Americana

I awoke in Ohio this morning, after a twelve hour duty day that spanned the Empire. Thankfully, the weather is cooperating for a recon of downtown Columbus. I walked to Germantown and found the book store The Book Loft. Across the lane was a Starbucks; Can it get any better?

I found an empty table amongst the upwardly mobile crowd and enjoyed my coffee of the day in the fine 50 degree autumn day. Obviously, Germantown is not a cheap place to live. No signs of financial distress here. Land Rovers and BMW 700 series are the most common vehicles on the streets. Well kept young women with small children dressed in Halloween costumes come and go, making their appearances and comparing the costumes before the evening's trick or treat activities begin.

Yes, a small slice of Americana... in a Germantown way.

Aluminum Cloud

Altitude: 37,000 feet
Outside air temperature: -60 Centigrade
Wind direction and speed: 285 degrees at 115 mph
Magnetic course: 120 degrees
True Airspeed: 531 mph
Fuel on board: 22,160 pounds

It is 4:45 A.M.; We are 50 miles off the coast of British Columbia enroute to the nest with 101 passengers, all of them asleep in the back. Behind us, the Aurora Borealis is a bright green curtain of heavenly light. Ahead is Sirius, the brightest star in the sky, and a traveling partner of Orion the Hunter. Indeed, the star dome is beautiful this morning.

Vancouver air traffic control center just told us about a big freight wagon heading our way, one thousand feet above our altitude. They called it 35 miles in our 12 o’clock. We could see the twinkling strobe lights at that distance. Whoa! It is a really big airplane and the visibility is excellent in this sector. In a few seconds we could see the green and red navigation lights on the wing tips and it was readily apparent that we were going to have a close encounter. In a few more seconds the shape of an MD-11 Freighter took shape against the stars. The co-pilot and I have our faces up against the forward windshield. Then, it is on us… a huge and heavy aluminum cloud of twinkling lights. Only for a brief moment, though. The closing speed is enormous. The contrail in it’s wake is illuminated by the moon light… Literally, a tornado of moon lit wake turbulence 1,000 feet above our aircraft. An unbelievable and unforgettable sight!

The email alert light has just illuminated... Mother is sending a message. She wants to know how much fuel we have. In the old days, if we had had email in the cockpit (which we did not), we would have sent them a low fuel figure and then timed the reply, all the while giggling. Today, if I did that, the Federal Aviation Administration would be waiting in the jetway with clipboard in hand and a serious look on their faces. Inside the terminal would be five local television channels waiting to interview the terrified passengers.

Resist the temptation, Captain... OK, I type in the correct amount and push the send button. We have plenty of fuel, so Mother will be happy.

Still no twilight in the east.

Off Season

Summertime rental car rates in Anchorage are about $90 per day plus taxes and that is an airline crew rate. This morning, I walked to the same business: off season rate is $30 per day plus taxes. Cool! Literally...

We arrived thirty minutes ahead of schedule last night because of light winds enroute, but I had to do forty minutes worth of maintenance paperwork after we parked at the gate. So, it was a net loss of ten minutes of our overnight time. Every minute counts on an overnight such as Anchorage where there is so much to do, even when it is cold.

Tick, tick, tick...

Dilation

My three days off seemed like three hours. But, now I am wondering, "Are we ever going to get to L.A.?" Funny how time dilates under certain conditions. My co-pilot is a thirty something male and the father of quadruplets (two girls and two boys). I love listening to him talk about the logistical problems of quadruplets, such as no hand me down clothes and feeding time. The kids are eleven months old and very proficient in the art of crawling. I think the co-pilot is sort of glad to be at work. He also told me that he and his wife are too tired for... well, you know. Poor guy!

We started yesterday afternoon at 2:00 P.M. and flew until 2:00 A.M. this morning; Last landing in Denver for the overnight. Our route criss crossed the western Empire hauling folks to and fro. Our aircraft performed beautifully and flawlessly, except for one little display management computer which I had to reboot during a stop in LAX. I am always amazed at the robust nature of a machine as complicated as a contemporary airliner. We ask them to lift heavy loads, fly at Warp 9, then allow young co-pilots (and sometimes old Captains) to slam them onto the runways so hard it makes grandma's false teeth rattle. I am lucky, in my opinion, to still have that amazement factor in my brain. So many of my pilot buds have lost it to the ravages of a long career in the airline trenches.

There is something unreal about post flighting a huge aircraft in a different geographical location from a few hours ago. The main gear brakes are wisping smoke and heat away via the brake fans, the engines are stopped or rotating slowly in the breeze, but still radiating a lot of heat. I like to lick my finger and touch the exhaust cone... be quick, or it will burn. Awesome! The aux power unit, a small jet engine in the tail, is howling as it pumps copious quantities of air into the environmental system to keep the passengers comfortable as they disembark. The hydrauic system is whining as the ramp personnel open cargo doors. The underside of the wings are dripping condensation on the ramp because the fuel is cold soaked from the low temperatures aloft. I will usually reach up and pat the side of the aircraft and under my breath say, "Thanks, old girl, you did good today." Hopefully, the rampers are not watching or listening. Can I get in trouble for sexually harassing an aircraft? Better look into that...

It is cold in Denver at 2:10 A.M. I brought my heavy London Fog trench coat for Alaska tomorrow night. I am thinking about breaking it out early.

Polaris

The half way point to Anchorage is 27 minutes ahead. It is under the Big Dipper, which is 12 o'clock high. Polaris is clearly visible. Tonight is perfect weather for the navigators of yesteryear to fix their position via the stardome. I, or the co-pilot, must call our dispatcher and report our fuel load at the half way point. Then, we will mutually agree whether or not we have sufficient fuel and weather conditions to continue to Anchorage, otherwise we divert into Seattle or Vancouver for more fuel. Confidence is high tonight. The Anchorage weather has been good and the forecast is also good.

