Dennis kindly submitted this story of his harrowing experience and we really hope that it can provide a learning experience for all our readers. We’ve all had near misses or worse. Dennis also confided that he’s a regular at Oshkosh, having camped under the wing of his 210 more than a dozen years. We hope to see him there in the Wilga some time in the future. – Ian Brown, Editor – Bits and Pieces.

 

I had decided to exchange my Cessna 210 for a Polish PZL Wilga. This is the story of that sometimes challenging exchange flight, but more on that later.

For the moment, I’ll just include a couple of shots of this gorgeous Wilga which I found in northern Ontario.

I got the 210 delivered on April 10. Everything went quite well on the way but it wasn’t without weather challenges. I was fortunate that spring temperatures warmed up enough to get through the Lake of the Woods area in light rain so long as I stayed low at 3,500 feet. The OAT hovered just under 40°F. Fort Frances, Ontario, was my first fuel stop after departing my private strip in southeast Saskatchewan.

Departing CYAG the weather had improved and the rain stopped. The route was to basically follow  Hwy 11 trans-Canada to Atikocan, then just north of Thunder Bay go over the north side of Lake Superior. By this time I was up to 11,500 feet and had a great view of the one bridge that ties east to west on the ground. Over to Marathon, down to Wawa for the second fuel stop, where I ran into an unacceptable call-out fee of $75, which I was informed was half-price for small GA and there was no room to challenge this as it was set by the local council. This would have been about the same value of fuel as was needed to complete the last leg so I declined it and departed for Chapleau. Pre-flight planning I’d checked the fuel prices and recalled Chapleau had a very good price but somehow I didn’t catch the date last posted (it was pre-COVID) and when I arrived there was no response on the call-out numbers, or even the emergency contact! So here I am stuck. But as luck would have it there was a chap whom just put his beautiful Maule on skis back in his hangar. I saw him poke his head out to look down the taxiway. While I walked down to him he drove around to the pump, but he didn’t have any luck on the responsible persons personal cell either so he offered to provide me four jerry cans of his own personal fuel, but that we would have to drive to his house on the river where he kept the Maule on floats in the summer! Welcome to northern Ontario I was told.

The last leg was a quick 45-minute ride. I had some temperamental issues getting the gear doors up again. I figure that some of the bubbles were probably still working their way out. I informed Brian (the buyer) to top it off with 5606 per the manual. I don’t think he’ll have too much trouble with it after that and I wish him luck and enjoyment until he resells it. As a retired commercial pilot he’s afforded himself the envious position to buy and sell anything he’s interested in as a hobby. We did plenty of storytelling and the paperwork at his personal hangar/man cave (as he called it) before returning to town for a nice supper at the hotel.

Anyway that was day one. The next morning I was picked up at 9 a.m. and was off to the airport. We did a bit more paperwork to finish and I brushed up on the Wilga performance numbers. We exchanged the airplanes’ places in the hangar, fuelled the Wilga up via a call for the airport service fuel truck, and said our goodbyes. It was time for a totally new and a bit foreign adventure.

The Wilga (‘Thrush’) is Polish and is built by Panstwowe Zaklady Lotnize, known commonly as PZL. This aircraft is a 104-32 model, so there’s a lot of “Polish” labelling. Brian instructed me on the arrangement of the controls and switches after a good pre-flight. I spent some time familiarizing myself after climbing in. There are some contortions to perform as the aircraft sits quite tail-low, main gear are quite long, and the front door post is raked back from bottom to top of the door. At 6-foot-3, I have some issues with small aircraft but I do find the Wilga very comfortable once in the seat.

Taxiing was uneventful and I can see over the dash and cowl — one of the best benefits of being tall. The toe brakes are hydraulically operated drum type in this model and I found them to be very effective. They held me solidly in place to do a run-up and just a small jab would pivot the tail nicely to S-turn as I tracked out toward the runway. The airport was very quiet fortunately and I had the tower frequency to myself. Interesting little difference is this airplane has the PTT switch on the throttle, the throttle is on the left wall so it’s a control stick-in-the-right-hand operation. I’ve got plenty of time in my Ag Cat and other tandem single taildraggers so it felt okay but somehow just a little touchy. The elevator is feather light being so well-balanced. It’s important to have it tied in anytime your hand isn’t on the sick! The slightest tail wind could damage it. The controls are push-rod operated and ball bearing smooth.

