Wind Stream, Part 2

Position: Abeam YZP (Sandspit)
Destination: Anchorage
Groundspeed: 362 mph (314 kts)
Winds aloft: on the nose at 155 mph (135 kts)

Over the neck of Idaho, my dispatcher sent me a message concerning turbulence over British Columbia along our flight planned route. He suggested a new route along the west coast of British Columbia. Instinctively, I knew this would happen before we left Las Vegas. It is the way of things up here.

So now we are in the headwinds. They are perfectly aligned with the Fi-Fi's nose cone. Not even one quarter of a degree off the center axis. Remember that extra taxi fuel I skillfully wrung out of the flight plan? Well, now we need it for unknown contingencies.

There was a time when the captain was allowed to burn into the landing reserve fuel and if it was not too egregious, then, as the old saying goes: No harm, no foul. The thinking back then was that reserve fuel was considered as... reserve. However, if the burn into the reserve was on the border of being idiotic, then a report to the Chief Pilot was filed with a probable butt chewing as the result. In these contemporary times when everyone knows more than the captain, burning into the landing reserve is considered an emergency and it is mandatory to treat it as such. Ridiculous, I say...

On the flip side, airline management does not want the aircraft to land with any extra fuel because it costs money to carry fuel weight. Hence the landing fuel targets that are all the rage nowadays at all the carriers.

We are going to miss that target if I do not come up with a solution to this headwind. According to the winds aloft forecast, the headwind component begins to rotate to the left of the nose in 200 miles. My instinct tells me that will be the case. Also, I think we need to track toward the eastern edge of the forecast wind stream and try to find lower wind velocities. This will add a few more miles but could easily create more fuel-in-tanks at the next check point. Changing altitude is not an option... Lower burns more fuel and higher is in the ozone no-fly altitudes for this time of the year.

Vancouver ATC cleared us to turn toward ICK radio beacon, about 20 degrees to the right. Fi-Fi did not like it. She had no wind speeds to chew on over there, so she thought we were going to be below our landing fuel target. Take it easy, Fi-Fi... It will be OK. Worst case scenario; we will have to land in IFR conditions at Juneau for more fuel. Not if I can help it, though. Our Anchorage ETA is already one hour behind scheduled arrival time, so a few more minutes will not matter in the big picture. The co-pilot suggested we give Fi-Fi a lower cost index for the nav computers to ponder upon. That is a really good idea. Too bad I did not think of it. The "cost index" is a $100 word for a $10 term, i.e., it is a ratio of the cost of time divided by the cost of fuel. In other words, a cost index of zero provides cruise speed and descent planning for maximum range. OK, enough of that...

I plugged in a big fat zero in the performance data which bumped up the landing fuel by 400 pounds. Next, I cleaned out all the flight plan wind data and put in wag winds. Our new and improved fuel on board at Anchorage is the minimum required by the airline. Things are looking better.

Top of descent

We found the eastern edge of the wind stream and were able to get out of the strong headwinds. The landing fuel is still at the minimum required. I reminded the co-pilot, who is flying this leg, that he needs to be very careful about energy planning on the approach. A go around will necessitate burning into the reserve fuel which is considered a no-no. Unlike the 737 days, we cannot massage the fuel figures with our #2 pencils. Fi-Fi automatically sends the fuel-on-board to Mother. Can't trust those rascally pilots, you know.

After clearing it with the co-pilot, I requested a short approach. Anchorage ATC vectored us to the runway outer marker and turned us loose. We saved about 25 miles of ground track. The co-pilot made a nice landing and turned her over to me at taxi speed. I told him to shut down number two engine for the trip to the gate.

The rampers plugged in the ground power; I got the green light on the overhead and shut down number one after 6 hours 35 minutes. We flew to the very end of the A319's fuel range; reserve fuel was literally waiting in the wings.

No admission of guilt paperwork for me tonight!

Wind Stream, Part 1

Position: Abeam YZP (Sandspit)
Destination: Anchorage
Groundspeed: 362 mph (314 kts)
Winds aloft: on the nose at 155 mph (135 kts)


The old quip about the best laid plans of mice and men is appropriate today. My dispatcher had us flight planned to Anchorage flying eastbound out of Lost Wages (with the wind), then turning with the wind around the low pressure center onto a northwest track into an area of light winds aloft over British Columbia, and then drifting to the west as the winds aloft turned away from the nose. It was a darn good flight plan. We pushed back with a 92% fuel load. Last year, I would have topped the tanks just because, but Mother is real nervous about carrying extra fuel these days.

