Blue Side DOWN |The Plane Crash
Blue Side DOWN | The Plane Crash
On September 20, 2024, I became the subject of every pilot’s worst nightmare: an in-flight emergency with no good options and too little time. What began as a routine cross-country flight in a Cessna 172 turned into a defining moment—one that tested every ounce of training, instinct, and courage I had.
I had taken off with my spouse and stepson, planning to drop them off at a football game and log some additional cross-country time toward my instrument rating. The skies were calm, my flight plan was solid, and the aircraft had just come out of maintenance. There was nothing to suggest it wouldn’t be a smooth ride.
But airplanes don’t read forecasts—and they certainly don’t care about your plans.
About an hour into the flight, things began to unravel. First, the trim cable snapped. Then the elevator locked in place—frozen, unresponsive. Moments later, the electrical system failed completely. I was now hand-flying an aircraft with no radios, no lights, no transponder, and no reliable pitch control.
In the back of my mind, I recalled the old aviation adage: “Blue side up.” It’s a gentle reminder to keep the sky on top, to stay upright and in control. But in that moment, the phrase twisted into something darker and more literal: Blue side down. I knew I was going down—I just had to figure out how to make it survivable.
I identified the best option within reach: a small runway in Ackerman, Mississippi. With no flaps, no communications, and pitch control that responded only loosely to power adjustments, it wasn’t pretty. But we touched down. Shaken, bruised, but alive.
What I Learned from the Crash
1. Emergency Training Isn’t Optional—It’s Life Insurance
I’d rehearsed simulated emergencies countless times, but nothing compares to the real thing. Still, those repetitions mattered. Muscle memory kicked in. I didn’t panic—I prioritized. Fly the airplane. Maintain airspeed. Find a safe place to land. Never stop flying. I’d also thoroughly briefed my passengers before takeoff. They knew their roles in an emergency and executed them flawlessly.
2. You're Never Really Flying Alone if You’re Continuously Learning
Even with no radio, I wasn’t truly alone. The voices of my instructors echoed in my head. Lessons from podcasts I’d listened to during commutes gave me tools. Stories from other emergency survivors reminded me it was possible. And after the fact, when I shared my story, I found a community ready to listen and support—not judge. That’s why I’ll never stop learning in aviation—because one day, a single piece of knowledge might save your life.
3. Flying Is a Gift. Treat It Like One.
I step onto the flight line differently now—with reverence and respect. I no longer take for granted the privilege of flight. I double-check the things I once breezed through. Every airplane is both a beautiful machine and a potentially unforgiving one. It deserves my full attention, always.
That crash didn’t extinguish my passion for flying—it deepened it. It reminded me of what’s at stake and why I do this. I don’t fly just for the freedom anymore. I fly for the discipline, the growth, the challenge. Even when everything goes wrong, aviation calls me to rise.
And I will.
Blue side up.
Always.
Free Safety Resource
I have created a presentation going into the accident in depth. I discuss the entire chain of events from pre-flight planning to after the accident dealings with the FAA and NTSB. It discusses what I did right along the way that helped us survive and what I could have done differently. It’s a great presentation for “Safety Moments” at 99s meetings or “Safety Briefings” at CAP or any other organization. Contact me at Bethany.Fayard@Proton.Me if you’d like a copy.
