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Send us Fan Mail In this episode, we’ll examine the crash and death of naval fighter pilot, civilian test pilot and recreational pilot Scott Crossfield – we’ll talk about who he was, what he did and how he died.  On the one hand, this was a surprising crash by a pilot who flew into a thunderstorm. You’re not supposed to do that. On the other hand, this was a crash by one of the most experienced and technologically advanced pilots of the 20th century. Books have been written about the accomplishments of this pilot.  We’ll also talk about the role that air traffic control played in Mr. Crossfield’s crash and how the FAA’s reliance on all pilots to brief themselves on one of the most confusing aspects of flying – the weather – may have contributed to this crash. Another topic: this pilot was 84 years old – did his age factor into this crash? I’ll make my argument. We’ll also check in with Captain Michelle, and I’ll introduce you to the FAA’s Self-Briefing policy. Perhaps you're wondering: If this can happen to somebody like Scott Crossfield, how is any pilot immune?  Listen now for all these answers and more.

Send us Fan Mail On a pleasant Monday morning in June, 1963, a Douglas DC-7C departed from McCord Air Force Base in Washington state. The plane was loaded with military members of the United States Armed Forces. The destination was Elmendorf Air Force Base in Alaska. The airliner never reached its destination. What exactly happened to this airliner remains a mystery. However, several theories hold some elements of reality. Though, like many fantastic or tragic stories with too few answers, there is at least one theory that will keep us on the edge of our seats. A rescue effort reached the crash site within hours, yet no plane was found and no bodies were found. What was found did little to dispel the most dramatic of those theories, though the small amount of wreckage couldn’t fully support any of the possible outcomes – conspiracy, or otherwise. This is the mysterious story of Northwest Orient Airlines Flight 293, a civilian commercial airliner contracted by the United States government to transport military service members and their families to their new homes and their new jobs on the front lines of the Cold War. With no real evidence but a small amount of wreckage, several theories have gained strength over the decades. One theory is that the airliner was shot down by a missile fired by a United States Air Force fighter jet.  Most peculiar, is that the U.S. government is prohibited from looking for this plane and those on board. This is not because the whereabouts are unknown, or that the cost would be too high. It is because of one sentence in one regulation, what has become known as the Civilian Charter Loophole. Join Radar Contact Lost for this special in-depth look at the strange case of Flight 293. We'll visit the Gulf of Alaska, have a lesson in aviation meteorology, and drop in on Washington, DC where the Flight 293 Remembrance Act is in front of Congress today.

Send us Fan Mail On Tuesday afternoon, May 24, 1988, Transportes Aéreos del Continente Americano (TACA) Flight 110 was painting thunderstorms and rain showers on the cockpit weather radar. The plane was enroute from San Salvador to New Orleans. It was a regularly scheduled flight, and the route across Central America and the Gulf of Mexico was routine. Cruising at about 35,000 feet (or 11,000 meters), no one onboard, not the crew and not the passengers, had any idea of what was about to happen.  Only moments after the plane began its descent into the heavy rain showers and developing thunderstorms below, not one, but both engines flamed-out. TACA Flight 110 was now dead-sticking into heavy rain and thunderstorms. What had been a quiet and relaxing flight, had now become a flight into Hell. One that will likely result in a crash into the Gulf of Mexico, or maybe onto the land, with a loss of all passengers and crew. Except, that didn't happen. This is the story of TACA Flight 110 – a miraculous, dead-stick landing of a commercial airliner, with the crew fully expecting to land in Lake Pontchartrain next to the City of New Orleans. Instead, the crew spotted a narrow strip of levee, a dirt and grass strip of land barely wider than the plane itself, where they could attempt to land the plane, instead of ditching into the lake.  The remarkable airmanship of the young pilot saved the plane and passengers, but what caused the dual flame-outs and why did the captain seemingly willingly fly into a thunderstorm? Radar Contact Lost examines the weather, the engines of the brand new 737 and celebrates one of the most remarkable emergency landings in aviation history.

