When in Rome...

Imagine going to (arguably) the most picturesque city in the world—Rome. Imagine further that, in preparation for your trip, you carefully laid your camera out beside your bag so as to not forget it.

You dork. You should know you must put it IN your bag.

By now you know I have no pics of Rome, but since some people think I'm a word wizard I'll risk blaspheming Rome by trying to describe it. Yet before I do that there is one more logistical nightmare to tell of. Shortly after arrival I set out with the bunkie to go to the Vatican. (The “bunkie” is the third pilot, or relief pilot, that goes along on flights greater than eight hours.) The bunkie knew Rome pretty well and yelled to me as we boarded a crowded subway train, “Watch your wallet here!”

By now you know my wallet was being picked even as the bunkie was warning me. Fortunately the thief was a compassionate one, and simply threw my wallet onto the train floor after he plied his stealthy trade. He even left me two ten Euro bills. He also left my debit card, surely hoping that I—his low hanging fruit—would suck up to the ATM again.

But visit the Vatican, I did, and was truly awed by the marvelous architecture, history and art honoring the birth and life of our Savior and the saints that followed Him. I particularly enjoyed the long trek to the Sistine Chapel. The walk takes you through long, winding corridors and chambers that are loaded with sculpture, frescos, tapestries, and endless murals, until you finally reach the chapel and look up and see Michelangelo’s awesome paintings on the ceiling. 

They won't let you take flash photography in there (why should I care?) but some people did. There were so many crowded in the chapel, the Vatican police could never find the ones who flashed. Thousands of people looked up murmuring, and the guards “sshh-ed” and it got quite, but then the murmurs rose again, and again the “sshh.” And finally we flowed out of the chapel, like a piece of flotsam in a flooding river, to let the endless currents of people come in behind. Old Mick had the right idea; you've got to look up to see Creation's greatest masterpieces.

The long ride from the airport into Rome is a treat itself. You see the clean, crisp countryside—rolling green hills contrasted with clear blue sky, studded with neat red farm houses and barns. You see right away that you are in a land of vivid color and wish you had a camera. Getting closer to the city you start to see ruins. Rome is replete with ruins from the old empire, and as you ride through a modern, bustling city you pass awesome stands of two-thousand year old ruins in various states of decay. But you don't get a sense of neglect and deterioration. Not at all. The ruins are clean, ringed in moats of green grass, interlaced with manicured arboretums and bounded with strange magnificent pine trees that go straight up, bare as telephones, before blossoming out like great umbrellas. I always knew Rome was an architectural wonder, but I never imagined that it would be so laced with the natural beauty of grasses, shrubs and trees. 

Oh, for a camera.

And then came a huge thrill. Just as our van was approaching our hotel we rounded a corner and there, close as the wingspan of the jet we brought in, was the Colleseum, rounded, columned and tall, rising toward the sky, more magnificent that any modern day sports arena because you knew it was two thousand years old. Riding around it to the hotel several of the crew remarked as to how you could almost hear the shouts of the ancient crowds inside there. 

Absolutely awesome.

The modern structures were eye-pleasing as well. The apartment buildings were finished in stucco and painted with subtle earth tomes and pastels of off-yellow, pale pink, ocher, burnt orange, and dozens of colors I can't name, yet none were gaudy. They all blended with the city and its greenery, and at the street level many of them hosted sidewalk cafes. Romans love to drink their dark, rich coffees and deep red wines at little round tables in the sunshine. We joined in with them that evening and found ourselves sitting beside a table of newly graduated Auburn chicks. They were working as nannies!

Don't ever ask me again to describe Rome. I'm not good enough. I'll sin again if I try. Just make sure I take my camera, and kick my empennage if you have to.

Into the Terminator

There’s hardly a more profound time in any pilot’s cockpit than those rare moments just before sunrise or just after sunset while in a high cruise and he/she sees…the “terminator.” No, it’s not a giant scary specter of Arnold Schwarzenegger. But it is awe-inspiring.

