Seldovia Slough Plane Crash: A Reconstruction of NTSB ANC26FA091 (N9485P, August 26, 2026)

NTSB accident ANC26FA091 is the crash of N9485P, a Piper PA-24-260 Comanche, into Seldovia Slough beside Seldovia Airport, Alaska, at 1:17 p.m. on August 26, 2026. All four people aboard died: the pilot, Eric Middlebrook, and his passengers Ronald Schmidt, Lance Schmidt and Daniel Simons.

This page is a reconstruction of that accident from the public record, plus one resident’s aerial photograph, described and not reproduced [PHOTO]. Every figure names its source. Where the record has a gap, the gap is shown.

No probable cause exists. The NTSB has not said why this airplane crashed, and nothing on this page does either.

Interactive version: the annotated drawing of the accident sequence, with a satellite view of the site.

Satellite view of Seldovia Airport showing the runway, the charted tree off the south end and the resting point of N9485P in Seldovia Slough.
Seldovia Airport and Seldovia Slough. The yellow line is the runway and its extension; the red line is the 902 feet between that line and where N9485P came to rest. Imagery: Esri World Imagery.

Who wrote this: I am Ilana-Ruth Bevan. Eric Middlebrook was my uncle. I am not a pilot and I am not a neutral party. This page is the factual record.

Last updated October 16, 2026. The NTSB’s public docket had not been released when last checked on October 13, 2026.

On this page

What happened in the Seldovia plane crash

  • A single-engine Piper Comanche carrying four people flew from Merrill Field in Anchorage to Seldovia, a small town on Kachemak Bay with one short gravel runway.
  • It came in to land heading south. A witness said it appeared to be coming in fast.
  • It bounced three times on the runway. The bounces sounded hard and abnormal.
  • The engine went to full power and the nose pitched up steeply. That is the start of a go-around: climbing away to circle back and land again.
  • Just past the end of the runway the airplane was unusually low. It hit a tree and came down in Seldovia Slough, a tidal channel beside the airport.
  • The airplane sank. The four men were recovered at about 6:30 p.m., after the tide went out.

That is the sequence as the NTSB and the troopers report it. Why it happened has not been determined.

What the NTSB preliminary report for ANC26FA091 says

The NTSB released its preliminary report on September 16, 2026. The primary document is here: web.ntsb.gov/investigations/?ntsbnumber=ANC26FA091. The investigator in charge is Mark Ward. These are the two paragraphs of its narrative that describe what happened. Its other three paragraphs (a summary, the airport’s runway and obstruction data, and the wind reading) are covered further down:

“The pilot and three passengers departed from Merrill Field Airport (PAMR), Anchorage, Alaska, for a day flight to Seldovia Airport (PASO), Seldovia, Alaska. A witness at the Seldovia airport heard the airplane approaching to land on runway 16 and the airplane appeared to be coming in fast. He then heard a series of bounces which sounded hard and abnormal. The first bounce was loud and not a normal touchdown sound. He heard a second bounce which also sounded hard and abnormal. He visually saw the third bounce and believed that the nosewheel hit the ground first. He then heard the engine go to full throttle. He stated that the aircraft pitched up very high and possibly had a tail strike. A witness working with heavy equipment near the end of the runway saw the airplane and noted the airplane was unusually low to the ground just past the end of the runway. He further noted that the accident airplane had attempted to land in the opposite direction of other airplanes that had been landing. Multiple ground witnesses reported seeing the airplane unusually low to the ground, the engine being very loud, and the airplane impacting a tree before descending into the water.”

[…]

“The airplane came to rest about 2,200 ft from the end of runway 16 into the Seldovia Slough. A detailed wreckage examination is pending.”

Other facts from the same report [NTSB]:

  • Date and time: August 26, 2026, 1:17 p.m. Alaska daylight time.
  • Aircraft: Piper PA-24-260, registration N9485P. Damage: substantial. No fire.
  • Injuries: four fatal, one pilot and three passengers.
  • Type of flight: personal, under Part 91. No flight plan was filed.
  • Resting point: 59.434666, -151.711210.
  • Parties to the investigation: Piper Aircraft and the FAA. Lycoming, the engine manufacturer, is also assisting [PRESS, Homer Independent Press, September 3, 2026].

The preliminary report contains no probable cause. That is by design: it records what was collected in the first weeks.

How to read the labels on this page

Each event carries one of five labels that say how well it is known:

  • MEASURED: a coordinate, a chart figure or an instrument reading.
  • SEEN: a witness watched it happen. Seen does not mean located.
  • HEARD ONLY: a witness heard it and nobody saw it.
  • REPORTED: relayed by someone other than the person who saw it, and not in the NTSB’s account.
  • UNKNOWN: not in any public source.

Each number carries a tag for where it came from:

  • [NTSB]: stated in the preliminary report.
  • [FAA]: the FAA’s airport record for Seldovia.
  • [NOAA]: NOAA tide station 9455500, Seldovia.
  • [METAR]: the airport weather station’s transmitted observations.
  • [ADS-B]: aircraft position broadcasts archived by adsb.lol.
  • [PRESS]: a named news outlet.
  • [VIDEO]: published news or witness video.
  • [AUDIO]: LiveATC’s archived recording of the Merrill Field ground frequency.
  • [PHOTO]: an aerial photograph taken by a Seldovia resident, described here and not reproduced.
  • [TYPE]: true of the PA-24-260 in general, not verified for this airplane.
  • [CALC]: calculated here, with the inputs shown.

