319 State of Mind

Position: Over Sioux City

Altitude: 39,000 feet

Groundspeed: 580 mph (505 kts)

Equipment: A319

Pax-on-board: 123

Airborne... KSEA direct KBOS; day three of four.

I slept seven uninterrupted hours last night in the KSEA crew hotel. I am feeling great, being mentally alert with pre-geezer aches and pains at a minimum. The first sight of the 319 at the gate extracted a barely audible yes! from me. I am in a 319 state of mind today... Set climb power and watch the houses become rapidly smaller.

Seattle ATC stopped our climb briefly at 23,000 feet, then again at 33,000 feet, and once more at 37,000 feet, before finally clearing us to 39,000 feet. Life is good up here today. The air mass is smooth and moving in our direction at 60 kts. All things being equal, we will be arriving thirty minutes ahead of schedule.

The engines are running cool and strong, hydraulics good, electrics good, fuel flow good, and crew oxygen full.

In the right seat sits an outstanding pilot. He is an Argentinian kid that I have seen around the pilot locker room before, but this is the first trip flown with him. On day one, after a red-eye flight to the east coast, I saw him fly a high energy visual approach that would have brought tears of joy to an Instructor Pilot's eyes.

At first, I thought he was behind the aircraft, but that proved not to be the case. His energy management techniques were amazing, in fact, I was blown away. This is day number three and I have yet to see him use the wing spoilers to dissipate lift. He is ultra smooth and mentally far ahead of the aircraft.

I guess that makes me a hacker, because I use spoilers a lot. In my view, they are another flight control available for use. On the other hand, I saw him fly the same visual approach that I have flown 200 times, but he flew it faster, smoother and without using spoilers or adding thrust until the outer marker. In a way, it is depressing.

I am trying to think of anyone I have flown with that is as talented as this kid. There is a young Canadian female on my list of top co-pilots that is probably his equal... Maybe. Then there is the Air Force guy who is quiet and unassuming, yet has airmanship skills second to none. He was the co-pilot when I made a fool of myself at Anchorage and had to go-around. He tried to help me blame it on someone else, but we could not come up with a guilty party, other than the silver-haired guy in the left seat. His attempt to shift blame from his captain moved him up the list of my favorite co-pilots, though.

Who is the best pilot I have ever seen? That question reminds me of the scene in The Right Stuff where Gordon Cooper was asked that by a reporter. He jokingly said, "You're looking at him."

The Right Stuff is a powerful movie in my world. Chuck Yeager walking away from a smoking crater with his helmet under arm, face burned, and all the while chewing his stick of Beeman's gum brings tears to my eyes every time.

Occasionally, I remind my low-life captain buddies that I am the best pilot they have seen. The resulting storm of insults and vitriol is truly shocking.

The wife-of-my-youth tells me that I am the best pilot she has ever seen, but when I fix a leaky faucet she tells me that I am the best plumber she has ever seen. She is a college dean and being very intelligent, I suspect she sometimes toys with my subordinate mental abilities, and then erases all traces of her tampering inside my head.

Is it one of the F-4 warriors, all long gone from the seniority list? Maybe it is one of the senior Captains of my youth who began their careers at twenty years of age sitting sideways as an engineer on a DC-7. They told me tales of seeing the likes of John Wayne in the cockpit (during flight) visiting with the crew. If only half of what they said was true, it still inspires awe. Lord, thank you for letting me co-pilot for such men.

Who is the best pilot I have ever seen? It is a composite image in my psyche that I cannot match with a name. Whoever it is, though, should see this Argentinian kid fly.

Life on the Line continues... Eastbound.

Midnight at 61 North

Position: 60 east of PANC (Anchorage)

Altitude: 22,000 feet and descending

Fuel-on-board: 90 minutes

Pax-on-board: 123

Equipment: A319

Airborne...

Good Lord, it is beautiful up here... Midnight at 61 north with ninety minutes of Jet-A in the tanks. I am trying to imagine how my life could be better at this point in the continuum. The sun is barely below the horizon, something I never tire of seeing.

I was able to get the wife-of-my-youth the last seat before the gate agents closed L-1 (forward left cabin door). She boarded with a big smile and her little pilot's wife Go-Pack, a light weight shoulder bag strategically packed for non-rev flying.

After five hours of cruise flight with an incredible wind component of zero, we still have ninety minutes of fuel. It is a rare thing to see this much fuel at this lat-long. Captain Dave's warm and fuzzy meter is at the top of the green. My co-pilot has never been in this airspace before, having just transferred to the Electric Jet and her route structure. He is still in the first few months of post-training Fi-Fi shock, a common reaction from new co-pilots. He keeps saying, "They didn't teach us that in ground school" and "What's it doing now?"

Anchorage approach has cleared us to descend pilot's discretion to 11,000 feet. I am fantasizing about descending at idle thrust until the outer marker beacon. When my biorhythms are at the top of the wave and the approach controller, traffic permitting, keeps clearing me for lower altitudes before I have to add chemical energy to the vertical path, I can usually accomplish it. Then, of course, I am insufferable for thirty minutes afterwards.

Most likely, I will ask the right seat, "Have you ever seen such skill?"

