When an airplane engine quits running mid-air, the plane does not fall from the sky. It glides. But earthward and with certainty. It’s only a matter of time until earth and aircraft meet — a matter of minutes that can feel like seconds. While the outcome of a forced descent may be determined in part by skill and circumstance, God is also in the mix. The ways can be hard to discern. But the more you look back, sometimes, the more you can see His hand.

On September 10th, two AIM AIR pilots experienced an in-flight emergency over Kenya’s remote Northern Frontier. This is their story through the eyes of pilot, Jerry Hurd.

​​2:31pm East Africa Time –

​​I occupied the right seat (the copilot’s seat) of N827DG, one of our 6-seater Cessna aircraft. AIM AIR’s newest pilot, Sarah, was in the left seat learning a new route as part of her orientation to flying in Africa. She had control of the aircraft, but as the Pilot in Command, I supervised and held final responsibility.

​​Behind Sarah, a medical patient lay on a backboard secured to the cargo rails. Behind me were the patient’s daughter and her friend. Our precious cargo came from the Gabra tribe of Northern Kenya, a nomadic unreached people group. It was a fairly typical flight. We cruised peacefully at 8,500 feet, watching the stark, rugged landscape scroll past below us. We were still 162 miles from home when everything changed.

​​A few feet in front of us a critical piece inside the engine suddenly ripped into pieces. I felt a violent shutter and heard the percussive sound of metal pounding against metal. In that chaotic moment, Sarah noticed the tachometer drop to zero and I saw the same dire result on the oil pressure gauge. Our engine was instantaneously and completely dead.

​​Sarah started into the emergency procedures from memory and I pressed the red “SOS” button on the panel. A tiny light began flashing. The broadcast would alert our base at AIM AIR that we were in distress. I then took the flight controls and adjusted the propeller, trim, and airspeed to get the most efficient glide. This would buy us as much time as was possible, but it wouldn’t be much.

​​Sarah pulled up a list of the nearest airports on the GPS. Nothing remotely close. She then scanned outside her window for a possible clearing where we could safely land. On the left side rain obscured the sky. In front and below sharp volcanic ridges cut through the landscape. To the right I spotted a few sandy clearings down in the Suguta Valley. With no other options, I began a right turn.

​​2:32pm – Sarah switched on the Emergency Locator Transmitter and attempted to contact a nearby aircraft to give them our position. All efforts to improve our situation after we made it on the ground. She informed the passengers what was happening. They didn’t seem to believe her, and in a strange way, part of me didn’t either.

​​2:33pm – I made one last futile attempt to get a response from the engine. Then the propeller, spinning powerlessly in the onrush of air as we descended, stopped turning – an indicator that things inside the engine were seriously broken. Continuing through the emergency checklists, Sarah turned off the fuel pump and secured the airplane for an off-airport landing. We were committed now and the only question remaining was where we were going to touch down.

​​Two clearings lay ahead where I thought we could safely land. I chose the closer area, even though it had more shrubs – or possibly trees – it was hard to tell. But aiming for this clearing would give us extra time to maneuver and therefore more options. Our remaining altitude was all we had to work with.

​​2:34pm – I faintly heard my phone ringing. I didn’t bother to check but knew that our team had seen our SOS signal and was trying to contact us.

​​Sarah checked on the passengers and made sure they knew how to brace themselves.

​​2:36pm – We passed over the sandy clearing and I briefed my plan with Sarah to circle left and land into the wind. As we started our turn around a rocky hill, I began lowering the flaps to slow down the plane. I sidestepped slightly to line up between some bushes.

​​2:37pm – Sarah turned off the electrical master switch before we touched down to reduce the chance of a fire.

​​Checklists completed. Propeller frozen. Engine silent. The ground came quickly toward us. Our wheels hit the sand and I immediately made a few frantic swerves to avoid bushes. I couldn’t avoid them all however. We hit one bush and a mound of sand before rolling to a stop in an open clearing.

​​Sarah jumped out of the plane and checked for any leaking fluids. Then we carefully helped the passengers out and moved our patient back onto the backboard, now laying in the sand.

​​No one was injured and we were all in good spirits. On a quick inspection around the airplane I found a dent on the right side of the tail – likely from the bush or the sand mount I hit. This was amazingly little damage considering the treacherous terrain we were over when the engine quit. The engine was completely clean however, full of oil with no sign of any leaks. The propeller turned by hand with great resistance, then stopped moving completely.

Grateful for the outcome, we now had other problems to solve. We were stranded in Kenya’s Northern Frontier. Far from civilization in a hot and foreboding place. Getting our patient to medical care was an immediate need. Getting the airplane back to base – somehow – and figuring out what went wrong, were also on my mind. But help was on the way. In the hours and days ahead all these things would be taken care of by our amazing and committed team at AIM AIR.

​​But those last six minutes – when it seemed we were alone and abandoned to whims of gravity and wind – I was just beginning to understand how much God took care of us in those moments, and in many more leading up to them.

​​Miracle #1:

​​The engine stayed together during the whole event. The part that broke and began thrashing the inside of the engine could have easily punctured through the crankcase. That would have sprayed oil over the windshield and made landing safely much more difficult. It could have also led to an in-flight fire. Instead the engine had eventually stopped cold, and the case held together.

​​Miracle #2:

​​Just the day before I had practiced power-off landings with Sarah in the very same airplane. I was as proficient as I could have been for an emergency landing from the co-pilot’s seat. Only God could have orchestrated that.

​​Miracle #3:

​​Having another pilot on board made the event considerably easier to manage. Sarah’s focus and quick responses meant we worked as team for a successful outcome.

​​Miracle #4:

​​The response from our team in Nairobi was immediate and decisive. Our Chief Pilot made sure we were okay, mobilized a Crisis Response Team, and coordinated the myriad details of caring for our passengers, families, and finding a way for us to get home that evening.

​​Miracle #5:

​​The passengers were uninjured and gracious in their response to the event. The patient continued to do well through the whole incident and went to the hospital that night.

​​Reflecting on all of this, I see God’s hand in more than just a successful landing.

​​I have no idea how many people pray for us or for AIM AIR on any given day, but clearly those who fight a spiritual battle for us are a critical part of our safety.

​​Many in AIM AIR carried a heavier load than I did. Every decision they made was safe and conservative. I can’t think of any other group of professionals I would rather work with in this ministry.

​​During those six minutes over the Suguta Valley and in the aftermath, two well trained pilots, our maintenance department, our crisis management team, and our prayer warriors, were one – the body of Christ in action. Sometimes it takes a crisis to see the beauty of that.

​​The engine may have failed us, but our hope does not come from these modern chariots and their “three hundred horses”. Our hope is in the Lord our God. May His glory become known, especially among the people groups yet to hear of the One we call Savior.