The sequence, event by event

The NTSB gives one time, 1:17 p.m., for the whole sequence. No public source gives a time for any single event. The order is known. The spacing is not.

Event, in the NTSB’s words How it is known Position
1. Approach to runway 16, “appeared to be coming in fast” HEARD ONLY, witness at the airport None recorded
2. First bounce, “loud and not a normal touchdown sound” HEARD ONLY Somewhere on the runway
3. Second bounce, “hard and abnormal” HEARD ONLY Somewhere on the runway
4. Third bounce. The witness “believed that the nosewheel hit the ground first” SEEN Somewhere on the runway
5. Engine to full throttle HEARD ONLY None recorded
6. Airplane “pitched up very high and possibly had a tail strike” SEEN None recorded
7. “Unusually low to the ground just past the end of the runway” SEEN, witness on heavy equipment near the runway end The only position a witness gave. No height.
8. “Impacting a tree” SEEN, multiple ground witnesses Which tree is not established
9. “Descending into the water” SEEN, multiple ground witnesses No entry point measured
10. Came to rest in Seldovia Slough MEASURED 59.434666, -151.711210

“Believed” and “possibly” are the witness’s own hedges. Whether the nosewheel hit first, and whether the tail struck the runway, are not established.

What the Merrill Field recording adds

LiveATC, which archives air traffic control radio, supplied its recording of the Merrill Field ground frequency for that afternoon at my request. N9485P is on it [AUDIO].

  • About 12:12 p.m.: the pilot asks Merrill Ground for taxi from his parking area, says he has the airport’s current weather broadcast, and says he is southbound. Ground clears him to taxi to runway 26.
  • How the time is known: the recording has no clock. Three other aircraft on it also appear in ADS-B data, and matching them puts the start of the recording at 12:00 noon Alaska time to within about a minute [ADS-B, CALC].
  • What it shows: the airplane had a working radio at Merrill and the pilot used it, about 65 minutes before the accident [CALC].
  • What it does not show: the takeoff. That would be on the tower frequency, and LiveATC’s tower recordings for that half hour are clipped; the takeoff call has not been found in what survives. Other aircraft that day took about 3.5 to 13 minutes from taxi call to takeoff, which would put it at roughly 12:15 to 12:25 p.m. [CALC, an estimate]. A radar-only track with no tail number, probably this airplane, leaves Merrill at about 12:19 p.m. [ADS-B, CALC].

It says nothing about Seldovia. No recording of the arrival exists.

What the witness video adds

Alaska’s News Source published phone footage taken at the scene that afternoon, credited to Lindsey Burnett (the outlet also spells it Lindsay). Three things in it are in no NTSB document and in none of the written articles I archived [VIDEO].

  • A wing dropped. REPORTED. She says her father saw one of the airplane’s wings go down just before the crash, and she tilts her hand to show it. She is relaying what he saw. Which wing, and whether it was before or after the tree, are UNKNOWN. A second clip of her saying her father saw it tip is the same observation told again, not a second witness.
  • Someone may have filmed the airplane in flight. REPORTED. She says people nearby got video of the airplane climbing out and hitting a tree, and the camera turns to a group of bystanders as she says it. No such video has been published. The NTSB has asked anyone with video to write to witness@ntsb.gov [PRESS].
  • A woman called it too low. REPORTED. She says another woman, whose father is a pilot, said “he’s too low, he’s too low” before the airplane hit a tree. That woman is unidentified and her words reach us second-hand, through the same speaker.

Most of the REPORTED material about this accident comes from one family’s phone, re-cut by several outlets. Seeing it in three places is not three witnesses.

What the recovery footage shows

The wreckage was lifted out of the slough by helicopter on August 27, 2026, and taken to Anchorage for examination [PRESS, VIDEO]. Three videos show the lift. I went through 4,164 frames of them [VIDEO].

  • Crushed from the nose back to the windshield. The engine and nose are folded down and aside, and the front of the cabin, where the windshield and instrument panel were, is torn open.
  • The cabin shell behind that holds its shape. The window frames, the roofline and the side of the fuselage back to the registration number are intact.
  • The tail section is broken and hanging. The rear fuselage is fractured just behind the registration number, and the fin and horizontal tail hang folded beneath it, still connected. When it broke is not established.
  • All three landing gear legs are extended.
  • One wing is close to full span and the other is crumpled.
  • The wreck was lying upside down or heavily rolled on the tidal flat before the lift.

A recovery video shows the end state. Between the crash and the lift the airplane sat through a full tide cycle with people working on it. Wheels down in the wreck does not establish wheels down at impact. Upside down at recovery does not establish upside down at water entry. The damage is that of a nose-first impact, and whether that was with the trees or with the water is not established.

Seldovia Airport: the runway, the trees and the wind

One runway, two names

Seldovia Airport (PASO) has a single gravel runway, 1,845 feet long [NTSB] and 80 feet wide [FAA], at 29 feet above sea level [NTSB]. Landing toward the south it is called runway 16. Landing toward the north it is called runway 34. It is the same strip. Pilots normally land into the wind.

