Cockpit Chronicles: FOQA kept these pilots out of trouble in Panama

by Kent Wien on

I was excited, thrilled really, to fly with one of my favorite captains for five, 4-day trips over the next month and a half. If you had to work with just one captain for so many days in a row, it may as well have be someone you consider a close friend, and Dave fits that description. In fact, two years ago I wrote about my last trip to Panama City, Panama, and the captain on that flight just happened to be Dave.

But this time, on the first day of our trip to Panama we would soon be reminded just how busy flying an airplane can get down there.

First a little background is in order.

Usually we can pull up the latest weather at the airport we’re arriving at either via a print out from our ACARS or by listening to an automated voice report that’s available to us as far as two hundred miles away.

It’s always a good idea to pull up the conditions as soon as possible so you can prepare for the runway and approach that’s in use.

There are a number of options for aligning with the runway and descending low enough to see the airport. There’s the most common ILS approach, which can usually guide you to around 200 feet above the ground before a pilot has to see the runway, or a VOR approach which typically takes you down to 500 feet or the more recent GPS approaches which fall somewhere in between.

I couldn’t hear the ATIS until we were just 60 miles away from the airport for some reason. Surely a weak transmitter, I figured.

The cloud cover was reported at 2000 feet scattered with more than ten kilometers of visibility. A piece of cake, we decided. We’ll surely see the airport when we’re within about 20 miles and then fly visually to land to the south.

Controller Confusion

As it happened, the weather wasn’t exactly as advertised. It soon became clear that the Panama air traffic controllers were going to give us an approach to fly. They wanted us to fly nearly 60 miles south of the airport, before continuing back north of the airport and landing again to the south when we could see the runway.

We were following a ‘company’ 737 which was about ten miles ahead of us. “Company” is how air traffic control describes traffic from the same airline.

We asked if we could fly the GPS approach and land to the south, into the wind of course, which would be far less complicated. They initially agreed.
Our company 737 ahead of us was also equipped to fly a GPS approach, and they seemed to think this was a good idea as well, so they asked for the same. The weekend controllers in Panama seemed to have a hard time understanding the request, and told the 737 that they would have to fly well south of the airport as originally planned.

It was looking like this was going to be our fate as well, since it was unlikely the controllers would have two airplanes approaching from opposite directions. At this point, the 737 pilots wanted to know the current winds at the airport.

“Say your winds.” The pilot asked in the traditional fashion.

The Panama controller didn’t understand and asked him to repeat.

“What are the winds at the airport?” He repeated.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand, sir.” The approach controller responded.

I gave a surprised look over to Dave. How could the controllers not have learned this key phrase. They should have even expected the question, since they were having the pilot approach from the south with a slight wind at the tail and then circle around to land into the wind. If the winds were light enough (less than 15 knots for the 737 and less than 10 knots for our 757), the whole circling maneuver could be eliminated and a straightforward ILS could be accomplished.


Dave and Kent

We try to keep things simple, both in our phraseology and our approach requests with ATC due to the difficulty in communicating in some Central and South American countries.

When it was our turn, we set up for the circling approach and briefed everything that would happen and what we should expect. This approach briefing is done by pilots after determining which approach is in use and the radios and instruments are set up for that specific approach.

But ATC had given us a change in the approaches to be flown three times, requiring a new briefing and set-up for each approach. Just as we were about to start down from 2,000 feet on what was known as a circling approach, the tower controller offered us our fourth change-the straight-in approach and landing.

Dave was flying and so I asked the controller what the winds were. Anything more than ten knots on our tail and we wouldn’t be able to accept the approach, even though it was a long, dry runway.

The tower controller began to tell us what the winds had been, and how they’d fluctuated, and what they now were. Unfortunately, in the timeit took for him to tell us about the winds, we were now too high to begin the approach. The airplane would no longer be stabilized for either approach, since he hadn’t cleared us for anything, and since we weren’t cleared to descend in time, we would no longer be ‘stable’ for the landing.

