Localizer Alive... Part 2

The alarm went off at 3:00 A.M.... I reached over to feel the glassy smooth skin of my wife. Nothing! Oh yeah, I'm in Chicago. The crew van leaves in one hour. Must get up! Lightening flashes are filtering into my room, followed by thunder. Uh oh... This is not starting out good. Coffee pot on, Weather Channel on, shower on hot... Get moving!

At 4:00 A.M., we all piled into the crew van for the ride to the airport. A few minutes later, we are looking at a mass of humanity lined up for the security checkpoints. I can't believe there are this many folks traveling at this hour of the morning. We cut to the front of the line, or else the flight will be late. At 4:30 A.M. we arrive at the aircraft... The co-pilot begins the lengthy checklist to bring the Beast out of hibernation. The flight attendants are throwing their bags in the overhead bins, checking their galleys, and preparing the cabin to receive passengers. I grab my flashlight and proceed outside into the cold rain to pre-flight; the co-pilot does not have time. The ramp around the aircraft is a beehive of activity with bags being loaded and fuel being pumped. There is not yet a hint of twilight.

At 4:45 A.M., I am back in my seat preparing for departure. The email alert light begins to flash and the first of five emails spit out of the mini-printer. My dispatcher wants to route us around some turbulence in the Midwest. I agree, so the new route begins to come over the mini-printer and the co-pilot loads it into the nav computers. I use my computer, a short chewed up #2 pencil and a small calculator, to check the nav computers fuel burn predictions. Looks OK to me.

At 4:55 A.M. our checklists are completed, the last seat has been filled, the weight and balance sheet is in my hands, and the lead flight attendant is giving me the look... Are you ready look.
I ask the co-pilot if we have everything we need to depart, just in case I am forgetting something. His thumb goes up... I tell the lead flight attendant, "Let's go!"

At 5:00 A.M., on schedule, the tug starts to push on 84 tons of aircraft. The laser gyros in the inertial reference nav units sense the motion and start the clock, which is sent via radio link to the dispatcher's computer. They know within a few seconds of our departure. The tug driver tells me, "Captain, you are cleared to start the engine of your choice." I reply, "Roger that, I am turning number two." I open the start valve and faintly hear the rush of compressed air being routed into the air starter which begins to spin the engine. Man, that is so cool!

At 6:00 A.M., we are 400 miles down range at 34,000 feet. The eastern horizon, behind our tail, is now pink with the morning's twilight. Sirius is following Orion the Hunter below the western horizon. Soon, a four day trip will end. I have three days off, then another four day trip.

And so it goes...

Localizer Alive...

As my dispatcher said in her email after the Chicago holding was lifted, "Whew!" It was looking like an Indianapolis re-fueling stop to make it into O'Hare with 150 passengers returning home from their Thanksgiving holiday. Luckily, we were cleared into Chicago airspace in the nick of time. Now, I was thinking, if the co-pilot can land with a crosswind, wet runway, maximum landing weight, and low visibility, we've got it made!

It has been a long day for us, number three of a four day trip. Our day started in beautiful Orange County, California. This morning, I drank my coffee on the balcony of the hotel room and watched the sun crack the horizon. The air was sweet and cool, the deep blue sky tinted sunrise orange. Later, I knew we would have our hands full of crosswinds, turbulence, and rain/snow/ice mix, but for that moment, all was in order.

I flew the leg to Sin City... Luck of the coin flip earlier in the flight deck. Climbing out of southern California the winds aloft were over 150 m.p.h. from the west at 24,000 feet. Our crab angle across the ground to maintain the course line was tremendous! Yet, we were still moving over the ground at 500+ m.p.h. Amazing! At the Lost Wages airport, the winds were blowing from the northwest at 30 m.p.h. with gusts to 40. We were cleared to land to the north on runway 1 Left. Because of the crosswind conditions, I selected partial flaps to make the aircraft easier to control close to the ground. As we crossed the runway threshold, I said to the co-pilot, "Holy Moly, look at that windsock!" It was parallel to the ground and indicating about a 60 degree crosswind component. At thirty feet above the runway I reduced the thrust to idle, then kicked out the crab with the right rudder and lowered the left wing to maintain ground track. I pitched the nose a few degrees above zero and let her settle to the runway. Seventy tons of aluminum, jet fuel, and human beings settled onto the asphalt in a cloud of rubber smoke, which was immediately blown away by the wind. Welcome to Babylon, folks.