I would regret that decision down the airway.

The northerly surface winds were gusting to 43 mph when we began our taxi. A 737-800 in front of us ingested part of a wind blown newspaper into number one; it was flicked out the back of the engine as confetti. The co-pilot and I said at the same time, "Did you see that?"Lost Wages ground control had airliners on every taxiway trying to get to the north-south runways. It looked like we were about number 40 - 50 for departure when we began our single engine taxi. This was the second leg of our day and we were 45 minutes behind schedule because of a mistake aircraft routing made on the first aircraft assignment for Anchorage; they gave us an aircraft without an ADF receiver which is required for Alaskan flights. I caught the error immediately, because I fly there almost weekly and am intimately familiar with the equipment requirements. Another crew less familiar may not have and would have been busted for sure.

The insidious part: the maintenance paper trail on the aircraft showed the No.1 ADF receiver inop. As my British friend, Trevor, always says, "Hang about." There must be a #2 somewhere in this flightdeck, but I can't find the circuit breaker for the No. 2 ADF receiver. It has to be hiding from me. I called maintenance control, a branch of Mother, and asked, "Where is the circuit breaker located for #2 ADF receiver?"

They put me on hold...

Maintenance control handed me off to aircraft routing... "Uh, we're going to give you another aircraft."

"Does that mean they can't find the circuit breaker either?"

As I suspected, the aircraft only had one ADF receiver, period. Oops! Aircraft routing assumed that there was a second receiver because of the verbiage of the original write-up. This is an example of being led down the garden path, and then finding out too late (at 36,000 feet) that remedial training is in your near future, along with the pleasure of exchanging letters with the FAA for a few months.

Dispatch had given us 23 minutes of two engine burn taxi fuel, which I stretched out to 40 minutes by taxiing on one engine (burns about 60% of the two engine amount). Before we started burning into the flight fuel and forced to return to the gate for more, I emailed my dispatcher and suggested we rework the fuel figures by getting rid of the landing alternate (it was only an uh-oh alternate; the weather forecast did not require it) and moving half of the unknown contingency fuel (1,000 lbs.) to the taxi burn. He agreed and so we completed the paper trail, via the magic of email, leading to the potentially guilty party... That would be me.

Finally, 54 minutes after push, we moved onto the runway for take-off. The windsock was standing straight out and angling thirty degrees across the runway. Loose trash was being blown across our path by the dusty wind gusts... A pleasant day in Lost Wages. About 20 seconds after the engines spooled up to full thrust, we were approaching lift-off speed because of the head winds. In four minutes, we were above the airborne dirt and into the cold blue heading east, and eventually to Anchorage.

to be continued...

MMPR

Position: MMPR (Puerto Vallarta)

OAT (outside air temperature): 85 degrees F.

As soon as the forward cabin door was opened, the smell of the ocean rolled into the cockpit. The humidity has got to be around 80%; my paperwork (flight plan, weather, weight and balance) is limp and soggy, as is my starched and pressed pilot shirt. Once we get back into the cold blue, Sparky's pressurization system will wring all the excess water vapor from the cabin environment. Until then, though... As one of the flight attendants said, "Hey, it's good for my complexion." Roger that.

I am back on the line, flying another high yield trip. The MMPR flight is the first leg of the day, with many more to follow. There was a time when I bid Mexican airspace exclusively, but I decided Alaska was a better fit. Maybe I should reconsider... It is really nice down here and the people are friendly.

The front and rear cabin doors are open with air stairs pushed up against the fuselage. Two of the flight attendants are getting some of that ocean air on the rear air stair. They are standing about twenty feet away from the howling APU without ear plugs. I'll bet their ears will be ringing tonight.