I turned to Dave and mentioned how late his clearance for the ILS was, and how we would be late in starting our descent.

“We won’t be stable.” I said after the controller offered us the approach choice.

Dave immediately agreed, and by the time the controller was done giving us his weather channel description of the winds, we announced we would have to go around and set up again for another approach. This would give us time to assess the winds, choose the right approach and then brief it. It would also prevent us from exceeding any parameter for a stabilized approach below 1,000 feet.

Dave accelerated and began the climb. I struggled to get a new heading and altitude from the controller, while responding to Dave’s rapid requests for the gear to be brought up, and the flaps retracted one notch at a time. There isn’t a time while flying that’s more busy or critical, and the difficulty in understanding the clearance was adding to the excitement.

Dave turned in the direction of the written missed approach direction, which is a safe bet, but not always what the controllers are asking for. I asked for the heading and altitude three times, each time not understanding what the controller was telling us. For a moment I gave up, and instead focused on what Dave needed to get established for the climb. The weather was good enough that I knew we were safe to fly the published missed approach.

Finally, when things calmed down I was able to ask ATC for just the heading. And then just the altitude. It turns out Dave was flying the missed approach procedure precisely as ATC had requested.

FOQ-wha?

Each of our airplanes we fly is equipped with FOQA, pronounced ‘folk-wa’, or Flight Operations Quality Assurance, a monitoring system that records every parameter for every approach over a two-week period. So if we had been just two knots fast before we extended the flaps or we didn’t have them fully extended by 1,000 feet, or if we were high or fast, the captain would be called and asked to explain, with immunity for the most part, what caused this approach to be out of tolerances.

You may see more go-arounds as a result of FOQA, since pilots would rather not have to explain why they didn’t go around when faced with an approach that was outside of safe parameters.

FOQA has allowed the company to zero in on areas that need improvement through more training and to find ways to prevent the occurrences from happening again. The program was met with resistance initially, but we’ve come to learn that it seems to be improving safety instead of being used as a high tech method to penalize pilots.

We set up for the straight-in landing after the go-around, and the landing was made without incident. While taxiing in, the controller apologized for the late clearance and the many changes that were given.

Dave and I rehashed everything that happened on the arrival while eating dinner. We vowed to try for a much less exciting arrival the next time. As we waited for the bill to come, I mentioned my amazement at the size and amount of birds near the Caracas airport. Dave said that in his view, Panama City had far greater-both in numbers and size-birds. We would soon find out up close just how right he was. Check out next week’s post to hear about that.

Cockpit Chronicles takes you along on some of Kent’s trips as an international co-pilot on the Boeing 757 and 767 based in Boston. Have any questions for Kent? Check out Plane Answers or follow him on Twitter @veryjr.

Cockpit Chronicles: Navigating Paris with an iPhone GPS

by Kent Wien on

I’ve lamented on Cockpit Chronicles about my distaste of four-day trips. I’ve come to realize that I shouldn’t be flying such long trips after I came home once and I could actually see the growth in my two daughters.

But when a rare (for the Boston base anyway) six-day trip showed up on our bid sheets, I had to rethink my bidding preferences. The trip had a 24-hour stay in New York between two Paris layovers, and since my wife and kids were already away visiting relatives, I figured I may as well be working.

I’d be flying as a relief pilot working with Boston, Miami and New York pilots. The layovers in Paris and downtown Manhattan easily made up for the loss of stick-time since I wouldn’t be at the controls for any takeoff or landing. I would likely meet some new people from the other bases as well which can be nice.

The evening trip to Paris started off with a Boston crew that I’ve flown with before, and went without a hitch. We managed to catch a nice view of the high altitude (300,000 feet) noctilucent clouds, a spectacular phenomenon that I’ve written about before. It never gets old, especially since it’s visible for just two months out of the year.
Captain Mark flew a beautiful morning arrival into Paris, after which we piled onto the crew bus for the long ride to the hotel, near the center of the city. While the location is amazingly convenient for sightseeing, the bus ride on weekdays can take as much as 2 hours and 10 minutes to travel just 21 miles. I’ve often thought we’d do better on a bike.

