CaptainStark
09-17-2004, 03:35 AM
“A day in the life of a pilot”
I awaken In Ft. Lauderdale with a four-leg day ahead. We’ll end the day in Providence, RI.
Arriving at the airport, we are pleased to see our 700 parked at the gate. Occasionally, due to maintenance problems in the “system” the day prior, the plane we are supposed to have is somewhere else across the country. Ours is the 4th 700 off the assembly line and albeit in the old paint color, it has the new winglets. Neat. One item is deferred by the MEL: Our ACARS (a kind of simple information communication device for relaying weather and other information) is under the weather. In accordance with the Minimum Equipment List, we are allowed to fly without it being operational. The system is relatively new to our fleet and roughly have of the planes don’t have the ACARs installed yet. No biggee.
I look at the weather and the entire Florida peninsula is calling for thunderstorms today. If luck is with us, we’ll get our Florida flights out of the way before they present any major problems. Jacksonville is foggy and getting foggier but I suspect our timing will get us there as the fog lifts due to warming morning air. We have plenty of extra gas in case we have to hold or divert elsewhere –just in case.
As is my custom, I do the walk-around inspection on the aircraft. I look for obvious damage (birdstrike, overnite ‘truck strikes,”) and missing fasteners. All planes more than about a year or two old start to show signs of current or past past leaks. For example, the leading edge devices are actuated by hydraulic ram cylinders that begin to weep hydraulic fluid over time as they are actuated. They still work fine and at some point when the seals get really bad, they are replaced. Today’s ship is very clean for its age. I check a myriad of places in addition to those called for just to make sure no one has planted anything on the aircraft that shouldn’t be there. Everything is in order and I return to the cockpit with the greasy gear pins in my hand, glad my white shirt survived another walk-around.
I finish my pre-flight of the cockpit and my FO and I run the appropriate checklists. All we need are a plane full of smiling faces and a clock reading “0755.” We are ready to “commit aviation.”
We push on time and fall in behind two other planes heading out to the runway. In a matter of minutes, we are cleared for takeoff and lift off heading East over the Atlantic.
Once airborne, ATC vectors us North and West until we are established on our flight planned route. Inbound planes allowed us to take a short cut and save a minute or two. The ride to Jacksonville is perfectly smooth in the morning air.
As we begin our descent into JAX, we receive the latest weather: JAX visibility has improved to a mile and a half. We brief an instrument approach to get us below a cloud layer about 1000 feet above the fog. As I suspected, coming through 1000 feet above the Jacksonville terrain, we break through the cloud layer and the runway lies only about 3 miles ahead. I luck out and squeak on a nice landing and we taxi to the gate. In 30 minutes we will push back for a flight back to Ft Lauderdale.
Thirty minutes later, we push back with another load of smiling folks headed South. Takeoff is without delay and we are running a few minutes early. We fly by Cape Canaveral and see the Vehicle Assembly Building where they assemble the Space Shuttle. When I was young, men flew from these pads to the moon. I pause as I think of the airspace we are flying through right now. The men and women of Challenger ended their short flight into history only a few miles off to my left. They are gone but not forgotten.
Enough sight-seeing. My FO is flying and wants to know what the weather is doing in FLL. Looking ahead we see two huge thunderstorms topping 27,000 feet that the radar depicts as almost over the airport. These didn’t exist two hours ago when we left.
Sure enough, the airfield weather frequency (an automated recording of pertinent airfield weather) identifies thunderstorms to the South and east of the field moving to the Northwest. The broadcast also mentions lightning from cloud to cloud and cloud to ground. No kidding. As I put the weather sheet I have transcribed on the dash for my partner to read, I look up and see a couple of lightning bolts zinging around.
As we get closer, the weather radar shows a very precise location for the “boomers” and on our moving map display (which, after not having one for 20 years, I refer to as “the cartoon scope”) we can see the storms are just South of the field. Our timing is good. We hope their movement is slow enough to allow us the get in unhindered. In the back of our minds we have already considered our options and during our approach briefing we discuss our escape options should the need arise: The area to the North of FLL is clear. If any need arises, that is where we will go.
Expecting the possibility of some bumps, we seat the FA’s a little early and let the passengers know we might get wet on approach. As we turn downwind (opposite to the direction of landing) the folks on the left side of the sky see why the sky has darkened. They stare but three miles across town to the two large cells heading our way. The thunderstorms are in the building stage and are much less of a threat at this stage of their lives. In an hour, all that could change. After a few miles and as we turn to the South and east, those on the right miss that view as we duck through clouds. If only they could see ahead like we could. We touch down without so much as a bump. But, in 30 minutes we are heading North to Orlando.
We hope.