  • The airport has no control tower. Pilots announce themselves on a shared frequency, 122.9 [FAA], which nobody records. No recording of radio calls from this approach exists.
  • An automated weather station on the field broadcasts on 135.4 [FAA]. Whether the pilot listened to it is UNKNOWN.
  • The FAA’s airport record carries a standing remark, “EXP WIND SHEAR ON APCH”: expect wind shear on the approach [FAA]. It does not establish that wind shear occurred that day.

The trees and the 11 to 1 slope

  • On the approach to runway 16, from the north: trees charted at 158 feet, 1,735 feet before the runway 16 threshold, 110 feet left (east) of the centerline as seen on final [NTSB, FAA].
  • Obstruction clearance slope for that approach: 11 to 1, one foot up for every 11 feet, the clearance available to aircraft approaching that runway end [NTSB, FAA].
  • Off the south end, beyond the departure end of runway 16: an 89 foot tree, 995 feet from the runway, 140 feet east of the extended centerline (right of it for a pilot landing on runway 34, as the NTSB gives it), also 11 to 1 [NTSB, FAA]. Whether the airplane passed over it is not known.

Which tree the airplane struck is not established. The written report says “a tree” [NTSB]. Clint Johnson, identified by both outlets as the NTSB’s Alaska region chief, said trees twice on the record: “In the process of the go-around, they struck trees and ultimately fell into the slough” [PRESS, Anchorage Daily News, August 27, 2026], and “The airplane did strike trees at the end of the runway” [PRESS, Homer Independent Press, September 3, 2026]. A September 16 broadcast also says several trees [VIDEO, Alaska’s News Source]. How many, which ones, and at what height are UNKNOWN.

A resident’s aerial photograph, taken before the airplane was recovered, offers another possibility. She lives across the slough and marked two trees whose tops she says are visibly damaged. The photograph is not reproduced here [PHOTO].

  • I matched seven buildings in the photograph to satellite imagery, which places things in it to within about 36 feet, the largest miss when each building is located from the other six [CALC].
  • The marked trees are about 2,522 feet past the end of the runway and 785 feet to the right of its centerline [CALC].
  • That is about 95 to 141 feet from the NTSB’s resting point, and about 1,785 feet from the charted 89 foot tree off the south end [CALC].
  • The airplane in the photograph falls 68 feet from the NTSB’s coordinate [CALC].

Whether the damage she saw is from this accident is not established, and the NTSB has not said which tree was struck.

The wind on August 26, 2026

A light wind from the north made runway 34 the into-wind direction. The airplane landed on runway 16, with that wind behind it. Whether the pilot knew the wind had come up is not known.

  • 1:15 p.m., two minutes before the accident: from 020 degrees at 5 knots, gusting to 9. Clear sky, visibility 10 miles, 13°C [NTSB].
  • 12:53 a.m. to 12:07 p.m.: the transmitted reports read calm, or light and variable at 3 knots, for about eleven hours [METAR]. The station’s five-minute and one-minute records show a light northerly, mostly 3 to 6 knots, from about 11:15 a.m. [five-minute and one-minute records, Iowa Environmental Mesonet].
  • 12:53 p.m.: the first transmitted report with the northerly, 010 degrees at 5 knots [METAR], 24 minutes before the accident.
  • The evening before: a southerly wind of 4 to 9 knots, which favored runway 16 [METAR].

Five knots is a light wind. A tailwind raises the airplane’s speed over the ground at touchdown, which fits “coming in fast” and lengthens the landing on a short runway.

The gust of 9 knots in the NTSB report does not appear in any of the 30 observations the station transmitted between 4:53 p.m. the day before and 2:53 p.m. that day, and none was transmitted between 12:53 p.m. and 1:46 p.m. [METAR]. The station’s five-minute record reads 020 degrees at 5 knots at 1:15 p.m. and carries no gust [five-minute record, Iowa Environmental Mesonet]. Its one-minute record, also public, reads 021 degrees at 5 knots with a peak of 9 knots in the 1:15 p.m. minute, the NTSB’s figure [one-minute record, Iowa Environmental Mesonet].

The air was cool and near sea level: density altitude about minus 376 feet, or minus 208 feet allowing for humidity [CALC, from the NTSB’s temperature, dew point and altimeter setting]. The air imposed no performance penalty; whether the engine was making full power is not yet known. Thin air does not explain a failure to climb here.

Which way other aircraft landed that day

The NTSB’s witness said the airplane “had attempted to land in the opposite direction of other airplanes that had been landing” [NTSB]. Past tense. The report does not say other aircraft were in the air at the same time.

Time [ADS-B] Movement Direction
About 11:38 a.m. Arrival, N901BL, a Piper PA-32-300 Runway 34, northbound
About 11:40 a.m. Arrival, N100PC, a Cessna T207A Runway 16, southbound
About 12:41 p.m. Arrival, N9957M, a Cessna 207A Runway 34, northbound
About 1:02 p.m. Departure, N9957M Runway 34, northbound
  • The last two movements before the accident, 36 and 15 minutes earlier [ADS-B, CALC], both used runway 34. That supports the NTSB witness from an independent source.
  • In the late morning, with the light northerly already blowing at 3 to 4 knots, aircraft used both directions two minutes apart; the one that landed on runway 16 had that wind behind it [ADS-B, five-minute and one-minute records]. Runway 16 was not an unusual choice that morning.
  • No aircraft appears at the field between 1:04:50 and 1:24:30 p.m. [ADS-B]. That is a gap in the record. Aircraft without ADS-B equipment do not appear in it, and N9485P does not appear in it on any date I checked.

