Bleed Air

Position: Over FMG (Mustang) VOR

Altitude: 31,000 feet

Fuel Flow: 5,400 lbs./p/hr

Equipment: A320

Compass Heading: 150 degrees

Pax on board: 134

Airborne...

Two days at home, and then sent back to the cloud mines.

When I was a kid, my mother used to say, "No rest for the wicked." Yikes! I hope that does not apply here. I try to be a good person, even when no one is watching.

We have just crossed over the Mustang VOR on our way to KPHX for a 52 minute stop en route to KDEN. As we were climbing out of the KSEA area, Fi-Fi's diagnostic computers went ballistic when a bleed air line in the left wing ruptured or split. Just like the simulator, it happened at a time when both pilots needed to be concentrating on the flight path, energy state of the aircraft, and other aircraft in our vicinity.

I have been here, done this before... Several times. Reaching over my head, I shut down all sources of bleed air to the left wing, and then isolate the left side pneumatic plumbing. That took my attention out of the flight path for about ten seconds. The co-pilot and I agree that we can deal with the problem down the airway in safer airspace.

Fi-Fi is nervous about the left wing having no anti-ice capability, though. She reminds me (twice) that the left wing has no ice protection and that it would be inadvisable to fly into icing conditions. Gotta love this airplane... Nothing but blue skies ahead.

Climbing out of 25,000 feet, I started the email chain to Dispatch and Maintenance Control, subsidiaries of Mother, advising them of the left wing bleed air leak and my intentions to continue the flight. In a few minutes, my dispatcher says everyone agrees with my plan to continue. Because I closed the left engine bleed air valve, our pressurization system lost some of it's redundancy. Common sense dictates that a lower cruise altitude is in order.

My stubby number two pencil and $10 hand calculator backs up Fi-Fi's twin $5,000,000 navigation computers estimate of a 1200 pound increase in fuel burn at 31,000 feet. We can do that... I send my cheap fuel figures to Dispatch and ask them to please check my math.

The atmosphere is smooth at 31,000 feet. This is an altitude that we do not operate at much, except for climbing/descending. Most contrails are above us and above them is the sun's brilliant white orb. All of this set in a dark blue sky. My God, it is beautiful.

We are probably going to be late arriving KDEN, unless the maintenance techs can find the problem immediately, or, possibly, we get another aircraft. Fingers crossed...

Life on the Line continues...

Outbound Radial

Position: Over the ZIH VOR

Altitude: 9,000 feet and descending

Groundspeed: 260 mph (225 knots)

Equipment: A319

PAX on board: 117

Thanksgiving Lift 2009 is finished. Of course, I flew all four days of Thanksgiving Lift, but was able to take the lovely wife-of-my-youth with me on Thanksgiving Day. Only the top of the seniority mountain gets Thanksgiving and Christmas off-duty; I am not there yet, but can see (and almost hear) the summit flag whipping in the cold, union winds. Someday, maybe...

Now, though, I am grinning from ear to ear as The Electric Jet descends out of the cold blue toward the hot and humid Zihuatanejo airport 9,000 feet beneath us. We are directly over the VOR and have been cleared for a VOR alpha approach to the airport. I am the flying pilot and have turned OFF the Smoke and Mirrors. Fi-Fi is in the Super Cub mode. The wing spoilers are fully extended into the slip stream peeling the lift off the top of the wing like an onion skin. The thrust levers are back at the idle stops.

On my nav display, I select the basic VOR HSI (horizontal situation indicator) and set the outbound radial. The tower controller told us to report the same radial inbound for a landing clearance. Roger that...

The large jet responds quickly and smoothly to manual control inputs. Once established on the inbound course and descending through 4,000 feet with the engines (still) at idle thrust, I push the thrust levers forward (ever so slightly) watching the engine gauges respond, and then pull them back to idle. A touch of paranoia is a good thing in this job. Airport in sight...

We are cleared for the approach and landing on runway 26. I bank away from the airport to intercept the five mile final approach fix at 1500 feet above the ground. Preparing for landing, the wing spoilers are stowed, the flaps and slats start coming out and down, the landing gear is lowered and locks into place, thrust levers forward to 40%, and the landing checklist is completed.

At five miles and 1500 feet, Fi-Fi is descending about 700 feet per minute at 160 mph (140 knots). There is a canopy of palm trees and thick vegetation beneath us. Mentally, I recite the Get out of Dodge procedure: Pitch the nose up toward 18 degrees and thrust levers to go-around thrust, raise the flaps to the first notch, raise the landing gear, fly a heading toward the beach. More paranoia...

