Spring Break 2011

Position: Over Kansas City

Altitude: 36,000 feet

Mach Number: Point Seven Nine (.79)

Headwind Component: 86 knots

Equipment: A320

Pax-on-Board: 150 plus two jumpers

Departure: KJFK (New York City)

Destination: KSAN (San Diego)

Airborne... Flying has been getting in the way of blogging.

Spring break is underway and the pax loads are huge. In fact, so much so that the wife-of-my-youth has been unable to non-rev with me for a couple of weeks. Those of us looking up the seniority slope, instead of gazing down from the summit, are flying heavy schedules. I'm not complaining, though. I am truly fortunate to have this life on the Airways of America.

Talking about airways... We have been paralleling a contrail for about 100 miles. It is mesmerizing as the sun sets behind it. We cannot see the actual aircraft, only the contrail it is leaving in its six.

My co-pilot, the Argentinian Kid that I really like flying with (and have written about on this very blog) is the flying pilot. He might be the best pilot I have ever seen. Yeah, I know... Some of the old war horses were really good, but there was a lot of hero worship on my part. They could have been flying with the needle and ball on opposite sides of the case and I would have thought it was the greatest thing in aviation.

Center-tank fuel pump 2 fault...

Fi-Fi's systems monitoring software has detected a fault in one of her center-tank fuel pumps. An amber caution light and warning bell followed by a short message from the ECAM (electronic centralized aircraft monitoring) display alerts us and gives as a suggested course of action. Fi-Fi wants me to open the fuel cross-feed valve so that the remaining center-tank fuel pump can distribute the center-tank fuel to the engines. That is a reasonable request... I reach overhead and push a button opening the cross-feed valve. Next request from ECAM is to de-energize the broken fuel pump, which I do with another button.

Obviously, if the remaining center-tank fuel pump fails we cannot access the fuel in the center tank... That translates into landing short of our destination, KSAN, to re-fuel the wing tanks. I decide to email my dispatcher to alert her of that possibility.

Dinner time...

The lead flight attendant calls me to report our crew meals are ready. I ask her if they are cloned-replicator low-bid crew meals or real First Class food. She says they are crew meals, but she is not sure what they are... One looks like beef, maybe, and she thought the other might be chicken or pork. I look at the co-pilot and ask him if he wants his meal... He asks me if I am going to eat mine...

I tell the lead flight attendant that we are not eating. It's safer for the 150 souls-on-board.

Over FTI (Fort Union, N.M.)... 38,000 feet...

Following the flight plan, we climbed to and crossed GCK (Garden City) at 38,000 feet. The remaining center-tank fuel pump is losing prime as it moves the last of the kerosene out of the center tank. We are now good to make KSAN, then KONT (Ontario: the alternate, if necessary) with remaining wing tank fuel. The headwind component is slightly greater than forecast... About plus five knots. In practical terms, this means we will have enough fuel to hold three turns, shoot one localizer approach to KSAN runway 27, miss the approach and go immediately to our alternate of KONT, arriving with minimum legal fuel.

Everything has to go our way tonight. That is why I assigned the flying pilot job to the Kid. He is young with fast reflexes, perfect eyesight, and an agile mind. Not to mention that Fi-Fi seems to like him. I tell him what we need to happen and he makes it happen.

Over PXR (Phoenix, AZ)... 38,000 feet...

The number one VOR receiver fails over PXR. It is rare to have two failures during a flight. I send an email to Mother reporting the new fault and dutifully write it in the logbook. We still have number two VOR receiver, DME receiver, two GPS units, and three inertial nav computers... High-accuracy nav capability remains intact.

Over IPL (Imperial, CA)... 32,000 feet...

KSAN weather is two miles with fog and 800 feet overcast. We need one and three-quarter mile visibility for the non-precision approach. During the approach, we can descend to 690 (640 + 50 mandatory company buffer) feet on the barometric altimeter... The airport elevation is 17 feet. So, as you can see, we might have a problem. My mental fuel computer is in the highest state of awareness complete with the little red uh-oh light flashing.

IPL is the starting point for the LYNDI TWO area navigation arrival into KSAN. The LAX center controller has slowed us to 280 knots indicated airspeed and tells us there are no serious delays into KSAN. That is what I wanted to hear.

Crossing VYDDA intersection at 4,000 feet... 210 knots...

The Kid is flying as he always does... Aggressively, but in total control. Fi-Fi is following his commands and behaving. He asks for flaps/slats to the first notch... The next crossing altitude is 3600 feet two miles ahead. We are cleared for the localizer approach to runway 27 and contact tower over REEBO.

Crossing REEBO intersection at 1,800 feet... 160 knots...

The gear is down and locked, leading edge slats at 22 degrees/trailing edge flaps at 20 degrees. A 3.14 degree glide-slope is recommended after REEBO. Since this is a non-precision approach, there is not an actual radio beam glide-slope, but (and this is one of many reasons I love this aircraft) the Electric Jet builds us a virtual glide-slope, which the co-pilot follows. In the old days flying the 737 steamers, we would descend to a minimum altitude, fly at that altitude until the next descent point, and then descend to the next minimum altitude, etc. This virtual glide-slope business is much better.

100 feet above minimums... 145 knots...

The cloud ceiling, allegedly, is 800 feet above the airport. We are east of the airport at 770 feet above the runway height and still in the fog.

Minimums... 145 knots...

I can see the approach lights through the fog and tell the co-pilot approach lights in sight. On the left side of the runway is a PAPI (precision approach path indicator) burning though the fog with two white lights/two red lights... We are on a good vertical path. Ahead, and only a few feet below the main landing gear wheels is the infamous parking garage... Would not be good to be low here.

