lol, that was cute. I would actually read that instead of whatever faux dramatic drivel EL manages to puke out onto her keyboard.
I wanna know what really happened when he was "stranded" with his female coworker (Ros?) after his helicopter "crashed."
Ooh, I can help out with that one, hopefully in the same vein as the Washington Post writer. But let's back up, literally, to 7500 feet in the AS350, registration N124CT, heading 010 degrees magnetic over the forest and mountains with Grey in the pilot's seat, Ros in the passenger seat, all is well and cruising along at 130 kt. (knots. that's about 150 mph or 241 kph. All aviation speeds are referenced to knots --symbol kt. for uniformity in air traffic control centers across the planet) All point-of-view is from C. Grey unless otherwise stated.
Crap, we got a 15 knot headwind. Why did I take such a long cross-country trip with such a slow aircraft? Why didn't we use the Learjet? It would have been faster. I do own one of those. I think. Maybe I should buy another after the Mitchell deal closes. Ooh, my Thor's Hammer swells at the thought of a new air--The "ENG FIRE" light illuminates on the instrument panel. Oil pressure starts falling. Ros points to the very RED light that I have ignored until now.
Ros says, "What's that?" as she points to the red light.
Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! Engine fire!! In-flight fire checklist: Quick! THINK! Oh yeah: Autorotate, fuel selector to shutoff, boost pumps off, master off. First: initiate autorotation within 2 (TWO!) seconds to maintain rotor speed or we're gonna die--Ros says, "What's wrong? What is that?"
"Ros, shut up, I'm busy!!!" I yell back at her.
Autorotate, first lower collective lever. DOWN. Pull cyclic aft. C'mon, BACK. Push left rudder pedal. Left. Left. LEFT! Establish glide at 65 kt. 65. 65, not 60. Easy big girl. Rotor speed--OK.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Rotor speed is good. Glide--ESTABLISHED. Next-- I turn the fuel selector to SHUTOFF. Switch boost pump OFF. Engine torque drops. The engine is now officially dead.
Hmm, I wonder if I should broadcast a 'mayday' on the 121.5 emergency frequency and let someone know we're in trouble and going down?
Nah.
I turn the master battery switch: OFFAll the radios and electrical gear go dark.
Ros says, "What's wrong? Are we going to crash?"
I tell her, "No, idiot, we're in an autorotation glide, but we need to find an open field to land in or things will get messier than the Red Room during an orgy. Look for a meadow."
Ros says, "All I see are trees."
"Trees don't work. I need an open field, parking lot, something."
Ros exclaims, "There! To the left! An open meadow!"
Dang if she wasn't right. A meadow. I wonder if Ana would have found one that fast? Ana? WTF am I thinking about her for now? She ain't my co-pilot right now and my Thor's Hammer is a very wet noodle at the moment while I need to save my life. Rotor speed OK, glide OK, a bit high. Circle a little, but we can make it just fine. Wind, where's the wind coming from? It was out of the north at altitude, but what's happening at the surface? No wind sock. Trees seem to be blowing from that way, so we'll land opposite--Ros SCREAMS.
"Aagh! What was THAT for?"
Ros belts out, "We're gonna DIE!"
"Ros, BE QUIET!"
OK, over the trees, flare. Collective UP. PULL! Flare. FLARE! SHIT!!My helicopter N124CT
SMACKS onto the ground, bobbles a bit, remains upright on the skids, tips a bit on the slightly rocky terrain. The main rotor slows.
CRAP, worst landing EVER! "Ros, are you OK?" She looks stunned, eyes staring. She turns to me suddenly as the main rotor glides to a stop.
Ros says, "We didn't die?"
No, dolt, 'cause I'm an utterly fantastic pilot. "Nope."
Ros says "Now what?"
"Well, I suppose we--"
Ros says "What's that?" as she points to the smoke and flames emanating from the engine bay.
Hmm, I ought to fix that. I grab the puny fire extinguisher from under my seat, climb out of the cockpit to go back to open the engine bay door and discharge the small bottle into the engine bay that I somehow managed to open in spite of the heat from the fire that makes the access door latches WAY too hot to handle. Luckily the fire goes out, otherwise the entire fuselage of my precious N124CT would have burned to the ground and I wouldn't be able to salvage her and rebuild it later.Ros asks, "Can we call someone?"
"Well, the fire is out but I don't want to turn the master switch on to turn on the radios in case the fire starts again."
I look at my phone. No bars. Drat.
Ros asks, "Why not? The fire is out. The fuel to the engine is turned off."
"Because even though I flew this aircraft through a harrowing emergency that required split-second response and knowledge of the flying characteristics of the machine I don't know enough about it to want to turn on the master power switch again."
Ros asks, "What about the emergency beacon?"
"Oh, you mean the "Emergency Locator Transmitter" that sends our GPS position and a distress signal to satellites in orbit and alerts rescue teams to our exact whereabouts in the case of an emergency?"
Ros says, "Yes, that one."
"The actual device that would have triggered itself automatically to send that emergency signal if my landing had, in fact, been any worse?"
Ros says, "Yes, that one."
"You mean the thing where all I have to do is push this little button on the instrument panel to activate it?"
Ros says, "Yes, that one."
"You're asking about the ELT transmitter, located in the tail, where if the instrument panel switch doesn't work I can manually activate it at the ELT unit itself because it has its own battery and is totally and completely independently powered from the main aircraft power?"
Ros says, "Yes, that one."
"Ros, silly girl. We glided to safety and landed OK. Even though the NTSB and FAA both consider in-flight fires a very severe emergency I don't want to make any more of a fuss than we have to. So I don't think we had an emergency worth of activating the ELT. Let's start walking."
Ros says, "But I only have high heels!"
"Cry me a river. Would you rather stay here and wait for rescuers to find a white helicopter in an open meadow surrounded by dark green trees or walk out miles through rough terrain with me in your high heels? I'm leaving now."
Ros says, "Schmuck."
We start walking. I suddenly realize I've actually spent a whole 30 minutes without thinking of my swelling Thor's Hammer. Ros twists her ankle, and not for the first time that day . . ..