We had an awesome stretch of weather, and I was passing over a camp that I had resupplied the day before. You can see my tracks in the snow where I turned around and taxied back. You can see that the ground has a pretty good tilt to it and I do not have brakes on my skis, so it is often challenging to get stopped. On a number of occasions I have jumped out of the Cub, and hung onto the wing strut while digging in my heels in order to get stopped. Before engaging in this maneuver it is necessary to be absolutely certain that you will win the tug-of-war in a reasonable distance. Once the engine is shut down directional control is nil, and it’s slightly disconcerting to bail out of an aircraft when it is sliding down the glacier. I will take this opportunity to mention that it is best if you plan out this action rather than attempting it under desperation. I have bailed out of the Cub under times of high stress in order to get stopped, and it’s really hard on the headset cords.
On one occasion the snow was perfectly consistent, and slippery, and I was trying to pick up a cache of supplies on the side of a relatively steep slope. I landed just like my tracks indicate in the picture above. But once I turned around I could not get the cub stopped, and I slid right past the cargo I had intended to pick-up. It was apparent that I was not going to stop sliding for nearly a mile … so I applied power and took-off, so that I could land for another try. On the second attempt I turned around with great care and tried to ease down the slope. My GPS showed me moving at 13 mph when I passed the cargo for the second time headed down hill with no brakes. I took off, again, and realized it was worthless unless I wanted to pack the cache a significant distance on foot to a level area where I could get stopped.
So, I got this bright idea as I was circling the cache from above trying to decide what to do. I landed for a third time, and turned sideways on the hill, well above the gear, and on a section of flatter glacier so I was certain the cub would not depart the area until I was ready. Then I reluctantly turned off the engine and crawled out of the cub. I pulled the tail up hill so that the nose was pointed down towards the cache. Then I stood on the back of the aircraft ski and started pumping like a dog musher while hanging onto the wing strut for balance. It was not very steep but I did not want to gain too much momentum under the circumstances because the steer-ability was poor at best. The skis had formed ruts with the previous landings, and I kept the cub tracking in them. I slid all the way down to the supply of gear before wrestling the Cub to a stop.
I was really proud of my self, until I let go of the Cub and she started to slide again. I grabbed the strut and drug the Cub to a stop. Then I worked around in-front of the skis and stomped some big holes in the snow so the aircraft would settle into them as it slid forward. This worked nicely, and I set to the task of loading up the cache.
There is probably some lesson in here like “improvise, adapt, and overcome”; But overwhelmingly all I can think is that, you don’t always look “cool” as a pilot, lots of times you just look like an idiot with an expensive sled.