Flight Level 390

The day began in Anchorage with a 25 minute delay at the end of the runway for air traffic saturation in the southern reaches of the Empire. Since we were fuel critical for the long flight ahead, I shut down both engines to save 700 pounds. Better to start the day with only a time deficit. Five hours later, we landed in Sin City with 124 passengers... A full load for an A319.

Operations assigned us another aircraft, an A320, for the flight to Portland. This aircraft had an inoperative aux power unit (APU), a small turbine engine in the tail that provides electricity and high pressure air for the air conditioning on the ground, i.e., a handy little unit. An inoperative APU requires:

1. The aircraft be hooked to the terminal building electrical source, or a ground power unit (GPU).

2. Cold air must be pumped into the aircraft from the terminal, or an air conditioning cart, which rarely work properly.

3. The engines must be started with a high pressure air bottle, or a start cart.

All went well, until a few minutes before we were scheduled to start an engine at the gate with a start cart... That was when a young and inexperienced ramp person decided it was about time to pull the electrical plug, because that is what happens most of the time; the electrical plug is pulled and the ship's own power (APU) takes the electrical load. If there is no APU...Ooops! In our case, the aircraft lost all electrical power and all data from the nav computers was dumped, also the inertial nav platforms lost power and they went bye-bye. The passengers were in the dark, too. The really frustrating part... I asked the ramp supervisor to please, please, please, tell his folks not to pull the electricity before I gave thumbs up.

Ahhh! I went to the beach in Mexico for awhile. Yes, my good looking, scantily clad wife was handing me cool tropical drinks with little paper umbrellas. She told me everything was going to be OK. Life was good!

Hey!

The co-pilot opened his side window and was vigorously explaining that we needed electricity. Back to reality... The power came back, and then we had to re-align and re-load. We were going to be late, for sure.

An hour later, we were cruising at 38,000 feet enroute to Portland with 158 folks on board. Every seat of any description was full. That included four pilots (2 flying/2 deadheading), four flight attendants, 150 passengers and probably a few pocket dogs. The atmosphere was calm and smooth as we cut through it at 9 miles per minute. I started thinking about our little loss of power incident and giggled... That poor kid that pulled the plug probably got five pounds chewed off his butt by the ramp super. The ramp super probably thought I was going to explode. Little did he know, I was on the beach at Cancun...

Five hundred miles to go; day three of a four day trip.

The smile on my face is so big that it hurts. Thirty miles ahead and 12,000 feet below is one of my favorite places on Earth... Anchorage. The co-pilot has never been here... He keeps mumbling mild expletives as the beauty of the landscape reveals itself. Yeah, it is breath taking today as we come out of warp speed and re-enter the lower atmosphere.

How did I get so lucky as to have back to back Anchorage trips? Fantastic! Descending into paradise is an oxymoron, but in this case, appropriate.

And, just like that, my Anchorage overnight is history. The land of the midnight sun is disappearing over the horizon in my six o'clock. Why do the sweetest things in life have such a short time span? As usual, that question remains a mystery of time and space.

The sun is behind us, low on the horizon. As the latitude value decreases, we will soon be under the Milky Way. Our first landing, Lost Wages, is four hours away. Then, it is back to the northwest corner of the Empire for a Portland overnight. By then, we will be dragging our pilot tails.

All systems are in the proverbial "Green" status.

It has been 83 days since my last trip to Anchorage; the crew scheduling gods have been angry with me, for reasons unknown. As the FP (flying pilot), I made one of my best landings in years on runway 7 Right, a harbinger of good things to come, I hope. Eighty-three days ago, Anchorage weather was brutally cold, with snow and ice covering everything. Today, it is 50 degrees Fahrenheit, overcast gray skies, and light rain falling... A normal Anchorage summer day.

Tourists are everywhere I look... Thousands of them from cruise ships. A few months ago, frozen tumbleweeds were blowing across the path to the freight dog hangout... Today, throngs of rain soaked tourists are drifting to and fro across the path. The husbands have that look in their eyes, "I should have stayed on the ship."

What a difference a few days makes...

I put my wife's tiny hiney on the back of my iron horse and we rode northbound 425 miles into Utah. I had been looking forward to this motorcycle rally for months; it did not disappoint me. We had a great time! Getting the time off required me to load my flying schedule with minimum time off fore and aft of requested days free from duty... It was worth it, though. The weather was gorgeous, the iron horse never missed a beat, the scenery was spectacular, and most important, my wife was very happy.

Tomorrow, though, at 4:20 A.M., it is back to the cloud mines.

Time: 10:30 P.M.
Position: On the ramp, Sin City

We have 35 minutes to get this aircraft re-fueled, re-loaded, and engines turning. It is the first night of a three day trip, leg #3… Sin City to Mylanta (pilot talk for Atlanta). My co-pilot and I have been on-duty for eight hours.

I am outside, preflighting the aircraft, an older A-320 with small thrust engines, while the co-pilot loads the navigation data, retrieves the flight plan from air traffic control, and prepares the flight deck. All around me, people are busting tail to get us ready to push back for taxi. The noise from brake fans, air conditioning packs, the APU, hydraulic systems, and E & E bay cooling fans ( E & E is Airbus speak for electrics and electronics, i.e., where most of the Star Trek stuff is located; under the flight deck in a large bay) is ear-splitting. Without ear plugs, you would not be able to stand the cacophony. The air conditioning and pressurization system is stripping water out of the atmosphere and dumping it overboard onto the ramp. The E & E bay fans, likewise, are extracting hot air from the bay in a fast moving column of heated air... It will, literally, blow your hat off.