How deep was the water in Seldovia Slough?

Reported depths over the wreck range from 13 to 17 feet [PRESS]. The figures in circulation:

  • 13 to 14 feet [PRESS, Alaska’s News Source, “according to the NTSB”, no official named].
  • About 15 feet [PRESS, Clint Johnson via the Associated Press, carried by CNN and Alaska’s News Source]. The Homer Independent Press credits this figure to the troopers’ August 26 dispatch, which as published says only that the plane was “completely submerged” [PRESS, Homer Independent Press].
  • 13 to 17 feet [PRESS, Clint Johnson via the Anchorage Daily News, August 26 and 27].
  • 16 to 17 feet [PRESS, Clint Johnson quoted by Alaska Public Media, August 27].

The tide moved enough to account for the spread. The tide station about 0.8 kilometers (814 meters) from the wreck read about 13.6 feet at 1:17 p.m. and rose to an observed high of 16.1 feet at 3:00 p.m. (17.0 feet had been predicted for 2:55 p.m.) [NOAA]. By 6:30 p.m., when the men were recovered, it had fallen 6.5 feet from its 1:17 level [NOAA, CALC]. None of the reports says when its figure was measured.

A tide gauge reading is a water level, not the depth over the wreck, which also depends on the bottom. No single depth figure is supportable, so the range stands.

Where N9485P came to rest: the geometry

All of this is arithmetic on published coordinates, shown so it can be checked, except the paragraph on the resident’s marked trees, which is placed from her photograph [PHOTO].

The inputs

  • Resting point: 59.434666, -151.711210 [NTSB].
  • The two ends of the runway: from the FAA airport record [FAA]. As a check, the distance between them comes out to 1,841 feet, against the published 1,845 [CALC].
  • Direction of runway 16: 184.1 degrees true, very nearly due south [CALC from the FAA runway ends]. Subtract the magnetic variation on the FAA airport record, 23 degrees east as of 1985 [FAA], and you get 161, which rounds to the “16” painted on the runway. Today’s variation is about 13 degrees east [NOAA World Magnetic Model], so a compass on the runway now reads about 171.

The published slope is computed from the trees

  • 1,735 feet ÷ 11 = 157.7 feet; the trees on the approach to runway 16 are charted at 158 feet. The published slope is computed from the obstruction, so the two match by definition [FAA, CALC].
  • Off the south end: 89 ÷ 995 = 8.9 percent, the slope from the runway end to the top of the charted tree there [CALC]. It describes the obstacle; it is not a climb requirement [FAA].

The Piper 260C owner’s handbook gives 1,320 feet per minute at the full 3,200 pound weight, at sea level on a standard day, wheels and flaps up, full throttle, at 112 mph (97 knots) [TYPE]. Its climb chart gives about 930 feet per minute at the same weight with the wheels down and 15 degrees of flap [TYPE]. A climb started from a bounced landing, at low speed, with wheels and flaps likely still down, is a much harder case. This airplane’s actual speed, weight and configuration are UNKNOWN.

The wind component

  • Wind from 020 degrees, runway pointing 184.1 degrees: the wind is 164.1 degrees off the nose, almost directly behind [CALC].
  • Tailwind = wind speed × cosine of 15.9 degrees. At 5 knots, 4.8 knots of tailwind. At the 9 knot gust, 8.7 knots [CALC].
  • Crosswind = wind speed × sine of 15.9 degrees. 1.4 knots steady, 2.5 knots in the gust [CALC].

The resting point is not on the runway’s line

  • NTSB text: “about 2,200 ft from the end of runway 16” [NTSB]. A distance, with no direction given.
  • From the NTSB’s coordinate: 2,678 feet in a straight line from the end of the runway [CALC].
  • Split into two parts: 2,521 feet along the runway’s extended centerline, and 902 feet to the right (west) of it [CALC]. Check: 2,521² + 902² = 2,678².

The 2,200 feet in the text and the 2,521 feet computed from the NTSB’s own coordinate differ by 321 feet [CALC]. I have not reconciled them and I am not choosing between them.

An airplane that kept flying straight off the end of the runway would not be 902 feet to the side. At some point it moved well to the right.

The charted tree off the south end is 140 feet left (east) of the centerline, as a southbound airplane sees it, and the wreck is 902 feet right of it. So either the tree that was struck was not the charted one, or the airplane crossed the centerline after the strike. If it was the charted tree: 2,521 minus 995 leaves 1,526 feet forward, 902 plus 140 is 1,042 feet sideways, which is 1,848 feet in a straight line on a track about 34 degrees off the runway’s direction [CALC]. The trees charted at 158 feet are on the approach from the north, on the other side of the field. Which tree was struck is UNKNOWN.

If instead the struck trees were the two a resident marked beside the slough [PHOTO], the airplane was already about 785 feet right of the centerline when it reached them, on a track about 17 degrees off the runway’s direction from the runway end, and it came to rest about 95 to 141 feet from them [CALC]. That too is conditional.

What is a go-around?

A go-around is an abandoned landing. The pilot adds full power, climbs away, and circles back to try again. It is a normal, trained maneuver.

The NTSB report does not use the word. It describes the engine going to full throttle after the third bounce and the nose pitching up [NTSB]. Clint Johnson, identified in press coverage as the NTSB’s Alaska region chief, described it on camera as a possible attempted go-around and said the agency was not drawing conclusions [VIDEO].

