My recent flight with Roger (from Zenith Aircraft Co.) was extraordinary! One of my favorite covert landing spots for my two-place STOL Zenith CH701 is on a bluff, at the top of a rocky cliff, 200 feet above the ocean. The surrounding hills create a small bowl of pasture land, used for grazing, that is out of view of everyone but the cows and sheep. The drop-off down to the ocean is a sheer, nearly vertical cliff falling straight down to an inaccessible, rocky beach. |
To land at this amazing spot, the approach is from over the water. As we flew out over the ocean and began a big, lazy descending turn back toward the cliff, Roger was wowed. He was experiencing the awe that understandably fills a flat-lander from Missouri. Especially one who had never seen the Pacific Ocean until driving across the Golden Gate Bridge a couple of hours earlier. Note: You can click on the pictures for larger images... |
As we rolled out of the turn on a heading that pointed us straight back toward the cliff, the air was smooth as velvet. The sun was sparkling off the water below and it was one of those sublime moments available only to pilots. The overwhelming beauty of the moment was tainted only a little by the fact that we were now descending toward (and only seconds away from) the top of a cliff with jagged rocks and waves crashing below. In the most nonchalant manner I could manage, I told Roger to hold on because I knew that the blissful serenity that we were enjoying was about to end very dramatically! We were about to be hit with an up-draft encounter, as the 30 knot coastal ‘breeze’ was turned ninety degrees to the vertical by its collision with the face of the cliff.
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Then another disturbing element of our situation began to emerge and command more of our attention. Like the wind-sheer we were about to hit, this new realization was also in direct opposition to our prior sense of tranquility that was now in rapid retreat. Our little aircraft was "crabbing" toward the cliff at a striking, forty-five to fifty degree angle to our direction of travel. The unsettling visual impact produced by the angled-crosswind became more and more pronounced as we neared the cliff. Then we hit it!
The powerful upward wind-sheer. It was even more violent than I expected. Jolting, rocking and yawing us all at once. I knew it would be brief, lasting only as long as it would take us to penetrate this narrow wall of up-rushing air. Unfortunately however, there was no relief on the other side. Once through the first wind-sheer, we found ourselves in a rolling, turbulent swirl of wind now plying us from all directions. We were being tossed about randomly. Thankfully, I was thinking, this would also be very short lived because I expected that any moment, the ninety-degree, thirty-knot, crosswind would start to reassert its dominance. This wouldn't be any more gentle but at least it would be more predictable and therefore more manageable. |
I now found myself poised like a cat, every fiber of my nervous system ready to pounce if my prediction proved correct. I was hoping we would find a phenomenon that I have experienced before. There is often a seemingly magical, incongruous moment of calm air right at the transition where opposing wind forces meet, usually just a few feet above the ground. I was thinking that this condition might be waiting, just ahead, at the boundry-point of the upcoming wind-sheer. To take advantage of this, and land an airplane in what otherwise would be un-landable conditions, one must be going slow enough (not a good idea in these winds in close proximity to anything solid) and have lightning quick reflexes. I continued descending through the last eight feet, slowing down, slowing down, waiting for it as we were being tossed about.
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I was hoping that it would be there, but I was unsure as it can not be counted on and even if it were there, it would be so brief that the chances are I’d miss it. My hand was on the throttle and I was a split second away from slamming in full power to get us the hell out of there when - it happened. There it was! In the middle of the turbulence - just as the boiling air was switching back to a full-on crosswind - a millisecond of calm. If you miss it you are screwed because it only lasts for the briefest of moments. The instant it’s gone the full force of the crosswind picks up the airplane and throws it. And that is not the place where you want to be pulling your power to idle, shedding airspeed along with what little remains of your altitude while attempting to flair. The technical term for that situation would be. . . bad. . . maybe even very bad!
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But I reacted instantly, chopping the power, kicking in full right rudder to get us straightened out (sort-of) and I planted the huge, shock-absorbing Alaska-Bushwheels onto the ground. My Zenith CH701, with it’s modified landing gear, handled the impact easily. We were down! And in one piece.
As soon as the big low-pressure tires grabbed the dirt, we were hit with the crosswind but the Bushwheels held. The wind was so strong that I had to turn the plane perpendicular to our little airstrip for fear of being flipped over. But we were down, we were there. I had taken Roger to a place he had never been. . . |
We climbed out of the plane and walked back to the edge of the cliff. Wow, the wind was so strong that we were leaning into it as it belted us, whipping at our clothes, buffeting us about. We only stood there long enough to appreciate all that we had just experienced and to snap a few photos. The view from the top of the cliff, looking out over the Pacific Coastline, is truly magnificent. . . Breathtaking.
Back in the airplane, the warm, snug CH701 cockpit protecting us once again, we decided that it was too risky to turn broadside to the wind (as would be needed for a normal takeoff run back toward the ocean, and for my usual dramatic launch off the cliff), so we stayed right there where we were, pointed into the wind and just applied full power with simultaneous back elevator. The nose wheel came off and we seemed to levitate almost instantly. |
As we climbed away from my secret LZ and began to circle out over the Pacific, the look on Roger's face spoke volumes about our experience. His expression was of exuberant exhilaration, mixed with pure joy. Roger had experienced a true STOL-Adventure. And to share that with him made me very happy too. - Christopher Desmond |
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