Source: 2023Q4 Beartracks, Tyler Williams
Some people actually know what they are doing. Me? I’m a novice. Prior to this project I had never built, rebuilt, or performed any significant repair to an airplane. Yet, here I am, 2 ½ years after receiving my Bearhawk Five kit, with a finished airplane.
Now, with my newly gained builder experience and a paltry 250 hours under my belt as a private pilot, I become a test pilot.
It has been 10 minutes since the FAA inspector shuffled his pile of papers into a folder, stepped into his car and drove away. Freedom. I preflighted N521TY twice the day before and then again with the inspector today. She was fueled up and ready.

I’m in the cockpit now, staring down runway 04. The big Lycoming O-540 is growling happily, ready and waiting for me to push that throttle full forward and give it the first taste of freedom. I go over a plan again in my head, “Accelerate. Verify airspeed alive. After the heels break ground, level off 5 ft above the runway and quickly confirm correct control authority, pull and maintain a shallow climb out to keep things cool. Watch temps. Keep climbing if all is well. Level off at 5,500 ft. FLY. Enjoy. Simulate an approach and bring the airspeed back to the onset of stall buffet and recover. Record speed and jot down an appropriate first final approach speed from there. Return to the field and set up an approach. Execute a three point landing with no flaps. Have a beer and celebrate.”
Ok, I exhale, push the throttle forward and my back gets pinned to the seat. The acceleration feels like I have let an animal off its leash. The tail is up. Wow! The handling is easy on the ground. By the time I reach full throttle she is light and ready to fly. She’s
up! I rock the wings and wag my tail, and then start climbing. 100 ft…200 ft…400 ft…600 ft…then WTF!?
My back comes off the seat under deceleration as I hear the sickening sound of an engine losing power. I drop the nose instinctively and glance at the airspeed. 75 kts. Ok, keep pressure on the nose. The throttle is still to the firewall. RPM stable but lower. Not climbing much now, but I haven’t lost all power, just some…a LOT. S*#@T, come on, really?! I glance at the adjacent runway as a bailout option and make a left turn towards it. It would be a super steep approach with a hard slip to stick in on the pavement from mid-field at this altitude. I could maybe do it, but I have consistent power and level flight now with no hiccups, just not full power. I do a quick instrument scan. Everything is in the green. Ok, left turn to downwind for runway 04. Maintaining 600ft. I try for a quick diagnosis as I fly the downwind. I leave the throttle firewalled, since it hasn’t moved and I don’t want to know what it may do if I move it. The prop responds normally but doesn’t help. I make a small mixture adjustment. Still no change. Then I hear the RPM waiver up and down briefly and then back to the same power. Is it the governor? Hell, I don’t know I need to land this plane and find out on the ground! Instrument scan…everything is still in the green. Now, how about that approach speed? So much for a simulated approach to figure out how she behaves. Oh well. I know how to land an airplane. We flew some 60 kts, no flap approaches during my Bearhawk transition training, so that should be good. Ok, 60 kts and no flaps because I haven’t tested those yet. I pull power, roll trim for 60 and notice how similar the control and trim response are to the 4-place I flew. In fact it all feels familiar to my hands, which is comforting at this moment. The landing approach is very brief since I’m only at 600ft, but in that time of intense focus I still manage to feel joy and pride when I notice how well the airplane is handling on glide. It was just as I imagined it would be, like a dream. I feel no friction in the controls, just fingertip pressure with immediate and predictable response from the plane. I’m over the threshold now, entering ground effect and rounding out. I think to myself, “Wow, she sure is docile.”