We were cleared for the VOR approach into Puerto Vallarta which uses an arc to lead the aircraft on to the final approach path, which, coincidentally, does not line up with the runway. It brings you in at an angle, then a couple of miles from the threshold, the pilot wanders over to the centerline for the touchdown. It is kind of neat, actually. The arc is formed by maintaining a fixed distance from the VOR; think about a circle with a 17 mile radius. In the old days, I used to imagine myself on the end of a 17 mile long string, one end tied to the VOR transmitter. I would keep that string tight by moving the aircraft toward or away from the VOR, depending on the wind. It worked great, and of course, the more you flew arcs that way, the better you got at it.

Nowadays, I push computer keys to program the arc coordinates into Sparky's nav computers which creates a curved green line around the virtual representation of MMPR on the nav display, and then the auto-pilot (or human pilot) follows that green line to the final approach course. It is magical smoke and mirrors probably stolen from crashed alien spaceships.

Just kidding...

Well, Humberto (the station manager down here) wants to start loading the returning sunburned passengers. We had better get this flying machine ready for a northbound courseline.

Life on the line continues...

Pre-flight

Position: On the ramp; KMIA (Miami)
Time: 0730 local

It is day number three of a four day trip. Our overnights have been short and predictable, as in minimum legal rest with forty-five minute round trips spent on the hotel van ride. In airline lingo, this type of trip is known as high yield. That means the most flying possible in four days; get back to the nest and go home. The airline expects a certain number of flying hours per month from each pilot, so the sooner you get those hours completed, the more time at home. Generally, I do not bid high yield trips because they are tough. Having said that, I need some extra time off this month for family obligations. So, no whining allowed this month!

OK, I know I was whining about the crew meals earlier, but I have seen the error of my ways.

My co-pilot (one of the best at the airline) and I have agreed to take turns preparing Fi-Fi for flight while the other runs for edible food and coffee at each airport. This includes pre-flighting, loading the nav computers, obtaining the ATC clearance, checking the fuel load, and briefing the cabin crew, while the other has to decide between tacos, pizza, burgers, sub sandwiches, regular coffee or organic sumatra-argentinian low fat latte.

This type of trip can be very enjoyable if the flight deck is compatible. Landing contests and attempts to under burn the fuel forecast are my favorite games. All things being equal, if my bio-rhythms are at the top of the curve, I am hard to beat in a landing contest. I genuinely like this aircraft and try to perfect my Fi-Fi skills. The fuel burn scenario is simply a matter of understanding how the flight management computers operate. They take into account the winds aloft, outside air temperature and density, aircraft weight, and fuel economy when computing climb and cruise speed. There is no way a human pilot can beat their calculations, since that is their reason for existing in the first place.

A lot of co-pilots believe a slow climb at reduced thrust and airspeed saves fuel. It sounds reasonable, but does not work. Unfortunately, my co-pilot does not fall into this category. She knows her aircraft very well. As far as her landings go... Usually, they are smoother than mine. Very frustrating since I am 25+ years older and much more experienced.

She leads by 1200 pounds and three landings. There are four landings and 50,000 +/- pounds to go before the end of the trip.

I've got to get on the stick, literally. Bribing the judges (flight attendants) is another possibility.

Cuisine

Position: Not at home
Altitude: 28,000 feet
Groundspeed: 368 mph (320 kts)


Well, jury duty is complete and I am back in the saddle. I was able to sleep with my lovely wife ten days in a row plus I received full flight pay for doing so... Oh man, what a deal! But, that little respite is falling away rapidly. How is that possible? I was just sitting in the juror box, ten minutes ago, listening to testimony. Yet, here I am underneath the JFK arrival traffic awaiting climb clearance. Such are the things that go through my feeble brain westbound at 0430 hours.

The lead flight attendant handed us our breakfast a few minutes ago. Underneath the hot foil... Contemporary airline crew meal cuisine at its finest. OK, I realize there are starving kids in Africa, but please....

I used to co-pilot for a crew meal inspector during my 737 days. He inspected crew meals (for the pilot union) underneath a magnifying glass and made recommendations for improvements. I remember him pulling a sandwich apart and looking at the lettuce, then sniffing of the ham slices. After he poked and prodded, he would check little boxes on the appropriate form. The crew meals were much better in those days. He has been gone a long time, but there is no doubt that this example would not pass. In fact, he would probably bag it for evidence.

Last night, we were ecstatic when our groundspeed exceeding 667 mph (580 knots). I remember saying something like, "We'll pay for it tomorrow."

And so we are... 320 knots.