Two hours later, we lifted off for Chicago. We were a bit delayed because my lead flight attendant did not check the potable water level until too late. It was empty and she had forgotten... She called me in the flight deck about five seconds before the push and confessed. I could tell she was worried that I was going to reach critical mass, but I remained calm. In fact, I went to my happy place for a few seconds, a technique I learned from a senior Captain a long time ago. I told her it was good that she had found it before we pushed. The ramp personnel, also, failed to fill the water tank, so it was equally their fault. In five minutes we had our water... I called the lead flight attendant and told her not to worry, no harm done. I wanted her mind on an emergency evacuation scenario and not the silly water tank. The tug driver began the push and cleared me to "Turn number one."

Because of wintertime sun angles, at 5:30 P.M. we flew into the night sky about 100 miles west of O'Hare airport. I thought about reminding the co-pilot that we had enough fuel for one instrument approach and if it did not go well, we would be forced to fly to Indy for more fuel. I only thought about it... We were cleared for the instrument landing system, a.k.a. ILS, to runway 22 right. The radio beams we were looking for to guide us to the runway finally made the localizer and glideslope indicators wiggle. I called, "Localizer alive" to remind the flying pilot, in this case, the co-pilot, that he was intercepting the beam. As we descended into the cold and icy muck, I double checked the engine and wing anti-ice... Both still on.

The approach lights for our runway appeared at about four hundred feet above the ground... The lights were twenty degrees off centerline of the aircraft, to the co-pilot's right. That would be the crosswind component, as advertised. Finally, underneath the clouds, with the runway in sight, the co-pilot verbally stated that he was going to land, as in "Landing." I thought, "Easy does it youngster." I turned on the windshield wipers, powered by motors strong enough to move the blades against the 150 m.p.h. slipstream... They are very loud, but effective. Instantly, the view changed from out of focus to crystal clear. Yes sir, the runway was wet and rain drops were blowing across our landing light beams. It is very hard not to squirm when one's career is in the hands of a young co-pilot about to land on a slick surface. But, land he did, and smooth as glass with no crab angle. He made it look easy. As he initiated the stopping program, I was counting the thousand foot markers... Five thousand... Four thousand... Three thousand... Finally, we slowed to less than 60 m.p.h., before the two thousand foot marker. The co-pilot said, "Anytime you want it, Boss..." I took over control at 30 m.p.h. and told him, "Nice job, Slick."

One hour later, myself, the co-pilot and three flight attendants are ordering food-to-go from the hotel cafe. We have our room keys but have decided we are too tired to take our stuff to the room, then return for the food, so we wait. One of the flight attendants asked, "That was a nice landing, who did it?" I replied, "I did, of course. Was there any doubt?"

The co-pilot kept a straight face. I like this kid...

Thanksgiving Day

The wife of my youth and I hit the deck at 5:30 A.M. to begin prep for the Thanksgiving feast with friends and family. I had volunteered, two months ago, to cook the turkey on my grill. This morning, at 5:31 A.M., I was wondering why... But, it turned (literally) out O.K. and was delicious. Of course, I acted like it was no big deal.

Two weeks ago, I flew with a co-pilot that had attended chefs school. His hobby is cooking and he had given me a few pointers about cooking a turkey on the grill. It worked! Thank you, Mark!

Also, I made about 20 points (+) with my wife. This is a real good thing...

Cold Air

Yep, it was cold this morning in Chicago... But my young co-pilot reported the airframe to be clean and dry, i.e., no frost, snow, or ice. Our aircraft is one of our oldest 320's, but I have flown her many times in the past. She is a good ship. The flight westbound is mine, only because I have a guilty conscience. I have been taking advantage of my co-pilot's flying skills... as in asking him to fly most of the legs. He is one of those kids that flys like a... well, like young men and women fly. Quick reflexes and in the groove. I used to be like that...

As we taxied toward the runway, I asked the co-pilot to double check the flap setting for our take-off. We are loaded to the maximum weight this morning with folks and cargo. The flap setting is critical for a heavy aircraft takeoff... A principle that is built on human bones. He did a quick check of the performance math, one more time, and confirmed the flap setting. After the taxi checklist was completed, the tower cleared us for take-off. From habit, I did my own little before take-off check prior to advancing the thrust levers---> flaps, trim, fuel, lights, correct runway...Let's go.