Back in the flight deck, I report to the co-pilot that “All the big pieces are still there.” He is busy, though, and does not appreciate my worn out humor. Finally, all the ducks are lined up, paperwork is checked and signed, every seat is filled, and the cabin door is closed... The co-pilot tells me we are cleared to push from the gate.

I tell the tug driver, “Brakes released, cleared to push.”

He tells me, “Roger, starting push. You are cleared to start number one.”

Nine minutes later, at 1000 feet above the ground, I call for climb thrust. The co-pilot slowly pulls the thrust levers back to the climb thrust detent and I watch, with relief, as the exhaust gas temperatures fall rapidly away from the red lines. She is a heavy chevy tonight and with small thrust engines, we are not setting any time to climb records. At 235 m.p.h., I call "flaps up"... As the hydraulics pull the slats and flaps back into the wings, she sinks a little, then stops climbing. Air Traffic Control gives us a right, 180 degree turn, towards our first navigation fix. The co-pilot gives me a thumbs up as he clears the airspace on the right... I lower the right wing and begin the banking turn eastbound.

When the airspeed indicates 253 m.p.h., we begin to climb, albeit, slowly. Quietly, I say, "Easy Baby, you are doing just fine." We are 1,800 feet above the casinos... If we were flying big thrust engines tonight, we would be at 5,000 feet and accelerating. This is precisely the scenario that drives young co-pilots wild with impatience. At an indicated airspeed of 287 m.p.h., the climb rate increases to 1,000 feet per minute. A few minutes later, we punch through 10,000 feet above the ground. We are no longer restrained by the 287 m.p.h. speed limit, so I lower the nose and let the airspeed increase to an indicated 345 m.p.h. for the climb to altitude.

Climbing through 23,000 feet, above the bumps and clouds, the full moon illuminates the undercast. The tailwinds are light tonight; even so, we should be arriving Mylanta ahead of schedule, hopefully before the sun cracks the horizon.

1,610 miles before we sleep...

The final item of the "Before Push and Engine Start" checklist was checked. I was about to tell the co-pilot to get pushback clearance from ramp control, when the email alert light flashed.

Incoming message...

The mini-printer spit out a three inch mini-message. It said, "stop... new phl taf... need ldg alt" Pilot talk for stop the pushback, Philadelphia forecast down, need landing alternate airport.

Not good! We were already at maximum gross take-off weight. A landing alternate would require a minimum of 3,000 lbs. of additional fuel, most likely more. Obviously, some weight would have to be off loaded. Normally, weight & balance folks will remove cargo first, then bags, then passengers. The jetway had to be moved back to the aircraft for reopening the main cabin door to facilitate my running for new paperwork. The rampers fired up one of the hydraulic system electric pumps to open the heavy cargo doors to remove weight. Those people earn their pay! A few minutes prior to push, they shut the cargo doors, glad to have uploaded another aircraft. It has to be frustrating to be forced to re-open and off-load.

That little adventure was four hours ago... My dispatcher and I decided Hartford would be the best landing alternate. The rampers unloaded 2,000 lbs. of cargo and mail; the dispatcher recalculated take-off weight using a longer runway and more flaps for a net increase of 3,300 lbs. of fuel carrying capacity.

We cruised under the star dome for three hours, but now, the sun is in our face as we approach the east coast. We are following another airliner, below us, around a large thunderstorm. They are leaving a contrail in their wake that is undulating with the winds aloft. What a cool sight that only pilots are privileged to witness.

Life on the line continues...

Airport surface temperature is 112 F and summer is not yet here in the Valley of the Sun. I am flying day two of four day trip. We started our day in the City of Angels, stopped in the Frying Pan, and are now number 20 for take-off, enroute to Boston with 150 passengers, a full load. We have an older A320 with "small" engines; she is middle aged, but like me, she can still get the job done... It just takes her longer to get off the ground and climb to altitude. My co-pilot, like most young co-pilots, complained about the small engines... Mostly because it takes the co-pilot longer to figure the performance data. When conditions are hot and heavy, we must use creative methods to meet the required climb gradients. In plain English, that means if an engine fails at the worst time, the aircraft must still be able to climb to a safe altitude and return for a one engine landing. On most hot days, that includes more flaps to lift off sooner, faster runway speeds for more energy, and boosting the engines to higher temperatures for increased thrust. Occasionally, we have to use all three methods. At 1,000 feet, when thrust is reduced, these older aircraft have to rest a little bit, catch there breath, build up a little speed, then slowly continue the climb. They will climb about 1,000 feet per minute until 25,000 feet, then they lose a bit of steam and will give about 700 feet per minute until 33,000 feet. At that point, I will let them take a breather, burn off fuel weight, then continue the climb a few hundred miles down the airway.

Last week, I flew a brand new A-319... What a difference! Even at full gross take-off weight, when we set take-off thrust, it mashed us back in our seats hard enough to cause involuntary exhalations of breath and squeaks from our vocal cords. The only creative performance trick necessary was pushing the stick forward hard enough to keep it on the ground until proper lift-off speed was reached. Once airborne, it climbed like a home sick angel. Company procedure limits climb angle to 18 degrees, which was reached quickly; at 18 degrees nose up, it kept accelerating. At 1,000 feet above the ground, I called for reduction in thrust to climb setting, then quickly, before we passed maximum flap speed, called for flaps up. As soon as the flaps were flush with the wings, it really started accelerating. I said something like, "Can you believe this thing?" At 287 m.p.h., maximum legal speed below 10,000 feet above sea level, it was climbing in excess of 4,000 feet per minute at maximum take-off weight. When we passed 10,000 feet, I activated the Star Trek mode, let go of the reins and let her run.

Just like a 26 year old co-pilot, she was in a tizzy... Got places to go and people to see.