Time to Worry

By Shawn Pugmire, Boeing Quality Production Specialist

A search and rescue case (SAR case) launched in the middle of the day, in Port Angeles, WA. The call came into the H65 Dauphin crew at around 10AM for a boat in distress with confirmed passengers aboard. The day and night before had been one of the annual 100 mph wind storms that the area usually seems to see heading into the winter months. This means the winds were still gusting into the mid-sixties, and the terrain assured it was happening unpredictably, usually at a very bad time.

Making the turn north, over the San Juan Islands, the winds entered a soup bowl of confusion. The point where the Hood Canal from the south and the Strait of Juan de Fuca come together sustained winds of fifty miles per hour coming from both directions. It becomes kind of like the spot behind a rock in a river, swirling and shifting in whatever direction the strongest wind blows. The turn north to Bellingham on any other blue bird day would be uneventful. Not today.

Making the corner over San Juan Island, the winds suddenly gusted and grabbed the tail of the aircraft and kicked ninety degrees out. Immediate loss of lift to the rotor wings began an uncontrolled descent of 400 feet in just a couple quick seconds. Now, at 800 feet above the island and a terrifying stirring of the cyclic, the aircraft finally under control, the flight mechanic comes over ICS and asks, “Sir, should we be worr…?” Cut-off, the pilot, squeezing the ICS button in a death-grip, Boom! It happened again - 400 more feet lost, the island was looking pretty big.

Frantically “stirring the pot” again, the pilot arrests the uncontrolled descent once more. This time, silence in the cabin. Everyone had huge eyes and insanely tight seat harnesses now. Everyone knew, this was a time for business, the case was going to be anything but a walk in the park.

Finally arriving on scene after locating a small watercraft that was being tossed wildly by the wind and seas, the crew established a tight orbit to assess. It didn’t take long to find out that there was no one onboard and the lines hanging off the boat, tattered from tearing away from whatever dock they were tethered to, were a solid indicator that this was no longer a SAR case but a boat adrift.

The decision was made to land at the nearby Bellingham airport and wait-out the remainder of the windstorm. With warm chocolate chip cookies and free coffee, the break was more than welcome to the crew. Sitting inside the FBO, discussion began about the return home. “Winds will be much lighter,” began the pilot, then, mid-sentence, he stops and circles back to the flight mechanic’s question that was cutoff earlier in the flight. “Oh, when you asked if we should be worried…, Yeah. It was a pretty good time to worry, I had zero control. We were definitely along for the ride.”