I love my job, I love what I do. Flying airplanes for a living is a dream. I never thought I would be lucky enough to do it. It takes years of work, which is not an exaggeration. While I did not take the most expeditious route as a career, I still put in my time, building hours (= experience in the air,) delivering airplanes for a dealer (numerous trips across the Rockies in single engine aircraft, with a couple pleasure trips thrown in,) gave some sightseeing tours, etc...
[Side note-- single engine at night over the mountains in actual IFR conditions... Good Heavens, as an older, grayer pilot, I don't know if I could do that again. There is an old saying that as a pilot gets older, the yellow streak across his back should get wider... and wider... and wider....] [ I deliberately use the pronoun 'he,' because most women start out with a lot more common sense than men do... y'all are born with it, we have to be scared into it.]
Sometimes we forget what a magical world we get to live and work in. Between company politics, union politics, the Feds, our passengers, our coworkers, the weather.... We forget.
We see ourselves as glorified bus drivers, quite often. The way a great deal of our coworkers and passengers behave, it is quite obvious that they perceive us that way, too, and the craft that we fly as buses.
This should not be a surprise, just by the way we treat ourselves.
I am not a 100% go go company/wave the flag kind of guy; I have my own issues on a sometimes daily basis with the management peeps, we all do. That is part of life.
Maybe it is that 'older grayer,' but what happened to Professionalism?
Why is it that walking through the terminal earlier today, for the all of 40 minutes I was in ORD between flights, I saw 2 pilots walking around with their ties hanging down, shirt top unbuttoned, one with a shirt tail untucked from his pants? Sigh.... Yeah, I am just getting old.
So here is what I got to do at work today, 3rd leg of 3 flying.
Lexington Bluegrass, Kentucky, to Dallas/Fort Worth, Texas.
We could see a line of weather was moving in from the West slowly towards DFW. SOC (dispatch) had planned us with plenty of fuel, both for holding purposes and for diverting to an alternate. That's good, pilots like fuel. Fuel makes us happy. Even if the fuel were on fire, we think 'hhmm... I think I can still get to some of that if I need it before we have to put it out.'
Our planned Alternate is Texarkana. (TXK.) This is what the top of our dispatch release looks like, and I will decode it for you:
So, starting from the top left, you would read this in English as:
Instrument Flight Release Eagle Flight 3196/on the 28th,
Aircraft 856 / American Registration # N856AE,
from Lexington, KY to DFW, TX, with an Alternate of Texarkana.
Minimum Take Off Fuel at brake release to start the take off roll is 9487 lbs,
with a Release Fuel at departure time off the gate of 10,435 lbs.
Total fuel burn is planned at 4,978 lbs, (which includes taxi fuel)
with a planned Arrival Fuel of 5,457 lbs (or 2 hours, 43 mins)
if you need to go to your Alternate from the Missed Approach at DFW, it is at Flight Level 170,
with the ATC codes for that route to Texarkana.
Makes sense, they just use shorthand to save time/paper/make us feel older.
We did not think we were going to beat the weather to DFW, we had almost 2 hours of flying ahead of us, and it was just West of the airport. But we had plenty of fuel, so we were ready to go.
The first 1 + 40 of the flight went perfectly smooth. No problems, just like planned. In fact, to the right is what the flight from the day prior looks like. That is about as straight a line as you can get in aviation. Let's hear it for direct routing!
Around Little Rock, where you see the prior day's routing make a bit of a right turn, they moved us over onto another arrival procedure, to take us on a more southerly routing to the airport. No problem, that is what multiple Arrival Procedures are for.
Here is the route we actually flew, after turning south at Little Rock (looks a little different.):
This is where it starts getting dicey.
We could hear the Center controllers telling the flights ahead of us to look up a certain 'intersection' even further south, to be assigned that 'transition' onto the arrival, and to expect holding at that approach fix. So, we know what we are in for.
Now we start getting faced with options. We are flying slightly faster than our planned cruise speed, which burns a bit more fuel, but you are in the air for a shorter period of time. On flights of our length, the 5-10 minute difference is normally a wash, but heading into decreasing weather, 5 minutes of fuel can be an eternity as you watch the numbers slowly drop.
We dropped to slightly slower than our planned cruise speed, since we knew they were already holding at that intersection. No big sense in flying full speed into a holding pattern; we can eat up some time by slowing down a bit now, save some gas, and increase our holding time.
ATC gave us the hold, and we told them we were slowing enroute to the hold to our holding speed. They said to expect further clearance in 40 minutes (actually, they give a time limit on the clock, but it was 40 minutes out, so it makes more sense to write it this way, contextually.)
We were planned with 35 minutes of Holding Fuel, but we were also planned with 200 lbs (11 minutes) of taxi fuel, and I know we only used 100 lbs of that by the time we took off, so that gave us another 100 in the 'bank,' plus we were slightly ahead of the fuel game arriving at the hold, because we had slowed down enough to make up for the slightly fast flying we had done earlier. Whew!
