Images from the Line

This is an example of why I carry a camera, locked and loaded, in my flight bag. Two inches of heated Plexiglas and angular closing velocities conspired to prevent me from capturing this beautiful aircraft, but I persevered.

Apollo 11

There are no words...

Captain Hook

Position: Final approach, runway 1, KDCA (The old Washington National)

Altitude: 3600 feet and descending...

Indicated Air Speed: 184 mph (160 kts)

Flaps/Slats: 50%

Pax-on-board: 150

Equipment: A320

Oh, this is just great! Here I am, the best pilot that the wife of my youth has ever seen or even heard about, hooking final because I forgot something so basic that it would embarrass a new student pilot. The wind is 40 kts on my tail as I am turning base leg to final approach and it blows me through the final approach path.

Once again, I am wearing the flight instructor hat today as my co-pilot is brand new to Fi-Fi; just stamped on the forehead by an Instructor Pilot as "approved to fly the Line." He has been flying Boeings for years; was forced out by seniority issues and is now in the grip of The Electric Jet. I feel sorry for him and am constantly reminding him that he will get the hang of Fi-Fi in a few months, sort of...


I have been explaining every input I make and why I am doing so and what Fi-Fi will do, or should do, as a result. For a new pilot, Fi-Fi is a cerebral aircraft as opposed to an airmanship aircraft. That is my terminology and it means that when you are flying Fi-Fi as the airline wants you to fly her, you have to think before you push a button or flip a switch, i.e., what is going to happen after I push this button?

I have flown the 737-100/200/300 series and they were all easy and pleasant to fly. Any pilot that has a good understanding of basic airmanship techniques can fly those three aircraft types well. They had no tricks or surprises up their aluminum sleeves. A pilot can (easily) mentally merge with a 737 and become one with it, using sub-conscience thought to control it.

Not so with Fi-Fi as a new pilot... There are those darn flight control computers, auto-thrust as opposed to auto-throttles, and different aircraft interface methods. That is why on the first day of ground school, the instructor inevitably says:

"Ladies and gentlemen, forget everything you know about Boeings."

Of course, that is not possible. It takes six months to get semi-comfortable and at least one year to get a little bit cocky in The Electric Jet. The first month on the Line as a new Fi-Fi pilot is not pleasant. I realize that and try to make it as easy as possible for a newbie. Captains that berate a struggling co-pilot are idiots, in my opinion... I think it shows a weakness in character and a lack of leadership. That co-pilot may be hanging on the tail, but he or she probably has at least 5,000 flight hours and probably a whole lot more. When you need that co-pilot to say, "Uh, captain, aren't we supposed to level off at 30,000 feet, instead they will be thinking what a jerk," their minds not on the flight.

Potomac approach control has asked us to "keep it moving, please." Awesome... That is what I like to hear. The airspeed is up against the barber pole at 14,000 feet, 60 miles west of KDCA. We will do a high dive into the airport area with spoilers fully extended using one right bank and two left banks to slow down on downwind leg and base leg. I do it all the time and am good at it.

I have built, via computer interface, a three dimensional virtual flight path along the Potomac river and will review with the co-pilot how to get Fi-Fi to fly that path using The Star Trek mode. On downwind leg, we are slowing and configuring... Potomac approach clears us for the visual approach to runway 1, contact tower turning final. Roger that...

Using manual input to the auto-pilot, Fi-Fi turns base leg and is approaching the virtual path to final at a right angle. The 40 knot crosswind is now a 40 knot tailwind increasing the aircraft's groundspeed by an equal amount. (oops!) I am keeping the co-pilot in the loop by talking him through my actions and what to look for in Fi-Fi's response, momentarily forgetting about the wind. Another manual input to the auto-pilot turns us further left for a thirty degree intercept of the virtual path... Uh-oh, we blow through the final still banking left.

The cursing switch is flipped ON in the left seat, until the little angel on my right shoulder which has a strong resemblance to my wife, whispers in my ear that cursing is a sign of a limited vocabulary. Well, this is not going to work. The Star Trek Mode has activated, but we are already on the other side of final and getting too high. Imagine a fish hook shaped final approach path. Fi-Fi is trying her best to get back to the path and lose altitude. I blew it; the demonstration is over.

Auto-pilot OFF/Flight directors OFF/Auto-thrust OFF/Landing gear DOWN/Flaps FULL/Landing Checklist, please... Fi-Fi is now in the Super Cub mode; stick, rudder, and power. My face is red with embarrassment. The politicians and their entourages in First Class along with the regular working stiffs in coach never noticed anything out of the ordinary because I grabbed control from the Smoke and Mirrors before anything unusual might have occurred. Even so, for a captain ( little "c") with thousands of hours in his or her aircraft, that was amateurish, at best.

A forty knot tailwind... Come on!

At 1,000 feet above the river, The Electric Jet is stabilized and in the groove, being flown like a light aircraft. The thrust levers feel good in my right hand as I jockey them back and forth maintaining airspeed. She passes over the runway threshold on speed and glidepath, touching down slightly past the 1,000 foot marker in a cloud of rubber smoke. This is not a long runway, so no messing around... Spoilers up, reverse thrust to maximum, moderate to heavy braking.

The gate is open as we taxi toward the terminal building. The co-pilot says, "Nice job. boss." He is being kind to the old guy in the left seat. I say, "Thanks. Just call me Captain Hook."

Life on the Line continues...

