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Editor’s Note: Author, Patrick Carter, also joined Air Facts Editor in Chief, John Zimmerman, on an episode of Sporty’s Pilot’s Discretion Podcast to discuss his harrowing experience in the Alaska backcounty after departing without survival gear and experiencing a landing mishap flying with his son. Listen here.
A beautiful afternoon joyride with my son took a nosedive because of a few simple mistakes that I’ll never make again. In my 23 years of flying, and 13,000 hours in the sky, this Cub was the one and only plane I’ve damaged. And damaging the plane made me realize I had already made a much larger mistake that day.
After spending six months restoring and updating this 1956 PA18A-150 from a stock Cub to an Alaska backcountry machine, I had a buyer and was getting ready to deliver the aircraft. Since I was about to hand it over to the new owner, I had removed all my gear from the plane — including my survival kit that contains essentials like a tent, sleeping bag, first aid kit, food, and stove. I had the bag right there and simply left it on that day. Fortunately, I did grab my Garmin InReach and had it handy in my pocket when that gorgeous afternoon in Alaska went sideways.
It took me six months restoring and updating this 1956 PA18A-150 from a stock Cub to an Alaska backcountry machine.
I had four hours free that afternoon and invited my 14-year-old son, Miles, to join me. We grabbed sandwiches and took off out of Anchorage, heading about 70 miles west of the city to a remote area near the Triumverant Glacier with which I was vaguely familiar. In the spring, an ice dam forms to create a magnificent lake filled with icebergs from the adjacent glacier. By late summer, the ice dam breaks and water drains, leaving a dry lakebed with stranded icebergs. After a half hour of flying the ridges looking for it, I finally spotted the lakebed. As it was getting a little late in the day, Miles was feeling anxious to get back home to pack for a family trip we were leaving on that evening, but I told Miles we have to land here.
We took off out of Anchorage, heading about 70 miles west of the city to a remote area near the Triumverant Glacier.
The beach was about a mile long, but I only needed about 400 feet to land the plane. Having landed this beach before, I felt confident in my ability to do so again. The landing went smoothly, as we gently touched down and rolled to a stop. What came next during the taxi took me completely by surprise. As I taxied the Cub toward where I wanted to park, we hit a patch of quicksand that I hadn’t spotted from the air. Within the blink of an eye, the bushwheels sank, bringing the plane to an abrupt stop and sending its propeller into the sand and tail into the air.
In an instant the bushwheels sank, bringing the plane to an abrupt stop and sending its propeller into the sand and tail into the air.
I have a lot of training for accidents and knew to immediately turn off the fuel, turn off the master switch, and get us out as quickly as possible. Standing outside, I assessed the situation and waited to make sure the plane wasn’t going to catch fire before grabbing our flight bag and disconnecting the battery. As I stepped near the nose of the plane, my leg instantly sank knee-deep into quicksand, so I knew there was no way I was flying the plane away.
Quicksand is pretty common in Alaska and does claim lives, so we have a pretty healthy fear. I extracted myself and attempted to pull the tail down. When it didn’t budge, I became worried I might hurt myself, and then we’d have a medical emergency on our hands as well. It was a great relief that I had insurance on the plane, so I knew it wouldn’t create a financial disaster if the plane was a total loss which allowed me to focus on our safety rather than protecting the airplane.
I secured the plane and made the call for help on my Garmin InReach by pushing the SOS button, which initiated a text string. I immediately messaged Garmin that there were two people and no injuries. Then I used the device to message my wife, who is my emergency contact, to let her know what happened. I wanted to make sure that, before she received an unsettling call from Garmin, she knew we were safe and did not have any injuries.
When you push SOS, the first thing Garmin will do is call your emergency contact to validate that the SOS button was not pressed by accident and that help is actually needed. Though my wife provided detailed information on that phone call, including our ages, weights, medical information, and reported we had sustained no injuries, none of this was relayed to the rescuers. Instead, the Alaska State Troopers had been notified that there had been a plane accident with an unknown number of victims and injuries.
When the first-responders landed on scene, the Troopers were understandably confused as to why they had been rushed to the scene of an emergency when none existed. This is a bad situation, as those valuable resources might be needed elsewhere for someone who does require immediate, lifesaving help. For this reason, I would strongly recommend that your emergency contact also communicate directly with the emergency responders rather than assuming details about the situation are being accurately relayed.
When the first-responders landed on scene, the Troopers were understandably confused as to why they had been rushed to the scene of an emergency when none existed.
After sending the emergency message, Miles and I had no idea how long it would take for help to arrive. We were in a remote wilderness location with no cell service and no homes or buildings of any kind for miles and miles. You’re never guaranteed that emergency responders will be able to come quickly. If the weather is too bad for them to reach you, a real possibility in Alaska and elsewhere, you might be on your own. You may have to spend one night or several awaiting rescue. I personally know pilots who have spent multiple nights waiting for rescue, which can turn into a real survival situation.
About an hour into our wait, we received a message that the rescue team was an hour away. With the assurance that we wouldn’t need to ration our food over an extended stay, Miles and I ate the sandwiches we had packed, and I took the opportunity to teach him from my mistakes. We walked around the site and talked about all the things I could have done differently. From a piloting perspective, I should have listened more. Miles had expressed a desire for caution throughout the entire trip, but I was so focused on finding the lake and creating a memorable experience for him that I disregarded his concerns.