Takeoff was amazingly fast! Even with only 230 hp in the Continental O-470R (same engine as the typical C-182), time on the ground after full power-up is to be measured in seconds. There was a 20 gusting 27 wind from the front left quarter so that was working against desired runway heading from the start so in with the cross controls, rolling adding power smoothly but I would say a lot faster than I would ever do in the Cat with its PW 985. Releasing the back pressure a bit, the tail came up nicely (two seconds in). Wow, I can really see the runway forward now. With side-by-side seating the windshield is big and with the engine slung fairly low, forward visibility is second to none in the single group. But why is the centreline not in front? A whole lot of right rudder in as throttle goes all the way in and back pressure now. It felt like it literally jumped off the pavement. Not sure of the ground roll distance but less than two runway stripes and about five seconds.

Climb: I’m going, it’s flying. Seems like the airspeed is going up very rapidly so time to add some back pressure again. Pitch the nose up to the end of the runway and climb. And does it like to climb! Remember that airspeed indicator. Comes down fast, too. The reason: it’s marked in kilometers per hour — KPH, the “K” is definitely not knots. We somehow missed that little detail and I was assuming it would have had to be changed at import as the manifold pressure, rpm, and altimeter were. I remembered reading the numbers in the book but they were all also converted to miles so it was just a mater of flying the V speeds that were placarded on the window post, I supposed. As a taildragger pilot and having done my spin training for my flight instructor’s certificate I was taught to fly them a lot by the seat of my pants and feel the airplane while looking ahead and outside. And to this point the airplane was feeling good. Flaps up. Take-offs are typically performed with the first notch of the slotted flap. As a STOL aircraft it has only three positions of the handle, which protrudes from the top left front corner. They are described to be more like that of a helicopters collective. First notch provides 21 degrees of deflection on the whole trailing edge! Flaps and aileron both droop. The second notch drops them to 44 degrees down. Combined with the fixed leading edge slat, there is a lot of lift at low speeds. The book also reads that an experienced and practiced pilot can descend without much forward motion at all and no increase in airspeed.

I levelled off at 6,500 feet just to the west of Timmins. The ride had become very smooth at about 3,500 feet. Setting cruise power was simple as your typical C-182. Manifold pressure to 23 inches and rpm to 2300, lean the mixture until the engine had a noticeable reduction in power and became a little rough, and enrich until it smooths out. There are cowl flaps but in this case “gills” would be a more suitable description as they are rounded the same as the cowl and operate vertically by pivoting closed against the side of the fuselage. There is a crank on the floor at the front of the pilot’s seat right rail to operate them. Open for takeoff and thereafter as needed per the CHT. Oh, and the CHT is marked in Celsius with a 1, 2, 3 (00) on the ring and a red line with a green bar around to signal operating range so there’s another conversion to do per western standard. 9/5ths + 32 = F. Not that easy to do in your head. 204 degrees C is roughly 400 degrees F so I’d decided to keep it a touch under, shooting for no higher than 380. This is a single probe system and its something I’d like to address with a more modern system in the future that tells me the CHT and EGT on all 6, oil temperature, and fuel burn.

Anyhow, the cross country portion of this flight didn’t go nearly as well as planned. At 6,500 feet the ground speed was as low as 45 knots varying to 70. Wind direction seemed to be changing and gusting. I quickly made the decision to descend to 4,500 and check the groundspeed there and never got a lot of improvement. So down some more to 4,000 where the mechanical turbulence started. Northern Ontario is mostly Canadian shield — rock, trees, and water. An NDB airway was basically following the highway to Chapleau and was the desired route for the first half then the turn south direct to CYAM Sault Ste. Marie, another 90 nautical miles. With all the bouncing around and a couple changes in the cloud cover, I tried climbing to alleviate the turbulence, which had gone from moderate to severe a couple times, only to be met with that nasty reduced airspeeds. I was able to maintain 60 to 70 knots through most of the trip but time was becoming a factor. As well, the directional gyro had begun precessing up to 90 degrees and required resetting frequently. Some of the bumps were causing the hand held GPS I was using to shut down and I had to keep restarting that. Thankfully my tablet running Flight Plan was working perfectly and became an almost primary tool for heading. Past Chapleau I ran the right fuel tank down to empty first and began calculating what I should have to finish the flight, and it looked as though I’d be arriving in the Sault with just my 30 min reserve remaining. So I began a serious search for alternatives on the GPS and the tablet knowing that I wasn’t going to find any. I’d done my homework on the route. There are no other airports other than Wawa and it was now not much closer and over 90 degrees to my northwest. The decision was to press on.