To astronauts in orbit the terminator is simply the dividing line between daylight and darkness on the Earth’s surface. Awesome as that must look, the terminator appears quite different to the airline pilot, or passenger who watches for it and knows what to expect.

For us the terminator is the shadow of the Earth’s horizon as it is projected against a morning or evening skyscape. The part of the sky still bathed in daylight is blue, the rest black. 

Flying toward the terminator you watch it climb high in your windshield until you are suddenly in darkness. But here’s the real treat: if you are high enough and the sky is clear enough, you can see the Earth’s curvature in the terminator’s shape. It’s a sight that will still the tongue if it happens to be wagging, and will mesmerize the eyes and heart.

I once called a flight attendant up to see it. She came into the cockpit prattling about meaningless minutiae and suddenly froze when she looked ahead and saw it. As I explained what it was, I saw the woman had lost her ability to speak. She just stared with her jaw hanging low.

Here’s a pic of the terminator last Thursday night over Kansas as we flew west. The camera didn’t catch the curvature. But you can, if you’ll watch for it on your rides through the high stratosphere.

The next day a long delay in the holding pad in Denver drove me to open the flight deck door and invite people up to the front office. We can do that with the engines shut down, captain’s discretion. 

Two young sisters frolicked up and began asking questions so advanced I thought I was in an oral examination. I left the cockpit so that Randy, my F/O, could answer them. 

Randy is a retired Navy Hornet driver. He also flew A-7s, so we got along great.

Randy and I earned our pay that day. The weather in Philadelphia was forecast to be lousy. The airline had planned for plenty of extra fuel to account for various possibilities, but Randy advised me to add an extra thousand pounds (150 gallons or so). I asked why. The flight plan seemed to provide for enough. Randy winked and said, “It’s Philly.” I said sure. I crossed out the fuel load on the flight plan and wrote in a new load, 1,000 pounds higher. The total may have been 49,000 pounds, if I remember.

Randy was right on. We held for almost an hour outside Philly and when they finally let us go in the winds at the field picked up to over 50 knots. I broke off the approach and we held again. We told Philly Approach Control if the winds didn’t lessen to below 40 knots in 10 minutes we were bolting for Baltimore. They came down to 35 and we slipped in without a problem. If Randy hadn’t suggested that extra thousand back on the ground in Denver we would have surely diverted.

Randy ain’t bad…for a Navy puke.

AC out.

Give me a break!
Isn't it obvious that my
window is open?!












No that isn't a missile we just launched. It's a 737 1,000 feet under us, which we are overtaking.

Flying the Line

I have logged about 75 hours now since IOE, almost all of it in the 757. In fact, I have flown the 67 only once. I have been doing quite a few "transcons" (coast to coast) but have also seen some mid-continentent landings, at Denver and Chicago. I like the transcons, even though they are long (about 5 hours). Nothing exciting has happened, but a few glitches have popped up.

We taxied out in Boston and got an hour delay because of weather in Chicago. We shut the engines down in a very scenic spot beside the ship channel to Boston Harbor. It was neat watching the ships sail by right in front of us. We got the start-up call from the tower and started the engines but then a caution message popped up that said the left engine thrust reverser had a fault. We called SAMC (San Francisco Maintenance Center) and they told us to shut the engine down, cancel the fault messages, and restart it, which should clear the problem. We did all that and got the message again. They said go back to the gate, but all the gates were occupied. We waited another hour.

At the gate mechanics came aboard and said they could lock-out the reverser and defer the work to Chicago if I would agree. I had done this before many times on the 737, but precautions need to be taken. I called Dispatch and asked him about the conditions in Chicago. He said the runways had packed snow and the winds were gustng across the runway, portending a possible directional control problem. I considered I might need that thrust reverser. Considering that 

I was new to the 757 I told the mechanics I would not accept a deferment. I explained all this to the passengers in the simplest terms I could, but most of them I'm certain never understood. The flight canceled. 180 angry and frustrated people got off.

