Accelerating

Position: 30 miles south of SEA-TAC
Altitude: 11,000 feet and climbing...
Groundspeed: 316 mph (275 kts) and accelerating...

The end of a four day trip is only 1,030 miles away and none too soon. Both of us are worn out from late night departures, early morning arrivals, crew meals prepared by the lowest bidder, and hotel cleaning staff knocking on our doors while we are trying to sleep. It is all part of the airline life that young pilots dream about.

The Electric Jet is getting serious about airspeed as it breaks free of the speed limit below 10,000 feet. The slipstream noise is changing from a hissing to a roar as the nose pushes the thick atmosphere aside. The engines have enormous power at this altitude, but there is a downside: the fuel flows are evil. We will not be down here long, though. I reach over my head and turn the engine heat OFF; that keeps ice from forming on the inlet cowling while climbing through cold clouds. We are on top now and no longer need the heat. My eyes go to the exhaust gas pressure ratio gauges and watch both pressures increase a smidgen. Two valves have closed and the hot air that was being bled from the engines to heat their inlets is now thrust. Once again, something that falls under the "major cool" category.

We picked up a new flight attendant crew (in Seattle) that are day number two of a four day. Of course, I made sure they knew that this is our last leg of a four day and that, most likely, they will get a grumpy old captain for their Chicago leg. It is fun to stir the pot a little.

Fi-Fi is in the groove as she passes through 25,000 feet with the vertical speed indicator at the top of the case. The fuel flows have changed from evil to only wicked as we ascend into the cold blue. She carries 150 passengers, 5 crew, 278 bags, 2840 pounds of freight, 1100 pounds of mail, 12 tons of kerosene, and (surely) a few stowaway pocket dogs in First Class.

The Seattle Center ATC controller clears us from our present position direct to a VOR 500 miles down range. This straightens our course line out significantly. I enter the new route via the captain's computer keyboard, and then ask my 33 year old co-pilot to take a look at it. At my age I might be sending us to Hong Kong. He says it looks OK, so I activate the new course with a single keystroke. Fi-Fi's powerful nav computers ask me if I am sure I want to do this... Of course I am sure. The last time I checked, I am still the captain. A second keystroke (confirming my first) releases the nav computers to calculate the new route, which takes about three seconds. They are happy... A new packet of ones and zeros is sent to the flight management computers which command the flight directors. The flight directors, in turn, issue new commands to the auto-pilots which send electric signals to the hydraulics driving the flight controls. Within five seconds, we are banking toward the new nav fix. It is truly amazing.

Amazing... But no more so than a few of the old Captains (with a capital C) of my youth in the 737-100s with raw turbo-jet engines and steam gauges. These guys would routinely fly with no auto-pilot, fancy nav computers, inertial navigation, or (gasp) auto-throttles. The altimeter needle never wavered more than 100 feet, the airspeed more than 10 knots, all the while with a cup of coffee in their hand and flirting with the flight attendants that were always in the cockpit. Those were the days...

These are the days, too. The roar of the slipstream has changed back to a hissing as Fi-Fi goes to Warp speed above 35,000 feet. The fuel flows have settled down. Nine hundred miles to go.

Life on the Line continues...

Dash 8, part 3

Airmanship

noun

1. the art of operating aircraft.

This will be the last post on this subject.

I am sitting (outside) at my favorite Starbucks. My Japanese Death Missile is leaning on it's side stand. The lethal four cylinder, 135 horse, liquid cooled engine is ticking as it cools in the early morning sunrise. On the miniature glass table is a medium coffee (strong) and a Wall Street Journal... Life is good.

Stand-by one...

There is an article about Captain Sully versus the unnamed captain of the ill fated Dash 8-Q400. Apparently, Captain Sully demonstrated superior airmanship (no argument there) whereas the Dash 8 captain did not... As my British friend, Trevor, says, "Hang about!" Let me read that again. An "alleged" leak from the NTSB says the Dash 8 captain pulled the stick back at the moment of stall instead of pushing forward. The writer goes on to say that the Dash 8 captain violated the well known principles of stall recovery.

This really ticks me off.

My initial reaction is to get technical and enter a dissertation about the aerodynamic stall, an imminent stall and the different recovery techniques. Would it do any good other than make me feel better? Probably not... Instead, I will thank God on a public forum that I did not lose control of a Dash 8-100 over the outer marker.

I do not know why this 400 crew lost the aircraft, but I will not criticize their actions. That is something I learned thousands of flight hours ago from a few crusty old captains. Never, ever, ever criticize your fellow pilot's airmanship. Why? Because you will do something as bad or worse a few days or weeks later. And there it is.

Life on the Line continues...

Dash 8, part 2

Definition of an expert: Anybody more than 50 miles away from home with a briefcase.

