Position: Over Bishop, Ca.Altitude: 36,000 feet
Groundspeed: 426 knots (489 mph)
Equipment: A319
Pax-on-Board: 123
Airborne...
He was the all-American kid who wanted to fly airplanes when airplanes were still miraculous, long before they became ho-hum to the flying public. After Pearl Harbor, he signed up for the Army Air Corps, made it through initial training and went on to Bomber Command for B-17 co-pilot training. Next stop... The Mighty Eighth.
Much to his amazement, he survived twenty-five missions against the vaunted Luftwaffe. Eighty thousand (80,000) of his fellow airmen were not so lucky. He rotated back to Training Command and spent the rest of the war as a flight instructor. The Air Corps brass liked him and invited him to stay after the war ended. He rose to the rank of Brigadier General before he retired and along the way produced a covey of children, all of them fine pilots.
The last little girl, born during the autumn years of his life, is sitting in the right seat of this flight deck... The General's daughter.
She is razor sharp and has the best captain management skills I've ever seen. The wife-of-my-youth is one of her friends... Yes, that is a double-edged sword. The time tested left seat lines of bravado and b.s. are totally ineffective with this co-pilot... My much polished and perfected captain's swagger is a waste of time.
She flies the aircraft like she came from the factory pre-installed as an auto-pilot. Actually, she handles it better than most of the captains around this outfit, including me... Is there no respect for the left seat anymore?
Summer ops... 48 degrees C
Number, uh... Looks like about fifteen for take-off in KPHX (Phoenix). The ATIS (automatic terminal information service) temperature says it is 42 degrees C (108 F). The temperature sensor on Fi-Fi's belly feels 48 C (118 F) on the taxiway. The take-off data is figured on the ATIS temperature, but we are 2,100 pounds lighter than the flight plan estimate, so we have some wiggle room with the super-heated runway.
I am going to fly the hot weather take-off. If an engine explodes in a hot shower of titanium shrapnel, I want to be the one flying. The General's daughter could easily handle this take-off, but I asked her if we could swap legs... It's that little flashing red "uh-oh" light in the back of my brain. It's a captain Dave thing.
I am old and cranky, been there, done that, seen it before. When an engine decides to quit in weather like this you lose exactly 50% of your thrust, but 85-90% of climb ability. It is a very serious matter... I am paranoid about it and act as if it will happen, not maybe, but for sure will happen. The aircraft will fly out of this nightmarish scenario, but it is one of the few emergency events that requires immediate and correct actions.
26 degrees C...
At 7,000 feet, 26 degrees C... We are climbing out of the top of the heat dome covering Phoenix. The vertical speed is increasing as the V-2500 A-5 engines bite into the cooler atmosphere. My stress levels are falling with the outside air temperature. Much to my relief, both engines are turning and burning.
The co-pilot reaches overhead and cranks the cockpit temperature controller down even more. Yep, it is hot in here.
-45 degrees C...
We are cruising at 36,000 feet and have been for 50 minutes en route to KSJC (San Jose). The fuel temperature is 25 degrees C; brake temperatures are averaging 150 degrees C. It is hot enough to boil water down there in the main landing gear wells. Wheel brake temperature is cumulative during a multi-leg summer day. Luckily, Fi-Fi has brake fans to dissipate that heat on the ground. During my 737 days, we used a brake temperature chart in the summer to determine if we needed to delay take-off for hot brakes.
Top of descent...
Oakland Center gives us a lower altitude; (and) once we get to 12,000 feet, slow down to 250 knots, please. We can do that... Thrust rolls back to idle as I select a descent mode on the auto-pilot control panel; the Electric Jet slowly lowers her nose and down we go. Below us, a blanket of clouds with green coastal hills peeking through. It is a beautiful day in Northern Californa...
Thirty miles south of KSFO (KSJC lies beneath KSFO Class B airspace) and slipping beneath its controlled airspace, I slow the 319 to a mandatory maximum airspeed of 200 knots. We are cruising over the coastal mountains, the tops of the higher ones in the sun light. The radar altimeter comes to life as we fly over terrain that rises inside of the 2,500 foot radar altimeter floor. You can watch the peak digitally rise then fall away as the radar altimeter sweeps over it. That is kind of cool.
My old eyes are sweeping the skies for Bonanzas and Cessnas... I worry a lot about smacking aluminum in this airspace. In my younger days I could see a light aircraft ten miles away, but now, maybe four miles if I am well rested.
Cleared for the ILS 30 Left...
Fi-Fi captures the localizer radio beam and is looking for the glideslope, which is still above us. There is a marine layer over KSJC at 1,000 feet above the ground, hence the ILS approach. We fly into the glideslope and start down with three green gear lights and flaps at three-quarters. The cloud layer covers us briefly... Then we are underneath and looking at the runway. The surface temperature is 16 C, or 61 F. Nice and cool sea-level air with lots of lift potential. I feel a very smooth landing coming on... I know better, but can't help myself...
I tell the General's daughter, "OK, now watch and learn. I will demonstrate again how to land a 319. Pay attention this time."
"Yeah, that's what you said yesterday right before you slammed it in at Kansas City. Gonna be like that one?"
See, no respect...
At 500 feet... auto-pilot OFF/auto-thrust OFF/flight directors OFF/bring up the FPV (flight path vector).
Low altitude musings...
One more time... Is the gear down and locked? Yes, three green lights glowing brightly.
Are we below maximum landing weight? Yes, two thousand pounds below...
The indicated airspeed is a few knots low... Increase thrust a tiny bit. The wind sock is half extended; a slight crosswind from the left. If it's a 20 knot wind sock, the wind is 10 knots. I think the tower said eight knots... Close enough.
And... Are we on tower frequency? Yes... Did they clear us to land? Yes...
Over the fence at 136 knots indicated. The runway slides beneath us as I start thinking about flaring... Fi-Fi's digital voice is calling out the altitude in ten foot increments as we close on the concrete; fifty...forty...thirty...twenty...ten...
At twenty feet, I apply slight back pressure on the stick to slow the descent rate.
My honor is at stake here, literally. She is good friends with some of my low rent captain buds... I will never hear the end. The nose is pitched up five degrees. A little more back pressure to slow the descent further, but not too much. Absolutely do not want to bleed off too much airspeed (energy).
When it feels like the main gear is about to touch, I push the stick forward a tiny bit to rotate the airframe about the pitch axis toward the nose. This stops the main gear a few inches above the concrete and lets them settle oh-so-smoothly... It works. A perfect touchdown with minimum tire distortion.
My touchdown is so smooth it can't be felt other than the wing spoilers rising causing the transfer of wing load to the landing gear. It is absolutely what I was hoping for to save my rep from the Kansas City debacle.
Time to stir the pot again. I ask the General's daughter, "Are we down yet?"
Life on the Line continues...