Why this one was demanding, from the facts above:

  • It started from the ground. A go-around begun in the air starts with flying speed. One begun after three bounces starts with whatever speed is left. How much was left is UNKNOWN.
  • The runway is 1,845 feet. Three bounces used an unrecorded amount of it [NTSB].
  • The wind was behind the airplane, by 4.8 to 8.7 knots [CALC]. An airplane needs speed through the air to climb, and with a tailwind it covers more ground getting there.
  • The nose was very high. At low speed a steep nose-up attitude adds drag and reduces climb [NTSB for the attitude].
  • A charted tree off the south end, 89 feet, 995 feet out, an 8.9 percent slope from the runway end [NTSB, CALC]. Whether it is the tree that was struck is not known.

None of that says why the airplane did not climb. The same facts fit a healthy airplane short of speed and an airplane with something wrong with it.

A witness interviewed by Alaska’s News Source describes hearing what sounded like a takeoff, and then the crash [VIDEO, PRESS]. An early FAA database entry listed the accident as a takeoff; investigators told the Anchorage Daily News it was not accurate [PRESS]. The NTSB’s account, an aborted landing, is the authoritative one.

What is not known about ANC26FA091

This is most of the accident. The preliminary report is a set of witness accounts, the airport’s published runway and obstruction data, one coordinate and a weather observation. Nearly everything that would explain the crash is physical evidence in the wreckage, which the NTSB holds and has not yet published.

UNKNOWN Why, and what would settle it
The cause No probable cause exists. It comes with the final report.
Whether the engine was making full power The marks on the propeller blades are the most direct evidence. Wreckage examination pending [NTSB].
Whether the flight controls were intact and connected Wreckage examination.
Position of the pitch trim, flaps and landing gear at impact Wreckage examination. The wheels are down in the recovery footage, which shows the wreck and not the moment of impact.
Airspeed, height and flight path at every point This airframe’s own ADS-B appears in no public archive I searched, on the accident day or on any date sampled across the year before it [ADS-B]. A radar-only track with no tail number, probably this airplane, leaves Merrill at about 12:19 p.m. and heads for Kachemak Bay at about 150 knots over the ground until radar coverage ends over Tustumena Lake at 12:48 p.m., about 53 nautical miles short of Seldovia [ADS-B, CALC]. The identification is inferred; the docket’s radar data would settle it. Nothing covers the approach. No flight plan was filed [NTSB].
Weight and loading Not published.
Fuel quantity and condition Not published.
Which trees were struck, how many, at what height The record says both “a tree” and “trees.” A resident’s photograph marks two damaged trees about 95 to 141 feet from the resting point [PHOTO]. Not confirmed.
Which wing dropped, and when One second-hand account. An in-flight video, if it exists, would show it.
Whether the tail struck the runway The witness said “possibly” [NTSB].
Whether the pilot had the current wind, and whether he made radio calls at Seldovia The Seldovia frequency, 122.9, is not recorded. Witness statements in the docket may speak to it.
What the bystanders in the water were able to do People went into the water within minutes [PRESS, VIDEO]. They could not reach the aircraft, Clint Johnson, then identified as the NTSB’s Alaska region chief, told the Anchorage Daily News [PRESS, Anchorage Daily News, August 26, 2026]. Troopers could not reach the wreckage until the tide went out [PRESS].
Where each person was seated, and seat belt use Not published. The type has one cabin door, on the right side by the front passenger seat. On the Comanche 260C the baggage door behind the rear seats is also an emergency exit, 19 by 21 inches, opened from inside by a knob and a latch [TYPE, Piper 260C owner’s handbook]. Flightradar24 lists N9485P as a 260C.
Cause of death for each person Autopsy results go to next of kin and are not published.
The takeoff time from Merrill Field The taxi request is on the ground recording at about 12:12 p.m. [AUDIO]. The takeoff call is on clipped tower recordings and has not been found. A probable radar track puts the takeoff at about 12:19 p.m. [ADS-B, CALC].
The airplane’s total hours and maintenance history Not published. The FAA registry gives the year of manufacture as 1971 and the serial number as 24-4999 [FAA registry, read October 2, 2026]. The FAA’s aircraft records file shows the airplane left the factory with a Lycoming IO-540 with no turbocharger in its equipment list, and none of the eight major repair and alteration forms filed between 1972 and 2001 adds one [FAA aircraft records, obtained October 16, 2026]. The registry’s “TI0-540 SER” entry is a default code it gives most PA-24-260s [FAA registry database, read October 13, 2026]. Which engine was installed on August 26 is not in that file. Every engine approved for this model is rated 260 horsepower [FAA type certificate 1A15].

The explanations that remain open

None of these is established, and the NTSB has not ranked them.

  • The airplane could not climb fast enough, with a healthy engine. Bearing on it: a tailwind, a short gravel runway, four adults aboard, a fast approach, three bounces, a steep nose-up attitude at low speed, and a charted tree off the south end at an 8.9 percent slope from the runway end. Missing: the actual weight, speed and configuration.
  • The engine was not making full power. Bearing on it: after full throttle went in it still struck a tree; whether a healthy Comanche would have cleared it depends on weight, airspeed, configuration and where the go-around began, all UNKNOWN [TYPE]. A September 16 broadcast says witnesses described the engine as sounding like it was struggling; the witness it interviews, the same bystander whose footage is described above, said she could not tell the difference herself and was passing on what people around her said [VIDEO]. Against: one witness heard the engine go to full throttle, and multiple ground witnesses described it as very loud [NTSB]. A partial loss of power can still be loud.
  • The pilot was incapacitated. Nothing in the public record supports or excludes it. The sequence includes a flown approach, three bounces, a throttle change and a pitch-up, so it would have to fall in the last few seconds.
  • Something other than the engine failed. Nothing in the public record supports or excludes it.

