Twenty Degrees Centigrade

Last night, another long day in the flight deck was successfully concluded. Yesterday, the atmosphere over the western half of the Empire was alive with thunderstorms. So many, in fact, that I seriously doubted we could maintain schedule. Fortunately, I was wrong about that. We weaved and danced between the storm cells all day never missing an arrival or departure gate. Our arrival into Vancouver B.C. was the type we aerodynamic aficionados dream about, i.e., when I pulled the thrust back to idle at 36,000 feet, I did not need to add thrust until we were on final approach with landing gear and flaps extended. The opportunity to do this does not present itself often, because of air traffic control restraints. Last night, though, the Canadian ATC folks were very accommodating.

Today, I worked out at a great commercial gym, then walked about thirty minutes to an estuary in the vicinity of the Vancouver Airport and took photos of seaplanes coming and going. There is no sound in the world as sweet as a Pratt & Whitney round motor. Well... OK, maybe a Rolls-Royce Merlin V-12. The weather in B.C. is lovely, with the temperature at twenty degrees Centigrade.

It is time to pack my gear for the night's flying. We start at sunset, finishing at sunrise on the east coast of the Empire.

Thirty Inch Antenna Plate

Our weather radar, the finest money can buy, sends it's microwave energy down range via a 30 inch antenna plate. Tonight, we needed all of it as we taxied out for take-off at an Ohio airport surrounded by thunderstorms in all quadrants. This is the scenario that I dread the most. It is one of the many Catch-22 situations that trap Captains. The airline and the flying public requests, nay, demands that you take-off to keep schedule and those connections. The Captain had better not make a mistake with the weather, though.

We were number 11 for take-off, waiting in line for the storm overhead to move on. The co-pilot asked the tower if we could shut down both engines to conserve fuel, which we did. The little jet engine in the tail, known as the APU (auxiliary power unit), provides us with electricity and compressed air for air conditioning and only burns 7 pounds per minute... a lot better than 40 pounds per minute consumed by idling engines. While we were waiting, our aircraft was buffeted by wind and rain... the whole scene outside the cockpit illuminated by lightning in a strobe like effect.

Finally a break in the thunderstorm allowed us to fire 'em up and move toward the runway. After a heavy freighter departed, it was our turn for take-off. The winds were gusty with rain showers. I carefully taxied onto the runway crossing large patches of white paint that are runway markings. That paint is slick as greased glass when it is wet. The nosewheel loses traction and the aircraft continues straight ahead, instead of turning. Easy does it. When the nose was pointing down the runway, I raised the radar antenna angle so that the beam was searching for and reflecting from weather ahead and above the ground, i.e., no ground reflections from wet buildings, etc. There was a small corridor, clear of weather, that would take us between thunderstorm cells. Looks good...

I lifted the nose gear off the wet runway at 160 m.p.h., pointing the jet engine's exhaust at the wet surface, which blasted the water into a misty steam. A whirling obscuration caused by the engine blast and wing tip tornadoes envelops the aircraft for a second... then, we are above it and climbing rapidly.

We climbed through the corridor into twilight conditions. Darkness prevailed on the airport surface, but up here, the reddish-orange western horizon was beautiful. Southwest of our position was a huge thunderstorm with it's top much higher than our aircraft. Northwest of our position, but a bit farther away, was another large thunderstorm. Both cells were alive with lightning. The freight wagon that departed in front of us was clearly visible in our twelve o'clock high and about 10 miles. They were banking to the right increasing the distance between themselves and the storm on our left. It was one of the coolest things I have seen in a long time. I moved the stick right lowering the right wing. We followed the freighter...

And we fly west...

Trip Tales

Finally, the last leg of a four day trip is done. Time to go home to my lovely wife for a few days. This trip had some interesting events. They were:

1. At Vancouver, B.C., the station personnel parked us at the wrong gate, then much to my amazement, would not let us off the aircraft. We had to be towed to the correct gate, which took one hour to accomplish. They blamed the snafu on too many arrivals at the same time, therefore they became confused. What?? If it had been a pilot screw up, I would be doing the carpet dance in the Chief Pilot's Office.

2. At Las Vegas, we had to go around (balked landing) twice because of landing traffic ahead that did not clear the runway in time. Fortunate for us we had a bit of extra fuel. We burned 3,300 pounds on the two landing attempts. I have never had to go around twice in air carrier operations.

3. On a route with thunderstorms enroute and over the destination airport, the Federal Aviation Administration showed up to give me an unannounced line check. When I told the inspector where the alternate was and that we might have to go to it, he got a funny look on his face like, "Oops! I should have picked another flight."