On this morning though, we were lucky to keep a relatively good pace, arriving at the lobby just an hour and a half after we left the airplane.

While on the bus, I did a bit of sightseeing. Since my iPhone required a data connection to view the maps as we traveled, I couldn’t use the GPS function to get a better feel of where we were. Since the iPhone doesn’t store the maps by default, an extremely expensive roaming data charge would be needed to see where we were. In fact, as an experiment, I once checked my location on the map in Paris and racked up $6 in roaming data charges in less than a minute.

But then I remembered a really inexpensive iPhone app called GPS MotionX (itunes link) that allows you to cache maps just for the area you’re traveling to by drawing a circle and pressing the download button. With the fast WiFi network and an $8 a month Boingo account, I managed to download the maps back at the hotel.

So many times I’ve followed other crewmembers around the city, checking out museums, restaurants, shops and of course the bike tour through Paris and I would have loved to have known what our route had been between the sights.

With the recent ability to run apps in the background on the iPhone, GPS MotionX allows you to track your path through the city, and even take pictures along the way at each stop or at an interesting sight. For those without a privacy concern in the world, you can even share, in realtime but at designated intervals, your path via Twitter or Facebook.

It also lets you know the distance traveled, the current, average and top speeds, and the elevation that’s depicted in a profile view. The ability to snap a picture at certain waypoints would have given me a much better understanding of a city. Paris is probably the best example, since there’s just so much to experience.

It’s a big city. A GPS could come in handy.

So when the other two Boston pilots and I decided to meet up at 3 p.m. to venture out around the city, with no specific plans, I could tell this would be a good track to record on the iPhone.

Once I explained the function of the GPS app, the path almost became a quest itself as we proceeded. We stopped at a cafe to meet up with the flight attendants, but decided not to eat dinner there, since we had already made plans to go to Willy’s Wine Bar, a restaurant that I hadn’t been to before, which meant I could add it to my list of conquered Parisian restaurants.

Unfortunately we discovered a full house at Willy’s, so we continued on to another place the captain knew about. While it didn’t quite garner a spot in my address book of favorite restaurants in the city, it wasn’t bad, and the appetizer, raclette covered potatoes, may make me want to come back for another entreé.

At least I’ll have the GPS track to remember just how to get there.

By the time we arrived back at the hotel, the MotionX app told us we had walked for 3 hours and 16 minutes, covering 8.16 miles at an average of 2.5 miles per hour. Adding up all the hills we climbed totaled 477 feet, so I don’t feel nearly as bad about the Crepe Nutella we had from an outdoor vendor on the way back.

I sent our route to the captain and first officer, but the .gpx and .kmz files it creates only store one photo from each outing. In fact, even in the app itself, there’s no way to view the pictures taken at each waypoint without digging into a few menus. If only you could touch the waypoint and the photos would pop up. Perhaps in a later version.

A few days before this trip, my wife told me she had found a great way to keep the kids entertained on vacation. She had just discovered geocaching from a friend of hers, and so she took our daughters out to a spot marked near her hometown in Germany. The kids were so excited, since they managed to go right to it without a GPS. But they were having trouble finding the next location on their list.

“Can we somehow do that with the iPhone?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure there’s an app for that.” I told her. And now I think I’ve just found it.

Cockpit Chronicles takes you along on some of Kent’s trips as an international co-pilot on the Boeing 757 and 767 based in Boston. Have any questions for Kent? He’s on Twitter @veryjr.

Cockpit Chronicles: Frank’s final flight

by Kent Wien on

It was time for Frank to go. Not because of a federally mandated retirement age, or because of a change in pension laws or fluctuations in the stock market. No, Frank had long ago decided that he was going to retire at the age of sixty. And he was sure of it.

