AOPA Pilot Magazine - July 2024 - 98

RUDDER & WRENCH
I then remembered that we had a moderate
snowfall four or five days prior. But
I convinced myself that this was more
than enough time for the contractor to
have plowed the runway. So, on I flew.
By the time I got to Mount Whittier, just
south of the runway, and started down, the
light was really beginning to fade. Entering
on an extended left base to Runway 33, I
peered intently at the cut in the pine trees
where the runway lay, looking for anything
that would reveal the condition of
the runway surface. I couldn't make out
the characteristic wind rows of new snow
that would be built up on the sides of the
runway from a recent plowing event. At
my approach angle, the trees blocked
my view.
Rounding the corner onto final and
98
starting my forward slip, I struggled to
pick out signs that would reveal the status
of the runway. Finally, in the now
faded and very flat light remaining of
the day, what came into view looked
like fresh snow wind rows bracketing the
I was told later there was a
good six inches of unplowed
snow on the runway. Had I
elected to wheel land the
Super-D, the instant the main
gear hit the snow, we would
have most assuredly nosed
over and onto the
Super-D's back.
runway. " OK, I think I'm good, " I mused
to myself. " The runway is plowed. "
I threw the Super-D into a hard
slip, bleeding off more airspeed as I
descended steeply to miss the trees on
the approach end, and noticed two people
running out from the left side of the
runway, their bodies silhouetted against
the white snow, frantically waving their
arms. In that moment I knew: The runway
was not plowed!
But now I was committed.
What happened next was one of those
very rare instances when one's intuition
supplants rational cognitive thought.
I held the hard slip as long as possible
to bleed off every possible bit of airspeed.
At the very last moment, I kicked out
the slip and planted all three wheels in
the standard three-point configuration
firmly onto the end of the runway. In
the instant the tailwheel and mains hit
the snow, I pulled the stick full back and
jammed the throttle full open.
The Super-D shuddered to a stop. I
pulled the throttle back to idle. There we
sat. Me, a bit dazed, with my mind desperately
trying to sort out what had just
happened. Off to my left, a surreal image
completed the scene. The two people who
ran out onto the runway now stood frozen
in place with their arms out stretched.
Reality broke in when I heard my son's
voice through the headset saying, " Well,
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AOPA Pilot Magazine - July 2024

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