Cold air and jet engines go together like hot apple pie and ice cream. In 35 seconds the aircraft's nose rotates upward to 18 degrees and we are on our way to Grandma's house for Thanksgiving.

Windy City

Back to the real world for this Captain... My days of hanging around Anchorage are over with for about a month. My schedule has me flying between the mega-cities of the Empire until Christmas Eve; Sorry, I meant Happy Holiday Eve, I guess. The weather has been cooperating and the schedule has been met to the minute or earlier. Now for the bad news... I am flying in the daytime. Yes, the only star in the sky is our main sequence star, old Sol. But, it is kind of cool to see the terrain of my youth in the light. I was very lucky to have been reared in the New Mexico highlands, although I did not think so when I was young.

Day number three finds us in the Windy City, Chicago's O'Hare airport. In the morning, at an unspeakable hour... Westbound. At this moment in time, the sky looks and smells like snow flurries in Chicago.

Time to review de-icing and anti-icing procedures.

CRM

A horrific accident back in the 1970s caused the Federal Aviation Administration to get serious about CRM, or Cockpit Resource Management. When the mandatory political correctness filtering device was attached to all corporate communications, the PC police realized that Cockpit was a no-no word, so the official CRM meaning was changed to Crew Resource Management. That sounds better, does it not?

Anyway, back to the accident in the 1970s... A four engine airliner was delayed in it's landing because the landing gear down and locked indicator was showing an unsafe condition. The crew was troubleshooting the problem while circling southwest of the airport. Basically, it went like this: (excerpts from the cockpit voice recorder)

Flight engineer: Captain, we are getting kind of low on fuel.

The Captain and co-pilot are working the gear problem...

A few minutes later...

Flight engineer: Sir, we are getting really low on fuel.

The Captain and co-pilot are still working the gear problem...

A few minutes later...

Flight engineer: Captain, we only have, uh.. we only have 4,000 pounds left. (not good, sort of like a pint of gasoline in a car)

The Captain and co-pilot are still working the problem...

A few minutes later...

Flight engineer: Hey, the engines are surging! Oh s**t, we're losing number three!

This gets the Captain's attention...

Captain: OK, shut down number three and tell them we need direct routing to the airport.

Flight engineer: OK, engine shutdown checklist... Captain, number two is flaming out!

Co-pilot: We're not going to make the runway.

They did not make the airport. The aircraft came down in the trees a few miles short of the runway and killed about half the occupants. There was no fire because there was no fuel to burn. Obviously, a major malfunction in communication occurred in the flight deck.

Thusly, CRM came to the forefront in a serious manner.

At first, it was touchy feely suggestions on how Captains should listen to their crew's input. Then, over the years, it became mandatory behavior expected of the Captain. I personally know Captains who have been taken off line and retrained for failure to maintain CRM practices in the flight deck. It seems that Big Brother's nose is moving further into the tent, so to speak.

Imagine my surprise when an email from the Chief's Pilots office arrived to all line pilots addressing Captain's authority. An excerpt from that email:

Captain's authority, which is cloudy for many of you, will be clarified soon.

Say again, please...

I called my top secret contact in the Chief Pilot's office looking for an explanation.

Hmmm... Apparently there has been some confusion about whom is responsible for mandating standard operating procedures in the flight deck, as in co-pilots arguing with Captains. Uh oh! What we need is cameras in the flight decks, or better yet... like Aeroflot of the old U.S.S.R., political officers in the flight deck to keep the Captains toeing the Party Line.

Un friggin' believable...

Camera Batteries

My digital camera owner's manual states:

The capacity of CR2 batteries drops sharply when the ambient temperature is below 20 degrees centigrade (68 degrees Fahrenheit).

They are not kidding! I was amazed at the short life span of my $4.50 (each) batteries in the cold Alaskan temperatures. Just a few photos per set of three, and that's all folks. I need to get another rechargeable li-ion battery... Today!

Turnagain Arm

I have decided to make Anchorage one of my high priority cities for the winter, which is reverse of normal operating procedures for this Captain. Normally, I bid for warm weather destinations during the winter... with good reason. Imagine, if you will, operating out of an east coast mega airport during a snowstorm. It is a nightmare of long taxi times (hours), multiple returns to the gate for more de-icing and fuel, angry passengers, and a whole litany of other problems. As a teenager says in contemporary lingo; Uh... No!

