Jim Long, according to investigators, simply couldn't turn it around in time.
That's the conclusion of the National Transportation Safety Board, which on Wednesday released its report into the probable cause of last autumn's backcountry plane crash that killed three, including pilot Long. Remarkably, two survivors, walking wounded, eventually emerged from the wilds, days after having been given up for dead.
But the findings also raise a handful of questions, not the least of which is how Long received clearance from the U.S. Forest Service to pilot the plane, despite his lack of required qualifications.
The story of the crash, at least from investigators' point of view, begins days before the tragic afternoon of Sept. 20, 2004, when Long piloted four Forest Service employees on a short hop toward a wilderness airstrip.
The story, in fact, begins at Kalispell's Edwards Jet Service, where Long was employed and universally considered a highly accomplished pilot. He even taught flying lessons and by all accounts was a careful and meticulous airman.
But when Forest Service officials contracted with Long and his bosses to fly crews into the backcountry, the pilot did not quite meet agency requirements.
Although Forest Service standards required 200 hours flight time piloting in "typical terrain," Long told the agency's flight inspector he had only 100.
His log books were not available for the inspector, but a later review showed they "did not include a specific record of back country or mountain flying experience. Review of the past two years of logbook entries revealed a total of only 15 entries (14 hours flight time) that included a takeoff or landing at a backcountry airport," according to the NTSB conclusions.
There was no formal backcountry flight training at Edwards, and Forest Service officials later learned Long had received fewer than five hours of backcountry flight orientation from his employer. Before that, he had logged only a handful of backcountry flight hours.
Complicating matters was this Forest Service policy that required 200 hours flying in "typical terrain," but did not define "typical terrain." Did it mean flying high over mountaintops, which Long had certainly done safely for years? Or did it mean dodging up wilderness drainages below the level of the surrounding peaks, which was not the pilot's strong point?
Despite the unanswered questions and apparent deficiencies, the Forest Service inspector checked off on Long, authorizing him to fly agency personnel.
Of course, 58-year-old Ken Good did not know that when he strapped into the front seat on a stormy Monday last September. Neither did Davita Bryant, Good's 32-year-old Forest Service co-worker, who died along with Good and Long when the plane crashed east of Kalispell.
Jodee Hogg and Matt Ramige didn't know it either, but somehow both survived, testament to humans' remarkable ability to, regardless of odds, simply try.
The four Forest Service employees piled in with Long just before 3 p.m., heading for the wilderness airstrip at Schafer Meadows, where they were to work a few days before hiking out.
The plane was supposed to lift off at 1 p.m., but investigators report that weather pinned it down. Rain, sleet, snow and wind alternated with fleeting windows of calm blue in an uneasy autumn sky.
Finally, at 3 p.m., Long saw his chance and lifted off for Schafer.
But the storms would force a new route. Instead of up and over, he'd go around and through.
The plan was to trace U.S. Highway 2, winding up the Middle Fork Flathead River corridor, eastward toward the Continental Divide, 8,000-foot peaks on either side. Then, when the river split away from the road, he'd follow upstream into the backcountry.
But, the report says, "as the airplane proceeded along the river valley, ridge tops on both sides of the valley became obscured."
The cloud base was at 7,000 feed, and "ragged clouds and mist were probably present beneath the overcast due to recent rain showers in the area," investigators said.
Another experienced pilot had flown the same route that day, later reporting to officials that the trip was "a little tough, but flyable."
He did warn, however, that "if you didn't know, it would be really easy to go up the wrong draw."
Investigators also talked to other experienced pilots, concluding that "in these type weather conditions the numerous drainages that feed into the river valley can be similar in appearance."
Too similar, as it turns out.
At 3:08, less than 10 minutes into the flight, Long radioed that he was through Badrock Canyon, between Columbia Falls and West Glacier, and was heading up the highway. At 3:15, he radioed again, putting his position at "Essex, inbound for Schafer."
He was peeling away from the highway, into the hills, and it was his last communication with dispatch.
But given the distance between Badrock and Essex, given the time elapsed and the airplane's speed, investigators insist there's no way Long could have been at Essex, as he said, by 3:15.
Radar doesn't track that far into the valley, but radar of the first eight minutes of flight indicates "the airplane was not at the position reported by the pilot, but was actually well short of this position."
Long might not have known he was lost, but at least one of his passengers suspected it.
Jodee Hogg, who was 23 at the time, sat in the middle right seat, behind Good, and was wearing a headset that allowed her to listen in to the pilot's conversations.
She heard Long say they were over Essex, and then the plane turned south into a mountain valley, according to a previously released NTSB factual report.
Good was riding shotgun, and Hogg told NTSB officials he looked back at her, and then asked the pilot " 'Is that the Middle Fork?' The pilot replied 'Yes, that's the Middle Fork.' The survivor (Hogg) recalled looking out the right side window and seeing snow on the peaks and then noticed they were 'really close to the ground.' She looked forward again and the airplane impacted."