My F/O and I were told to deadhead to Chicago on the next scheduled flight, which we did (along with many of our previous passengers). I watched as we landed in Chicago: no packed snow. The runways were clean and the winds light. I could have made the landing easily with the thrust reverser locked-out. All I needed was accurate information.

Last week, you probably saw the news reports of the pilots who went to sleep. It was a "GO Airlines" flight from Honolulu to Hilo. They missed Hilo and flew about 100 miles out into the Pacific before waking up. The flight was only about 45 minutes long. How then, you ask, can pilots get so tired on such a short trip? Consider that those commuter pilots commonly make 6-8 flights in a day. They work them hard and pay them peanuts. But you, the ticket buyer, get a great deal.  

Or, do you?

On that thought....

Alan
 

I took on a short walk from the hotel and snapped this pic. As you can see the 757 goes to some really boring places.

This is the view from my front office, at this point the California Sierras. This proves I was awake.

Cleared to Solo

I’m a bit behind. Here’s the catch-up. I flew a 4-day IOE trip with a Brit named Rory Kay, a very fine gentleman. IOE means Initial Operating Experience. Rory is an LCA, or Line Check Airman. His job was to fly as my first officer (co-pilot) for the first three days, honing my knowledge of the 767/757 and polishing me up for the fourth day, which was a checkride.

Rory proved to be an outstanding instructor as well as an affable travel companion. We made friends immediately, but that didn’t hold him back from giving me the constructive criticism I needed. He was very patient in correcting my “Guppyisms.” Those are habits carried over from the 737 that are not applicable to the bigger jets. He flew the first leg from Dulles to Chicago and that was a 767. I flew the second leg, a 757 to Kansas City. I had been warned that the 767, the much bigger jet, handles like a fighter, meaning it is very light and touchy on the controls because it has four ailerons instead of the usual two. That gave me a false expectation that the 757 was heavy on the controls. I found that, compared to the 737, the 757 is very light and nimble. 

Only on the last day was I to get a crack at flying the 67. It handled exactly as they said. What a great performer! Very powerful engines, too. I found the landings on both the 757 and 767 to be easy and was amazed at how quickly those big engines stop you in reverse thrust. Brakes are hardly needed except at heavy weights.

The trip included overnights at Kansas City, Boston, and San Francisco (SFO). In SFO we enjoyed an evening at an Irish Pub down the street from the hotel and I listened to Rory’s bloody fine British humor and great stories about his experience in the 757/767 fleet.

Our last day, the checkride, was supposed to be a 767 leg from SFO to Dulles, but it didn’t materialize. Rory called me and told me to sleep in. Our plane, which had been scheduled to come up from Sao Paulo, Brazil that evening, had made an emergency landing with an overheated engine and a passenger riot. Yes, you read that right—a riot.

Because our trip was a top priority (the company wanted me to get qualified so they can put me to use) Rory had authority to commandeer any 767/757 flight he wanted. He found one going to Chicago on a 757 and the other from there to Dulles on a 67. He wanted me to get my final check on the 67. Of course the pilots on those two flights were delighted because, being “displaced,” they got to go home with pay.

After a perfect 757 landing in Chicago, Rory said, “Hell, I’m signing you off now. Just don’t screw up the last leg and make me do all this paperwork over again!” So, I flew the last leg as a fully qualified 767 captain, even though that was my first time at the controls of a 767. Cool beans, huh?

And so, you’re wondering about the riot on the plane I was supposed to fly but got cancelled. Well, I’m giving you a link to a video site called LiveLeak where you can view the ugly incident yourself. Someone got it on tape and posted it. It was initially on YouTube but got pulled, so it may not be on.

This video does not reflect well on United Airlines, but keep in mind that the crew landed that plane without hurting a single person. The people got mad, but people tend to take air transportation for granted, believing that a trouble free flight is a guaranteed birthright. Little do they realize the complexity involved in getting their soft butts half way around the earth in a few hours safely and at an affordable price.

Anyway, here’s the link. You’ll notice the fire department wetting down the hot brakes. The plane landed at an extremely heavy weight.

http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=395_1201204784

Check out this cool pick of wake vortices behind a landing 767.