When they plan our "Fuel to Alternate," It is based on going all the way to our destination, doing a "Missed Approach," (go around, bolter, wave-off, bump and run...) and then flying to our Alternate. Well, we were already flying close to our alternate, so maybe we could find a closer alternate with decent weather so we could amend out flight plan and use that fuel to give us more holding time?
Time to abuse the dispatcher. They do all the computer entries and planning for us, because we don't have the capability to do that in the air in real time the way that they do.
We moved our Alternate to GGG (Gregg Country, TX,) so our alternate fuel burn dropped, which means we had more fuel to play with.
That gave us some time (fuel = time... once you take off, the clock is ticking, because unlike military aircraft, we don't have a way to get more gas in the air.)
We continued to dig for weather for airports that were closer, in case we could move closer, plus we needed to be able to answer the question "IF we divert, where will we go?"
We flew around the holding pattern, which is a pre-planned racetrack-type pattern designed to provide a safe area around the aircraft contained within. We had a bunch of planes above us, but slowly planes were leaving the pattern below us. This is normally a good thing-- ATC brings you into the pattern top to bottom, slowly pops flights off the bottom, and we work our way down the 'stack' until it is our turn to head in.
This time, the planes below us were giving up and going to their Alternate destinations to wait out the weather, get some more gas, etc, instead of being cleared towards DFW. Ruh-roh... that's a bad sign.
They extended our holding time (Gave us a later Expect Further Clearance Time,) and we knew were were starting to get up against a wall, with regards to fuel. We keep track of our fuel as we hold, and we were perfectly configured for the hold, burning as little gas as possible to wait out our time. Eventually, the clock runs out.
We convinced SOC to move our Alternate again, and after he moved it he wrote back "Good thing, we would have had to change it, GGG and TXK are no longer taking diversions, they have too many on the ground. SHV is also not taking anyone." [This, btw, does not have the force of law, or anything; we could have diverted there, they just didn't have room for us operationally (stairs, generators, etc.) which could be a major headache (what if it takes 4 or 5 hours for the storm to blow over, what do we do with the passengers trapped on the airplane??) but we can always land there... it might just not be brilliant!]
TYR (Tyler, TX) is now our new alternate, and it is right off of our right hand side in the hold.
By now, the weather had moved East enough that it was going to be a problem in our holding pattern. In addition to that, we were facing a quick drop in to TYR, or crossing a bit of the weather (but not the nasty bits) to get south to Waco (ACT.) A Delta flight asked if they could move to a track further north to avoid the weather, and hold at a fix there. ATC asked us if that would work at our altitude, too, and I told my FO to reply "Sure, we can get there."
So we started to the new hold, and my FO was starting to get cautious. He had worked out what we needed to get across the weather and into both Waco and Wichita Falls. We heard them start to take flights all the way south and around to basically over West Texas, and there was no way we were going to be able to do that. We just did not have the fuel (lucky dogs, those 767s!)
As we entered the new hold, I knew our time was going to be running out, and we certainly didn't want to wait till the weather completely overran our current (and right below us) Alternate, nor did I want it to 'close the door' for us to reach Waco (which was actually going downhill faster.)
As we entered the hold, I said "If we come back around over this fix again, I want you to call ATC and tell them we're pulling the plug and dropping into TYR; Let's not get stuck up here (as the options disappear)"
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| Weather, amended releases, more amendments... killing trees! |
As we passed over Waco, ATC cleared us via a long arrival from very far North West of the airport. That was just not going to work. If we went out that far, we'd never make it back. I said "What are they doing, putting us behind someone just rotating out of El Paso? IF they take us more than 50 miles west of Waco, we're going to Wichita Falls, sound good?"(Waco had finally had the weather close in on them.)
My FO was reluctant; he wanted to just drop right in to TYR, but we had the fuel to make the trip to SPS (Wichita Falls,) plus we had Alliance in our back pocket as the 'real' alternate. I knew that ATC was giving us a full long clearance to get us headed towards the traffic filing in to DFW from the West, but I didn't imagine they would take us that far out.
I certainly hoped that they didn't.
As we made the turn and started working our way northwest, we pulled up some more weather, but we could visually see quite a bit more than we could further east. Then, only a short distance along, ATC said to turn right and go direct JEN (Glen Rose VOR, which chopped about 150 miles off the arrival we were heading out towards.... which was just what I expected.)
The Delta that had started us that way said "If Eagle thinks he sees a hole, I'm following him all the way in," and they were cleared out of the hold and along our path behind us.
We were given a few heading changes, slowly working our way towards DFW from the southwest now. Barely a bump in the clouds, and actually we were mostly outside the clouds by this point.
From there, we just picked our way through the weather, made a normal beautiful approach, and landed at DFW; plenty of gas in the tank, too.