Other than the odd power line running through or the occasional logging trail, there is no civilization until I reach the small hamlet of Wabos near the Searchmont Resort ski hill. Here I’ve decided that fuel is getting critical. I’m now eating into the 30 min reserve and if there was a suitable off-airport landing site it would be a good idea to use it. I decided to make a small detour. I thought there looked to be a possible runway not far from the ski hill or I could potentially use the parking lot but they both turned out to be undesirable. The highway was possible but there seemed to be a significant amount of traffic as well. Back to direct CYAM. Nearest now showed the hospital in the centre of town to be the closest but its’ a heliport, CYAM and then Elliott Lake as a close third, but it’s directly into the wind.

Approximately 10 miles later, I contact tower after listening to the ATIS. I informed them of my critical fuel predicament and was asked if I was declaring an emergency. I declined with the comment that I was on a first flight in the aircraft and may have more fuel than I thought. But I was going to be in touch! 10 minutes later after clearing the last high ridge it was all downhill to the airport from here. I’d just passed a small lake surrounded by a high ridge covered in trees. I was thinking that could work, but how much ice is left and the snow was heavy looking and hardly a track. The engine quit. Fuel had run out! There was one surge of power when I pushed in the mixture, gas on both tanks — nothing! Windmilling prop, pulled the control to feather as I cranked the aircraft left in a turn hoping for the lake. Airspeed is falling rapidly and I realize that’s not gonna work. Time to call tower and declare that emergency. I was cleared for a straight in on any runway but I told her that it wasn’t going to happen. I was going into the trees. She responded with “I’m rolling the trucks.” I verified she had me on radar.

I have chosen my spot for an emergency landing! 500 feet altitude to work with, I’m turning east. Immediately in front of me is a small clearing with a walking path but I can’t get down fast enough so that I wouldn’t contact the trees and power poles on the road that is on the end of the east side of the property. So I started a right turn to see if I could carry it onto the road. The S-turn had brought my speed and altitude down and I couldn’t make the road but the trees alongside the road were small sapling size mostly, with the exception of one group of spruce trees. The right wing contacted near the top and the pitot hooked it pulling the aircraft in a turn as it eventually broke off the top of the tree. I was now full aft stick contacting the trees at a full stall. Airspeed is down under the 60 kph line. I reached up and grabbed the entry handle on the top of the door post and braced for impact. This aircraft doesn’t have shoulder harnesses (yet!)

The “impact” was incredibly slow motion. The aircraft went approximately twice its length on top of the trees and dropped the nose in while the tail was held up under the sapling spruce. The propeller was stopped horizontal! The gear had only gotten to the ground I estimate for maybe two feet. Left wing low, the left wheel was down into the three feet of snow and only a little grass has come up to provide evidence of terra firma. I had contacted the door with my shoulder and it popped open, allowing everything on the back seat to exit the airplane into the snow. My upper body was thrust forward and my headset contacted my hand and skinned my pinky knuckle. I also received a small bruise on my upper noggin. Wonderfully I didn’t even need a bandage!

After contacting the tower and informing her that I’m down and fine, she informs me that EMS is on its way. I assured her I was “fine and that I didn’t know the address.” Time to shut down everything and egress. I got out the right door and had no step left so it was drop into the snow which is up over my knees and wet. It’s a nice warm spring day and melting. I exit to the rear as I check for leaks or fire and there’s nothing. Some ladies whom were out walking their dogs were coming to see if I was alright so I trudged through the snow to the path to visit with them. Another person is on her phone with 911 telling them the location and I can already hear the sirens coming up the hill. I go to wait on the road and greet my new friends who had stopped about a block short! Somehow they thought I was down in a gravel pit. No fire or smoke to give away my location and I had to wave the police car to signal him up.  Standing beside the airplane he asked “Are you the pilot?” I said yes. “Where’s your plane?” came the next question. I said there and pointed. He still didn’t see it. So you see it fit in really well. It was a long day from then on.

Damages: Right wing is partially separated (not sure whether it is the spar or attach point that will be twisted). Flap cable is disconnected and the slat is off the leading edge. Damage to the outer three ribs and pitot/stall-warning vein area. Windshield is broken (not terribly but a piece came out. The right front door post is buckled inward slightly, the tow bar pierced the upper rear dome window, and the landing light Plexiglas cover is smashed. I do believe the damages are repairable. I’ve already been contacted by a fellow in Warsaw, Poland, whom seems to be an expert in everything Wilga.

To be continued …