Yes, it snows in Anchorage, but the airport is a cold weather airport and the traffic load is light compared to, say, JFK. Last week in Anchorage, I de-iced an ice covered aircraft, then taxied to the runway and took off without delay. What a concept! So cool... Literally.

Being that I am passionate about the stars and the atmosphere, the incredible seasonal difference in light and temperature naturally attracts me. Some of my enthusiasm infected the wife of my youth, so despite 15 degree temperatures, she put that cute little hiney into one of my seats bound for Anchorage. After a long flight against the wind, we finally arrived to the winter wonderland of Alaska.

In the morning, we rented a car and headed for the glacier field at the end of Turnagain Arm. The sunrise was beautiful, illuminating the cloud strata with golden light. It seems as if one can point the camera lense in any direction and capture nature's beauty. Yeah, it's cold. Thankfully, though, the wind was calm. My little wife was thrilled at the sight of Dall sheep walking on a 45 degree rocky incline and Bald eagles soaring on the morning's first light.

All good things come to an end, though. We must rest and prepare for the night's flying. Duty calls...

Kingdom of Stars

This morning, the wife of my youth asked me to take her to an arts and crafts festival in a small community adjacent to ours. Yikes! My initial thought was to whine and grovel or feint illness. However, being that she is a fantastic wife and beautiful woman who does not ask much of me, I agreed. As it turned out, it was a pleasant morning of buying trinkets and small Christmas gifts for friends and neighbors. I ran into a pilot bud holding his wife's purchases and purse, as I was... We laughed at our mutual predicament.

Tonight, I am back on the airways enroute to Alaska. We are at the half way point and have reported our fuel load to Mother, who then sent us the latest Anchorage weather. Vancouver Island is off our right wing 50 miles. The wind is from the west at 180 mph at 38,000 feet; It is killing our groundspeed, but we have adequate fuel.

The good news is the total lack of visible light pollution in our position. Overhead is a Kingdom of Stars that is breathtaking. I am unable to wordsmith the beauty factor. Cygnus, the Swan is dominating the Milky Way in the northwestern sky, it's wings spread wide. Slightly to the left of the Swan is the tiny Sagitta, the Arrow. To the left of Sagitta is the small Delphinus, the Dolphin. I cannot see these two little beauties from my light polluted backyard, unless I use binoculars. Awesome!

PANC ( airline lingo for Anchorage ) is more than two hours ahead. Anchorage weather is cold at 14 degrees F. with clear skies and light winds.

Brrrrr! Winter clothing is in order.

November Sky

Time: 2:30 A.M.
Position: North 40 36 / West 97 28
Altitude: 37,000 feet
Ground speed: 601 mph

The beautiful, clear nights of the October sky, now only a memory, are receding behind the aircraft at 10 miles per minute. We passed through that imaginary gate into the November sky two nights ago somewhere over Oregon. This morning finds us enroute to the capital city of the Empire with 119 sleeping passengers.

My co-pilot and I started our night in the City of Angels at 8:00 P.M. with a quick flight to Las Vegas. While we were refueling and shuffling passengers, luggage, and flight attendants, a frontal passage caused the surface winds to kick up to thirty five mph plus, lifting dirt, paper, and sand into the night time air mass. Minutes prior, the conditions at the Sin City airport were excellent with clear skies and cool temperatures. From lovely to ugly in a few minutes! Kind of cool, actually ( if you are into weather, as I am...).

The co-pilot started number two engine while I was taxiing to the runway on number one. We completed our checklists, warned the passengers for the third time that the ride would be rough at lower altitudes, told the flight attendants to take their seats, and (with the permission of the tower ) moved onto the runway for take off. The windsock was extended parallel to the ground, indicating a direct crosswind. I advanced the thrust levers to 1/3 power setting to stabilize the engines, then to the max power setting while moving the stick into the wind and holding a lot of rudder to keep the beast on the centerline.

Now, hundreds of miles down the airway, we have climbed above the dirty, turbulent lower atmosphere into the inky black, inverted dome of the stars. We are riding the jet stream like a surfer dude rides a wave. My little chewed up pencil says we should have one hour of holding fuel when we arrive at D.C. and I am happy to see the fuel computers agree.

I am eating ice and drinking hot coffee to stay awake. Even though I slept well during the day, the circadian rhythm kicks butt about this time of the morning.

Three more hours until D.C.