We taxied in to a pretty deserted terminal. "Of course!" my FO said; "They all diverted!"
Not this time for us, anyways. I have diverted before, gotten stuck in the wrong city, had myself or my crew go 'illegal' due to FAA/DOT mandated duty time limitations, which strands our passengers (and ourselves) in cities... totally for safety (by the time you reach the limits, believe me, you are pretty shot.)
But this is the kind of flying that I like (not all the time!)
It is a challenge. How can we maximize our hold time? What can we move to make it more likely we can complete our mission? What is the best way to handle this as the weather goes down the tubes and we are faced with decreasing options and less time to make the decisions given those options (eventually you are faced with a single decision regarding a single option... which is a place you should fight to never be... few options = no bueno.)
This is why pilots are different. We make these decisions, and we have a planeload of people who essentially have no say in the matter other than they purchased their tickets and they expect to be taken to their destination; safely, hopefully on time, and with a minimum of fuss.
Our dispatchers can't really tell us where to go... although most of the time it would behoove us to listen to their advice, but; they're sometimes hundreds of miles away and sitting in a chair in a building.
Even ATC can't actually make us do something... after all, if in the interest if safety we decide there is a better course of action... well... then that is what we are going to do! (That is part of the job, after all.)
I have said for a long time that runways are magical; they are where the sky and the land intersect... where the airplane changes your world. 5,000-13,000.... that's about it, that is all the concrete you get. But with that little bit of concrete, you get all of the sky... and who gets that concrete?
And who gets to make that world connect? Who is the one who takes the leap?
We do. Nobody else gets to do it. People dream of it, but we get to live it.
We are not bus drivers, or truck drivers, or anything of that sort.
Who is it, who gets........
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
- Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
To really enjoy John Gillespie Magee's words, read them slowly... savor them. That is a taste of what it is like to fly!
....' on laughter-silvered wings '....
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| AA 737 contrail in the hold as we arrive |
While we were not born with wings, we have earned them... and that does make us a little different.
The pilot flying a load of cancelled checks across Lake Michigan in December. She is flying low because the forecast was for icing in the cloud layers; she is not even up to her planned cruising altitude, which would give her some margin of safety to glide to shore in the event her single engine failed over the 38F lake water, but this plane always runs rough, there is only a little ice forming on the wings, and it is accreting slowly... going south to stay over shore takes too long, she has a schedule to keep.... just keep running, dear sweet engine, and get me across the lake again, she says to the Cessna 210, as she shines her slowly dying flashlight back, studying the bottom of the wing, watching the ice slowly form.
The pilots who have been holding due to delays; they finally left on their last leg, plane is full, after hours and hours of delays from storms. They make the 2 hour flight across to Montreal; The sun is starting to come up, it is May, so it is rising early, or are they so late? As the sun rises, fog rolls in, blocking out the approaches to the airport, sending them into a missed approach and out to hold while they wait for a little fog to burn off, as their fuel also burns off.... " The fog was not part of the forecast, but how old was that forecast before we left, and I hope that damn sun burns the fog off as it is burning into my eyes; I've been up for 19 hours, and caffeine has stopped working for me; I just want to land.... that damn fog better burn off...."
The pilot sitting amid-ships on the aircraft carrier in the dark, in pitching seas in the Indian Ocean. She is in her F-14, she was one of the last classes, and she will probably be the last female pilot to fly the mighty Tomcat. Her squardon mates have repeatedly boltered; she is sitting ready to launch should the need arise with extra fuel to refuel them in the dark and stormy night. This is her first cruise, and even long time veterans can't hook the wire. Once she launches, one way or another she will have to return to the ship. What is going through her mind as she watches her mates miss the wire and fly off in showers of sparks, sound and fury as they light the afterburners to escape a terrible fate?
The pilot is slowly easing up on the Collective in his gunship; he has been hovering just off of a ridge line, while a small team of Marines is working their way across a field and some obstacles to get in position for whatever hell they are planning on unleashing this evening. He scans his instruments... everything is right in heli-world (a world held aloft by forces working against each other,) he is just waiting for the call in case he needs to provide support. Those Marines are our Marines, but in his eyes, they are HIS Marines. Whatever he needs to do, however he needs to bend and shape his machine to fit the bill to come to their defense, he is willing to put it all on the line to bring them protection, cover fire, help, anything.
Except for this particular F-14 pilot (PBS's Carrier documentary) I know the pilots of those planes personally, they have told me their stories. I've heard probably a thousand variations on them, too.
We sacrificed; we bled; we did shit jobs to get our dream job. Numerous times, many of us have risked Death (Him whose name shall not be spoken.) I know plenty of pilots who cleaned sewers, threw bags, washed dishes, fueled planes, fought wars, flew in the wee hours so that they could do the job of dreams.
And that is what we do. How can we ever lose sight of that? We have a dream job.
So yes, pilots are special.
...and We are pilots, after all.
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