jul-aug2012

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48 CLOSE CALLS Live, learn, survive and be happy Live, learn, survive and be happy Name withheld by request ‘I’ve learned that feelings of invulnerability, hopelessness or resignation are recognised hazardous attitudes that can be overcome.’ I hadn’t planned on writing yet another ‘close call’ story – after all, my experiences are probably similar to everyone else’s – but there really isn’t a better way of illustrating how my attitude to risk in flying has changed over time. So, I’ve included a few brief stories at the end of this article as examples of lessons learned or mistakes I wish I’d never made. Back in my bush flying days, it seemed the list of things that could kill me was almost endless – overloaded machines with barely adequate performance, lousy weather, the kind of territory where an engine failure inevitably meant disaster, dodgy maintenance, indifferent company management etc. etc. I eventually became inured to these everyday risks, and a fatalistic attitude set in. I used to think to myself: Well, if one thing doesn’t get me, something else probably will, so what’s the point of even trying to manage anything? Besides, I’m fireproof and it’ll never happen to me anyway, so why worry? Just press on and hope for the best. This went on for years and somehow I survived, but some of my colleagues didn’t. It gradually dawned on me that, if I wanted to live, I’d better start managing all the risks I possibly could. I mean, how long could my luck last? Sure, there were plenty of things I still had no control over, but (when I thought about it) I could influence a surprising number, for better or worse. So, when I was next faced with situations outside my comfort zone, I either adjusted things until I felt the odds were mostly in my favour, or I declined the task altogether. If pressured by my employer to continue unsafe or unduly risky practices, I quit. I lost a few jobs that way, but it didn’t do me any harm in the long run and, perhaps more importantly, I’m still around to talk about it. Since those days, I’ve learned that feelings of invulnerability, hopelessness or resignation are recognized hazardous attitudes that can be overcome. I wish I’d known that beforehand, instead of belatedly discovering them for myself, but better late than never, I suppose. The first story concerns fuel – or lack of it, to be precise. In the interest of satisfying my employer’s or my customer’s demands for max payload, I used to fly without legal and/or sensible alternate fuel for weather diversions. I figured I would always make it to my destination, either because I knew the area well and felt I could safely bust
Flight Safety Australia Issue 87 July–August 2012 49 the proper procedures (like scud run), or because I had some ‘homemade’ instrument approaches worked out if conditions were really bad. Actually, I always did manage to make it (although sometimes with only fumes in the tank and my heart in my mouth) but, looking back and thinking about the risks I ran in those days – for no good reason – now makes my blood run cold. Still on the subject of carrying max payloads to please the boss, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve squeezed out of tiny take-off areas and missed obstacles on climbout by the skin of my teeth. All in a day’s work, you might say, but the margin for error really shouldn’t be zero ... I recall one occasion when my task was to land a heavy load of passengers on a ridge-top pad. From prior experience, I knew the helicopter’s performance would be marginal at best, but I pressed on regardless, not bothering to carry out a detailed assessment of the approach, or to consider other options (such as landing elsewhere and making the passengers walk). The upshot was that I ran out of power on short final, exceeded engine and transmission limits and touched down rather firmly on the pad with the rotor low-rpm horn blaring and the collective up around my armpit. A narrow escape... but why did I do it? I think the three factors mentioned earlier could be relevant to these (probably no uncommon) incidents: invulnerability (‘I’ve done this before’), hopelessness (‘The passengers expect me to land there’) and resignation (‘My job is on the line if I don’t do this’). These days, I do my best to be consciously on guard against potentially hazardous feelings such as this, as part of my intention to live a long, happy and safe flying life. ever had a CLOSE CALL? Write to us about an aviation incident or accident that you’ve been involved in. If we publish your story, you will receive $ 500 Write about a real-life incident that you’ve been involved in, and send it to us via email: fsa@casa.gov.au. Clearly mark your submission in the subject field as ‘CLOSE CALL’. Articles should be between 450 and 1,400 words. If preferred, your identity will be kept confidential. Please do not submit articles regarding events that are the subject of a current official investigation. Submissions may be edited for clarity, length and reader focus.
Page 1 and 2: 87 July-August 2012 Unmanned aircra
Page 3 and 4: CONTENTS Issue 87 | July-August 201
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Page 11 and 12: ‘They’re being used now,’ she
Page 19 and 20: Check your flight notifications The
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Page 55 and 56: If in doubt, don’t take-off ATSB
Page 57 and 58: Night flying-make sure you’re qua
Page 59 and 60: REPCON BRIEFS Australia’s volunta
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