the surface of the water, gasped in precious fresh air, and immediately swam to the Cessna’s tail, which was still in sight. He grabbed hold of the structure as it began to sink. His life preserver and cell phone were inside the airplane. He watched as the wings and fuselage of the airplane descended into the depths—20, 30, 40 feet—until they were no longer visible. “Bye, girl,” he muttered. Trapp was in full panic mode. The waves were up and he was treading water fast, working and breathing hard—too hard to remain afloat for long. He kicked off his shoes and removed his trousers. Back in the Navy, he had been taught to inflate trousers into a makeshift life preserver by tying knots in the pant legs and forcing air into them. This he did, but the waves were too strong and pushed the pant legs around his neck, threatening to choke him. Gagging and vomiting, he abandoned the trousers. Then he had another thought and swam back to them. He retrieved his wallet, removed his left sock, and placed the wallet and its contents inside the sock. Despite the situation, an ironic thought had occurred: He had just survived an airplane crash only to be confronted with drowning. Well, if that

84 • MARCH 2012

AOPA Pilot Magazine - March 2012

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