A few years ago, I embarrassed myself on this very same approach, being too high and fast and had to go-around. The worst thing about that stellar display of airmanship was that the tower controller asked, "Do you guys need assistance?" I still get elevated blood pressure and sweaty palms just thinking about it.

40 miles east of PANC, runway 14

Fi-Fi is a clean machine as she soars over some serious terrain east of PANC. The compressor fans are rolling at idle thrust, fuel flow a piddling three digits. I am keeping some extra altitude in the energy bank to use or discard close to the marker beacon. The trick to these idle thrust approaches is to concentrate on the five mile fix, instead of the runway. The runway will take care of itself if the aircraft is configured at the five mile fix.

Cleared for the visual approach, runway 14

The visual approach slope indicator is clear and bright fifteen miles ahead, all four lights white. We are a little high, but nothing that spoilers cannot handle. Slats and flaps are coming out, landing gear at the marker. The excellent IAE engines are still at idle thrust and have been for 90 miles. The co-pilot switches to tower frequency and receives landing clearance.

Cleared to land, runway 14

I am in the groove over the marker... Gear down and three green, flaps set, spoilers stowed, engines spooling up, two red lights/two white lights on the visual slope. The flight attendants are slamming carts home in the galley.

Fi-Fi passes over the cliff that rises from the sea at the end of the runway threshhold. There are two people on the beach looking up at us. That falls into the cool category.

At fifty feet, engines to idle thrust, nose up a couple of degrees and let her settle. At five feet, nose down a tiny bit, rotating the main gear tires counter-clockwise (up) around the pitch axis. If this manuever is timed correctly, the tires will smoothly roll onto the runway without deforming. Normally, on a dry runway, the tire will momentarily deform causing a noticeable thump as the landing gear rolls on the egg shaped tire.

Touchdown is absolutely smooth, in fact it is one of those yeah, baby moments that every pilot tries for all the time, but rarely gets. The wing spoilers rise to dump the lift and force the weight onto the landing gear and brakes. Reverse thrust triggers are pulled up and over, opening the cascade vanes. The stopping program is underway...

The lead ramp has his illuminated batons moving in perfect come to me arcs as he guides the Electric Jet toward the gate. I can see the station manager on the ramp holding her clipboard. She has 49 minutes to turn this aircraft around.

Ramp crossed the batons; I bring Fi-Fi to a stop and set the brakes. Engine number two fuel-switch to OFF. Engine number one will idle until ground power is plugged in the belly. As soon as the rampers hear number two spooling down, they are opening cargo compartments on that side of the aircraft. The station manager is looking at her watch. The green ground power light illuminates on the overhead and I shut down number one.

The jetway gently nudges the fuselage, a double knock from the gate agent and L-1 is opened. We have arrived three minutes ahead of schedule with more than an hour of fuel remaining. Life is good!

Nice landing...

More than the usual smattering of pax are throwing nice landing compliments into the cockpit as they exit. There are a lot of pilots in Alaska. In a few minutes I can sense the wife-of-my-youth standing behind my seat. She asks, "Who made that landing?"

Do you really have to ask?

Life on the Line continues at 61 North, 150 West...

Around the South End

Position: Over KAMA (Amarillo)

Altitude: 33,000 feet

Groundspeed: 554 mph (482 kts)

Equipment: A321

Pax-on-Board: 183 + 4 jumpers

Destination: KBOS

Airborne...

Earlier, my dispatcher was nervously clearing her throat while describing the weather north of Amarillo, extending all the way to Casper. She told me about thunderstorms with tops in excess of 65,000 feet. We have eyes on them now and she was not kidding. They are not at 65,000 feet anymore; I wag them at only 55,000 feet in the cooling night atmosphere.

These level 6 aircraft killers punched through the tropopause with ease and exploded into the stratosphere. It is not unheard of for aircraft to inadvertently fly through hail columns twenty miles away from these monsters. I have chosen to fly south and upwind of the storm line.

We are in a 321 stretch Fi-Fi with every seat full, including jumpseats. The two pilots in the cockpit jumpseats are buddies of mine, one going home after a four day trip and the other being positioned for a flight later in the day. The three of us belong to a small band of misfit, politically incorrect, grumpy old captains who have formed a Lufbery Circle at work, helping each other with family matters, scheduling conflicts, alibis, etc.

To run with this pre-geezer gang, one must have thick skin. These two have been harassing me since they sat down in the cockpit. They have been telling the co-pilot outrageous stories of my (alleged) involvement in past incidents on the Line. Thankfully, we are ninety minutes into the flight and they are getting sleepy and talking less; important in case we have a statute of limitations problem here.

The wing tanks and center tanks remain mostly full, being replenished from the aft center fuselage tanks. We are step climbing tonight, currently at 33,000 feet waiting for fuel weight to decrease. Fifty miles northeast of our track, huge thunderstorms with tops at least 20,000 feet above our cruise altitude. The lightning is continuous and bright, a sure sign of very dangerous storms.

Industrial strength flying is the name of the game tonight. No exotic destinations on this trip; just hardcore east coast airports with fast talking controllers, extended taxi times, and short overnights.

Life on the Line continues.... Over the Texas panhandle.