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the Kiagtuut Glacier leading to the Greenland Icecap. (If you’ve never seen the Greenland Icecap, it should be on your bucket list. The immensity and beauty cannot be captured by a camera). As we came across the east- ern coast of Greenland, the sun began to set and soon we were in the pitch dark of night over the North Atlantic. I climbed into the back of the airplane to check on the survival equipment. The PT6 in front of us was humming along smoothly, but another check of equipment seemed prudent.
All was progressing nicely until the descent into Keflavik, Iceland (BIKF). As we passed FL180, we began to no- tice the building moisture in the low light of the position lights on the wing. The pitot heat was already ON (as it always should be on every pressurized airplane), and we turned on the prop heat – as any pilot should do before entering visible moisture with tem- peratures below 10 Celsius.
Within about three minutes, we be- gan to notice a faint burning smell. It was not strong, barely a whiff, but it was present. In another minute (or so), the PROP DEICE FAIL cau- tion light illuminated. This is a red light and that caught my attention. The circuit breaker that protects the system had not popped, but with the red light, I was highly suspicious that any electrons were reaching the prop boots. Josh and I looked at each other like Scooby and Shaggy, both thinking, “Ruh roh!”
Josh: “Ruh roh” was correct! I am pretty sure I’m Scooby in this situa- tion. Shaggy voiced his thoughts out loud, and my subsequent thoughts were guided by his actions and words. Retrospectively, I was drained from the late night getting into Mirabel and the early launch that morning. The time change can affect your mental state subtly and discreetly. Honestly, before the red annunciator light went off, I wasn’t thinking about ice except that it did look pretty flying by outside.
I turned off the prop deice and continued the descent. After about three more minutes with the prop deice off, the smell seemed to van- ish. I took note.
Flying a Piper Meridian up the Narsarsuaq Glacier.
My senses were on high alert for icing issues, and I turned on the wing ice light to reveal a light coating of white on the leading edge of the wing. There were now large droplets of mois- ture streaming by, made clear in the strobe light. (If you’ve not seen the dance of wintry weather in a strobe at night, it’s a mesmerizing scene. I think it looks like a nonstop “warp-drive to light speed” experience in Star Wars. Except I’m in a Piper Meridian and not going warp speed).
With the build-up of ice on the wing, I deployed the wing boots. They “poofed” normally, and ice flew off the wing as it should. But then we got a WING DEICE FAIL caution light. This one is amber in color, but it might as well have been red for I knew I was in trouble. Looking out on the wings, the boots were not being sucked back flush with the wing. The system is supposed to use vacuum to suck the boots back in preparation for another deployment (poofing), but it was not happening.
So, now I had no prop deice, no wing deice, and I had a nice layer of North Atlantic moisture to f ly through on my way to Keflavik. As I descended through 12,000, the OAT (Outside Air Temperature) was -8 Celsius and we were in the mix – a perfect scenario for lots of ice.
It was now decision time. I can’t go back to Greenland. There’s not an alternate. I must go to Iceland, no op- tions. But, I did have some choices as to how I would handle the ice in the descent...should I recycle the prop deice and risk that burning smell? Should I recycle the surface deice? I looked back to the wing and saw what I believed to be a quarter-inch of rime ice present, with more ac- cumulating. Ugh.
Josh: A little fear crept in at the thought of the cold North Atlantic water, at night, and with inclement weather. It was com- parable to being on the couch as a kid watching “Nightmare on Elm Street” – wishing it to end knowing I wasn’t going to sleep well. But then, there was relief knowing we were continuing to fly and work through the situation: “Aviate, Navi- gate, Communicate.”
I decided to turn on the prop de- ice one more time. Bad decision? You decide, but I did not like the idea of making the descent in potential mod- erate ice without the props being clear of ice. When I pushed the prop deice switch, the PROP DEICE FAIL Caution Light illuminated instantly, and there was a 20 amp draw on the amp gauge. The faint smell returned. The only thing I want burning in an airplane is my desire to fly, so I turned off the prop deice and didn’t turn it on
November 2021 / TWIN & TURBINE • 15