The Heart of the Matter?

TK Done

I couldn't see the rear view mirror on the hotel van I was on last Monday, but I imagined seeing TK getting smaller in it and I did not weep. My stick partner and I had finished the LOE, the Line Operational Evaluation. It was a simulated flight from Washington-Dulles to Boston in wintry conditions. 

They loaded us up with distractions and failed our left and center hydraulic systems. That forced us to divert from Boston because the weather there was CAT III only and we couldn't go that low with our hydraulic systems out. (CAT III weather is visibility less than 300 feet.) They threw more distractions at us while we got weather updates at other airports and picked the best one to go to. That turned out to be Newark, and its weather wasn't much better. When we finally got all the checklists done and lined up on final approach the flaps went asymmetric. 

We had to break out of the pattern and fix that. Then the nose gear wouldn't come down. By then the fuel was getting low but we got the nose gear down and landed on the icy runway and got stopped. 

Then the examiner bragged on us and issued our type certificates for the Boeing 757/767. It's over. Dern. Such fun.

I found out yesterday that a captain who was one week ahead of me in the 767 course eliminated himself. I had talked with him in the cafeteria. He was bitter about the training center and its instructors. He said they were treating him like a novice and insulting him. I suspect he bailed out because he didn't think he could pass the LOE. I don't like the place myself, but I've got nothing but high praises for the instructors there. They are top-notch. Hmmm. Come to think of it, that guy was sitting with his back to where Ham Lee's portrait used to hang. Costly mistake.

I'm in Boston for real now, my second day of IOE (Initial Operating Experience). It's going great so far. I love the 757. More on IOE later.

Incidentally, there has been a lot of press lately about UFOs seen over Texas. If you are a UFO freak, or know one, you might reasonably ask me how many UFOs I have seen in my 35 years and 22,000 hours of flying all over the world. Answer. 0. And, how many other pilots do I know who have seen one? 0. Now, if you are a serious UFO freak, you are accusing me of being a lying sack of cat scat for fear I will be seen as a freak by my peers (who must also be lying). If you are a super serious UFO freak you think I am being paid off to keep my mouth shut. If you can arrange that I might start seeing weird stuff.

AC out

Vee One

Last night night we came to the high desert for a big ride—the Maneuvers Validation (MV). This is the one in which you prove to United Airlines, the FAA, and Ham Lee that you can “bring her on in and land her” with engines burning, red lights flashing, sirens screaming in your ear, flaps falling off, passengers rioting, and in fog so thick you can't see where your pee hits--if you could pee, which you need desperately to do. BTW, an old captain I used to fly with in the 3-holer (727) used to yell at the top of his lungs, “Bring her on in a and land her, Knute!” every time I started to land.

Oh yeah, you do takeoffs, too, with engines blowing up and burning. Sound stupid? When you get many tons of metal, kerosene and flesh hurdling down the runway at Indy 500 speeds you get to a point where you can't stop on the runway you've got left. If a motor blows you're going flying whether you like it or not. 

All passenger jets are certified to be able to takeoff if an engine croaks at the “go/no go speed” reverently referred-to in this business as “V_1. ” It must cross the departure end of the runway higher than 35 feet at its maximum certified gross weight. The jets can all do that but you've got to fly them right. Error is not an option. With one engine cooking and the other out to lunch the beast wants to fly sideways. If you let it do that you take out hangars, control towers, parked planes, etc. Not a good start to your day. And there are also hills and towers out there. Got to miss them even if you can't see them. This means flying cross-controlled with your leg pushing so hard on the rudder it shakes.

Our warm-up ride for the MV was done at midnight, after two days off. The simulator gave us some problems and so our instructor wisely turned in an “incomplete” report, blaming the simulator. But that was a cover-up. 

The real reason was John and I were worthless trying to do that stuff at 2 in the morning after being up all day. So, we got another practice next day with more decent hours and we did better, although I was not satisfied with my performance. But the instructor recommended us for the MV, and we did great. The evaluator said we were one of the best transition crews he had seen in a long time.