Thirty minutes later we push back for takeoff. The storms are right on the edge of the airfield now but we hurry to get to the end of the runway so we can turn the plane (and the radar) toward the departure path and assess our threat and comfort levels. We wait an excruciating time while several planes land and a couple take off in front of us. No one has relayed any problems on departure. Soon we are cleared for takeoff with a proviso to turn slightly Northeast to avoid the storms. We Take the runway and pan the radar across our departure path: No threats on this heading. On takeoff roll we notice a rain shaft to our left just off the airport. We delay our turn Northeast a second and clear that rain shower before we turn. ATC is advised and tells us, “Turn to 320 degrees when able.” Before he finishes speaking we have already rolled into a left bank and are heading away from the weather. The ride is fairly smooth and only two minutes from takeoff, we burst into the clear to the North of FLL. What weather? It is all clear ahead -- at least for the time being.
During boarding in FLL, I was given a letter from the Make A Wish Foundation. One of our passengers, Jared, and his family, is heading to Discovery Bay to swim with the dolphins. Before departure, he and his two sisters get a tour of the cockpit. Enroute, all PA’s are addressed to Jared. We tell him how fast and how high we are going. On arrival in Orlando, we brief Jared on the weather and our approach speed as well as our estimated time of arrival at the gate.
After saying goodbye to Jared and his family, we begin boarding for the last leg to Providence. One of our through-passengers asks if she can smoke on the ground (it appears that she is from European on vacation here in the US.) The FA briefs her that no smoking is allowed on the ground. A minute later, she heads to the front of the plane and asks whether she can walk out on the provisioner truck to have a smoke. The FA in the front of the plane says no to that request as well as smoking in the jetway. In Orlando, the only place to smoke is in the main terminal a train ride away. Moments later the smoke alarm in the aft lav goes off followed by our visitor’s sheepish emergence in a cloud of cigarette smoke. She and her friend are escorted off the plane.
We push on time for Providence and dodge a scattered line of thunderstorms as we fly North toward Georgia. Roughly 100 miles South of Savannah Georgia, we see a HUGE thunderstorm extending miles across our path. ATC already knows our request before I finish it. We are cleared to cut a corner skirting slightly off shore and we avoid the entire system, save a couple of bumps as we past downwind of the monster.
Arrival weather for Providence is overcast skies with rain showers in the area. No thunderstorms, just a bunch of moisture, much of it falling. The ride is fairly smooth despite strong winds from the West. We fly an instrument approach to the airport and break out about 2 miles from the runway in moderate rain. The rain makes for a smooth touchdown and we taxi to the gate and shutdown with the nose wheel within an inch of exact center. We have flown nearly six hours across two thousand miles of the United States in all kinds of weather. At the gate another crew is waiting to take the plane. They have four legs stopping in Phoenix, Los Angeles, Sacramento, and finally Portland Oregon. There the plane will rest before tomorrow’s day of flying.
I awaken In Ft. Lauderdale with a four-leg day ahead. We’ll end the day in Providence, RI.
Arriving at the airport, we are pleased to see our 700 parked at the gate. Occasionally, due to maintenance problems in the “system” the day prior, the plane we are supposed to have is somewhere else across the country. Ours is the 4th 700 off the assembly line and albeit in the old paint color, it has the new winglets. Neat. One item is deferred by the MEL: Our ACARS (a kind of simple information communication device for relaying weather and other information) is under the weather. In accordance with the Minimum Equipment List, we are allowed to fly without it being operational. The system is relatively new to our fleet and roughly have of the planes don’t have the ACARs installed yet. No biggee.
I look at the weather and the entire Florida peninsula is calling for thunderstorms today. If luck is with us, we’ll get our Florida flights out of the way before they present any major problems. Jacksonville is foggy and getting foggier but I suspect our timing will get us there as the fog lifts due to warming morning air. We have plenty of extra gas in case we have to hold or divert elsewhere –just in case.
As is my custom, I do the walk-around inspection on the aircraft. I look for obvious damage (birdstrike, overnite ‘truck strikes,”) and missing fasteners. All planes more than about a year or two old start to show signs of current or past past leaks. For example, the leading edge devices are actuated by hydraulic ram cylinders that begin to weep hydraulic fluid over time as they are actuated. They still work fine and at some point when the seals get really bad, they are replaced. Today’s ship is very clean for its age. I check a myriad of places in addition to those called for just to make sure no one has planted anything on the aircraft that shouldn’t be there. Everything is in order and I return to the cockpit with the greasy gear pins in my hand, glad my white shirt survived another walk-around.
I finish my pre-flight of the cockpit and my FO and I run the appropriate checklists. All we need are a plane full of smiling faces and a clock reading “0755.” We are ready to “commit aviation.”
We push on time and fall in behind two other planes heading out to the runway. In a matter of minutes, we are cleared for takeoff and lift off heading East over the Atlantic.
Once airborne, ATC vectors us North and West until we are established on our flight planned route. Inbound planes allowed us to take a short cut and save a minute or two. The ride to Jacksonville is perfectly smooth in the morning air.
As we begin our descent into JAX, we receive the latest weather: JAX visibility has improved to a mile and a half. We brief an instrument approach to get us below a cloud layer about 1000 feet above the fog. As I suspected, coming through 1000 feet above the Jacksonville terrain, we break through the cloud layer and the runway lies only about 3 miles ahead. I luck out and squeak on a nice landing and we taxi to the gate. In 30 minutes we will push back for a flight back to Ft Lauderdale.