But, we landed at the destination on time. Then, after filling the still warm seats with new passengers, we ascended back into the storms and turbulence, sans F.A.A. inspector, for the next stop.

All in a days work...

Moonrise

Holy Moly! Sunrise, sunset, moonrise, moonset... Sometimes, I feel like asking, "Where am I and why am I dressed this way?" Around the clock we go; where we land only crew scheduling knows. The winds aloft are light to non-existent across the Empire allowing us to be early on westbound flights, yet, late on eastbound flights, which is exactly the opposite of the norm.

Looking out my hotel window, I can see potential weather problems for our Dulles departure tonight. We shall see... The final destination, after one stop, is Los Angeles International for a short overnight.

Red Sky at Night

After demonstrating to the Company and the Federal Aviation Administration my competency to carry passengers for another six months, I am doing just that. We left Arizona this afternoon in the hottest part of the day. The ramp temperature exceeded 120 degrees complete with swirling dust devils. Smoke tendrils laced the sky from multiple wildfires north of the airport. The sun was absolutely gorgeous in the smoky western sky. I thought of the old saying, "Red sky at night, sailor's delight." I hope that applies to pilots, too.

Runway Heading

I reported to the school house for scheduled simulator training at 4:00 PM. My instructor was one of our retired Captains. We briefed for one hour, then strapped into a $30,000,000 state-of-the-art simulator. The next four hours of emergency scenarios reviewed catastrophic events that can be safely replicated in these amazing machines. Years ago, before I was a silver haired Captain, we used to do a lot of training in real aircraft. This is much better, not to mention safer.

I successfully navigated my way, with the help of an outstanding co-pilot, through hydraulic failures, flight control malfunctions, cabin fire and smoke, flight deck smoke, landing gear malfunctions, rejected take-offs, engine failures, instrument approaches on one engine, and navigation computer failures (this last one makes me giggle; I flew decades without nav computers. The correct emergency action is to fly on raw data, i.e., like I flew in those long ago days).

The best is always saved until last, though. A maximum gross weight take-off on a hot, windy day with an engine failure at take-off speed. We call these little jewels V1 cuts. They can be difficult if the flying pilot does not stay on top of the situation. Over the years, I have seen many crashes in the simulator involving V1 cuts. But mine went OK... so, I am legal for another six months to carry passengers in the air commerce business.

That is a good thing, because I have a trip scheduled for tomorrow.

East Winds

My San Francisco layover was one of the best I have ever had... the weather was perfect, the food was good, and the people friendly. I am sure I was peering through rose colored lenses because of where I was going... New York City for a stand-up layover (you stand against the wall and nap in your room, then back to work).

The cool, sea level air made our engines very happy leaving SFO. The first stop was Sin City to unload a few folks and put a few onboard. Scrambling to keep the schedule, we pushed back from the gate with 150 passengers bound for New York City. The JFK weather was atrocious, forcing us to fuel for a Philly alternate. The Sin City departure was routine and our heavy chevy climbed slowly to the cruising altitude of 35,000 feet. We would not be at our landing weight until we began the approach to JFK.

The winds were from the east which is unusual in the northern hemisphere. So, as expected, we arrived late in New York City, about 20 minutes after sunrise. Our stand-up will be even shorter. I think I will actually lay on top of the bed with my uniform on.

Day three of a four day trip...

Early morning light through the Captain's side windows.

Fifty Degrees Centigrade

This afternoon, the ramp temperature in southern Arizona was 50 Centigrade/122 Fahrenheit. The external air conditioning hose was blowing copious amounts of refrigerated air, but was unable to keep up with the sun's heat. The interior of the aircraft was warm and uncomfortable. So, as a result, the flight attendants were being bombarded with complaints from the passengers. No doubt, it is uncomfortable back there, but the rampers are the really hot ones. Those folks are working in almost unbearable conditions, and not just hiding under the wing's shadow, either. They are throwing tons of bags and freight into the belly.

We used all the performance tricks to lift our weight off the hot runway. The V2500 engines operated at their maximum exhaust gas temperature of 635 degrees Centigrade until the co-pilot reduced thrust at 1,000 feet above the ground. We slowly increased our airspeed until the flaps could be raised and the cabin pressurization and cooling systems could be reactivated. In the back, the passengers were ringing the flight attendants about the heat. It reminded me of windchimes, but having the same musical note. Finally, we leveled at 35,000 feet. I glanced at the outside air temperature of minus 58 degrees Fahrenheit. That would be a temperature difference of 180 degrees, plus or minus a couple. Amazing! The cabin temperature, mercifully, was slowly decreasing.