This afternoon we begin the LOFT phase. That means “Line Operational Flight Training.” Now our sim rides will get more realistic. We will fly to international destinations and encounter many mechanical, weather, and performance problems. Fun. Keeps the old bean working.

Heading home Tuesday. Not coming back till Friday.

---TB out.

p.s. Brad added a new feature to the blog, a link to some of my magazine stories. So far though I've only posted one. More later.

Spirit of Ham

John and I jumped through another hoop yesterday: the Procedures Validation (PV). That was the last session in the FBT, which is a cockpit that doesn't move, yet all its instruments and computers work normally. The PV tests your ability to run flows and checklists, and to fly profiles. A “flow” is the way your hands move across and around the panels and consoles testing and setting instruments and switches. You've got to do it by memory. Checklists are read by one pilot and executed by one or both with verbal responses that have to be exact. Example: “Airspeed bugs, gross weight 220,000 lbs, flaps 5, 135, 140, 155, set.” And, “FMCs, runway 28 right, Shoreline one departure, Red Bluff transition, set.” And so on. 

“Profiles” are the procedures for flying takeoffs, climbs, descents, instrument approaches and missed approaches.

There's a ton of things to do and there is no tolerance for improvising your own ways. Anyway, John and I passed easily with a few “debrief items.” Sorry to disappoint you but my performance was not flawless. Tonight the pressure ramps up a notch as we begin preparation in a real simulator for the Maneuvers Validation next week. The MV will test our mettle at handling fires, failures, decompressions, etc.

The background to all this is a little noticed event here at the training academy a year or so ago. A very cherished photograph that had hung in the cafeteria for many years disappeared. It was a portrait of one of United's pioneer pilots, Captain Hamilton “Ham” Lee. Ham was an airmail pilot in the 1920s who got national attention when he was fired from the postal service for refusing to fly in the fog. He said he wasn't going to lay his life on the line for a postage stamp. 

Other pilots took his side and struck. The postal service gave in, rehired him and allowed station managers to cancel flights if the weather got too bad. Later Ham hired on with one of the first companies to fly people, Varney Airlines. Eventually this morphed into my airline of today. He retired the year I was born, 1949.

The picture you see here of Ham is not the one that hung in the cafeteria. I couldn't find that one on line. That portrait was huge, about 6 feet tall, and it depicted Ham in the cockpit of a DC-3. He was looking back over his right shoulder. His hat was crushed under his radio headphones.

I'll never forget that menacing little grin and that thin little

Captain Ham Lee

mustache. He looked like Clark Gable. He seemed to be saying, “Get your *&^% picture and get the &^$# out of my cockpit. I got an airline to run.”

Many of us would never sit in the cafeteria with our backs to Captain Lee. It was our way of honoring him and his kind. Luck had something to do with it for some guys. I was among those who would never sit with my back to him, especially on checkride day.

Now Ham is gone, stolen from us to whom he belonged. We don't have him there anymore staring out at us challenging us to be as good as he was. They took him, just like they took our pensions and 40% of our paychecks. They probably put him in a museum.

Some day museums will be full of airline pilot relics and families will walk through them and parents will point at pictures of guys like Ham and me and and tell the kids,

"Look. A pilot!" The kid will stare and the parent will say,

"That was back when real people flew airplanes."

I'll never stop sitting in the cafeteria facing that place on the wall where he was. He's still there for me.

I gotta go. Got an airline to run.

SKV Whipped

The dreaded SKV (Systems Knowledge Validation) is behind me and there will be no retake. I crammed like a teenage nerd in a pie-eating contest for a week and walked into the test center with four hours sleep. I finished the 100 questions in about an hour and a half and wobbled out. And, I suppose you want to know what I made. It's somewhere on the page. 