Our A319 clears the last stand of palm trees and settles into the long, narrow clearing of the runway environment. The big Michelin aero tires smoke at the 1,000 foot marker. Oh, Lord, is there anything as cool as this, I wonder as the mighty V2500 engines roar into reverse thrust and shove us forward into our five point harnesses.

At least fifteen rampers are waiting with two airstairs as we taxi into the small ramp area and shut down. Even in this heat, the lead ramper is wearing a crisp white shirt and black tie. Amazing! He gives me two thumbs up after the wheel chocks are set. The cabin doors open and 117 Americanos hit the beaches.

No beaches for myself and my crew, though. We have 120 sun burned pax in the little terminal wanting to get on this aircraft and go home.

Life on the Line continues...

Mother is Watching...

Position: Over Colorado Springs

Altitude: 35,000 feet

Groundspeed: 645 mph (561 knots)

PAX: 150 plus 3 jump seaters

Destination: KORD (Chicago)

Airborne... Our A320 is riding a fast moving wind stream northeast bound at more than ten statute miles per minute. The wind velocity is more than 150 knots, or 173 mph. You got to love these winter winds. Tomorrow, though, we will be singing the blues.

We pushed back from the gate on time, leaving at least twenty non-revs behind. Bummer! I have seen the wife-of-my-youth, many times, waving good-bye to me when she could not get a seat on one of my flights.

As we pass 18,000 feet in the climb, the co-pilot and I reset three altimeters to 29.92 inches, turn the seat belt signs OFF, and talk to the pax. At 25,000 feet, the email alert light begins to flash.

I talked to my dispatcher before we took off, via I-Phone, so, probably, it can only be one entity: Mother.

Yikes! Does she know about the sports section I surreptitiously stuffed in my flight bag? Did I have a guilty look on my face when I checked in for this trip, like I was hiding something? Probably she does not know... Not yet, anyway. The day is coming, though.

After pushing the email button, the message comes up on the miniature LCD in the center panel. Mother says we are flying too fast; slow down, now. She knows what her aircraft are doing, worldwide. It is scary... Arriving too early at the destination, tonight, is going to cause some problem downline, plus she wants lower fuel flows. Included in the message is a new cost index that she wants entered into our navigation computers. It is part of her master plan for this evening, as in the Big Picture that we do not see in our high altitude office.

Like Pavlov's dog, I enter the new figure into Fi-Fi's nav computers. The Electric Jet begins to slow as the fuel flow is reduced, slowly, to our International Aero V2500 engines. Without telling him to do so, the co-pilot automatically tells our ATC controller that we are slowing per "company request."

"Roger. No problem... Speed your discretion."

Fi-Fi considers the groundspeed, winds, top of descent, and distance remaining to arrive at the most cost efficient cruise at a slower Mach number. It is a very interesting process to watch. Finally, she settles on a Mach .71 cruise with significantly reduced fuel flow and groundspeed of 561 knots, or 645 mph.

As interesting as it is, it is painful to watch... Sort of like pushing my Japanese two wheeled street fighter to Starbucks. Some of my compadres tell me that they ignore Company requests to slow down. In my humble opinion, that is not a good idea. Mother is watching....

Life on the Line continues... Slowly.

Automation? What automation?

Position: Starbuck's Outdoor Patio

Time: Sunrise

Once again, defying common sense, I rode my litre bike, a.k.a., the Japanese Death Missile, to Starbucks on the first morning of my precious days off. With my cherry red felony machine on it's side stand, I started perusing the morning paper over my steaming hot grande coffee.

Uh-oh, there is something about Captain Sully and a book author having a disagreement. The author says automation helped Sully land in the Hudson (immediately, I thought bravo sierra), but Sully disagrees and so stated as much. Good for him...

Sully does not need my help, but I am going to get my two cents in here. I have never met nor seen (C)aptain Sullenberger and have no inside knowledge of him or his crew.

I want to re-state my original take on this incident and that is this:

Captain Sully did what very few pilots could have pulled off successfully. I have read and/or heard many opine that most airline pilots could have done this water ditching. I doubt that very much. His decision, made in the heat of an emergency, to go for the river instead of Teterboro's runway was miraculous. His airmanship skills allowed him to keep a heavy airliner under control with no thrust, very little kinetic energy, and make a survivable landing on water with two minutes and twenty-three seconds to plan it. Amazing stuff!! All pilots fantasize about doing something like Sully did, but few, including myself, could actually do it.

Automation? What automation? He had fly-by-wire controls, a modern version of fly-by-cable.

This post was done on the, uh... Fly. It might be a little bit crude...

Life Off the Line continues for three more days... Yeah!!

Linear Perspective

Position: Eight Miles above the Center of the Empire
Groundspeed: 667 mph (580 kts)
PAX on board: 79
Equipment: A320
Compass Heading: 080 degrees

Airborne...

