Eclipse

I must be living right... I have seen the Perseid meteor shower of August and the eclipse of the moon, all within three weeks. Since I am an amateur (very amateur) astronomer, this is a big deal.

The Florida overnight went well, as usual. In fact, I have never had a bad Florida overnight. I have seen two hurricanes, the aftermath of 9-11-2001, spring break havoc, and political turmoil, all from the perspective of being inserted into the southern paradise at 450 knots.

And so it goes seven miles above Pensacola...Westbound.

Storm Moon

Back in the saddle flying to the four corners of the Empire, and even a little further. Our aircraft are bulging with passengers as everyone is traveling on last minute vacations before the Labor Day holidays. Ten more days, and the flight attendants can relax a little bit before the fall breaks begin.

The national airspace is infested with storms east of the Rockies. We have been flying large, sweeping arcs as we circumnavigate one storm after another en route to Florida. When I looked at my weather briefing, I decided to upload two extra tons of "uh-oh" fuel, albeit, with a guilty conscience. Now, considering the number of miles we have flown off course before the half-way point, I am relieved.

Ahead of us is a Level 6 thunderstorm lying north of DFW. It is a monster flattening against the stratosphere. Behind it, the moon rises... Sort of a storm moon, if you will.

Now, if I can hold my camera steady for one-half second...

My Excuse

The posts have been few and far between for the last few months, but I have an excuse, and here it is... A money pit in my back yard. I have resisted the urge to build a pool for years, which in hindsight, was an expensive mistake. The prices have increased, it seems, geometrically.

I interviewed scores of pool owners before I jumped into this endeavour. I was surprised to find that only 50% were glad that they had constructed a pool. A 50/50 chance is not very good odds, but I am tired of being hot in the summer.

So, I dig...

Perseid

Position: Underneath Cassiopeia

Destination: El Paso

It has been a long, long day. We left Anchorage on schedule (every seat full) for Sin City. The co-pilot and I marveled at how quickly the days are shortening in the northern climes. It was sun glasses "off" much quicker than just a few weeks ago. We rode the terminator line of the sun for hundreds of miles; gold rimmed clouds to the west and the Earth's shadow to the east. The waters of the Pacific were calm enough to mirror the clouds above.

The night sky rolled over us west of Seattle...

We arrived Sin City a few minutes ahead of schedule on the obligatory high, left downwind for runway 25 Left. Approach control inserted us between a mad dog 88 (MD-88) and a super guppy (737-800). I reminded the co-pilot (flying pilot) that this would call for increased situational awareness on his part to make this work, i.e., three aircraft in a five mile long slot, we being in the middle. The approach controller was at the limit; his communication rapid fire and never ceasing... Pilots trying to get in short read backs.

The mad dog Captain asked for the s-turn maneuver trying to put extra distance between themselves and the guy in front; tower approved the request, but only to the south, please. We watched the mad dog bank left, then back toward the runway. A few seconds later:

"Tower, this isn't going to work. We're too close to the guy in front of us."

"Yeah, I think your right. Tell you what... Fly runway heading; climb to 5,000 and contact departure on 119.2... Sorry about that."

The mad dog's nose pitched up and then it's engines spooled up to max thrust. We could see the hot gas plume against the city lights. I remarked, "Wow, look at that. They are out of here." And just like that, our spacing issue became much better.

Two hours later...

We are under Cassiopeia at 39,000 feet enroute to El Paso with 105 folks. The bag drag (aircraft swap) went well; so well, in fact, we were able to grab some airport food and a Starbucks before take-off. Outside, the sky is black and clear with the Milky Way overhead. The dust lanes in the Great Rift are clearly visible along with numerous star clusters that cannot be seen with the naked eye from the surface, unless you are a long way from cities. It is an overwhelming view of the Creator's handiwork. This morning is the Perseid meteor shower and we are in the front seats, literally. The flightdeck lights are low so that we may see through the heated Plexiglas without reflections. I have counted dozens, ranging from barely visible streaks to bright strokes of meteor light with chunks falling off in the tail as it plunges into the atmosphere. So cool...

