Twenty Left

Position: 40 northwest of KELP (El Paso)
Altitude: 33,000 feet
Destination: KTPA (Tampa)
Fuel burn: 5,300 lbs/p/hr
PAX (passengers): 150 + 3 jumpseaters



Albuquerque Center: Recommend twenty left... There is a hole north of El Paso everyone is going through...

Captain Dave: Roger that, we'll take twenty left...

Albuquerque Center: OK, cleared to deviate twenty left; when able direct Fort Stockton and advise...

Captain Dave: OK, cleared twenty left and we'll advise...

My young co-pilot turns the heading selector 20 degrees left and the auto-pilot follows his input. The Electric Jet lowers her left wing and we are navigating toward the radar hole north of KELP. This is one of the biggest storm lines I have seen this summer. Before we left the nest, I up-loaded 2,000 pounds of uh-oh fuel. We are now using that fuel...

The storm on the left side of the hole has a big overhang. We do not want to fly underneath that overhang, if at all possible. Actually, we do not want to fly downwind of any large thunderstorm, but line ops require that very thing. Of course, if you get clobbered by hail, you will get to explain why you were flying downwind of a big storm... Catch-22 scenario.

I call the flight attendants and tell them to put the carts away and to strap in. A few seconds later, we can hear and feel the carts being shoved into the galley portals. How many times a summer do I do this? Plenty, and I never get comfortable with it. With the twist of a little knob, the co-pilot commands a reduction to turbulence penetration speed before we go through the hole. Fi-Fi slows...

As we clear the line on the east side, I breath a sigh of relief... One more time. Ahead, is another big line extending from Atlanta south into the Gulf. By the time we reach that line and find a hole, even with my extra ton of captain's fuel, we will probably be in a low fuel state on the east side. The Tampa forecast is storm free, but I am not so sure. My gut tells me we will have two turns in holding with 20 mile legs before we will have to look for a re-fueling airport.

The mania currently affecting the industry about carrying extra fuel is slowly turning my few remaining brown hairs gray.

Life on the Line continues...

Bird Strike

Night time bird strikes....

Landing gear down, flaps 18 degrees, indicated airspeed 207 mph (180 kts) and holding the 25 Left glideslope coming into Sin City at midnight with 150 happy campers. Without warning, at 3500 feet above the ground, a loud thump on the nose followed by a spray of wet debris across my heated Plexiglas. Uh-oh, I think we just hit one of our feathered brethren. It was not loud enough and lacked impact vibrations to be a waterfowl, unless it was a very small duck. It was larger than a sparrow; maybe a hawk or an owl out foraging for bugs. Amazing that it would be at 3500 feet AGL, though. Regardless, there is a mess on the nose and captain's windshield.

The co-pilot called line maintenance after I cut the fuel to the engines at the gate. Roger, we'll be right out. Our favorite female mechanic arrived a short time later with a pink Mag-Lite hanging from her tool belt. We love this girl... She takes no prisoners when it comes to pilot harassment, and most importantly, never threatens to call the PC Police.

Oh, good job boys! Couldn't you have banked right or left? You don't expect me to clean this mess, do you?

What? You afraid of a few feathers?

Feather this, captain...

That was very rude. You are going to upset the co-pilot. Look how young he is...

The night-shift maintenance super walked into the flight deck; he was talking on his two-way radio to another maintenance tech working two gates away. He asks pink Mag-Lite, How long on this one? I need you over at the hydraulic leak. Then he notices the bloody Plexiglas. Oh great, couldn't you guys have banked a little bit.

He thought for a few seconds, then told pink Mag-Lite, Go to the hydraulic leak. You know more than the guy workin' it now. I'll take care of this mess.

On the way out, she gives me the look... See, I told you.

We have 42 minutes to de-feather Fi-Fi.

Life on the Line continues.

Icy Wind

Position: 32 nautical miles southeast of Iowa City

Groundspeed: 507 mph

Altitude: 36,000 feet

There is a monster on the co-pilot's side, less than 40 miles away. We cannot see it with our eyes because we are flying through it's cold breath, but our excellent airborne radar is giving us a nice view of the beast. The Electric Jet is shaking in light to moderate turbulence as we tip-toe past the massive thunderstorm. Outside, a dark instrument meteorological blanket has covered Fi-Fi. Every few seconds, it turns a brilliant white from the storm's lightning bolts. This blanket is part of the storm being blown toward us by the winds aloft and conducts the light like a 40 mile long fiber optic tube. It is surrealistic...

The storm's core is about 18 miles in diameter and the top is about 55,000 feet, more than 10 miles. There is an icy wind coming from up there somewhere. We can hear it hissing on the nose cone and Plexiglas. My right eyeball is watching the engine gauges like a dog watching a bone. Super fine ice crystals can cause engines surges or even flame outs.

In ten minutes or so, we will be back underneath the Milky Way... And so it goes on the Line tonight.