Back in the flight deck after fifteen days family leave for an emergency surgery (not me), a wedding, and work (as in manual labor!) related issues. I actually rode a horse for a few hours working cattle and it was comical. You could read the horse's mind... Who is this dummy that wants me to herd that cow? Looking straight up from the saddle was a major Jet Airway that I fly all the time. A small aluminum cross with swept wings, twinkling in the sun, was eastbound. That put my day in linear perspective.

Arriving at the airport early for this trip, I was relieved to find zero messages from the Chief Pilot and only light paperwork in my mail slot. I saw some of my partners-in-crime and traded lies and braggadocios bravo sierra with them. No new deaths, divorces, or girlfriends in my circle of middle-aged, grumpy captains.

One of them did, however, point out new administrative threats in the Read File. Some things never change... Almost every check-in, you can bank on a new threat or warning from some company department or government agency. Do I really have to be told not to fall asleep in the cockpit and miss the destination? Did I not know that partying with the flight attendants five hours before departure is not recommended?

In the perfect world I would find a nice little note from the CEO of the airline:

Dear Captain Dave,

Thank you for umpteen thousand hours of incident and dent free flying. To show our appreciation I am enclosing this bonus check. I suggest that you use it for the down payment on that new Corvette. The wife of your youth said it would be OK. May the wind always be on your tail.

Daddy Warbucks

Yikes! There I go... Fantasizing again. On the other side of inch thick, heated Plexiglas is total darkness and deep cold. The winds are from the northwest at 165 mph. A few minutes ago, we were in the light of the setting sun; now we are under the canopy of the night sky. This is my perfect world, even without a bonus check from the CEO. Fi-Fi is happy at 39,000 feet with plenty of wiggle room for unexpected turbulence. The evil green eye (radar) is sweeping ahead for thunderstorms that are mostly widely scattered. My dispatcher suggested this route for weather avoidance and she was absolutely correct. In a minute I will send her an email telling her so, as if she does not already know.

My co-pilot is another young kid who was forced into The Electric Jet because of seniority issues, but he does not seem to be unhappy about the move. I have never seen or heard of him before tonight. I let him fly the first leg into San Diego which is difficult for most new Fi-Fi pilots because of the architecture of the approach. Even so, he flew the localizer 27 approach with precision and made a good landing. He has been in the right seat for (only) 90 days.

Anyone can get lucky, so I had him fly the second leg to Lost Wages. Again, very good performance. Unbelievable! It took me a year before I could do the same thing in this electrical entity. I would say he has an elevated IQ and a lifetime of exposure to video games. Thank goodness he is not cocky, as that would be insufferable... Someone who can back their mouth up with their ability. Anyway, I like this kid and will give him Captain Dave's stamp of approval.

Fi-Fi has her nose cranked into the crossing tailwind about ten degrees to maintain ground track. She is in the soft cruise mode, i.e., the altitude hold function of the auto-pilot will allow her to drift up and down a few feet to give the pax a better ride, or so the theory goes. Watching the altimeter is about all we can do... The newspaper police left a threatening note in the read file... Again.

Life on the Line continues...

Secret Handshake

Position: Over INW (Winslow) en route KEWR (Newark)
Altitude: 35,000 feet
Groundspeed: 590 mph (510 kts)
Equipment: A319
PAX on board: 120

Airborne...

We hit the deck at 0500 hrs. local (KLAX) for one leg to the east coast. After loading the passengers, bags, and freight, we pushed back for a short taxi. Engine one started OK, but engine two pneumatic start valve would not open... Back to the gate we go.

One hour later, start valve repaired and we push back for attempt number two. The tow bar fails when the tug operator begins to turn our tail toward the back of the alley. Fi-Fi is rolling backwards with no connection to the tug. Communications is lost as the headset connection rips lose. No problem... Been there, done that before. Easy on the brakes, captain... The tail can easily come into contact with the ramp in this situation. The lead ramper plugs back into Fi-Fi and tells me that we need maintenance to look at the nose gear. Roger that...

We are one hour and twenty minutes late as maintenance comes onto the flight deck and asks me if we energized the hydraulics during the push, i.e., did we screw up and break the tow bar. Negatory, I reply... OK, it must have been metal fatigue in the tow bar. The tech reports the nose gear is OK and a new tow bar is on the way... Log book signed off.

The replacement tow bar is hooked up and we continue the push for KEWR. Engine number one starts... Engine number two starts... ship's chronometer begins the five minute engine warm-up. The taxi to the end of the runway is uneventful and we are cleared for take-off immediately. Our little A319 mashes us into our seats as it accelerates down the centerline. A minute later, we are feet wet over the Pacific and raising flaps/slats. The departure controller turns us south as we climb at 287 mph (250 kts) and 3,000 fpm. As Fi-Fi banks, I am looking straight down at sail boats leaving a short, white wake in their six. I can see people on the decks but cannot tell if they are looking up as I am looking down.