Touchdown... 125 knots...

The Kid rolls it on slightly past the 1,000 foot marker... Cannot feel the tires contact the asphalt. The only clue is the wing spoilers rising and forcing the weight onto the landing gear. As usual, he makes my landings look amateurish.

We were so engrossed in the arrival and and approach, both of us forgot to send a message to Mother for a gate assignment. When the ground controller asks us which gate we are going to, I wag it and tell him the usual assignment. He clears us into the alley, but I can see no rampers waiting for us. Oops!

I confess to the controller that I don't know where I am going. We are calling company. He laughs and says no problem... uh, just don't block Delta coming out of the alley.

Roger that...

The assigned gate is at the other end of the airport, so I use asymmetrical thrust to make a tight turn in the alley and begin the taxi to the correct gate. OK, this is a little embarrassing.

Back in the Iron Age, a real Captain would have been chewing my butt (while taxiing) for not having the gate information.

That was then, this is now...

Life on the Line continues...

Fire Drill

Virtual Position: MMMX (Mexico City), runway 05 Left

Actual Position: Pilot school house, simulator #11

Equipment: A320E (enhanced, sort of like version 6.0)

Density Altitude: >7,000 feet

Gross Weight: Max allowed

It is that time of year, again...

The sim instructor, whom I have known for years, is really proud of his new $48,000,000 toy. He keeps saying, "Dave, you're really gonna love this... Just tell me when you are ready."

I hate it when a sim instructor says that...

Gee, I wonder what is going to happen next? The visibility has magically reduced to only a couple of white runway stripes ahead and the aircraft is at max gross weight at a high altitude airport with high terrain in three of the four quadrants. Probably an engine failure.

I have flown with my co-pilot a few times out on the Line, but never in the simulator. He is a young, single, intelligent, George Clooney looking guy who spends a great deal of time on Facebook via his smart phone. He was Facebooking tonight in the simulator until the instructor told him to turn that [deleted] cell-phone off.

To me, that is unreal. Playing digital footsie with flight attendants would have been the last thing on my mind when I was a co-pilot in the simulator. I would have been worried about performing well enough to pass the simulator ride. Apparently, he is a heck of a lot smarter than I was at his age, or we really are living in the New Age of kinder and gentler training.

A few seconds later and we are rolling down the MMMX runway with AC/DC's Thunderstruck playing on my mental iPod, the almost perfect engine failure tune.

When I first checked out on the Electric Jet, training showed us a video of a suave and debonair French test pilot demonstrating engine failures in an actual aircraft. His co-pilot would pull an engine to idle thrust at lift-off speed and the test pilot would quickly and precisely accomplish all engine failure procedures without changing heading a single degree, displacing the yaw indicator one iota, or causing a single ripple in his coffee; all the while giving a running commentary about his aircraft.

The video was a thing of beauty... A jaw dropping demonstration of absolute mastery of an aircraft.

Admittedly, he made his living demonstrating Fi-Fi to potential customers. But still... You have to be a multi-engine pilot to really understand it. Just thinking about it makes me all misty- eyed.

Seeing that at the beginning of Fi-Fi training all those years ago has always given me a target to shoot for in simulator training, i.e., smooth and stable engine failure drills worthy of that French test pilot. Will I ever get there? Not going to happen, but 75% might be obtainable.

A few knots before the 150 knot rotation speed, I am ready to apply rudder to counteract the loss of thrust on one side, and then crank (actually, it is an electric switch) a lot of rudder trim into the mix while maintaining runway heading and a positive rate of climb.

When the co-pilot calls out "rotate", I ease the nose off the runway waiting for the tell-tale clues, via the rudder pedals, of which engine is going south. Unfortunately, no engine fails and I am caught unprepared for a normal take-off. I can hear the sim instructor quietly snickering behind me. My take-off is sloppy... I was prepared for trouble, but nothing happened. Fi-Fi responds to my nervousness by wallowing a bit, patiently waiting for the human pilot to make up his feeble mind. I respond by pulling the nose up to eighteen degrees and calling for landing gear UP.

Of course, as soon as the nose is eighteen degrees above the horizon, number two engine catches on fire. Jet engines are always burning inside, and on rare occasions, outside, too.

Actually, simulator engines seem to burn on the outside a lot...

The co-pilot calls out "Engine Fire!" The engine is still producing thrust, so instead of doing the fire drill, I will let the fiery engine's thrust help carry us to a safe altitude. No need to get in a hurry and make a stupid mistake; after all, there is no propeller to feather.

At 1,500 feet above the ground, it is time to do the fire drill:

1. Engine two thrust lever pulled back to the idle stop

2. Engine two fuel cut-off to OFF

3. Engine two FIRE button pushed (kills the hyds, fuel, electrics, bleeds, etc)

4. Engine two fire extinguisher discharged

Now, a thirty second count begins to see if the fire actually goes out. If not, there is one more fire extinguisher bottle for a second chance. In less than ten seconds, the fire is out.

The Electric Jet flies (fairly) well on one engine, as she is doing now. Her nav computers recognize that an engine has failed and has presented us with the published escape route, which is back to the VOR in a left turn and enter holding. I trim the rudder to help with the engine out condition and then turn the auto-pilot ON.

The co-pilot takes over as flying pilot and I begin the multiple checklists, read-and-do items, to get this wounded bird back on the ground. Naturally, the weather below us it at landing minimums, adding another vector to the simulator drill... Still a busy night ahead of us. And so it goes... Year after year.

Life on the Line continues... Virtually.