By Mark Murray, EAA 394554
This piece originally ran in the May 2025 issue of EAA Sport Aviation magazine.
What you’ve dreaded so long, practiced for, and feared, just happened: Engine failure! Thank goodness it happened at altitude during cruise, and not on that last takeoff. You have an overwhelming desire to search frantically for a long, smooth, paved runway, but you snap out of it quickly and realize you’ve got to make the best with what you have below you.
Overall, you’re pleased with your reactions so far. Instinctively, you dropped the nose, pegged that glide airspeed that you’ve practiced so many times, and went through all the mental checklist items just like you were trained. Surprisingly, you don’t find yourself fearful, but certainly super focused.
The airplane is still flying, but just without the power needed to keep it aloft for much longer. It quickly becomes apparent that your job is to keep the airplane under control and to find a survivable landing spot. The decisions you make in the next few seconds can make all the difference. But, like almost everything in aviation, you can stack the cards in your favor beforehand.
In my last article (“Engine Failures During Cruise, Part 1: The mental E-6B,” EAA Sport Aviation, April 2024), I discussed the value of knowing the glide characteristics of your light-sport aircraft. Now we will expand on that a bit more and then discuss the glide to touchdown.
Engine-Off Glide Practice
The following is a subject that will quickly split pilots into two groups: those for and against true engine-off glide practice. One camp says it’s ridiculous to purposely shut off the engine just for experience and practice. “Why would you create an emergency where one doesn’t exist?” The other side says, “Yes, by all means, practice true engine-off landings in a controlled environment so you know what to expect.”
What do I think? Before I answer that, I think we should answer this: Is there a difference between “idle-power” and “engine-off” glide performance?
Yes, usually there is a difference, but it depends on several variables. For example, with the engine off, is the propeller windmilling or not? How different is the glide between windmilling and not windmilling? At what glide speed does it stop windmilling? Is that a practical glide speed? What design are we talking about? Also, at idle power, is your idle rpm so high that the prop is developing a tiny bit of thrust? If so, then your prior idle-power engine practice may not have given you an accurate idea of what your glide possibilities actually are.
With that in mind, you can probably guess that I personally believe that there is great value in knowing exactly how my airplane behaves in a true engine-out. Disclaimer: I never recommend that anyone practice full engine-off practice. I don’t know your experience level, the airplane in question, or the environment you’re flying in. I will say that there can be a considerable difference between how your airplane glides at idle-power compared to engine-off. Many of the higher-drag ultralights will not glide as well at engine-off as you practiced at idle-power. On the other hand, some, such as the Challenger, glide similarly in both scenarios.
Gliding Into the Cone with a Funnel
In my last article, I mentioned the “cone of possibilities,” which is just a way to reinforce the idea that all around you, in every direction, are landing possibilities. If you were to visualize it, it would sort of look like an inverted cone with the narrow point at your present location. The wide portion of the cone, at the surface, are the possible landing zones. The trick is to intuitively know what you can realistically glide to.
One of the best bits of advice that I ever received about engine failures was to pick a spot, and stick to it. More than likely, there just won’t be enough time to second-guess yourself. But this doesn’t mean you can’t tweak the spot on the way down. To help us visualize this process, think of a long funnel. You’re looking down the funnel from the wide end toward the narrow end. The wide end represents the first few decisions made following an engine failure. The small end represents the actual touchdown.
Fly along with me. After failure, I pick my landing zone — a nice-looking, open, flat area at about 10 o’clock that’s well within glide range. I’m approaching it with a mild tailwind that will ensure I make it. I may even have enough altitude to turn back into the wind for landing. Great! But my work isn’t finished. I’m basically now looking at the wide area of the funnel.
Now it’s a little later and a few hundred feet lower. I’m looking deeper into the funnel now and am more focused on the actual landing area. The landing zone looks plenty big enough, but it’s not as flat and smooth as I’d hoped. Some portions are plowed field; some looks like pasture. Beyond both is an overgrown, uncultivated area, but no trees. Suddenly, I feel a little panic. Did I pick a bad spot? Should I look elsewhere? Shake it off! There’s no time for that. Remember, this little airplane doesn’t need much runway anyway. The tailwind didn’t push us along as much as I’d thought it would, but we’re still well within gliding range.