Enroute to Chicago, we did the thunderstorm weave until Iowa airspace, then Chicago Center started spacing and slowing the arrivals for O'hare. The co-pilot and I tightened our belts and prepared for the challenges of a Chicago arrival. We landed on time, but arrived 15 minutes late at the gate, due to hundreds of airliners all trying to move on the same little strip of concrete. Patience, Captain, patience.

Thankfully, the outside air temperature at O'hare was only 78 degrees Fahrenheit. A large storm north of O'hare looked like it might slow departures, so I added another ton of extra fuel. A few years ago, at O'hare, we took a three hour delay on the taxiway in conditions identical to tonight's. We loaded up 139 passengers for Sin City, then pushed back from the gate. The tug driver cleared me to start #1. When I raised the start switch to begin the procedure, a flight attendant called the flight deck. A passenger said he was claustrophobic, and wanted off the aircraft. I told the tug driver to pull us back to the gate. Engine #1 was shut down and the jetway moved back to the aircraft. The passenger got off the aircraft and I did five minutes worth of gate return paperwork and cell phone calls to the company.

One more time, cleared to push back. I started #1 again, then we taxied into the O'hare melee.

The ground controller was giving rapid fire instructions, with little opportunity to readback. The co-pilot and I were having problems understanding his syntax, but we managed to find our way to the runway, without incident. It appeared that there would be little, if any delay for our westbound departure. We quickly started #2 engine, completed our checklists, warned the flight attendants; then following tower instructions, we moved onto the runway and the co-pilot advanced the thrust levers to the stops. The engines were much happier with 78 degree air. The exhaust gas temperatures stabilized 100 degrees Centigrade lower than the Arizona take-off.

The co-pilot banked toward the west, away from the storm north of the airport. After a bit of turbulence climbing through the lower clouds, we broke out into the sunset colored skies.

10:00 P.M./0500 Z

We have been cruising at 36,000 feet in smooth conditions for over an hour. The headwinds are light to none existent. We will be arriving early in Lost Wages. The stardome is gorgeous. The Milky Way and the Great Rift are clear and easy to see up here. The moon, although only half, is bright enough to illuminate the top of our wings. Little Midwestern towns are slipping under our nose, one after the other.

We are finishing day one of a four day trip.

Standing In Line

Recently, the wife of my youth and I took off on a little road trip seeking cooler weather. While re-fueling at a truck stop, I stood in the queue for the facilities. I was amazed to see one of our retired Captains ahead of me. I had not seen this guy in years, but recognized him instantly. I pulled gear (co-piloted) for him a lot. He was a hero figure to me.

This man survived 125 missions, as a pilot, over Vietnam in the F-4 Phantom Jet. His combat record is legendary in the Air Force, as I discovered when I researched him. As an airline Captain, he was the best ever... the type I try to emulate. He was a crusty old guy, but fair... and an excellent teacher of the way of the large jet aircraft to a novice airline co-pilot.

He remembered me, we shook hands and made small talk about the past. I met his cute little wife, sitting in the car... then told her how much I admired her husband and that he was the best Captain ever. We shook hands and said our good-byes... and just like that, they were gone down the interstate.

My wife and I strapped in, set our Cokes in the holders, and opened the bag of sunflower seeds. I said, "Honey, you are not going to believe who I saw standing in line."

Midnight Sun

Position: N61' 10
W149' 59

We arrived, on schedule, at the Anchorage airport with 150 passengers, 4,200 lbs. of freight, and one hour and ten minutes of fuel remaining. The weather forecast held for our arrival. I was a happy Captain. I never get tired of the wonders of the northern latitudes, like the midnight sun, or the northern lights. This morning, driving to the hotel, we had to stop to allow two large bull moose to cross the road. Of course, my camera was in my flight bag. The van driver said these two moose were, more or less, local airport pets. Yikes!

Last night, enroute to Alaska, we witnessed fireworks on a major scale. The visibility was good over most of the western Empire. The best display was over Seattle at 36,000 feet. The fireworks were unbelievable. The whole Sea-Tac area was alive with multi-colored flashes and bursts... Impressive!

Today, I have been wandering aimlessly through Anchorage. The cruise ships are docked and the streets are loaded with tourists. I talked with two couples, older than my wife and I, on BMW motorcycles that rode up from the lower 48. My wife and I ride our motorcycle one hundred miles and we believe we have accomplished something big... I can only imagine riding to Alaska.

Tonight, we point the nose southeast for the nest. A nap is in order...