Overlapping Rotor Blades

Three days off-duty...

I am at the holding fix (Starbucks) waiting for two amigos, both company Captains, and, also, riding Japanese death missiles. There used to be five of us, but the other two were riding in tight formation, overlapping rotor blades, negotiating a tight left curve at the limits of their tires and suspension, when from the opposite direction, came a large SUV over the centerline.

Oops!

Number one hit the driver side mirror, lost control of his R-1 and slid into number two's CBR-1000. They ended up in the bar ditch; a pile of smoking metal, rubber, and plastic. Fortunately, both survived with only a few broken bones and abrasions. Thankfully, they did not lose their aviation medical certificates.

The worst part of the accident was their wives reaction, who were, uh, very unhappy with the "juvenile behaviour" from two supposedly mature airline pilots. Yikes! I was worried about blowback at my house, but the wife of my youth was cool. My two friends did not fare so well... Number one: No more crotch rockets. Number two: No more motorcycles until the kids are out of college.

As I sip my $1.90 cup of coffee, I remember these guys used to tease me about my inability to keep up with them. Well, there is some truth to that... I have only 145 horsepower to their (previous) 165 plus. I am ten years older than they and at least that much wiser. But, most importantly, I've still got my FZ-1 keys.

Watching the Dragon

Position: 15 miles west of AGENT intersection
Altitude: 37,000 feet
Destination: O'hare

The air is, literally, crackling with electricity. The co-pilot and I are amazed at the light show coming from the monstrous storms beginning forty miles north of our position. It is, after all, the first (full) day of spring.

It has been a long day, beginning this morning in the City of Angels. We have been flying hard and fast, changing flight attendants and airplanes every time we go through a hub. The co-pilot and I have been taking turns pre-flighting while the other searches for real coffee and edible food. Fifty more minutes and we will be in Chicago's airspace lining up to land in the 40 mph (34 kts) crosswinds. The co-pilot is flying this leg and has good crosswind skills, so it should be a non-event. One hundred miles ago, my dispatcher sent an email to report that the winds are blowing from the west at 80 mph (69 kts) 1,000 feet above the ground at O'hare. That is interesting...

Even though, we are 40 miles south of the storms, the lightening is illuminating the inside of the flightdeck like a strobe light. The display of energy is very impressive. I remember fighting these types of storms with no radar, no performance, and no miraculous whiz bang flight technology. Wow, how times have changed!

I talked to the three flight attendants via conference call and told them what to expect at O'hare and to prepare the cabin for a turbulent landing. I will give the passengers a little pep talk in a few minutes.

For now, though, we are watching the Dragon. The individual cells are trading punches with huge, thick, horizontal strokes of lightening emanating from the tops above 30,000 feet. I have been struck by lightening several times in an airliner with minimal damage, but not by bolts like we are watching sizzling between cells. There would be big problems after being struck by such a bolt, especially in an electric jet.

Time to stir the pot a little... I look over at the co-pilot and say, "Hey Slick, you think you can handle the wind at O'hare?"

Tee hee...

The Great Basin

Position: Seven miles above The Black Rock Desert
Groundspeed: 570 mph (496 kts)
Souls on Board: 156

Every seat is full plus one hitchhiking 757 pilot going to work. The end of a four day trip is in sight... My policy, though, is not to day dream about it. If I start counting on it, number two engine will say, "Bye- bye" and we will be looking for a place to land, i.e., "Honey, guess what happened?" No, it is best to think only ten minutes ahead. Let the end of the trip approach with the normal ebb and flow of time. Do not try to force it...

Outside, the wind is coming from the west at 92 mph (80 kts) giving us a quartering tailwind. The air mass is smooth and the sky above is a cold blue. Below us, the coyotes that live in the Great Basin are enjoying a beautiful day. They better enjoy it, because the heat is coming soon.

Rolling in on Sin City

We started a four day trip today and are just now finishing some SoCal flying before heading east for the red eye. Approaching Sin City, air traffic control had to delay our descent clearance because of traffic crossing beneath us. When our clearance was issued, the controller asked, "Can you guys make it down from there?" That is one of my favorite questions.

Is the Pope catholic?

Does a one legged duck swim in circles?

Yeah, we can make it down from here. We are cleared to cross a virtual intersection in the sky west of Lost Wages at 16,000 feet and 287 mph (250 kts). Due to the fact that the clearance came late, we will have to use creative methods of losing altitude. Fi-Fi can shed altitude at an alarming rate. In fact, she can, when approaching from above, blow through assigned altitudes with ease. Her wing spoilers are very effective!

Three thousand pounds of hydraulic pressure shove the spoilers up into the slipstream, and down we go. I turn off the Star Trek mode and push the nose down until the indicated airspeed approaches the barber pole (max allowed for current altitude). The vertical speed indicator (VSI) is buried. I have a mental vertical nav path in my once nimble, but now feeble, brain and am recalculating every few seconds until we merge with the path from above. It goes like this:

A normal, fuel efficient, descent path for a medium size airliner is 2.5 to 3 miles per 1000 feet of altitude. If you are looking at an altitude loss of, say 20,000 feet, then you would need 60 ( 3 x 20 ) miles to lose that altitude. If you must decelerate to meet an assigned speed at the intersection, then you need to allow one (1) mile distance to lose 10 knots of airspeed. Losing 50 knots would take 5 miles. So, we have 60 + 5= 65. That is the base distance to lose 20,000 feet and slow 50 knots. There are a few adjustment factors to keep in mind:

1. Tailwinds increase distance about 2 miles per 10 knots of windspeed. Headwinds decrease distance, but you must be careful. Remember, you have given the controller your assurance that your aircraft will be out of his way at that virtual point in space. How do you know what the windspeed and direction will be during the descent? I use the WAG method honed by years of experience.