Climbing out of 10,000 feet, the co-pilot lowers the nose and The Electric Jet quickly winds the airspeed indicator up to 300 knots indicated. The controller clears us to turn toward the east coast out of 14,000 feet. Enough fuel has burned out of the wing tanks so that the center fuel tank pumps kick on and began feeding the engines and annuciates such on the engine display. I love this airplane!

Sort of...

Some of the old hands that are now retired used to call this aircraft The Dark Side because of what happens next. Fi-Fi's diagnostics think the number two engine thrust reverser has gone bad and illuminates the MASTER CAUTION amber light with an audible ding... ENG 2 thrust reverser fault. It is very much like the scene in "2001 Space Odyssey" where H.A.L. tells the crew that their comm antenna is faulting.

Again, been there/done that; after scanning the engine instruments, I tell the co-pilot we will ignore it until later. The really dangerous thrust reverser fault is UNLOCKED which can be very bad. We are low altitude in LAX airspace and the ATC communications are still rapid fire. We do not need to be messing with a fault that can wait until we are in the safety of the flight levels. I get rid of the caution light and diagnostic screen with a couple of button pushes.

OK, this is going to be one of those days... One thing after another.

Fi-Fi blasts through 18,000 feet as we re-set the altimeters to 29.92 inches of mercury. I turn the seat belt signs OFF and talk to the pax with my patented (C)aptain's voice. When I put the PA hand set back in it's cradle, the co-pilot asks for AUTO-PILOT #2.

Button pushed... Click. Fi-Fi has taken over the flying duties as we continue our rapid ascension into the cold blue.

I fire up the magic air-to-ground digital communication system and begin texting with Maintenance Control, a subsidiary of Mother, about the engine #2 thrust reverser. They want to know if I am comfortable with landing at KEWR with one thrust reverser... Of course I am. As Villa said, "We don't need no stinkin' thrust reversers." We have plenty of runway, light winds, full flaps, and powerful brakes. But before I reply, I ask the flying pilot if he is comfortable with one thrust reverser. He says, "Yeah, if you are." Smart kid.

We will have the number one thrust reverser, though. Piece of cake.

The digital paper trail is complete as my dispatcher (2,000 miles away) and I do the secret handshake. After that, I start the real paper trail in the log book, lest I forget after we land.

Ten minutes later, the paper trail is complete along with research of the on-board maintenance manuals and a quick thrust reverser systems review. Everything is in order.

The Dark Side diagnostics decide the engine #2 thrust reverser is really OK... Just kidding about the earlier caution. Everything goes back to green and the earlier caution disappears from the status displays. OK, then... Well, we will land with only one thrust reverser, just to be on the safe side.

We are cruising a few hundred feet above a cloud layer. Overhead, a contrail pointing toward the east. The wind is a quartering tailwind of 125 mph; barring anything too drastic, we will be arriving KEWR thirty minutes behind schedule.

Life on the Line continues...

Uh-Oh... Where Are We?

I was working on another post, but decided to comment on the recent ruckus caused by an A320 that apparently overflew it's destination by, allegedly, 150 miles before turning back to the airport.

Thank you Lord that I was not the captain on that aircraft. Whew! Missed another bullet. I have no idea what happened on that flight deck, nor will I postulate about it. I saw one of the pilots on a mainstream media report (BIG MISTAKE!) denying that they were sleeping or arguing, so that points to a third possibility, I guess.

To the flying or, for that matter, the non-flying public, this incident surely seems mighty strange, but it has happened many times since the beginning of air carrier operations back in the late 1920s. Airline pilots, also, have landed at the wrong airport many times, landed on taxiways instead of runways hundreds, no, thousands of times, landed on the wrong runway countless times, and the list goes on.

Any airline pilot who has been at this game long enough has lost contact with ATC numerous times. Usually dispatch contacts the crew by email, or in the days before email, by company frequency.

To this point in my career, I have not (knock on wood) landed at the wrong airport, on the wrong runway, or overflown my destination.

Unfortunately, this incident will probably lead to more regulations on top of the suffocating layers of regs we currently work under.

Not wanting to criticize without offering a solution, I fall back on my idea of Ameriflot, an Americanized version of the old Soviet air carrier, Aeroflot. We need a PCO (political correctness officer) sitting behind the comrade captain and an RCO (regulation compliance officer) sitting in the middle jump seat helping the crew navigate the maze of rules and regulations governing every flight.

Life on the Line continues...