Who was aboard N9485P

  • Eric Middlebrook, 68, of Anchorage, the pilot and the registered owner of the airplane. He was a former mayor and city council member of Bethel, Alaska.
  • Ronald Schmidt, 65, of California.
  • Lance Schmidt, 20, of California.
  • Daniel Simons, 82, of California.

Names, ages and residences: Alaska State Troopers [PRESS, Anchorage Daily News, August 27, 2026].

Eric Middlebrook and Ronald Schmidt were stepbrothers. News reports following the Associated Press call them brothers.

How long does an NTSB final report take?

The NTSB says it generally tries to complete an investigation within 12 to 24 months. For ANC26FA091 that points to a final report, with a probable cause, between about August 2027 and August 2028.

The NTSB also releases a public docket: the factual material gathered during the investigation, such as the wreckage examination, witness statements and photographs. The NTSB says the docket “is available to access at an appropriate time during the investigation, or at its conclusion,” so it may open before the final report or together with it [NTSB, General Aviation Family Assistance brochure]. The docket for ANC26FA091 will appear at data.ntsb.gov/Docket?NTSBNumber=ANC26FA091. As of October 13, 2026 it had not been released. I check it monthly and will update this page, at this address, when it opens and again when the final report is published.

Timeline

When What
August 26, 2026, about 11:15 a.m. Light northerly sets in at Seldovia, 3 to 6 knots [five-minute record]
About 12:12 p.m. N9485P requests taxi at Merrill Field, Anchorage [AUDIO]
12:53 p.m. First transmitted report showing the northerly, which the five-minute record shows from about 11:15 a.m. [METAR, five-minute record]
1:15 p.m. Weather observation cited by the NTSB [NTSB]
1:17 p.m. The accident. The only time given for the whole sequence [NTSB]
1:18 p.m. Troopers notified [PRESS]
3:00 p.m. High tide, 16.1 feet observed (17.0 feet predicted for 2:55 p.m.) [NOAA]
About 6:30 p.m. The four men recovered after the tide went out [PRESS]
August 27, 2026 Wreckage lifted by helicopter and taken to Anchorage [PRESS, VIDEO]
September 16, 2026 NTSB preliminary report released [NTSB]
Not yet Public docket, during the investigation or with the final report [NTSB brochure]
About August 2027 to August 2028 Final report with probable cause, on the NTSB’s general timing

Interactive reconstruction of ANC26FA091

Open the interactive reconstruction. It is one large annotated drawing you can pan and zoom:

  • A side view of the runway, the 11 to 1 slope, the trees and the water, with all ten events placed according to how well each is known.
  • A view from above showing the 902 foot offset.
  • The wing drop and the witness video.
  • The wind and the other traffic that day.
  • The full list of unknowns.
  • A second tab with the same points on a satellite photograph.

Most of it is also on this page in text.

Sources

Corrections and updates

  • October 1, 2026: first published. No probable cause exists. Docket not yet released.
  • October 1, 2026: added the Merrill Field ground recording: the pilot’s taxi request at about 12:12 p.m.
  • October 1, 2026: added a resident’s aerial photograph that marks two damaged trees near the resting point. It is described and not reproduced.
  • October 2, 2026: added the year of manufacture and engine from the FAA registry, and Clint Johnson’s statement that bystanders could not reach the aircraft.
  • October 2, 2026: two corrections. The tail section is broken at the rear fuselage and hanging; this page had described it as bent and still attached. And the Comanche 260C has a second exit, the baggage door, which this page had not mentioned.
  • October 14, 2026: the engine entry now notes that the registry’s “TI0-540 SER” entry is a default code it gives most PA-24-260s. Added the weather station’s five-minute wind record, which reads 020 degrees at 5 knots at 1:15 p.m., and three source entries.
  • October 16, 2026: the engine entry now draws on the FAA aircraft records file: no turbocharger appears in its factory equipment list, and no record shows one added.
  • October 16, 2026: corrections. The two charted obstructions were in the wrong places: the 158 foot trees are on the approach from the north, and the charted tree past the south end, where the airplane went, is 89 feet; the climb table built on the old placement is removed. The late morning was not calm: a light northerly had set in by about 11:15 a.m. The 9 knot gust is in the station’s public one-minute record. The tide’s observed high was 16.1 feet at 3:00 p.m. Also corrected: who gave each water depth, two aircraft names, the climb rate (now from the owner’s handbook), the density altitude, the photograph’s precision, the magnetic variation (23 degrees east is a 1985 figure) and who said the engine sounded like it was struggling (a bystander, not an official). Added a radar track that is probably this airplane leaving Merrill, a third item from the witness video, and what the NTSB says about when the docket is released.

If you saw the accident, have video of it, or can correct anything here, the NTSB’s address for witnesses is witness@ntsb.gov.

in honor of Tracy S. Donohue: an attempt at an obituary

January 21, 1967 – August 16, 2024

Your birthday is soon, and I miss you. I have missed you every day since you died. And almost daily I have wondered why you never shared your middle name, Samantha — it really suits you. Such a small and inconsequential thing to find out after you’re gone, but it sticks with me for whatever reason.