Float, flare, and grrrrrrease. First I smile and think to myself, “What an amazing airplane.” Then as I slow to taxi speed, I instinctively push the carb heat knob back in, and all those joyful thoughts are quickly replaced by the original “WTF?!” Nothing seems out of place. The engine is happy now and the instruments are happy. Maybe it was fuel flow, maybe something else. I taxi over to my hangar and do a runup to test everything again. She throttles up just fine and sounds great. I do a mag check, cycle the prop, test the mixture response, check the carb heat function, and then a full power static RPM check.
Everything seems ok. I disconnect the fuel line at the carb and do a quick fuel flow test. Everything checks out. I still have no idea what happened. But then again, I’m a beginner at ALL of this. Time to make phone calls. First, I glance around the panel and sit for a moment to think. Briefly, I have the thought, “I don’t remember pulling carb heat for my approach, but I remember pushing it back in while taxiing.” Weird. Must have done it without thinking. It definitely was pushed in for takeoff as I remember checking that as part of my runup checklist. Besides, the power loss was sudden and didn’t happen until I was at 600 ft. So, that couldn’t be it.”
The phone calls to various experts sparked a series of ideas and things to adjust that could diagnose/fix my sudden power loss/RPM drop issue. None of these uncovered the issue. I check adjustments, follow all recommendations and do another full power runup, as advised. All I can do so far is trust the people that actually know what they are talking about. As I reach full throttle I notice the carb heat knob creep out maybe ½”. Now THAT catches my eye! Suddenly things start to make sense and I start to get happier as I realize my engine is fine after all. Something is amiss with my carb heat box. Could it be opening itself when hit with enough air pressure? It is a brand new design after all and I’m the first one to fly with it. Time for another test flight. And this is what phase 1 is all about.
I crawl back in the cockpit, fire up the beast and make a new plan to depart the crosswind runway. In the event I need to abort on climb out, I can turn and land into the wind on the adjacent runway. I line up and firewall the throttle. I see 2700 RPM and she’s off! Climbing out, I glance at the airspeed and as I pass through 80 kts, the carb heat knob shoots out and the engine chokes again. AH HA! I push it back in and full power returns. I have an answer…well half of it anyway! Man that feels good. After a spin around the pattern I come back to land. The carb heat is being blown open after about 80 kts. It’s a strange design issue, but it should be an easy fix. Replacing the standard push/pull cable with a detented one will keep it locked in any position. But why such a drastic change in RPM? Seems like it was really choking the engine rather than causing a small RMP drop. It turns out the carb heat shroud that I installed was not allowing adequate airflow. It wrapped too far around the exhaust and needed further trimming. The education continues.
The following weekend, I fuel her up and set off into the sky to test the new cable and modified shroud. This time on climb out, the carb heat stays put and the engine runs beautifully. I continue my climb to gain some decent altitude and think about the initial series of flight maneuvers I finally get to do. Then I glance down at my engine monitor. My oil temp is at red-line and climbing! Come-on, now what?! I abort the flying tasks yet again and quickly return for a landing. Back on the ground, I pull the cowling off, check the baffling, check the oil cooler, disconnect the oil cooler lines and ensure oil is actually flowing and on and on. Everything seems good. Time for phone calls again. After a series of ideas that were all checked off, I hear, “It could be a bad Vernatherm.” I say, “Oh the Vernatherm. Yeah I’ll check that.” I did not say to my friend what I was really thinking…”What the heck is a Vernatherm?” The education continues. I learn what it is, how it works, and how to remove and inspect it for correct function. Sure enough…bad vernatherm. I install a new one and wait for the weekend to arrive with great anticipation.

What will the engine monitor say this time? Will I get to fly for more than 5 minutes before I’m forced to land and troubleshoot something else? Will I get to enjoy a nice flight? Maybe I’ll get some altitude for the first time and do some maneuvers? And I did.. Finally, I flew my new Bearhawk Five and landed when I wanted to. The carb heat stayed put and didn’t choke the engine when applied, the oil temps were perfect. The engine was truly happy, and so was I. Since the first couple weeks of troubleshooting I have been enjoying a wonderful airplane. I continue to learn and refine things each time I fly. This 40 hour test period is a valuable time. I’ve sorted out a heavy wing and have her flying hands off at cruise now. I’ve fiddled with the gas caps and finally dialed in how to use them with little to no cussing. I tightened up the trim tabs as others have done, to remove the play and vibration in them. I added some turbulator strips to the horizontal stabilizer struts. She feels super smooth now. The airplane continues to get better, and more refined with each test and tweak, and so does my technique, knowledge and experience. The flight testing is fun. Maneuvers are fun. Stalls of every kind are very fun…way better than circling the field for hours and “flying off the time.” I’m working on my short field techniques, learning what the airplane likes and figuring out how to get the most out of it. To say I’m enjoying it is an understatement. Being a pilot again feels amazing. The 2.5 years spent building now seems like the blink of an eye. I’m back in the cockpit now, doing what I love.
The numbers I have at this point are not really news-worthy. It performs as advertised for an unmodified, kit-built Bearhawk Five and I couldn’t be happier about this. The takeaway for me so far is that the learning thankfully never stops. The test period has not been mindless circling to burn off time. It has been an education. I have more textbook testing procedures to perform during this phase 1, and then lots to work on after that. To really take this plane where it was intended to go, I’ll be testing and learning far beyond the 40 hours around my airport. This is not a $100 hamburger machine after all. It is a tool for exploration. For now, I’m still a novice, but each new step out of my comfort zone and each step closer to the edge of the envelope adds to the bucket of knowledge, experience and stories to tell. And that is what it’s all about.



























