2. Anti-icing increases the distance because the engines must increase power to supply the hot air to all of the users, like engine anti-ice and wing anti-ice. You need to allow about 2 miles per 1,000 feet of anti-ice use.

3. Young pilots typically fly faster and need more room to decelerate. The kid I am flying with tonight came from the cockpit of a U.S. Navy fighter eighteen months ago and is still very aggressive... Likes to go fast and burn large amounts of fuel.

In normal conditions, the Star Trek mode does a good job of calculating vertical nav paths and will even try to make a non-normal path. But, of course, it has limits. I remember when the A320s and 319s first arrived on airline property. Some of our old Captains that had been flying Boeings since the Dark Ages decided to take on Sparky before they retired. Most of them made it through training OK, but never really adjusted to the New World Order of avionics. They flew her like an old B-737-100 which is possible, but not very efficient. They would say something like, "Turn that s%#t off and fly this thing!" Yes sir, Boss.

As we merge with the vertical path in my brain, I raise the nose and start the deceleration segment. The spoilers remain up until the airspeed begins a downward trend toward 287 mph (250 kts). The Star Trek path looks identical to my mental path... I return control to the flight management computers, and stow the spoilers. Fi-Fi spears the intersection on altitude and airspeed, and then banks 30 degrees left to intercept the outbound course. We are rolling in on Sin City.

It is a beautiful, smooth night. As we clear the terrain west of Lost Wages, the city comes into full view. Wow! It is bright. Things will happen fast for the next 60 minutes. We've got to get this beast on the ground, re-fuel, re-load, make a taco run, and get airborne for points east.

Position: 25 miles west of Las Vegas
Altitude: 14,000 feet
Airspeed: 287 mph (250 kts)

Balance

Eastbound with the moon over my left shoulder and the wind on our tail. In fact, it is a perfect tailwind of 101 knots (116 mph); the ground speed is 100 + 1 greater than the true airspeed. There is something about that combination that gives me the warm fuzzies. Behind the reinforced flightdeck door are 136 passengers with tickets to Indy.

Earlier, one hour before sunset:

The wife of my youth straightened my tie after completing her pre-departure checklist, then said, "Don't be crotchety or an old grump bear. I don't want your co-pilots complaining to their wives or girlfriends about you."

"OK, Honey, I'll be good... Promise"

It is her way of reminding me about some of the Captains that were, uh, shall we say, cantankerous, when I was a co-pilot and the stories I would bring home. Even so, I miss (most of) them... A lot. Then, with a last second pat on her shiney hiney, off I go into the wild, black yonder.

Midnight, Lost Wages:

We are number five for take-off. One eye on the fuel quantity and the other on the second hand. In eight minutes, we are out of taxi fuel. My dispatcher and I agreed to a maximum revenue load with fuel burn off to landing weight. In other words, load everything on the aircraft (passengers, freight, mail, Grandma's poodle...), then figure the fuel backwards from the destination at maximum landing weight. The second option is to load the fuel first, then load revenue until maximum landing weight at destination. In the business, this is known as weight restricted. Sometimes Grandma gets left behind using this option, but if the Captain is nervous about the destination (weather, closed runway, traffic, or a creepy feeling), then this option is the safest. Tonight, though, the big picture is good. All forces are in a state of balance. Put Grandma and Fluffy on the plane...

"Crank number two."

The co-pilot opens the start valve and number two engine starts turning. At about 25% revolutions, the kerosene/air mixture lights off with a "whoof" sending the internal engine temperatures skyward, literally. Metallurgy is an amazing science! How can the hot section go from outside air temperature to hell fire in a few seconds without cracking? Unbelievable! Our hands are moving quickly as we push buttons, pull levers, turn knobs, run checklists, and get our ducks all lined up for take-off. We are now number two; the fuel is about minimum amount for take-off.

"Flight attendants, please be seated for take-off."

"Cleared for take-off runway 25 right. Caution wake turbulence from preceding 767."

I am the flying pilot on this leg; I let Fi-Fi roll onto the runway without stopping and advance the thrust levers forward about one inch... Then, we wait while the engines think about it for a few seconds. When they are convinced that I am serious about this take-off, the engines slowly spool up from idle thrust and stabilize, ready and waiting for more kerosene.

Thrust levers forward to the stops. Fi-Fi pushes us into our seats as the fuel flows head north. A last glance at the fuel quantity... Minimum; exactly as planned.

Airborne at 165 mph (143 kts), positive climb rate and "Gear up." The barn doors open into the slipstream and the landing gear is pushed and pulled into the belly with several clacks and a few thumps; barn doors close, flight deck gear lights extinguish indicating all is well.

Twenty minutes later, we level at our first cruising altitude of 35,000 feet. We climbed through thin cloud layers and turbulence, but up here it is smooth. The next three hours will be spent nursing the fuel load and tailwind hunting. My goal is to touchdown at Indy with one hour of fuel remaining.

No shortcuts tonight... We have to watch that landing weight.