Send us Fan Mail On July 30, 2025, Delta Airlines Flight 56, an Airbus A330-900, carrying 275 passengers and 13 crew, was cruising at about 37,000 feet/11,300 meters over the high plains region of south central Wyoming. The evening flight had been underway for about 40 minutes; there were perhaps 9-or-so hours remaining before reaching the destination of Amsterdam in The Netherlands. Meal service had begun and passengers were settled in for the long, overnight flight. Looking out to the late afternoon horizon, those with window seats could see lightning from thunderstorms. The plane suddenly experienced a series of sudden, unexpected and severe vertical jolts up and down. As the plane was slammed downward, unbelted passengers were thrown into the ceiling, along with the flight attendants, who were in the midst of meal service. The turbulence was so severe that an emergency landing was necessary and 25 passengers were hospitalized.  This episode is all about turbulence. How it forms, why it forms and where it forms. How aircrews train for turbulence and how airplanes are built to withstand it. Even tips for passengers on how to mitigate turbulence before ever stepping onto the airplane. If you’re a white-knuckle flyer, have aerophobia or aviophobia – the fear of flying – then this episode of Radar Contact Lost is for you.

Send us Fan Mail It was Saturday morning, February 20, 1943. The morning fog lay thick over the prairie of northern Texas and the rolling hills of southeastern Oklahoma, clinging to the fields and tree lines like a wet gray blanket. The sun had not yet burned through the mist, and visibility in a few places was little more than a few hundred feet. At this time of year, locals in the area—farmers, mostly—were used to crisp, clear mornings or the bluster of a winter wind. But this morning was different – the fog felt like it would take a while to burn off, if it ever did. Above that fog, somewhere in the pale early morning light, 12 small aircraft, each with a student pilot and student navigator, were flying a training mission. The young pilots, students who were early in their flight training, were searching for a break in the blanketing mist. These pilots weren’t from Oklahoma or neighboring Texas. They weren’t even American. They were young British airmen—cadets of the Royal Air Force – training thousands of miles from home. Somewhere up there, in the limited visibility, the group of twelve airplanes got separated. There was a group of three, and then that group of three became a group of two. But soon, each of those three planes found themselves alone in the fog, each desperately looking for a way out: looking for a patch of blue sky or, perhaps, a hole in the fog so that maybe they could take a chance at an emergency landing – somewhere; anywhere. Two of the twelve planes crashed in the fog that day. Four RAF cadets, a pilot and navigator in each plane, perished in the Oklahoma mountains. This is the story of those British pilot cadets who crashed on February 20, 1943, and a training program that brought a small piece of London, England, to a small Texas town named Terrell. In addition to the burial of the four British cadets, it also brought a memorial that was erected nearly 60 years later, by students of a different kind: Elementary school students who learned of the nearby airplane crashes in their reading class at school.

Send us Fan Mail On Saturday, December 28, 1946, a Lockheed Constellation airliner, known as the Cairo Skychief, was beginning the landing sequence at Shannon Airport on the western coast of Ireland. It was 2 o’clock in the morning so, naturally, it was dark. But it was also quite cloudy with low ceilings, fog and light rain – the visibility of the crew was restricted quite a bit. But this crew was experienced and the airport, despite being relatively new, was well known amongst international aircrews, as it was – and is – used regularly for both westbound and eastbound Transatlantic air traffic. Its location puts it in line with most direct flights to and from Canada and the United States. Yet oddly, as the crew was given clearance to land by the Shannon control tower and the plane turned toward the runway, the lights of the airport went dark. As the pilot struggled to compute this unprecedented turn of events, the left wingtip struck the ground. The aircraft then quickly crashed and caught fire. Like so many other aircraft accidents that are featured here on Radar Contact Lost, the weather at the time of the crash played a key role, yet it was not the sole cause – or even the primary cause of the crash. It would take months for investigators to understand what happened, but when the accident report was completed and made public, and the primary cause of the crash was revealed, it became clear that there was something much more significant than the weather that caused this crash. Of all the aviation accidents we’ve looked at on this podcast, we’ve never had a primary cause of an aviation accident like this one.