Our work day began in Denver at sunset. After one stop, we are on our way to Alaska with 56 passengers and 3,400 pounds of mail and freight. The full moon, in our six, is illuminating the tops of the under cast. The air mass is smooth and the winds, although howling at over 150 mph, are not directly on the nose, so our groundspeed at 38,000 feet is a respectable 476 mph. My co-pilot, a 30 year old male, was reared in Alaska. His buddies will pick him up at the airport. I gave him my cell phone number and told him to call if he needs bail money.

My nav chart is laid out before me (since we have a joystick instead of a yoke, there is a little sliding table that comes out from underneath the instrument panel; it is one of the coolest things in aviation...) and as we fly abeam radio beacons I mark our position. I love to listen for the beacon's Morse code identifier. The ADF needle scribes an arc across our right wing as the beacons recede behind us. It is cold, dark and windy down there where those beacons live.

The autopilot has the nose 18 degrees into the wind to maintain our course line. Anchorage is three hours twenty minutes ahead...

Cinch 'em up tight

When I was a child saddling my horse, my Dad would always say "Cinch 'em up tight!" He was reminding me to get my saddle tight enough to prevent it from rolling around on the horse's back. Today, the wife of my youth runs a pre-departure checklist (if she is home) before I drive to work, confirming that I have all the necessary items for a trip. Then, she always says, "Pay attention, honey." She is reminding me to get my head back into the flying mode and forget about the fat catting at home.

This morning I awoke in Denver. The hotel is legendary in the airline world. For years it was known as the Stapleton Plaza, but today it is owned by another company. It is not the same... but good to be here once more. This morning, at 3:00 A.M. as my crew and I were being shuttled to the hotel, I was amazed at the transformation of the old Stapleton Airport into a commercial zone. It is unreal!

One of the 20 year old flight attendants asked, "Did there used to be an airport here?" I gave her a 20 second dissertation about the history of Stapleton. She probably thought, "Get a life geezer."

It is good to be back on the airways after being sick. Tonight, the course line points toward Alaska. But, for now, it is time for the treadmill and a light lunch.

Recovery Mode

As forecast, I missed my good trip because of illness. I am, however, in the recovery mode. Yesterday, I visited my aero doc whom prescribed antibiotics to clear my chest. I started feeling better within 24 hours. The wife of my youth has prescribed outdoor clean up duty. She said the sun and fresh air would be good for me. So, I have been moving scrap lumber and left over construction material to the curb where the city will haul it away this week.

As usual, she was correct. I do feel better...

Sick Call, again...

I have another chest cold that came on in less than 24 hours. This forced me to call in sick for a trip and I may have to for the next trip, which (of course) I have been looking forward to for a month, i.e., Anchorage! I love it up there!

My last sick call was in January of this year, when I had another cold. That cold forced me to miss a primo trip, too. I am using an over the counter remedy called Zicam, which genuinely seems to be working as advertised. That is, lessening the severity of the symptoms. My trip starts on Saturday afternoon. Two colds in less than a year- a bit much, I think.

Fingers are crossed...

The Seven Sisters

The first night of my October line (airline lingo for schedule) is going well. We are enroute to Hotlanta with 100 folks in a 319 and are running ahead of schedule 15 minutes. Our position is about 40 miles south of Amarillo at 37,000 feet. The air mass is smooth with a 60 mph tailwind yielding a groundspeed of 578 mph. The engines are in perfect sync at econ cruise, each burning 2,500 pounds per hour. The fuel situation is good tonight… we have enough to hold one hour at Atlanta, and then, if necessary, fly to Birmingham for the alternate airport requirement. I am a happy Captain. Gray hair factor is currently low.

The sky is inky black tonight splattered with thousands of stars and a few planets. Mars, shining brightly, is overhead and a few degrees south of the seven sisters. Small Texas farming communities are slipping underneath our nose, one after the other. In my mind’s eye, I imagine the families sleeping with their windows open in the fine October weather. Even though they are probably asleep, the whisper of our high flying jet can be heard. If they walked out onto their porch and looked up into the heavens, they would see our twinkling nav lights moving east against the star dome… and then, at nine miles per minute, we blend into the stars, out of sight and out of mind.

Atlanta is two hours east...

33 Years

I am not one to say "I told you so", but... the NASA Administrator admitted the shuttle program and the International Space Station were "a mistake." Frankly, I was astounded that he would admit as much, but he did. What he meant, I think, is that 33 years have passed since humans left Earth's gravity well for the moon. Thirty three (33) years. By now, we could have defeated the problems of prolonged micro gravity and radiation exposure. We should have been on Mars 15 or 20 years ago.

He also said that the space shuttle was "barely possible technology." Well, yes that is true, but any spacecraft is barely possible technology. Spaceflight has been, is currently, and always will be (for the next 100 years or so) dangerous to the nth degree. NASA, in my opinion (and you know what opinions are like...), lost a lot of precious time and money keeping humans in low earth orbit for the past 33 years. Fortunately, someone in NASA had the presence of mind to keep the little robotic explorers flying outward to pave the way.

What we are doing with the shuttle is analogous to Charles Lindbergh circling New Jersey for 32 hours, instead of heading out over the Atlantic.

OK, I'll get off the soap box. I admit... I do get wrapped around the axle over human spaceflight. For instance: Quarks, Starbucks, Saturn 5