Thirty minutes later, we push back with another load of smiling folks headed South. Takeoff is without delay and we are running a few minutes early. We fly by Cape Canaveral and see the Vehicle Assembly Building where they assemble the Space Shuttle. When I was young, men flew from these pads to the moon. I pause as I think of the airspace we are flying through right now. The men and women of Challenger ended their short flight into history only a few miles off to my left. They are gone but not forgotten.
Enough sight-seeing. My FO is flying and wants to know what the weather is doing in FLL. Looking ahead we see two huge thunderstorms topping 27,000 feet that the radar depicts as almost over the airport. These didn’t exist two hours ago when we left.
Sure enough, the airfield weather frequency (an automated recording of pertinent airfield weather) identifies thunderstorms to the South and east of the field moving to the Northwest. The broadcast also mentions lightning from cloud to cloud and cloud to ground. No kidding. As I put the weather sheet I have transcribed on the dash for my partner to read, I look up and see a couple of lightning bolts zinging around.
As we get closer, the weather radar shows a very precise location for the “boomers” and on our moving map display (which, after not having one for 20 years, I refer to as “the cartoon scope”) we can see the storms are just South of the field. Our timing is good. We hope their movement is slow enough to allow us the get in unhindered. In the back of our minds we have already considered our options and during our approach briefing we discuss our escape options should the need arise: The area to the North of FLL is clear. If any need arises, that is where we will go.
Expecting the possibility of some bumps, we seat the FA’s a little early and let the passengers know we might get wet on approach. As we turn downwind (opposite to the direction of landing) the folks on the left side of the sky see why the sky has darkened. They stare but three miles across town to the two large cells heading our way. The thunderstorms are in the building stage and are much less of a threat at this stage of their lives. In an hour, all that could change. After a few miles and as we turn to the South and east, those on the right miss that view as we duck through clouds. If only they could see ahead like we could. We touch down without so much as a bump. But, in 30 minutes we are heading North to Orlando.
We hope.
Thirty minutes later we push back for takeoff. The storms are right on the edge of the airfield now but we hurry to get to the end of the runway so we can turn the plane (and the radar) toward the departure path and assess our threat and comfort levels. We wait an excruciating time while several planes land and a couple take off in front of us. No one has relayed any problems on departure. Soon we are cleared for takeoff with a proviso to turn slightly Northeast to avoid the storms. We Take the runway and pan the radar across our departure path: No threats on this heading. On takeoff roll we notice a rain shaft to our left just off the airport. We delay our turn Northeast a second and clear that rain shower before we turn. ATC is advised and tells us, “Turn to 320 degrees when able.” Before he finishes speaking we have already rolled into a left bank and are heading away from the weather. The ride is fairly smooth and only two minutes from takeoff, we burst into the clear to the North of FLL. What weather? It is all clear ahead -- at least for the time being.
During boarding in FLL, I was given a letter from the Make A Wish Foundation. One of our passengers, Jared, and his family, is heading to Discovery Bay to swim with the dolphins. Before departure, he and his two sisters get a tour of the cockpit. Enroute, all PA’s are addressed to Jared. We tell him how fast and how high we are going. On arrival in Orlando, we brief Jared on the weather and our approach speed as well as our estimated time of arrival at the gate.
After saying goodbye to Jared and his family, we begin boarding for the last leg to Providence. One of our through-passengers asks if she can smoke on the ground (it appears that she is from European on vacation here in the US.) The FA briefs her that no smoking is allowed on the ground. A minute later, she heads to the front of the plane and asks whether she can walk out on the provisioner truck to have a smoke. The FA in the front of the plane says no to that request as well as smoking in the jetway. In Orlando, the only place to smoke is in the main terminal a train ride away. Moments later the smoke alarm in the aft lav goes off followed by our visitor’s sheepish emergence in a cloud of cigarette smoke. She and her friend are escorted off the plane.
We push on time for Providence and dodge a scattered line of thunderstorms as we fly North toward Georgia. Roughly 100 miles South of Savannah Georgia, we see a HUGE thunderstorm extending miles across our path. ATC already knows our request before I finish it. We are cleared to cut a corner skirting slightly off shore and we avoid the entire system, save a couple of bumps as we past downwind of the monster.
Arrival weather for Providence is overcast skies with rain showers in the area. No thunderstorms, just a bunch of moisture, much of it falling. The ride is fairly smooth despite strong winds from the West. We fly an instrument approach to the airport and break out about 2 miles from the runway in moderate rain. The rain makes for a smooth touchdown and we taxi to the gate and shutdown with the nose wheel within an inch of exact center. We have flown nearly six hours across two thousand miles of the United States in all kinds of weather. At the gate another crew is waiting to take the plane. They have four legs stopping in Phoenix, Los Angeles, Sacramento, and finally Portland Oregon. There the plane will rest before tomorrow’s day of flying.