Send us Fan Mail It was the early morning hours of Wednesday, August 14, 2013, when a United Parcel Service cargo jet slammed into the ground about one mile short of the runway at the Birmingham-Shuttlesworth International Airport, in Birmingham, Alabama, located in the southeastern United States. Even though the plane was more than a mile from the airport, the crash occurred on undeveloped airport property – the plane did not crash into a neighborhood or a business district, or land on a highway; the pilot and co-pilot were killed, but there were no other fatalities or injuries related to this crash. Though the low clouds in the area certainly contributed to this crash by visually obscuring the airport from the crew, there were plenty of other things that added to a list of crash-contributors, including several mistakes made by the captain and the first officer, as well as the dispatcher for United Parcel Service. Take the weather out of the equation, and all the other errors that brought down this Airbus were the result of mistakes made by aviation professionals. Like so many other aircraft accidents that are featured here on Radar Contact Lost, this was a needless and avoidable crash. The sequence of events that led to this crash began before the plane ever took-off.

Send us Fan Mail The plane at the center of this episode of Radar Contact Lost was in a bad way: One engine was on fire – there were three others, but the plane was struggling to maintain altitude. In addition to the engine fire, it was experiencing turbulence and severe icing, it was crossing the mountains at night, and in the middle of winter storm. As if that wasn’t enough, the plane was also lost. It appears the crew didn’t realize they were lost, but they were well off-course, just the same.  This alarming situation was taking place over western Canada in a 4-engine propeller airliner in the middle 1950s. The plane had no empty seats. The passengers were likely unaware of the dire situation, though many had likely seen the engine fire and were aware that one engine was not working.  In this episode, we’ll talk about the plane and the mountain that the plane crashed into. We'll also talk about the memorial to the victims of Trans Canada Flight 810-9 and what it was like to be a passenger on a commercial airliner in the 1950s. I'll also share the meaning behind a weather term that I’ve noticed a lot of television weather forecasters use – and that they use it many times without an explanation – or at least without much of an explanation. The term is, “the atmosphere is capped,” or “the atmosphere is uncapped.” I’ll explain what a capped or uncapped atmosphere is all about.

Send us Fan Mail It was a little after 4 o’clock in the afternoon, on Friday, July 9th, 1982, when Pan Am Flight 759, a B-727 carrying 138 passengers and 7 crew members, began to climb from the runway at New Orleans International Airport. In only a moment’s time, the narrow-body airliner slammed back down to the ground, after just barely becoming airborne. It was stormy around the airport, but there were no advisories, watches, warnings or aviation warnings in effect. It was noted by the plane's own weather radar that rain showers (not thunderstorms) were located near the departure end of the runway. Given the weather conditions and the crew's flight manual, there were no avoidance or delay procedures recommended. When the planed crash-landed, it set a neighborhood adjacent to the airport on fire. What happened to Flight 759? Why was the plane unable to climb away from the airport? Why, despite thunderstorms in the area, did the plane's weather radar not indicate the storms? Why were there no weather alerts in effect? This is the story of a plane crash nearing the end of an era - an era of mysterious weather with unknown capabilities and destruction. Not that weather forecasters have it 100% figured out today, but this crash happened at a time when one of the great weather mysteries, the microburst, was only just beginning to be unraveled.  Join Radar Contact Lost for a seat in the cockpit of the fated airliner, as well as what it was like to be an aviation meteorologist in the early 1980s. Learn about advancements in thunderstorm prediction and even how to predict a microburst yourself. Also, learn why the latest technology of the time, the Low Level Wind Shear Alert System, was not up to the task.

Send us Fan Mail The first significant snowfall of the season had just begun in central Colorado. At Denver's Stapleton International Airport, Continental Flight 1713 began to accelerate down the runway for takeoff. Within a moment of lifting off the ground, the DC-9 slammed back down onto the runway, rolled over and skidded on its roof. The left wing tore away completely, then the skin of the fuselage ripped away, exposing the passengers to the frigid air, the snow and the horrifying sight of the blurred runway speeding past - nearly close enough to touch. On this November day in 1987, a series of mistakes by the pilots of two airliners, an airline, as well as the air traffic controllers caused the crash that took 28 lives. As investigators arrived at the crash site, they had a complicated situation to untangle. Why did the captain of the DC-9 put the very inexperienced co-pilot in charge of the take-off, despite the significant snowstorm and his lack of experience? Why were the air traffic controllers unaware of this plane's position until just moments before it started to roll down the runway? How did the heavy snow impact the air operations at the airport? Why was the crash initially blamed on aircraft icing, yet the plane had been de-iced before takeoff? In this episode, the Radar Contact Lost team will examine these questions, plus: We'll look at the phenomenon known as wake turbulence, we'll examine the weather conditions at the time of the crash, and the actions of the air traffic controllers leading up to the crash. We'll also discuss how aircraft are de-iced and the difference between de-icing and anti-icing. All of this and much more, including, of all things, a wake turbulence love story.