You changed my life. Who the fuck gets a job from Reddit? It was so bizarre that I was worried it was a scam. But it wasn’t. Thank you for that, Tracy. You changed my life for the better.

You were, hands down, the funniest person I’ve ever had the honor of knowing. Many of your quips and stories live on in perpetuity in the work chat archives. Sometimes I remember something you said and go searching for it because reading it in “your” words, as it were, makes me feel like you are closer. It also usually makes me cry. You were so smart, so fucking tenacious, so genuinely generous. You were unapologetically you. You always encouraged me. You told me I could accomplish anything I put my mind to, an often hollow phrase, but I believed it coming from you because you never said anything you didn’t mean.

I’m glad you’re relieved of your suffering, both physical and mental. Nobody should ever have to feel that much pain, and my heart breaks that you did. I’m proud of you for making it so long, to 57 years old. I think you were in pain for that entire time. I’m proud of you for holding out, for trying. You were so fucking brave to live and die as you did, and I hope you finally feel free.

I’ll close with something I wrote a few days after you died:

In times of loss I always ask myself, what happens to the space that someone occupied when they are no longer there to fill it? And I still don’t know; there are probably a million answers to that question. Right now it really hurts and I miss her.

giving birth is fucking traumatic

trau·mat·ic
/trəˈmadik,trouˈmadik,trôˈmadik/
adjective
  1. emotionally disturbing or distressing.

 

Maybe it shouldn’t be, or doesn’t have to be. I tried my best to make it non-traumatic, but in these weeks that follow these are the words that ring in my ears. I did my best. I tried to be positive. I tried to let go. My body surrendered, but my heart never did. I’m still terrified of the feelings.

It was Easter. I was anxious to get it done with the second I hit 37 weeks. I had spent weeks, months, trying to numb the emotions I felt and ignore the ever-growing reality in my uterus. When I arrived, nothing was open. I mean, everything was open because it was a hospital, but there weren’t any people to check me in on any floor, and there weren’t any patients around for routine appointments or procedures and I felt like I was lost. I tried to conceal the lost look in my eyes as I went from the first floor to the third floor to the second floor to the fourth floor to the second floor, and back to the third floor. I found a laminated sign and a phone in pre-op check in and I called it. Someone answered and it sounded like he actively had a scalpel in someone’s body. I explained I was scheduled to be induced but couldn’t find a receptionist or a way into the labor and delivery department. He sounded more confused than me and repeatedly asked if I needed an emergency c-section. I went back down the ground floor and asked a security guard where to go. He told me there was a buzzer in the L&D department by the double doors and they’d let me in. Back up I went.

They unlocked the doors right away when I pressed the buzzer. I walked down the long hallway and found a nursing station with 10-20 people in scrubs sitting around chatting and looking at their phones. The first person I made eye contact with said hi and then went back to her phone. I told another woman I was scheduled to be induced and she gestured offhandedly, “Oh, she’ll help you over there” to yet another woman. I remember exactly what she looks like. She was pleasant but had no idea what she was doing. New? I don’t know. I didn’t care. I felt numb and dead inside. I had set my alarm for 7am but been awake since 5am and was trying so hard to feel excited, scared, worried, anything, and just felt nothing. I felt like it took her forever to check me in. I was pleasantly surprised that she didn’t ask for the hospital stay co-pay upfront. Benefits of having someone who has no idea what they’re doing?

The first care team that was on shift fucking sucked. The nurse told me I had gained too much weight. I wanted to chew her out, but I was trying to be positive and shit so I brushed it off. The midwife, after finding out I am bipolar, gave me a long talk about postpartum depression, told me a social worker would be meeting with me as soon as my baby was born, and said it was weird that I seemed so calm. I just wanted her to get off my fucking bed. She was sitting by my knees and I didn’t like how her face looked. The nurse asked me what my baby’s name was (no name picked) and who would be there with me (“Why is nobody here with you now?!”). She asked for my SO’s phone number and when I said, “Hold on, let me check” said she was surprised I didn’t have it memorized. Okay, bitch. She filled out some kind of cheesy card/chart thing that was going to have my baby’s footprints on it once baby was born and asked me what foods I craved while pregnant and what message I’d like to put down to my baby. My heart was closed up. To the first question, I said that I just craved everything and anything, and after she pressured me I said ice cream. For the second question, I said I wasn’t in that headspace right now and after she pressured me I said, “I’m so excited to meet you.” I wanted her to get the fuck out of my room.

After two hours of I-don’t-know-what, the midwife came and gave me misoprostol. The midwife told me to prepare for a long stay and that inductions usually take 72 hours at least. I told her my baby would be out in 12. I was being sarcastic, but the look in her eyes made me think that she thought I was crazy. I wasn’t right about 12 hours, but it sure as fuck didn’t end up being 72 hours. They tried strapping me into the bed with a fetal heart monitor but after much complaining I got the nurse to attach some shitty bluetooth device onto my belly so I could walk around and go to the bathroom. Every five minutes the bluetooth would cut out and everyone would come running into the room yelling at me to get back into bed. I hated it. The midwife checked how dilated I was and her hands hurt me so much I started second guessing my desire to not have pain relief during labor and birth.