Even when the retirement age was raised from sixty to sixty-five in 2007, Frank was still adamant that he’d be leaving at sixty. I’ve flown with this captain for more than a decade, on the MD-80, 737, 757 and the 767. We trained for six weeks together on the 737 when it first arrived in Boston and we even had the opportunity to take an empty seven-three out for a few ‘bounces’ in Sacramento for some take-off and landing practice that our company mandated for the first fifty crews flying the 737-800.

Over those years, I’ve listened to Frank discuss his upcoming retirement. He planned to drive his immaculately restored Morgan around New England and enjoy his grandkids. Maybe start another Morgan project or volunteer at the Owl’s Head Transportation Museum in Maine.

But once the retirement age increased to sixty-five, I honestly had my doubts Frank would actually go. He wasn’t the kind of pilot that complained incessantly about the job, or management, or his lack of seniority that resulted in fewer Paris trips and more Caracas layovers. So I had a hard time believing he’d retire at sixty.

Two years ago, Frank mentioned to me that he’d like me to fly with him on his last flight.

%Gallery-85512%”Keep your schedule open in October of ’09.” He said.

“Yeah, OK, Frank.” I replied.

It’s quite an honor to be asked to fly someone’s retirement flight-something I’ve been lucky to do once before with a dear friend. I gladly accepted.

I suspect my honorable position had something to do with my video and photography skills, since it’s always nice to have such a flight documented for posterity. I mean, there are plenty of co-pilots in Boston that are funnier, more entertaining and far better looking than me.

Alas, that October day finally arrived. But I wasn’t on the schedule with him. After Frank let me know which Paris trip he’d be flying, I scrambled to trade away two Caribbean one-day trips to fly on his trip. Frank suggested I try to pick up the relief pilot (FB) position since I’d be in a better position to take a few pictures of the event.

Captain Frank wasn’t normally senior enough to hold Paris, but the flight office managed to ‘displace’ another, more senior captain to make room for him to have a memorable Paris trip. A classy move, for sure, and the displaced pilot was only too happy to receive a paid trip off.

It’s customary to bring along family members for a retirement flight, so the captain brought his wife, son and daughter-in-law. The daughter-in-law was also an accomplished photographer, so that could have been her ticket aboard this flight-although, she actually did turn out to be funny and entertaining as well.

While driving to work, I called the chief pilot. Was there a chance we could see the traditional fire truck salute upon arriving back in Boston, I wondered? He promised to look into it. On the previous retirement flight I flew we didn’t get the water treatment in JFK. At the time, we were told there had been an emergency on the field that had them tied up, but I’ve also heard rumors that the fire hose retirement salute wasn’t happening anymore.

But maybe something could be arranged. I was successful in convincing the Paine Field airport fire department to give my retiring dad a water salute on his retirement flight almost ten years ago, so how much could have changed since then?

In operations, I met Frank and his wife Meredith, his son Drew and daughter-in-law Christine. The other co-pilot, Mark, was pulling up paperwork. Having two pilots on this over eight hour flight would allow all three pilots to take a staggered, two-hour break on each leg.

Frank’s wife, Meredith looked proud and excited about her husband’s final voyage. I think she was excited to be flying with her husband to Paris, a perfect place to celebrate such a transitional moment for them.

Frank’s son Drew is a pilot in the National Guard, flying KC-135s, the aerial tanker version of the Boeing 707. His wife Christine had an easy-going demeanor and I enjoyed talking photography with her. I knew we’d all have a good time.

I promised Frank I’d take a few pictures while we were at the gate and again above 10,000 feet. I also planned to shoot some video of his family when I was back on my crew rest break during the flight. In Paris the entire crew would celebrate the conclusion of his airline career at one of his favorite Parisian restaurants, “Le petit Prince.” Quite appropriate, since Antoine Saint-Exupéry, the famous French pilot, was the author of The Little Prince.

