Taxiway Charlie

Position: Taxiway Charlie... Lost Wages
Groundspeed: 0
Destination: Cleveland
Passengers on board: 150 (every seat full)

Finally, the words we have been waiting for: "Taxi into position and hold, runway 25 right." The thirsty V2500 engines have already gone through their allotted taxi fuel and are now drinking from the Captain's "uh-oh" ration. They are relentless in their demand for kerosene. My dispatcher figured 18 minutes taxi fuel; that was gone 27 minutes ago. The surface wind velocity is unforecast and has caught everyone by surprise, hence the arrival and departure rates have slowed down considerably. We still have enough fuel for a safe flight, but my wiggle room is disappearing. As usual, my most frequent headaches are fuel related.

Outside, the winds are howling, blowing dirt and trash across the taxiway. The large surface area of our vertical fin is changing the wind's energy into a constant, back and forth, yawing motion. After take-off, the turbulence will be bad until we climb out of 15,000 feet, plus or minus a few thousand. I think the term vomit comet will be appropriate tonight.

Waiting for us over the center of the Empire is a huge line of thunderstorms. It is going to be one of those nights, I fear... The off-course vectoring fuel I was counting on is gone with the wind.

Low Tide

Anchorage is finally thawing out; spring is coming to the far north. The daytime temperatures are exceeding 40 degrees Fahrenheit. Last night, the main landing gear touched down four minutes early supporting the weight of 124 passengers, 5 crew, 6 tons of kerosene, 1.5 tons of mail and freight, 200 bags, and a few pocket dogs. One of the passengers was the wife of my youth.

This morning, we rented a car and headed out for a day of photo ops. Light rain has been falling all morning. Even though, the roads are wet and the temperatures not above 45, there are motorcycles everywhere. The riding season is short here; everyday above freezing is precious. That, also, applies to our day out. We only have a few hours, then it is back to Anchorage to get ready for work.

The Big Picture

Position: East of Mount St. Helens

Altitude: 20,000 feet

Destination: CYVR (Vancouver)

We are hiding on the west coast of the Empire, flying low so that crew scheduling cannot see us. The weather covering the east coast has flight operations in turmoil and crews are being re-routed at the drop of a pin. All the reserve pilots have been used and now they are sniping at the line pilots. The co-pilot's question of, "Well, if we have to go to Newark, who'll fly to San Diego tonight?" begs for an answer. The problem is the Big Picture, which pilots do not have and cannot get. Trying to understand the methods of crew scheduling will lead to seizures.

We have a couple of routes that fly back and forth between SoCal and the northwest all day long. They are so sweet! The food is good, the passengers are laid back (for the most part), the worst weather encountered is, usually, a little fog, and west of the Sierras, the ride is normally good. Today, though, the upper altitudes are turbulent, forcing us to stay low.

That's OK... Hopefully, the emails from crew scheduling are zinging over our heads into the ether, never to be seen again.

Where are those guys? We need a crew for Newark...

Two Old Guys

Position: Thirty miles northwest of Tatoosh
Altitude: 36,000 feet
Groundspeed: 500 mph (435 kts)
Destination: PANC (Anchorage)

The engines are running nice and cool, fuel flows are reasonable, air mass is smooth, and the wind is on our left wing. It is actually slowing us down a bit because of the need to swing the nose toward the wind to stay on our course line. Still, we will be arriving five minutes early, that is, if we can find the airport on the first attempt (pilot humor).

My co-pilot is the same age as I, which is very, make that extremely, unusual. He is, of course, a re-tread. In pilot lingo, that means he has been at several major airlines which are no longer in existence. Picking an airline for a career is, at best, a crap shoot. Most re-treads have bad attitudes, but this guy is cool. I am thankful for that...

There is a lot of "what, huh, say again" in our communications with each other; the jet engine will, eventually, take your high frequency hearing away. Both of us wear geezer glasses to read with, but still have good distance vision. We have the same historical perspective, watched Sky King as kids, can name the original Mercury Seven, able to recognize Robin Olds in a restaurant, know what engine powered the DC-7, and on it goes. Its not that I mind flying with young co-pilots, but after the first hour, there is not much to talk about.

Underneath our 319, a black veil covers all of the earth. There is no visual ground contact. Above our flight deck, the heavens are indescribably beautiful... Clear and bright. Orion the Hunter is standing on the black veil in the west. There is something Biblical about this, I think.

BZZZZZZZZZZZ! Whoa... Back to reality. The number one flight attendant is calling. She is 22 years old, been on the line for two (2) months, first job out of college. She told me she wanted to get the "flight attendant thing" out of her system right away. I did not tell her that I know a lot of girls who told me the same thing years ago and are still here. It's addictive... Have to be very careful.

She asked, "Hows my two old guys up there? You need to go to the bathroom again?"