The Updraft from Hell:

[ArmamentDawg]

During my first IFR training flight, in a 44 with my half of the crew-station hooded by expired sect charts, I was all over the place. The whole flight was a conglomeration of excursions, mainly due to my inexperience on instruments but also greatly influenced by some nearby stormy weather that caused winds gusting to around 25. When I found myself in a 1200 fpm climb that I couldn't seem to get rid of, I was unsure what the hell was going on. I cross checked my instruments to verify I was actually climbing then pushed the collective all the way down to the stop. We kept climbing.

 

"Mark, why cant I get rid of this ascent rate?" I asked my 20+ year ATP Helo and Fixed/A&P/ATC/owner operator instructor. He craned his head around the map-hood to see the instrument panel, and looked surprised.

 

"I don't know. I have the controlls."

 

"You have the controlls."

 

"I have the controlls."

 

"We're in an updraft. Hold on for a minute."

 

He nosed us over, collective still all the way down, and we kept climbing. I couldn't see a thing outside, but the ASI was dancing between 100 and Vne and the VAI was bouncing around above 1000 FPM ascent. I had never seen Mark get nervous before, but when the rotor began to make an unframiliar groan, he turned his glanced up through his overhead window with an alltogether disconcerting expression on his face, then back out front to fly. About 2 minutes of this carnival ride felt like 20 to me, then just as quickely as it had started, we squirted out the side of the updraft back into relatively smooth air.

 

Just as if it was totally routine, Mark said, "You have the controlls."

 

"I have the controlls."

 

"You have the controlls."

 

We were at about 10,000 AGL, just above the Robbie's service ceiling, but that was okay because we were all but autorotating with the collective still full down. By the time I got back to "straight and level" we were nearly on the ground and we made haste back to home base.

 

Wind shear is a killer. Ma' nature let us get away with one, but had I been solo, I would have probably been shot out the top of the storm we were skirting at around 20-30,000 feet, passed out and died in a helicopter. Even worse, there was probably an equally powerfull microburst in the heart of that storm that would have spiked us had we been stupid enough to venture closer than we did. Mark and I both made a bad decision to fly that day.

[Copterpilot213]

Scary stuff. It's amazing how fast something like this can happen too. Good story and a good reason for people to make their go/no go decisions very carefully.