I used to go skydiving out of this tiny little drop zone outside a tiny little town in Texas. This place was out in the sticks. The airport also served as the base for at least one cropduster. There weren’t many drop zones nearby; this one took about 90 minutes for me to drive to. The little single-engine Cessna we used seemed to groan each time it lifted off the ground. The people were nice, and I just really wanted to go jumping, so I couldn’t be terribly choosy. I began showing up consistently and started getting to know some of the regulars.
One weekend something a little different happened. I’m not sure of the reason, but the regular pilot wasn’t available, and we had a younger, much less experienced pilot flying loads that day. I didn’t really think anything of it. Nobody seemed to have a problem with it. We had a very experienced jumper at this drop zone, Chad, who seemed to know a lot about not only skydiving, but also flight operations, so he was good to have around. (Incidentally, he probably saved my life one time.) Thankfully, he was on the same load as I was that day.
A bunch of us got in the plane and began our ride to altitude. Normally when people get on a plane, they’re actually headed to a destination on the ground somewhere. When you’re skydiving, your destination is “up high.” You pretty much just want to gain a bunch of altitude so you can hop out. That ride to altitude can look very different depending on how busy the local airspace is, what the winds are doing at different altitudes, and the aircraft’s capabilities. The pilot might fly a corkscrew pattern, a box pattern, or some kind of racetrack pattern, just for a few examples. These are methods used to gain altitude without venturing too far away from the drop zone.
On this particular occasion, whatever pattern our pilot chose involved a bad call. I’m not sure if maybe he didn’t do his homework, or if this is something that could have happened to anyone, but we ended up getting downwind of the drop zone, fighting against a pretty strong headwind. The climb to altitude took about the same amount of time, but we spent longer in the aircraft because it took longer for us to claw back lost ground distance.
It wasn’t really a big deal to me at the time, but the pilot started getting agitated. It turns out we were pretty low on fuel. The strong headwind meant we needed to burn fuel faster to reclaim ground, and the analog fuel gauges didn’t give very descriptive readings when they were very low, especially as fuel sloshed around in the wing tanks. You can imagine how this all added to the anxiety level of a young, inexperienced pilot.
Chad noticed what was happening, and that the pilot kept switching the fuel feed back and forth between the left and right fuel tanks. With a cool head, he advised the pilot to relax and to stop switching; use up one tank until it’s dry, then switch to the other one. That way you’ll know for sure what you’ve got in that tank. If the second one runs out, it runs out, no amount of switching between the two would prevent it. Getting a little higher should help get us above the air current, so let’s press on before considering more drastic measures.
It started dawning on the rest of us what was happening. We weren’t real nervous; after all, we were all wearing parachutes and planned to get out of the plane before landing anyway. If that happened, our biggest problem would be figuring out where we landed and how to get back to the drop zone from the middle of what seemed like a thousand-square-mile field. The pilot, on the other hand, had an obligation to get the plane safely on the ground. Chad would probably stay with the pilot in the plane, and dropping several hundred pounds of skydivers should help improve the plane’s fuel efficiency, increasing the likelihood of safely getting back on the ground.
This is a little anticlimactic, I know, but thankfully we didn’t have to bail out early. We did end up jumping from a little lower than planned, but otherwise we made it to where we were supposed to go. The plane had enough gas to make it back to the airport safely. I’m not sure exactly how close the pilot (and us) came to disaster that day, but I imagine those wing tanks were much more full the next time the aircraft took off.
Sometimes in the midst of a crisis, all it takes is a steady hand and a calm demeanor to avoid catastrophe. Being present and just listening to someone who’s coming a little unglued, or offering insights that might be helpful can really walk someone back from panicking. While there are occasions where you kind of need to push somebody out of the way and seize control of the situation, as long as safety or time aren’t major issues, why not just offer support (and maybe guidance if they need it) as they work through the problem? Common sense and problem-solving seem like they’re becoming a little too rare these days, and helping someone walk through an issue can help pass along some lessons on good judgment, keeping calm, and solving problems. You might just find yourself in a position to make those rare qualities a little more common.