Unfortunately, we are really hauling the mail this morning, thanks to a strong upper level tailwind. The top of descent is coming toward us rapidly which will end the meteor watching as we re-enter the lower, light polluted atmosphere surrounding El Paso. The best part of the shower is still an hour away, but, by then, we will be asleep in the hotel dreaming about other things.

One hundred twenty miles northwest of El Paso, I pushed a few buttons and watched the Star Trek mode command the auto-pilot to begin the descent. A vertical nav donut comes into view on my primary flight display as Fi-Fi continually computes the vertical profile. I can't help thinking about some of the old Captains, long gone, I used to co-pilot for in the steam jets. Those were very different days...

El Paso is in sight; time to quit star gazing and get busy.

State Bird of Alaska

Position: TOU (Tatoosh: the northwest corner of the lower 48)
Altitude: 32,000 feet
Destination: Anchorage


The winds are 40 knots higher than forecast at our flight planned altitude of 36,000 feet; so, we are trying to slip underneath the high speed layer of wind at 32,000 feet. However, our fuel burn at 32,000 feet is higher than forecast at 36,000 feet. On the other hand, our groundspeed is higher at 32,000 feet. Will it make any difference? Maybe a little... Sometimes a little is all you need to make that last turn in the holding pattern before bugging out to the alternate airport. Fi-Fi's fuel burn computers are fairly accurate in the big picture, but since she does not know what will happen in the airport area with ATC, she WAGs the fuel on board at landing. I rely on my #2 pencil (and my dispatcher) for critical fuel calculations.

Once again, we are loaded to the max with folks, bags, mail, and freight headed for Alaska. The weather is forecast to be marginal visual conditions on our arrival; maybe a little bit of light rain and fog, too. The only thing that could impede our arrival would be some sort of an airport problem (accident, earthquake, power failure). Anyway, we have fuel for Fairbanks and a few minutes in the holding pattern over Anchorage. The latter is what I worry about... If I can stretch that by any amount, it is a good thing. Just a few hundred pounds can be the difference between "I will never fly this airline again" and "You guys are the best!"

Overhead, a clear view of the State Bird of Alaska, also heading for Anchorage. We are slowly passing underneath them. The contrail is hypnotic as it rushes away from the engines; an amazing sight. After another 1200 miles, we will be pulling into the gate as they are landing.

Life on the line continues...

Skipper

Position: 75 miles east of PANC (Anchorage; P=Pacific and ANC is air traffic control shorthand)


Altitude: 28,000 feet and climbing
Groundspeed: 500 mph (434 kts)

The adventure continues...

Mother provides maintenance support at all out stations. Sometimes it is provided by company employees; if not, then they are contract maintenance folks. We have contract maintenance in Anchorage and they are very, very good. It is amazing that geographic location alone can change work practices, if not ethics; possibly, this is future doctoral dissertation material.

Upon landing and taxi in to the gate, a contract maintenance individual will be waiting to inspect the bird. My favorite mechanic is an Alaskan woolly booger, i.e., a big guy with a thick, white beard and the demeanor of an old time sourdough.

The first time I met this guy, he called me "Sir" all the time. I told him that my given name was, "Dave, not Sir". After a few months, we finally settled on "Skipper." He does not feel comfortable addressing me by my first name... Old school. It is not unusual for him to walk into the flight deck, lean down so only I can hear him and say, "Skipper, may I show you something outside, please?" Wow! What a concept... Put the Captain in the maintenance loop before the irreversible paper trail is begun. One reason of many I love flying to Anchorage.

We are heading southeast at 8 miles per minute... Rumor has it that big storms lie in wait at our first stop of the day, Lost Wages. Naturally, we have very little holding fuel because of the alternate airport requirements and the distance from Anchorage.

Might be an interesting night...