Starlight

Position: Over the Heartland
Altitude: 33,000 feet
Groundspeed: 632 mph (550 kts)
Fuel-on-board: Three hours and thirty minutes
Equipment: A319
Pax: 123
Destination: KIAD (Dulles International)

Our main sequence star is burning bright over the winglet on the captain's side. Up here, the light is white; pure and beautiful. Flying away from the sunset at ten miles per minute will cause the night sky to roll over us quickly. Six miles below, the Heartland of the Empire (a.k.a. Fly Over Country); it stretches before us to the horizon. Good Lord, it is staggering...

We are flying a fully loaded A319 with relatively new engines. They are loafing at 33,000 feet and begging to go higher and faster; I can feel it in the seat of my pants. Our dispatcher built a route for us taking maximum advantage of winds aloft. It is a thing of beauty... Above, the winds are weaker until we are 400 miles further down the airway; then we will climb to reduce fuel burn as the tailwinds decrease at 33,000 feet.

Fi-Fi is operating in the Star Trek mode, i.e., fully automated and integrated with an airborne version of the HAL 9000 series. It is amazing how life imitates art... Last week, I was flying a new A321 on a trans-con flight when Fi-Fi's centralized monitoring system alerted us that our digital data link was about to fail, and then it did. Unlike the unfortunate astronauts, we did not have to go outside and attempt to fix an antenna. No, we just tuned old fashioned radio frequencies and spoke directly to Mother... Imagine that.

Such are the things I think about up here... Good things.

The shadows are getting longer down there. Farmer's grain silos are casting a dark tail into the next wheat field. That tail is pointing toward the leading edge of the night sky coming from the east. It will not be long until we are underneath the star dome.

Day number one of a four day trip is well underway.

Life on the Line continues...

The Canyon

Position: Eastern New Mexico

Altitude: 30,000 feet

Groundspeed: 488 mph (425 kts)

Pax on board: 183

Crew on board: 9

Destination: KLAX (City of Angels)

Equipment: A321

I guess this is the Summer of Storms; sounds like a long running soap opera.

Ahead, less than 100 miles, is a huge line of thunderstorms. The scale of this line is, more or less, planetary. It starts in Wyoming and extends to (according to my dispatcher) a point south of El Paso. Before we left KJFK (New York), my dispatcher and I had a lengthy conversation about the convective forecast, covering everything available at that time. It was a pretty good forecast for this area, so we decided to route down here. That forecast material was, obviously, weak. The good news is: North of here, the line is solid, too.

OK... We are going to have to fight our way through this mess.

We are flying a new, stretch Fi-Fi. Every seat is full with six working crew and three dead- headers. She is heavy, so that means we cannot fly much above 32,000 feet. We are at 30,000 feet and have plenty of airspeed between overspeed and stall. We will stay at 30,000 and use every available resource to punch the line of weather. Fi-Fi's airborne weather radar is a formidable tool in this venture.

At 50 miles, we have eyeballs on the line. Holy Moly! It is, as my British friend Trevor might say, rather large. ATC has cleared us to deviate left or right, just keep us informed about what you are going to do, please. We take up a southerly heading looking for a soft spot. Our fuel load would allow us to fly around the south end of the line (barely) if there were no delays into KLAX.

Important rule of thumb for Life on the Line:

Anytime you are low fuel, expect storm over the destination or closed runway due to mechanical. If none of the above happens, then expect closed airport due to security breach or loss of radio communication with ATC. You can bet on it.

After flying about fifty miles south, we bank (right) toward the storm line (perpendicular) and start poking at it with the radar. It looks bad... We are getting a radar shadow, i.e., the storms have so much water in them that they are soaking up the microwave energy. We turn toward the south again, paralleling the line. Ahead, maybe 50 miles, we can see sun beams coming through the line. That may be a clue.

The Electric Jet turns toward the storm line, again, as soon as it reaches the sunlit area. The radar shows a gap forty miles ahead. I take the radar out of Fi-Fi's matrix and start looking at slices of the storms on both sides of the gap at different altitudes. Then, I swing the antenna down and have a look underneath the storms, looking for ground returns. Yeah, we can do this... First, I ask the co-pilot what he thinks in case I am having an out-of-body experience and am only imagining a gap. He says he is comfortable with it.

My lead flight attendant (a senior Sky Babe whom I have flown with since before my receding hairline) and I have a quick talk about securing the cabin; already done, she says. Been there, done that... She could tell by the aircraft movement what we are doing. As always, when we are getting ready to punch a storm line, I talk to the pax with my best imitation of John Wayne... Piece of cake, folks.

Belts tightened, slow her down a little more and raise the forward ice shields. We fly through a bright, sunlit veil into a deep, dark canyon of cumulonimbus clouds. Towering storms on both sides give this sight some, for lack of a better word, reinforcement. Twenty miles ahead is a doorway to the west side of this storm line. Underneath us is a canyon floor of clouds between the storms; it almost looks like you could walk around down there.

And then we are through to the west side. Before us stretches hundreds of miles of cloudless blue sky. Looking out my side window, I can see the west wall of the storm line extending to the south as far as the horizon; the same out the co-pilot's window to the north. What an amazing display of power!

My fingers push a few magic buttons and Fi-Fi takes over again. The engines increase thrust until she is flying at her happy airspeed; the right wing lowers as we bank toward the digital course line. The air mass is smooth, the headwinds are light, and the fuel load is adequate for PPOS (present position) to KLAX. The sun is getting low; time to put up our Jeppensen sun shields (high altitude charts 1 & 2).

Life on the Line continues...