Ramige, then 30, was seated next to Hogg, in the middle left seat, but was not wearing a headset. NTSB investigators report he remembers the plane turned up "a pretty tight canyon" and the "scenery got more and more dramatic" before "the canyon started to close in a little bit."
That would have been about 3:30, the time witnesses on the ground said they heard a plane flying up Tunnel Creek drainage, well short of the Middle Fork Flathead.
Tunnel Creek, according to the report released Wednesday, "ended in a box canyon."
Judging by wreck debris, NTSB investigators said, Long was pushing the Cessna hard, in a left-climbing turn, when it hit the steep mountainside at about 6,600 feet, flipped onto its back, and burst into flames.
Search-and-rescue veterans later said it was the most violent crash site they had ever experienced, with the fire literally melting much of the aircraft. In fact, they pronounced all dead at the scene.
What they did not know were the unlikely and heroic stories of survivors, whose chapters in the story began only after the crash.
Long, badly injured and hanging upside down in his seat harness, turned his attention to Good, helping to free the passenger and push him from the burning plane. The pilot, however, could not save himself and died in the fire.
Hogg, meanwhile, pulled herself out, only to climb back in and save Ramige. Bryant was already lost, unresponsive in the far-back seat.
And then began the ordeal, with Ramige and Hogg - both seriously injured themselves - tending to Good through a night of cold and wet and snow. They helped him, Ramige said, and he returned in kind, the knowledgeable senior local sharing what he could about where they were and in which direction lay safety.
By morning, though, Good was dead, leaving Ramige and Hogg to make some tough decisions. They could hear search planes overhead, but the thick clouds showed no signs of parting. The cold was getting dangerous, and finally the pair decided to hike out.
Good had a pen and notebook in his shirt pocket, but they left no note, assuming that if searchers found the scene, they could follow the survivors' footprints in the snow. Unfortunately, neither counted on the snow melting.
They had nothing, NTSB investigators said, because "all communications equipment, survival equipment and foul-weather gear aboard the airplane were destroyed in the fire."
Together, left for dead, they walked for more than a day to distant Highway 2.
Their ordeal, as much as the deaths of Long, Good and Ramige, focused national attention on the accident, with questions quickly raised about Long's experience and the effectiveness of Forest Service policies.
Those questions culminated in a host of recommendations issued by the Forest Service, along with results of the agency's own investigation.
The USFS team suggested reviewing and perhaps modifying required standards for pilot experience and urged the agency to define, once and for all, what precisely is meant by "typical terrain."
They recommended a review of "personal protective equipment," especially after noting how Good's yellow nomex firefighting shirt saved him from the burns that scorched Ramige. They called for all planes flying Forest Service personnel to be equipped with automated flight following technology and, until that could be done, requiring pilots to use GPS to determine latitude and longitude when reporting in.
Currently, the agency is working on all that and more, according to Forest Service spokesman Joe Walsh. Walsh said he was not necessarily surprised by the NTSB findings released Wednesday, as they are quite similar to the agency's own internal investigative results.
"Our intent," he said, "is to make this as safe as possible."
To that end, most of the agency's recommendations are to be finalized by November. Already, the Flathead National Forest - where the accident occurred - has adopted new personal protective equipment rules and has flight following technology on its planes and helicopters.
The agency, Walsh said, is picking apart the accident, looking for weak spots in the system that can be shored up.
Primary among those, he said, is the definition of "typical terrain" and the standards for pilot experience. When Long was approved, Walsh said, he might not have had the required 200 hours, but he did actually fly with the Forest Service inspector into the backcountry airstrip at Schafer.
"The check pilot thought that he demonstrated the appropriate skill level," Walsh said, which apparently was enough to override any paperwork deficiencies. That policy, he said, is likely to be among those under scrutiny in coming months.
"What we want," Walsh said, "is for the pilot to be able to verify his flight experience. That is a concern we want to address."
In fact, the Forest Service is even considering using Federal Aviation Administration inspectors to train its check pilots, further standardizing the approval procedure.
All of that, however, comes too late for Brian Bryant, the young widower whose wife never made it out of the plane last fall. Bryant raised concerns when Long, along with Hogg and Ramige, was honored with the state's Medal of Valor.
Bryant recognized Long's efforts to save Good, but argued that "one action shouldn't override a whole series of bad decisions that cost people their lives."
Bryant urged patience in bestowing honors, saying "Let's clear his name before we start handing out Medals of Valor."
It would seem the latest NTSB findings support Bryant's suspicions, indicating Long was, in fact, lost, "which resulted in his improper decision to fly into the wrong drainage, and his failure to maintain terrain clearance while executing a turn to reverse course after he realized his navigational error. Contributing factors were the low visibility due to mist, obscuration of the mountainous terrain, and the pilot's lack of experience in backcountry flying."
Reporter Michael Jamison can be reached at 1-800-366-7186 or at mjamison@missoulian.com
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