Quickly, I force myself to decide that the landing will be straight ahead. Arriving slightly high at the field with a slight tailwind is better in this case; if I try to stretch the glide far enough to allow a low-level 180-degree turn into the wind … no, don’t do that!
As we lose altitude and peer deeper into the funnel, I become fixated on the actual touchdown spot. All those hours of glide practice, short-field landings, and spot landings are really paying off now. The landing zone is straight ahead. Even with the light tailwind, I instinctively know just about where we will touch down. Airspeed is good — adding a little forward slip because it looks like I may get into the weeds if I land long. The pasture to the left looks a little better than the plowed field to the right, and in between, a dirt road! Wait, there’s a fence separating the fields, next to the road. I need to shift slightly left to make sure I clear the fence line. Forget the road. Yikes, that pasture looks bumpy. Flare. We’re down. Yeah, this pasture is bumpy. Wait, we’re stopped! That wasn’t bad at all. And look, the airplane isn’t even damaged! Whew! Yep, we rolled a little into bushes, but all is good.
Fly Another Day
If you’ve never experienced an engine failure, I hope that helped give you an idea of what it’s like. I have to admit that the disbelief and anxiety was a little worse with my first. However, after getting past the shock, it’s always the same. The job is to get down safely now, and use all your training and practice to do so.
In conclusion, let’s discuss some other widely used words of wisdom.
“Don’t fly over anything you’re not willing to land on.” This makes more sense to us ultralight and sport pilots. GA pilots typically cruise at higher altitudes for various reasons, and that height gives them many more emergency landing options. On the other hand, we fun flyers are usually lower. Typically, most of my flying is below 2,000 feet AGL.
On the plus side, this keeps my slow-flying activities below most of the business and military traffic at higher altitudes. On the negative side, I need to be more cautious about my emergency landing options. But, it’s rarely an issue. Why? While I’d estimate that the terrain in my area is about a 50/50 mix of rolling forest and flat farmland, it’s easy to keep something underneath that I can land on. Even on cross-country flights, I can usually keep landing zones within reach with little effort. Remember, our little airplanes dissipate energy quickly, and usually less than 500 feet is needed for a short-field landing. Even less than 100 feet in some cases. Plus, we don’t necessarily need a super smooth area to land on. Most importantly, it needs to be survivable with no injury. You can always repair your airplane or buy another one.
That leads to our next bit of popular advice: “Fly the thing as far into the crash as possible.” These words are attributed to the great Bob Hoover. Now we’re talking about everything that happens just before and just after touchdown. There’s always the possibility that something will appear that you weren’t initially aware of, a small hill or ditch for example, that you may need to make a last second control input to avoid. Or, maybe after touchdown you realize that you’re going to roll into trees or some other obstacle. Allow the wings to absorb as much energy as possible, while protecting the cabin area. Case in point; NTSB report number ERA24LA139 about an incident involving a Beechcraft Bonanza, explains that “during the off-airport landing, the airplane contacted trees on the edge of the field before coming to rest upright. The pilot was uninjured. A cursory post-accident examination of the wreckage revealed that the outboard portions of both wings had separated near their mid-span points and the fuselage was damaged aft of the cabin.” Yes, that means exactly what you think it does. Not giving into panic, but maintaining full control of his Bonanza, this pilot managed to direct the airplane between two trees during what must have been a very fast roll out. Both wings were sheared off at almost the exact same place on each wing, meaning that the pilot did an excellent job of centering the fuselage between both trees.
It’s safe to say that Bob would have been proud. And while not an ultralight or even an experimental, this pilot’s mastery of the situation and control teach all of us the same lesson. Train, practice, plan for, execute the plan, and maintain control during emergencies such as engine failures. Fly it like you plan to fly again tomorrow, even if it is in a different plane.
Mark Murray, EAA 394554, of Georgetown, Georgia, was always fascinated by airplanes. He discovered ultralights thanks to an article published in National Geographic in 1983. In 2008, he earned his light sport repairman maintenance rating and turned his hobby into a business, eventually becoming a CFI and an A&P mechanic.