Tug Pilot Gary Crowley Duty Instructor Bob Hickman
The Tug Pilot
When the soaring season peaks it's a busy time – especially if you happen to fly as a tug pilot.
At Bacchus Marsh, Victoria, it was busy rather than hectic, with a constant stream of launches. I released a glider at around 3,000ft before the Pawnee descended to circuit height. I radioed as I joined left downwind for runway two-seven, then started my pre-landing checks.
Moments later, the Geelong Gliding Club's K13 broadcasted that it was also joining downwind for the same runway but taking a right-hand circuit. No problem at all – owing to the difference in our relative speeds, I estimated that I would probably be on the ground before the K13 turned onto base leg.
Prior to turning base turn it became apparent that I would be landing on the sealed main runway, not on the grass runway that was crowded with recently landed gliders. The bitumen runway is harsh on the tug's tyres and is generally avoided when possible, but not this time.
With its associated radio call, The base turn power setting, first stage of flap and speed adjustment area were all completed and my position relative to the threshold was good.
I turned final, concentrating closely on speed and approach profile as the boundary fence slipped beneath the aircraft and the piano keys loomed large in front.
AMBUSH!! There, just beyond the piano keys, a figure completely dressed in black appeared almost in the middle of the runway. Against the black background of the bitumen, the figure had been invisible to me up to that very instant.
‘Full Power- NOW!’ a voice inside me screamed as I slammed the throttle to full power, and hauled the stick hard back. But it was not enough by itself. I had only microseconds to make a decision.
The tow line couldn’t be jettisoned, as it would be likely to flail into whoever it was, nor could I overfly for the same reason. Should I shear away to the right? But where is the K13? It was quite possibly nearby, as I haven't heard its base turn radio call yet.
‘BREAK LEFT- CLIMB HARD’ the screaming voice in my head commanded, right at the fractional instant the engine completed its surge to full-power.
The propeller howled a tone I had never heard before. It was not a good sound and I fleetingly winced at the torture inflicted on the propeller hub bolts, crankshaft flange and so many other components.
But I couldn't help that. The situation wouldn't let me, I thought to myself. It was certain that long ago, people with sliderules, mathematical tables and crisp white business shirts worked all that out, and then built in appropriate margins.
An unladen Pawnee has a nose-bleed inducing rate of climb. We blasted upwards to circuit height and beyond. The first stage of flap was still extended. For reasons that I no longer recall, I didn't go to full flap while on final, thank goodness! A low fuel load of 50 litres certainly helped the climb rate as well.
So – what of the figure in black? I was later informed that it was a very crestfallen young lady on her first visit to a gliding operation. Although we have never met, to this day I'm certain she remembers that we nearly did.
The Duty Instructor
We were having a Family and Friends flying day at the gliding club. This was a special day when normal instructional flights were suspended and members were encouraged to invite friends and members of their families to come to the club for a flight.
These days are good fun, great for morale and good for promoting our sport. However, the presence of lots of people who are not familiar with airfield and launch-point protocols introduces some significant extra safety threats. Consequently, visitors need to be managed very carefully.
I'd put out extra signage to safely direct visitors to the flight line and assigned marshals to help with this and with escorting our guests to their gliders.
At morning briefing, I spoke about the risk that a passenger might cross the runway without due care after disembarking their glider at the end of the flight. I stressed that this risk must be managed by the pilot, who must exercise control of passengers after landing and ensure that they do not head off across the runway on their own. As it turned out, this was advice that was easier to give than to heed.
The day was going well. Our members and their guests seemed to be having a good time. I was sitting in our bus, commonly referred to as the ‘pie cart’, briefing a passenger on what to expect during their flight. I would have heard our tug pilot making his down-wind and base radio calls but wasn't paying any particular attention. This was all routine background noise for someone in the bus during a busy operation and, anyway, I trusted our highly experienced tug pilot completely.
My focus was on our guests until suddenly -WHAT'S THAT? I heard the deep roar of a Pawnee's engine going to full throttle and the scream of its prop instantly alerted me that something was amiss. I dashed out of the bus door and the scene that presented itself to me was anything but ordinary operations.
Our tug was pitched upward steeply and rolling into a climbing left turn. The reason for this spectacular and very non-standard manoeuvre was quickly apparent. A darkly clad woman in the middle of the runway, walking towards us and looking perplexed. The important thing was that she was, indeed, walking, uninjured. Both the Pawnee and its potentially deadly tow rope were already safely clear of her and the period of grave danger that she must have faced mere seconds before had already passed.
How did it happen? The glider pilot was highly experienced. He had landed on the far side of the runway, helped his passenger out of the aircraft and instructed her to remain with him. Apparently, the passenger had not taken this in. While the pilot was busy helping the ground crew move his glider clear of the runway, she headed off excitedly to share her experience with some friends who were waving from our side of the runway. It wasn't till she reached them that the full gravity her error sank in.
The takeaway message: Despite active threat and error management, bad things can still happen. Sometimes, as a last defence, only good piloting can avert a tragedy. On this day I witnessed some really great piloting.
