AOPA Turbine Pilot Magazine - April 2012 - 104

NEVERAGAIN
high Sierra Nevada rise to the south. The mountains to the north—the direction we were coming from—are not as high, but the minimum en route altitude is 7,000 feet through there. ATC cleared us for the straight-in approach to Runway 14 and advised me to contact Medford Tower at the outer marker. As we descended through 5,000 feet we started rapidly accumulating rime ice on the leading edges of the wings. By the time we had reached 4,000 feet, just north of the outer marker, we were literally covered with ice. All I could do was watch it build since my Travel Air was not equipped with deicing equipment. At the outer marker I reported inbound on the ILS, and the controller informed me that the field was now below minimums, showing only about 100 feet with less than a quarter-mile visibility, and it was starting to snow. The ice was building so fast and thick on the wings that I knew a go-around was out of the question. With this much ice there was no way we could have climbed back up to the minimum en route altitude of 7,000 feet. I advised the

tower that I would like to exercise “pilot discretion” to go down and take a look, but I asked him to please turn the lights on high. He said they were already as high as they would go. I wouldn’t be able to see the lights anyway because of the heavy ice buildup on the windshield. The only visibility I had was out the side window. The props were beginning to sound like baseball bats swinging around as I heard the middle marker indicator sounding off, which meant we were probably less than 200 feet above the ground. I was desperately trying to keep the needles centered on the glideslope while at the same time making some S turns to try to see something out the side window. We couldn’t have been more than 20 feet above the ground when I caught a brief glimpse of a light passing right below us, so instinctively I chopped the power, flared, and somehow managed to blindly grease the airplane onto the runway. When we finally got out of the airplane there were at least four inches of ice on the leading edges of the wings and a couple of inches on the propeller hubs. The whole airplane was still covered with ice. We were going to be there for the night.

The next day, after they cleared the snow from the runway, we departed for San Francisco in mostly clear skies. I felt very foolish and ashamed that I had allowed the perceived importance of a business meeting to cloud my flying judgment. However, the fact that I had passengers on board could have been the catalyst for maintaining my composure, in my effort to conceal the gravity of the situation from them. If I had been alone in the airplane, I might well have panicked, so maybe this added responsibility had forced me to “never stop flying the airplane.” Philip H. Talbert lives in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. He is a private pilot with multiengine and instrument ratings, and has more than 10,000 hours.

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AOPA Turbine Pilot Magazine - April 2012

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