Send us Fan Mail This episode is about the crash of a small, twin-engine plane: a Beechcraft Baron 58. This crash occurred on April 22, 2019 in the Texas Hill Country, about an hour northwest (by car) from San Antonio. The flight was a relatively short one, from the west side of Houston to the Texas Hill Country town of Kerrville. The focus of the NTSB investigation of the crash was that the plane ran out of fuel, and it did. But why did a seemingly simple item reach up to bite this pilot and take the lives of all onboard? As usual with airplane crashes, there are several issues that contributed to this crash. The Radar Contact Lost Team will look closely at each issue, including an examination of the weather conditions that caused the pilot to make critical decisions that contributed to the crash - even though the weather conditions were not mentioned in the NTSB report.

Send us Fan Mail In what is a podcast series first - and perhaps last - for Radar Contact Lost, this episode does not tell the story of a tragic plane crash, but rather the intricate details of the landing of the Presidential Helicopter, Marine One, in dense fog. On this day, the fog was so dense, that the helicopter had to divert from its destination of the Presidential Retreat, Camp David, and instead land at a nearby high school football field. Our host describes the details of the landing with first-hand knowledge as he was the Air Force weather observer on duty at the football field that cold, rainy afternoon in the early 1980s. There was no crash, but how the president and his staff deal with unexpected weather conditions while airborne is a complicated issue. Join this episode for a fascinating look at air operations at Camp David, as well as Camp David history, a look at the VH-3 helicopter, the Alternate National Military Command Center and more.

Send us Fan Mail On October 12th, 1974, an Air Force weather reconnaissance Hurricane Hunter aircraft crashed into the South China Sea while investigating Typhoon Bess, taking the lives of the six crew members onboard. No debris was ever found, no sign of the crew was ever discovered. The plane seemed to have been swallowed up by the tropical cyclone miles from nowhere. There were no emergency radio calls for help or that indicated any mechanical malfunction. There were no witnesses. To this day, what happened and why remains a mystery. With the Vietnam War nearby, was the plane shot down? The team at Radar Contact Lost takes a look at the typhoon, the plane, the history of the Hurricane Hunters, and even the war and the likelihood (or not) that the plane was taken down by the enemy.

Send us Fan Mail On Tuesday morning, December 5, 1978, 22 people were rescued off the side of a high Colorado mountain in the southern regions of the Rocky Mountains. They had survived the frigid night at an altitude above 10,000 feet (over 3,000 meters). This was in the midst of a snowstorm, with temperatures well below freezing and winds howling above 30 miles per hour (that’s nearly 50 kilometers per hour). There was only minimal shelter. Some reports estimated the snow to be 8 feet deep and wind chill temperatures approaching 50 below zero. That they survived the brutal weather conditions is remarkable, but that they had also survived the reason for being stranded on the mountain – a plane crash – is even more remarkable. What follows is the story of that winter survival miracle, and the crash of Rocky Mountain Airways Flight 217.

Send us Fan Mail On February 3, 1959, a small, single-engine, 4-passenger plane took off from a remote airfield in rural Iowa. It was after midnight. It was snowing. It was windy. Moments later, the plane rolled over and flew into the ground at approximately 170mph – or about 275 kph. The 21-year-old pilot and the three passengers were killed on impact. The injuries to all four were horrific. This small crash, on a cold winter night, would reverberate through history – not only to this day, but likely until the end of time. But why? Did the pilot make errors? Was the young pilot in over his head? Was he even qualified? Could the plane’s instruments be blamed? Was the weather to blame?  And then there’s this: Was there a gunshot onboard that killed the pilot and took the plane down? In this episode, the Radar Contact Lost team will examine what happened – I’ll start with the weather, but there were other issues – issues that, on their own, might’ve caused the plane to crash even without the complicating factor of snow, wind and darkness. I’ll also look at the pilot and his qualifications. I'll look at the plane and explain its unflattering reputation. I'll talk to pilots for their perspective. And I'll look at the famous musicians (Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and The Big Bopper) whose bright careers were tragically cut short.