I watched in amazement as the talking heads from the alphabet networks announced (breathlessly and with an understanding twinkle in their eyes) that the crew of this Dash 8-Q400 may have been flying "on auto-pilot" before the disastrous plunge into terra firma, contrary to Federal Aviation recommendations. What the *&^% are they talking about? If I, a former Dash 8-100 pilot, do not know, they sure as heck do not know.

The Dash-8 that I flew is archaic compared to this aircraft and it could handle anything that we asked of it, including relentless icing. Using the auto-pilot... Of course they were using the auto-pilot. This is a CAT (very low visibility) capable aircraft with boosted controls, big engines, and an ultra-modern flight deck with integrated flight controls, auto-pilots, and flight management computers. This thing is fast... I mean really fast. I cringe when I hear someone talking about "not wanting to get on the little prop job." This aircraft is not little... It has engines that produce more than 2,000 shaft horsepower driving 16 foot diameter paddle-blade propellers. That is serious power.

I will not try to predict what happened to this aircraft, although at first glance it appears that it might be related to airframe icing. These aircraft fly in icing conditions day in and day out with no problems. I am sure the crew could not believe what was happening even as it was rolling out of control. After the upset and the few seconds of what is going on here, they did not have enough altitude to recover.

Unfortunately, there has been at least one other high profile icing accident in a similar size aircraft. An ATR crashed south of Chicago more than a decade ago: the cause was airframe icing. Another ATR in the same time period almost crashed from the same cause, but the crew recovered in the proverbial nick of time. I heard through flight line rumor that the captain of that ATR quit flying afterwards.

I predict regulatory trouble ahead for the airlines that fly these types of aircraft.

Life on the Line continues...

Dash 8, part 1

Position: The School House

I am in the Belly of the Training Beast for the next few days, but did see the report of this Dash 8-400 crash. Initial reports are saying the weather was atrocious at the time of the accident, as in icing conditions. I flew an earlier version of this aircraft. That would be the Dash 8-100 and I remember it as being very capable in bad weather, especially icing conditions.

This is a nasty crash on many fronts. I will take a closer look at it in a few days.

Life on the Line continues...

Zihuatanejo

We have 48 minutes down here to unload, reload, refuel, and blast-off for points north... Way north. There is something about this geographic location that renders our Mighty and Expensive airline communication network inoperable, i.e., Mother cannot talk to us or even email us directly. She has to go through operations down here via a land line. I love it! It is like the old days. My cell-phone has no signal either. Mother has been known to call individual pilots on their cellphones if she really needs to talk. So, for a few minutes I can stand out here on the air-stairs and take it all in; the cool ocean breeze and the sound of the wind through the palm trees... Well, the screaming APU is drowning that out, but I can see the palm fronds moving.

This is a little airport with a single runway and no taxiways except to the ramp area. We came over the top of the airport at 8,000 feet (staying clear of terrain) and were cleared for a non-precision approach. Those are exercises in geometry and timing to position the aircraft close to the airport to pick up the runway environment visually. We could look straight down, over the nose and see the runway 8,000 feet beneath us through the broken cloud layer. The Electric Jet has very good vertical capabilities, especially down. I called for the landing gear to be lowered over the airport and raised the wing spoilers to full extension. It is really cool to watch Fi-Fi start shedding altitude.

At 6,000 feet we are underneath the cloud layer and heading toward the beach. The airport is now behind us. The object here is to only use gravity for motive force until rolling out on final approach when chemical energy (kerosene) will be re-injected into the flight profile to stabilize the path for a safe landing. So, if the airport is behind us, I have to bank/turn left 180 degrees to point toward the airport, then another 90 degree left bank/turn to line up with the runway. I can use each turn as a bonus bucket to throw off more energy (altitude). Then, I guesstimate how long my straight legs will be between turns and throw in a pinch or two of crosswind coming off the ocean. Most pilots are very good at mentally compartmentalizing flight tasks, i.e., I am flying the aircraft while the nav section of my brain is subconsciously calculating a turn point. That ought to do it... Time to lower the left wing.

Back on the airstairs, the ocean air smells wonderful. The operations manager handed me my flight plan a few minutes ago. We keep this same aircraft all the way to CYEG (Edmonton) where it is freezing cold and snowing. Yikes!

At 1500 feet, I pull the thrust levers back to climb power and lower the nose to accelerate. We are feet wet over the blue-green waters of the Pacific as we leave the beautiful Ixtapa-Zihuatanejo airport behind. We were only there for 48 minutes but it was excellent. It was one of those little brief moments in time that are so sweet, but hard to quantify.

At 2,000 feet, the Mighty and Expensive airline communications system comes back on line. The mini-printer starts spitting out messages from Mother that were backed up. The email alert light starts flashing... It is my dispatcher. He welcomes us back and wants to know if we know how cold it is in CYEG. That is a good one. I will have to think of a worthy reply as we climb back into the cold blue.

Life on the Line continues...