By Ray Ballantyne, EAA 808555
It was a beautiful morning on May 12, 2026, at Diamond Point Airport (2WA1), which is just a stone’s throw away from Sequim, Washington, on the Olympic Peninsula west of Seattle. David Gardner, EAA 375644, decided to join up with fellow flyers from the local EAA Chapter 430 for the monthly fly-out lunch. This time it was going to be in Packwood, Washington. Packwood is about 125 miles southeast of Diamond Point, situated 25 miles south of 14,410-foot Mount Rainier.
Dave preflighted his 1946 Stinson 108-3 Station Wagon and set out for a nice flight along the shore of Hood Canal, down to Olympia, and then up the valley to Packwood.
Cruising south of Port Townsend, down Discovery Bay, the engine started acting up over the village of Quilcene. Dave was concerned, and he went through the engine out protocol by pulling carburetor heat on, checking each magneto, enriching the fuel, and switching fuel tanks. He realized this was not going to be a “correctable” situation, and he made a quick 180-degree turn back to Port Townsend’s Jefferson County Airport and contacted ATC on guard frequency 121.5.
Suddenly, there was a big bang followed by smoke coming out of the engine, and oil spewed out and covered the windshield. There was nothing to be seen through the windshield, so his only source of visual navigation was through the side window. He immediately started looking for an emergency landing area, because he knew he was too far south of Jeffco to return. He selected a field near Highway 101 where he chose to land.
As he started descent for that field, fire propagated under the floorboards including around the rudder pedal penetrations. Thankfully, no one was in the passenger seat on this trip, but the urgency to get down was now imperative. There were radio communications on the emergency frequency 121.5 with another aircraft and Whidbey Approach. About the time that Dave had decided on which field to land, thick acrid black smoke started coming into the cabin. He opened the windows and put the Stinson into a slip to try and exhaust the smoke and flames. He was doing all this while maintaining airspeed, watching his altitude, and setting up for a standard pattern.
Dave was remembering in the back of his mind the mantra of Aviate, Navigate, then Communicate, and the quote from Bob Hoover who said, “If you’re faced with a forced landing, fly the thing as far into the crash as possible.”
He continued keeping a good approach speed while looking out the side windows for orientation. As he was turning from base to final, he remembered reports of aircraft stalling on the final turn. “Let’s not do that,” he said to himself. Holding off on the flaps until the field was made, but now it looks like it might be long. Go to full flaps, hold the airspeed, watch the terrain come up, and try not to slam it into the ground.
David, 73, has been flying for many years. He flew in northern Alaska, near Fairbanks, for 17 years. He is not only a pilot, but also an aircraft builder, currently refurbishing a Kitfox project. He lives on the residential airpark at Diamond Point and keeps his Stinson in his hangar. He has accumulated almost 1,000 hours of flight experience in the last 42 years, much of it flying around the arctic. That was not without challenges, but this event is in a league of its own.
Flaps are down, the ground is rushing by fast, just try to hold it off a little bit. The first hit was hard, but the gear absorbed most of the blow. The brakes were jammed on as hard as possible without making it go over on its back. Things started to slow down and then the ditch and blackberry bushes were coming up. Just as he reached the ditch, the front tires dropped in and the blackberry bushes stopped the airplane. Dave secured the fuel, turned off the ignition, unbuckled his seat belt, grabbed his emergency fire extinguisher, and got out. The extinguisher performed well, but fires kept igniting. He finally got some mud from the ditch he almost went into and packed it around the fuselage which stopped the fires. He was never scratched, bruised, or burned during this whole event and turned down any type of aid from the Quilcene Fire Rescue who arrived about 10 minutes later.
The crew reported, “Upon arrival, crews found the pilot out of the aircraft and uninjured. The pilot reported experiencing an engine failure that caused an onboard fire while the aircraft was in flight. The pilot immediately began engine failure emergency landing procedures, was able to extinguish the flames using an onboard fire extinguisher and safely landed the aircraft in an open field.”
The State Patrol and the county deputy sheriff showed up. The stern-faced deputy sheriff asked Dave if he was OK, and once assured of that said, “You can’t park that thing here.” He then broke out into a big smile and said he has waited 25 years to say that to a pilot of an emergency landing.
As more and more people arrived to help, they kept telling Dave what a brave and skilled aviator he was! He just looked at them with his best “aw shucks” response — “I didn’t do anything I haven’t trained for and practiced.” He said it hasn’t been long since he completed the same emergency landing maneuver on his last flight review. Albeit, this one was without forward visibility, no engine power, choking smoke, and flames leaping into the cabin!
He strongly encourages pilots to practice engine out procedures and to fly the standard pattern for familiarity if something happens. “Learn to pick the middle of the runway or field to give you options.”
After saying that, he will then look at you and say, “I didn’t do anything I wasn’t trained to do.”
Well done, David, well done!
The aftermath of the engine-out emergency. Dave’s quick thinking meant just the aircraft (and some blackberry bushes) were damaged, while he made it out unscathed.