After several hours they told me that I was having contractions, per the fetal monitor. I couldn’t feel anything. I was trying so hard to be positive but all I could be was dead inside. It was either nothing or immense pain. In my heart, at least. At some point, after my labor partners had arrived, the midwife attached a mechanical dilation balloon thing onto my cervix. The pain was immense but I breathed through it and squeezed the hand holding mine. It fell off twice. The procedure felt like it lasted forever. After she said it was “done”, I felt warm and wet and asked her what happened. She looked kind of confused. I stood up and stuff poured out of me. She professionally said, “Oh, that wasn’t supposed to happen” as my water dripped out all around me on the floor. She asked a nurse to test the liquid to make sure it was my water breaking. It was. She was unapologetic, or embarrassed, or uncaring, or maybe all three. She seemed undisturbed. I was trying so hard to be positive and brushed it aside. I mean, my labor partners were more upset than I was. All I could think was, good, maybe the baby will be out of me soon this way.

In the middle of the night, after the second dosage of misoprostol, I started having contractions. They were painful but I could handle them. I had someone with me but they were fast asleep. I wished they were holding me, but they weren’t, and I was afraid to ask for help. I breathed through it, sleeping in several minute increments. The bluetooth fetal monitoring device kept cutting out and I felt my blood pressure rise as everyone kept rushing in yelling at me for being out of bed each time I had a contraction.

The next day is a blur. At some point in the late morning, my contractions stopped being regular and they gave me an IV of Pitocin. After a few hours, the contractions started breaking me inside and out. I had so much support from my labor partners, but every contraction felt like the world was ending. I tried to psych myself out in the most positive way possible, breathing deeply and repeating my mantra, “I can do this” as I felt my body closing in on itself. After what was probably a couple hours, but could have been as little as one hour or as long as eight hours, I was peeing in between a contraction and looked in the mirror and thought to myself, “The only way to get this pain to stop is to kill myself right now.” I was horrified. I asked for an epidural.

By the time, I had a nurse who I liked and a midwife that I didn’t hate. The nurse anesthetist came in to administer the epidural and the nurse held my hands and looked into my eyes and told me not to move and to keep breathing during my contractions while I had a needle in my fucking spine. Those three minutes were sheer hell. The only thing keeping me from screaming was the hope of imminent pain relief. After the epidural was assembled, or whatever, the pain didn’t immediately go away but I felt a million times calmer. I laid down on my back in the bed and waited for the blissful numbness to hit. I pushed away the feelings of failure I had for not being able to handle the pain, and tried to feel joy and appreciation for modern medicine and the pain relief it offers… but I still feel weak and guilty for not being able to handle it. I should have found a way to keep my blood pressure low. I should have argued with my OB-GYN about being induced early (after all, my only motivation for agreeing was that I hated being pregnant… what kind of mother would I be if I couldn’t even handle carrying my baby to term?). Whatever. I was so fucking tired and just wanted it all over. I tried to open my heart up but it was still locked shut and I gave up quickly.

The next couple of hours didn’t suck so hard. The nurses and midwife told me I was having very regular, strong contractions per the fetal monitor but I (blissfully) couldn’t feel a thing. Then I started shivering. I was fucking freezing. They decided me and baby were showing signs of infection from my water being broken too early, gave me an IV of antibiotics, and took away all but one of my blankets. My heart was still closed up but I knew the end was near and the excruciating pain I had from Pitocin and no epidural was still so fresh that I was riding high on the pain relief.

I kept telling the midwife that I felt pressure and pain and an urge to push and asking her to check how dilated I was. The fetal monitor showed signs of distress, either too high or too low of a heartbeat (I can’t remember), and she refused to check my cervix because of the risk of additional infection. After however long, maybe an hour, I told one of my labor partners that it was too much and rang the bell. The midwife came, looked into me, and seemed shocked to say that the baby was already in the canal and it was time to push.

I don’t think I felt anything emotionally. I don’t know if I was high or dead inside or tired or what, but I just felt blank. Within a minute there were what seemed like a dozen people in the room ready to help me deliver. My SO was on a smoke break and ran up just in time. Some woman I hadn’t met yet was at my left, directing me on how to push. I gotta say, it felt unnatural as fuck laying on my back with my legs pulled up and a bunch of people staring into my vagina.  I wished I had been strong enough to not have an epidural and give birth in a more… wholesome position.

It was all over so fast. At the time it felt like an hour, but they told me it was less than 10 minutes, possibly even less than five, and when I look back on it I don’t think I pushed more than four times so it couldn’t have been long at all. After two pushes the midwife told me I could feel the baby’s head crowning if I reached my hand down. I did, and it felt slimy. But I also felt my heart open up a little bit.

He was finally out. He looked so much bigger than I had expected for 37 weeks. They sat him down on my lower belly and he peed all over me. Not like a tinkle, but like a massive pee. I giggled. I think I held him for a minute or two before they took him two feet away and checked him for what ended up being an hour. When I had envisioned this moment in the months prior, I thought I’d be outraged that the baby wasn’t placed right on me right away, but when I came down to it I didn’t care. I knew everything would be okay, finally. I could still see him. My labor partners stood at either side of his little box and stared lovingly at him. I reveled in how good I felt not having another human inside of me and watched them examine him and lower his temperature.

Finally, he came into my arms. I didn’t feel immense earth-shattering love like I had expected to feel, but I felt hope. So much hope.