The flight over went smoothly and I invited Drew and Meredith to sit next to me when I was back for my crew rest break. I asked them a few questions and they shed a little more insight into Frank and his career while I had the camera rolling.

At the end of my two-hour break, I exchanged places with Frank in the left seat as he went back for his break and to visit with his wife.

The early morning arrival into Paris was smooth, and with the pressure on, Frank managed to kiss the ground, rolling just the first two front wheels of the main landing gear onto the pavement before the whole airplane gently settled to the ground. I’d have been tempted to quit there, and let the co-pilot fly the airplane home two days later, but all the landings-the icing on the cake, as I call it-were to be Frank’s on this trip.

It took a few minutes for the bus to show up, a fortunate thing, since I was able to take a few portrait type pictures of Frank next to the airplane just as the sun was coming up.

And now, the only painful part of the trip; the bus ride to the hotel in Paris. During the week, this ride can take an hour and fifty minutes, and this day was no exception. We all tried to sleep in the bus to make the time go by.

Our main celebration would have to start in the early-evening during our layover in the city. The crew bus arrived at the hotel before 9 a.m.-plenty of time to allow for a long nap. We agreed to meet up at 6 p.m. in the lobby before heading to dinner.

Frank and his family took a shorter nap and thus managed to get out to visit a few Museums in Paris. After crossing the Atlantic at night, sleep can be an irresistible activity despite the rock hard bed and wildly fluctuating temperature at our hotel. This time, I chose sleep over viewing “Whistler’s Mother” at the Musé d’Orsay. It wasn’t even close.

Downstairs at 6, we planned to take over the lounge the hotel provides us for the meeting before dinner. Unfortunately a New York crew had already moved in with an impressive spread of Monoprix-purchased cheese, wine and baguette, a staple diet of Paris-flying crews, and the reason most international pilots are 10 to 15 pounds heavier than their domestic counterparts.

Like a group of ducklings following their mother, we lined up behind Diane, the purser who bought the Champagne and two beautiful flutes to serve them in before heading downstairs to a lounge next to the lobby. The hotel was nice enough to let us use this room and Diane presented the Champagne glasses to Frank and his wife. The hotel let everyone borrow some restaurant wine glasses and we drank a toast to Frank and his family to a flawless 23-year career.

The eleven of us made our way over to Le Petit Prince for dinner. I sat next to Drew and we talked a while about the state of the industry and who might be hiring when he is ready to get out of the military.

Most of us ordered a salmon fillet that was scrumptious and relatively reasonably priced, not that Frank would let any of us pay for the dinner. Meredith ordered a creme brûlée and the chef lit a bit of alcohol on the top to caramelize the dessert. It made for a nice picture.

During dinner, I convinced Drew and Christine to hold off on dessert so they could pick up a ‘crepe Nutella’ on the way back to the hotel. I’m convinced it just isn’t a proper layover in Paris without this three euro scalding-hot chocolate dessert. So the two of them skipped desert and decided to make a run for the Eiffel Tower before it closed, since this might be one of the few times they get to Paris together.

After dinner, just outside the restaurant, I gathered the the crew and Frank and Meredith for a shot with the Pantheon visible in the background.

Not everyone had desert at the restaurant, so we found a perfect little street and enjoyed a crepe while a few other flight attendants had an italian-style ice cream.

Could this be the way I celebrate my retirement flight? I can only hope so.

On the way back to the hotel, Mark and I stopped off at the ‘water store,’ a grocery store that is frequented by everyone on their way back to their hotel rooms. Our pickup time wasn’t for another 14 hours, and since the rooms seem to get exceedingly warm in the middle of the night, savvy crews usually pick up a bottle of water and maybe something to eat for the next morning.

The next afternoon, as we checked in with security, Frank was asked if it was true that this was his last flight. “It is,” he responded, and the co-pilot, Mark didn’t miss a beat as she checked his I.D.

