End of the Tunnel

Position: 100 miles west of Mylanta (KATL)
Altitude: 29,000 feet and descending; spoilers fully extended, idle thrust
Groundspeed: 563 mph (490 kts)
Souls on board: 189

My blood pressure is falling back to the normal range as the light at the end of the dark cumulonimbus tunnel comes into view. We are about clear (on the east side) of a line of thunderstorms spanning the southeastern quadrant of the Empire. The sun has just cracked the horizon. Hotlanta approach is accepting arrivals without holding... Life is good.

Before we picked our way through this line-up of Thor's children, the co-pilot told the lead flight attendant to batten down the hatches. I woke the passengers up, using my best imitation of the mythological captain's voice, and told them to take their seats and strap in tight. After I put the PA handset back in it's cradle, I remark to the co-pilot, "The passengers are probably freaking out back there because of AF447."

We are flying a new stretch Electric Jet (A321). She is long, lean and gorgeous. I did the pre-flight because the co-pilot, one of my all time favorites, claims to have (maybe) broken his little toe moving furniture for his girlfriend. Of course, I responded with, "yeah... Right!"

Well, we cannot have the co-pilot limping around the aircraft in view of the passengers, so, after attempting to make him feel guilty for his captain having to actually work before the flight, I put my earplugs in and descended the jetway stairs. Once I landed on the ramp, I was glad I had volunteered to pre-flight. The scene before me was visual overload; a new, pristine aircraft being loaded and fueled. She has no brake dust on her main landing gear wheels; they are perfectly white and untarnished. There are no ripples in her belly from hard landings, or streaks of hydraulic fluid that form between wash jobs. She is 40 feet longer, 40,000 pounds heavier, and carries 40 more passengers than the A320. In the world of aircraft, she falls into the beautiful category, or at least I think so...

Down the airways, approaching Memphis, we can see flashes with our eyeballs. They are popping like so many little strobe lights on the horizon. The A321's airborne digital weather radar (the latest and greatest) is showing good definition of the line. I truly wish some of my old Captain's could see this radar; they would be mighty impressed (only with the radar; definitely not the aircraft).

My instinct tells me to turn toward the south thirty degrees and look for a worm hole over Birmingham. I send a quick email to my dispatcher advising him on my plan in case he sees something from his end that I am missing. We have enough fuel to make a minor deviation from flight planned course line. The fingers of my right hand push a few buttons, and we are banking toward the south against the early morning star fields.

Here is where one of the A321's weaknesses becomes apparent, and that would be performance at altitude. The flight crew needs altitude in their tool box to deal with thunderstorms. It helps with visuals (eyeballs on the storm) and choosing a route in the clear, i.e., between storms. When the A321 is heavy, she cannot cruise much above 31,000 feet. Why is this? Well, it basically has the same wing and engines of the A320... Basically, not exactly. But close enough to be an impediment. This causes some of my buddies to have an extreme aversion toward the A321, bordering on visceral.

To me this is analogous to complaining about a beautiful woman not being able to cook. Who cares? Look at the total package. I will guarantee that the Captains (with a capital C) of yesteryear would have been very happy with 31,000 feet and 450 knots true airpeed when faced with a wall of weather in their radial-engine powered Douglas.

West of Birmingham, we can see the towering storms outlined against the pale pink light of the coming sunrise. They are big ones, full of water and veins of electricity, standing shoulder to shoulder between us and KATL. The co-pilot says something like, "This could get interesting."

I take the radar out of Fi-Fi's matrix for a few minutes and turn it into a manual storm prod, poking about in the weather looking for a worm hole to pass through to the other side. Air Traffic Control offers some info about a hole south of Birmingham that a few freighters are passing through. We can actually see that gap on the radar screen. It looks promising...

The flight attendants and pax are strapped in, Fi-Fi is slowed to turbulence penetration speed, and the weather radar is receiving good returns as we enter the tunnel between storms. I reach for the overhead panel and push two buttons to raise the forward ice shields (engine heat).

Two bright blue lights illuminate on the overhead panel. I tell the co-pilot, "Shields are up."

The clouds envelope us with turbulence and ice crystals hissing around the airframe. You can actually hear it. The forward Plexiglas windscreens begin to discharge tiny bolts of static electricity... They look like miniature lightning bolts. The real lightning bolts are on both sides of us; we cannot see them because we are in zero visibility conditions, but each bolt lights up our environment for a micro second with a strobe-light effect.

This is one of my least favorite job requirements; dealing with T-storms. Even though, I do it every spring and summer, year after year, it still makes me nervous. Not so much from fear of an accident, but fear of administrative trouble if we get struck by lightning or run into severe turbulence or hail.

Here is how it would probably go:

Board of inquiry- So, captain (with a little c), tell us again why you chose that particular route through the storms.

Me- Uh, well, I didn't have enough fuel to go around the south end... Uh, south of Baton Rouge.

Board of inquiry- Why did you not have enough fuel?

Me- Because you guys requested that captains stop carrying extra fuel over the flight plan fuel.

Board of inquiry- Well, captain, what about landing and taking on more fuel?

Me- Uh, yeah, I could have done that, I guess. But it costs $20,000 to land and take-off, plus it was night, unfamiliar airport, you know...

Board of inquiry- Yes, but the hail damage on the airframe is going to cost $3,000,000 to repair.

Me- (nervous fidgeting)

Board of inquiry- Do you think you need more training in the use of weather radar?

Me- No sir, I am qualified to teach weather radar classes.

Board of inquiry- OK, that will be all. You are excused for now. You will be hearing from the Chief Pilot's office within a week. For now, you are on administrative leave. Thank you captain.

It makes me sweat just thinking about it.

This airframe is long enough that the flight crew and the cabin crew can feel the flexing of the fuselage in turbulence. It is a bit like being on the end of a pole while something is shaking it. Hard to wordsmith the effect, but it is interesting, none the less. I have a habit of looking at the wing flexing, what little of it I can see, during weather penetrations. I cannot see the wing in this aircraft, only the red nav light on the wing tip. It is moving up and down, though. I guess that will have to do in a stretch Fi-Fi.

The indicated airspeed is varying plus and minus ten knots as we tip toe past the electric dragons on both sides of us. The airframe is flexing, twisting and thumping. I rotate the radar antenna upwards looking for tell tale signs of a hail column about to fall on us. Nothing... In a few more minutes , we will be out of this mess.

The darkness between lightning flashes is turning pink; an automatic stress reducer. Before I can finish thinking about it, we punch through the pink veil into the clear between two cloud layers. The sun is rising at the end of the tunnel. ATC gives us a lower altitude; KATL is close. My fingers push more buttons and The Electric Jet starts descending; I raise the wing spoilers to help her. We are high and fast on the vertical profile. As I tell the wife of my youth, "No problem, baby." In response, she usually rolls her eyes up and shakes her head.

The night is catching up with us. We are getting tired and looking forward to sleeping for a few hours. Tonight, we will do it again... Westbound.

Reminds me of lyrics from one of my favorite songs:

There is a feeling I get when I look to the west...
Stairway to Heaven, Led Zepplin

Life on the Line continues...