I should have taken more time with multiple low passes to survey the landing zone.
With an out-of-state trip planned that evening, we were rushed on the timeline, and I let that affect my judgement. I should have taken more time with multiple low passes to survey the landing zone and see the quicksand which does appear slightly different than normal sand. I should have done a few touch-and-goes to test the landing spot, but I allowed myself to be too eager to land. If I had taken more time for a through survey of my chosen landing area, it’s likely I could have prevented this incident entirely.
But the most serious lapse in my judgement that day was choosing to fly without my survival kit. Ahead of the pending sale and imminent transfer to the new owner, I had removed the ever-present emergency duffel bag from the plane and didn’t think to put it back in for our impromptu afternoon flight. Being prepared is a cardinal rule when exploring Alaska’s wilderness, as things can and do go wrong. When this happens, a little survival gear can completely change the equation. We were stranded at a high alpine lake, surrounded by mountains, many miles from civilization, with the promise of frigid nighttime temperatures. Basics like a properly-rated sleeping bag in this exposed alpine environment can turn a life-threatening emergency situation into simply an uncomfortable night of unplanned camping.
If weather had kept our rescuers away for days, the two sandwiches I had packed wouldn’t have sated our hunger for long. And if we had sustained injuries, the first aid kit I left behind in my haste could have proved vital. While we awaited the helicopter, I berated myself for my simple oversight that could have turned this into a serious situation if help was not on the way. Never again will I fly without a survival kit safely stowed within the plane.
State Troopers in Alaska have aircraft, and the rescue services here are outstanding. We heard the rumble of the helicopter arriving just a little over two hours after our plane nosed into the quicksand. The State Trooper and pilot assessed the situation, documented the scene in photographs, and were able to give us a ride back to Anchorage since there was no need for a medical helicopter. We didn’t make it home in time to fly out on our family vacation that evening, but we were able to reschedule our departure for the following day.
The Cub being long-lined back to Anchorage below the helicopter, what I call my Cub’s flight of shame.
When a plane is damaged in the wilderness, you can’t just leave it. It is considered littering, and there are very heavy fines involved in addition to the environmental impact. I’ve been around several accidents where the recovery of the airplane costs more than the airplane itself, such as when a dive team is needed or extraction is from an extremely remote location. Compared to instances like those, mine was a cheap extraction and covered by insurance, too. A private helicopter company was needed to fly the airplane back to civilization, and the heli pilot for that company just happened to be a friend of mine. He was able to share some great footage of the plane “flying” as it was being long-lined back to Anchorage below the helicopter, what I call my Cub’s flight of shame.
In the end, the damage was minimal but still required a full engine inspection due to the sudden stoppage of the propeller in the sand. I could have pulled the tail down and flown home, hoping for the best. But when there’s a sudden stoppage, there is the possibility of internal damage to the engine, which is why it’s illegal to fly the plane after such an event. As an A&P mechanic, I know and abide by these rules. As the saying goes, most FARs are written in blood. Although tempting, flying a compromised engine over unforgiving terrain is a great way to make a bad situation significantly worse.
Back home, the plane was thoroughly inspected, given a clean bill of health for the engine, and sold to its new owner, another A&P mechanic who would fix the propeller damage and properly inspect the engine. I’m so thankful to have had an insurance policy to cover the whole incident. Unlike automobiles, there is no legal requirement to carry insurance on private aircraft. The emotional stress involved in even a small incident is high enough to impact anyone’s decision making ability. With the cost of even a small airplane like a Super Cub well into the six figures, the financial stress could easily prove overwhelming. Personally, I consider insurance a must have now, and the ability to make the right decisions in high-stress situations like this is far more valuable than the financial protection.
I had set out that afternoon to create a memorable experience for my son, and though it did not play out the way I planned, it’s definitely a day he’ll never forget. Back at school in Arkansas, Miles proudly told his classmates, “I wrecked an airplane in Alaska and had to survive!” Maybe not quite what happened, but this incident provided a good story for him and an even better learning experience for me.
Back at school in Arkansas, Miles proudly told his classmates, “I wrecked an airplane in Alaska and had to survive!”
- Quick land to Quicksand - April 8, 2024
Thanks for sharing! These are great lessons learned for all of us
Good Evening Patrick Interesting story
My father in law had a 135 operation and flew off airport flights out of Kotzebue, AK. He had contracts with forest service, colleges doing research, etc. One of the few times I was able to go on a flight with him in his Maule we were going to deliver supplies to a group conducting some wildlife surveys. They were camped not far from a beach on the Chukchi Sea.
Like you, our landing on the beach was uneventful. But as he was turning around the left Bushwheel began sinking into the soft wet sand. There was a small stream emptying into the ocean which had soaked that area of the beach. I found it strange that there was very little visual difference in appearance between the beach that was dry, compared to that which was wet. Getting out of the aircraft and standing on the beach was like standing on jello.
The two of us could slightly move the aircraft. But it was readily apparent that if we didn’t get it out of the wet sand fast and onto firm ground, the wheel would have sunk to deep for us to free the airplane. Luckily the 4 or 5 people we had come to resupply came walking over the hill. Even with there help we were extremely lucky to get that Maule out of the muck!!
Off airport operations certainly are not for the novice or the faint of heart!!! You have to be constantly alert for even the unexpected, unseen dangers!!!