“It’s my first flight,” he said.

Frank elected to do the last walk-around, something normally reserved for the co-pilot, but I think he wanted to get one last trip around the airplane in before the flight. Not to mention it was a good photo opportunity.

After checking on his wife and family, Frank gave his window a quick wash by hanging out his side window and then briefed us on the departure. Mark gave Frank the next leg as well, meaning that he’d give up the flying duties to operate the radio on the return flight since it was Frank’s last trip. It was the least Mark could do, especially since this was also Frank’s 60th birthday.

We departed on-time, just after 1:30 p.m. from Paris and Frank flew a beautiful departure. Things were going smoothly, as they should. He even commented on just how well trimmed (true and straight) the airplane felt.

After my break, Frank again went back to sit with his wife.

In between listening to the other co-pilot, Mark, make his position report and a PA announcing the captain’s retirement to the passengers, I wondered how I would ‘celebrate’ my last flight.

I’m sure for me, as it was for Frank and my friend/flight instructor Mike, the retirement flight won’t have that ‘last day of school’ celebratory feel to it.

Of course you want to enjoy the trip, and hopefully make it memorable for your crew and your family, but in the back of your mind, there’s a dramatic voice saying, “Don’t screw up your accident-free career on the final flight!”

Case in point:

I know of a pilot at another airline who decided to do a fly-by in the form of a modified ‘go-around’ and cruise above the runway before coming back for his final retirement landing. I’m sure the phrase “what are they going to do, fire me?” ran through his mind.

To do a low pass in a jet isn’t as serene inside the cockpit as you might expect. As the airplane approaches the ground with the gear and flaps up, the enhanced ground proximity warning computers loudly announce “Too Low, Gear!” and a flap warning horn squeals.

But the three pilots in the cockpit that day had already thought of that, so they disabled the warning horns for their celebratory buzz-job. (To be fair, they were probably a few hundred feet above the ground, but how often do you get to write ‘celebratory buzz-job?’)

At any rate, the company wasn’t happy at all with this crew. The terms of the punishment for each pilot wasn’t disclosed, but I heard the FAA became involved, which is one way to make it a memorable last flight.

After the three of us had our breaks, it was time to begin the descent.

Frank knew there was a chance for a water-cannon salute from the Boston fire department. And since the secret planning was out, I offered him a tip before we left Paris.

“Whatever you do,” I said, “don’t stop midway under the water.”

I then showed him the video from the Virgin America inaugural flight to Orange County where the pilots did just that.

“You’ve got to keep going,” I implored. Co-pilots are like that. Always trying to make the captain look good.

After we were switched over to the Boston approach control frequency, we were offered a new arrival to runway 33 left. The lighthouse visual to 33L involved flying visually by hanging a right at Minot’s Ledge lighthouse, descending to 1,800 feet and then turning left at the Boston Lighthouse where you can then go down to 1,000 feet before aligning with the runway over Fort Warren.

This was the first time any of us had been offered that arrival and I was impressed Frank jumped at the opportunity. What better way to go out than to fly a brand-new, scenic arrival into Boston. The “Boston Light” lighthouse was the last thing the British burned before exiting the colonies, and the Minot Ledge lighthouse sat on a rock with crashing waves below. It couldn’t have made for a more perfect ending to a career for Frank and I suspect he’ll remember that arrival for some time-it’s not likely to get mixed up among the hundreds of other approaches he’s flown into Boston.

As we taxied past terminal E to the far corner of the building and into gate 8B-a gate with very little room-my heart sank a bit when it became clear there would be no water salute for Frank.

Apparently they really aren’t doing this anymore for retiring pilots in Boston.

After saying goodbye to the passengers, many of whom congratulated Frank personally, we made our way back to the Boston operations, where our Chief Pilot, Rich, was waiting with a cake and Frank’s personnel file. The other pilots in ops as well as Frank’s family and I enjoyed a few pieces of cake and then said our goodbyes.

