This is a story that I do not enjoy sharing, but we all make stupid decisions occasionally … so here goes.
We had gotten airborne shortly after 6AM and a significant amount of coffee had been consumed before takeoff. After 3.5 hours of boring holes in the sky I was ready too get on the ground and take a pee. We were sidetracked en-route to our pee-break, thus the pressure in my bladder was growing ever-stronger as we descended for landing. The line between comfort and agony is thin, as bladder pressure varies with altitude, and altitude changes rapidly. As we neared the ground, I sensed that relief was on the horizon and my judgement became clouded. I saw a potential landing spot on the beach that looked reasonable, and rather than making a low pass I decided to, “go for it” to keep from pissing my pants. I remember there being a tinge of doubt because I had seen a tree with sharp limbs buried in the middle of the roll-out zone. The doubt was over-ridden by the agony in my mid-section.
I plopped down on the sand and began to roll-out down the beach. Near the end of my run I suddenly realized that I had three choices: Hit the log buried in the sand directly ahead, veer towards the water, or take my chances with a 3 foot sandy drop-off … I chose the latter. I peeled off the embankment dropping my left wheel first, and juicing the throttle at the last second to keep from nosing over. My wing tip came within inches of the ground, and I feared that I was going to plow my left wing into the sand. Thankfully my awesome 35″ Bushwheels absorbed the drop-off, and my stupidity. You can see how far I rolled the sidewall of the tire into the dirt by viewing the dust line. I was thankful to have successfully avoided bending any metal, but I was more thankful for the sweet relief found on the sand.