Flying to Utah
I flew out to Moab, Utah for some mountain bicycling several years ago. I was flying an airplane which I had only flown for the last month prior, and I was still learning some of the ins and outs of the bird. It was an older Piper Cherokee with a tired engine and unreliable fuel gauges. It had four separate fuel tanks, two on each wing.
As we climbed out of the cool, cloudy and green Sacramento Valley, I leveled off at 11,500 feet to cross the still snow capped Sierra Nevada. Once clearing the range, the landscape went to barren mountains and white, salt crusted valleys. Without warning, high above the nothingness, the engine went quiet. I pitched the airplane down to avoid a stall, then went to work checking the systems. I turned on the auxiliary fuel pump and switched fuel tanks...the engine roared back to life. Phew. The left tip tank guage still registered a quarter tank, but clearly it was empty.
My lovely wife had turned a ghostly shade of white, but upon hearing the engine return to normal, her color returned. I took the blame for not being aware of the fuel situation. Since this incident I always am aware of how much time I have been on a tank, how much time is left, and cross check that number with the fuel guage.
We made it across the desert unscathed, and enjoyed the rest of the flight. I got to ride the famous Slick Rock Trail and the Porcupine Rim Trail. This summer I plan to return, this time in my new airplane, for more adventures.