Yesterday, my pilot friend and I went flying together, as we often do. We planned to fly to Whitecourt, 105 nautical miles west of our home airport at Cooking Lake. It's a nice route over the city and then into a countryside dotted with lakes, with a view of the Rocky Mountains in the distance. I was PIC on the way out. We chose the route because it offers plenty of opportunity for radio work - obtaining clearance into Class C airspace over the city, making enroute position reports, and then communicating with the ground station (MF - mandatory frequency) in Whitecourt. We also wanted to request flight following, which is when you stay with air traffic control even after leaving the controlled airspace over the city, for the purpose of receiving traffic reports.
We settled in nicely as we flew over the city and then out over the fields. But, about 2/3 of the way to Whitecourt, our pleasant conversation was interrupted by a blaring alarm. A red warning flashed on the annunciator panel: High carbon monoxide level. I immediately turned off the heat and opened the vent by my face. Cam opened his vent and then got out the emergency procedures manual, which told us to do what we had done. With all of the vents open, the alarm turned off within a minute.
Thoughts ran through my head about what to do next and I think Cam was having the same ones. It seemed like things were OK. The alarm stayed off. But we pondered what to do. Whitecourt was about 20 minutes away. Should we keep heading in that direction? Turning back was a possibility, too, although it was nearing sunset and we didn't have time to make it all the way back before nightfall. So, that wasn't a great option since I don't have my night rating yet. As it happened, we were nearing the town of Mayerthorpe, which has a small airport. That seemed to be our best option.
In that situation, I was very happy that we were still on frequency with air traffic control for flight following. I radioed them and told them about our issue and our intention to divert to Mayerthorpe. We were at 6500 feet at the time and he said he would lose radar and radio contact with us once we were below about 4000 feet. He asked me to call him one final time at around that altitude. He also asked a commercial flight that was passing overhead if I could call them once we were safely on the ground, so that they could relay the message back to him.
I began the descent into Mayerthorpe and joined the circuit. The runway was covered in snow but thankfully it wasn't very deep and I could still see the pavement markings beneath the snow layer. My landing was nice but the runway was very uphill so it was interesting to adjust the landing flare. As we taxied to the tiny terminal, I radioed up to the overhead flight to let them know we were safely on the ground and to thank them for keeping an eye out for us. I heard the pilot (another woman!) radio back to air traffic control to let them know, too. We spent a few minutes in the terminal to take a few deeps breaths. We weren't scared and we kept our cool but once we were down, it struck us a little. I called in to amend our flight plan and told the briefer what had happened. Five minutes later, his supervisor called me back to ask if we were OK and if we needed any assistance on the ground. I said that things seemed fine at that point and that we were going to head back to Cooking Lake.
I was absolutely amazed at how many people rallied to help us out, even in a minor emergency situation. It chokes me up to think of it now. Although it was up to me/us to make the decisions and get back down, I felt like a lot of people were with us in those few minutes. It was good to experience that.
Once we caught our breath, we climbed back into our plane and rubbed the dash lovingly so it would be kind to us on the way back. Cam flew what turned out to be a beautiful, peaceful, uneventful night flight back home.
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