You'll have to find it. Maybe you're wondering what a sample question would be:

When the RESERVE BRAKES switch is activated, fluid trapped below the standpipe in the ___ hydraulic system reservoir is made available to the ___ system electric hydraulic pump.
a) center, center No. 1
b) center, center No. 2
c) left, left
d) right, right

Okay, so it's not rocket science. But I'm getting too old to memorize so much stuff. And I suppose you want to know the answer. It's on the page somewhere, but I'm not guaranteeing it's correct. Anyway I walked out of there feeling ready to suit up and take on a brace of Migs.

In Evacuation/Ditching class (which followed the test, and through most of which I snooozed) they showed us a picture of the new United first class seats in the 777s and 747s.

Check it out, dude! Your very own office, theater and bedroom! I looked up the ticket fare for this seat on a non-stop trip from San Francisco to Tokyo. I won't make you search for that. $10,785.80. But fret not! If you opt for a 1-stop you can save.... It's on the page.

I'm off for Christmas and about to head to the airport. Got a ticket to ride. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

------Alan

Wa...wa...wa...

I feel like the poor dumb slob of a pilot in this cartoon, except that my "plane" never leaves the second floor of the training center, the woman with the bullhorn is my instructor (Terry), and all I can hear after the first three hours is wa wa wa wa wa..., like Charlie Brown listening to his teacher. Thanks to T. McCraken for the cartoon. Hope doesn't mind me using it. His great website is: http://www.pioneertelephonecoop.com/~mchumor/index.html

I'm about to go out for the last day of aircraft systems ground school. There will be a big review. Questions will fly like miniballs at Shilo and I will look dumb and say, "Ahhh..." and shrug. My stick partner, John, will do the same, and after it's over Terry will fold up his teaching guide, look frustrated and say, "You guys will do fine."

He'll be talking about the "SKV." That means Systems Knowledge Validation. It's the 100 question written test you have to pass before they let you fly the big simulators. They used to give that test orally while actually inside the training simulator. The examiner would point at a switch, button, or instrument and ask what it was, what powered it, what it indicated and what you would do under various failure modes. That was good stuff--pilot stuff. But United has replaced it now with a multiple choice test you take on a computer. Why? To save money of course. Any way, I'm scheduled to take the *&$!*^# thing Friday, the day after my days off--of course. Sounds like college, doesn't it.

Reminds me of the call I got from Rusty at Troy a few weeks ago. He said he had a big bad exam next day and was lost in the course and there was no way he would pass. I asked if this call was a course failure warning. He said yeah. Figured he'd get a softer landing if I was forewarned. I told him to cram like he never had in his life and try his best. The boy did, and passed. Guess I've got to take my own advice now.

Yes, Brad this is the place where you turn left. I can see the "Marrow of the Earth" from the training center during those precious few seconds a day I get to look.

T-Boy out.

Day 3 at TK

I've been at the place United pilots dispassionately call "TK" for three days. TK is the inter-company mail address for the Denver flight training center. Down at American they call their Dallas training center the "school house." If it's anything like TK it's a house of horrors.

I'm in the Boeing 757/767 transition course. It's day 3 of 20 and I'm lost already. They turn a fire hose of information on you here and expect you to drink every drop. I'm in a class of four. I'm paired with a first officer trainee who, incredibly, is older than I am by a half year. He started at United rather late and doesn't have the seniority to hold a captain's vacancy. Good guy, though. The other two are a separate crew and we rarely see them.
 
The first day started with a meeting with a beady-eyed mustachioed guy who told us that we would likely not pass the written test five days hence if we did not bare down with the studying at every opportunity. That was about all there was to our welcome to TK. After that we sat in front of a computer for 6 hours and listened to a guy with a lisp talk about the Boeing 757 and 767. Next day we had a live instructor who is very good. But the info comes too fast. 

Despite the fact that I took a week off without pay to study up at home before coming here, my brain is jumbled beyond salvage.

The days are split between lectures and sessions in the fixed based trainer (FPT). Tt's not a simulator--that comes later--but a cockpit with instruments that work. There are no visual effects and the FBT does not move. The instructor uses it to demonstrate principles he covered in class and directs us through normal and emergency checklists.

I gotta hit the books. Over.

Alan