But in the eyes of the airline, Frank’s story wasn’t exactly over. No, he wasn’t to be reprimanded for buzzing two lighthouses and a fort.

You see, on the 17th of every month, pilots eagerly look up their schedule to see where they’d be flying, on what days and with which captain or co-pilot.

I did a double-take the next day when I saw which captain was on my schedule. Frank was to fly with me to London next month!

I gave him a call. Since he had bid ‘reserve’ for his retirement month, he was required to answer his phone and fly whatever trips the company had for him for the first two-weeks until he retired. But somehow the word hadn’t reached the company that Frank was officially retired.

“They’ve called me for two trips this morning,” he said.

It was Frank’s one last chance to come back to work, act like nothing happened and fly for another five years.

But he turned down the chance.

I put together a video for Frank, which is why this Cockpit Chronicles has been so delayed. I wanted to share it with you as well. Come along with us on Frank’s last trip. Think of it as the video version of everything you’ve just read. Still interested? Well then, here you go:

%Gallery-85512%

Cockpit Chronicles takes you along on some of Kent’s trips as an international co-pilot on the Boeing 757 and 767 based in Boston. Have any questions for Kent? Check out Plane Answers or follow him on Twitter @veryjr.

Cockpit Chronicles: Come along and enjoy the view

by Kent Wien on

“Descend to 1-3-0.”

“Descend to 1-2-0.”

I found myself listening to London Control while admiring one of the all-time greatest views I’ve ever seen.

“Slow to 220 knots. Fly heading 1-7-0.”

As we banked to the right, I looked over my right shoulder at the London eye, a blue ferris wheel that stands out among the amber lights struggling for relevance against the sunrise.

No one should be up this early. Most of London is still asleep, and even if they were awake, they wouldn’t be seeing the view we were witnessing. The lights of the city, the bridges crossing the Thames river and the sunrise that blankets the buildings with more light after every turn of our holding pattern makes me pause for a moment to realize just why this job is the most visually rewarding of any occupation.

As we turned to the right one more time, I began to ponder whether an astronaut would actually prefer the variety of these spectacular sights that a mere ‘low-level’ pilot can see.

A 777 ahead of us was still dark enough to cover the city lights. Even Mike, the captain with close to 40 years in the air, was taken by the scene. “That’s just incredible” he said as the airliner banked to the right and peeled away from us a thousand feet below.

I had to resist the temptation to pull out my camera. I had taken some photos earlier, at 12,000 feet, above the 10,000 foot floor where we can’t allow a camera to distract us during the more critical ‘sterile period’ of our arrival into Heathrow.

So often I wish I could save the five most interesting things my eye sees on a flight. I have to try to capture whatever I can and post them here or on Flickr.

It was a couple of well timed views like this that inspired me to post a picture from every flight with a small caption on a blog years ago. Then I’d write more. And then more. Finally leading to the Cockpit Chronicles.

It’d be so much easier if I could just bring you along in the cockpit jumpseat.

That morning I filmed a few clips while above 10,000 feet that are almost like being there. Here’s what spinning around Guildford, England looked like.

Coming home from London, three and a half hours into the flight, we came upon a view I hadn’t seen yet in the eight years I’ve been flying across the Atlantic.

Our route of flight was far more northerly–nearly 200 miles north of any track I’d been on, in fact. We would be crossing directly over the southern tip of Greenland. This time I’d be ready. Should the clouds allow, I was sure to get some pictures or a video clip of the landscape below. In the past, I’ve seen Greenland from 59 and 60 degrees north latitude, which put the ice covered island just off in the distance. Unfortunately, clouds usually cover most of the island.

This time we were at 62 degrees north, passing over jagged mountain tops that weren’t obscured by clouds, but surrounded by silky glaciers that resembled low level cirrus clouds. In fact, it was hard to tell if the snow below was actually cloud cover.

The captain made a PA and I called back to our flight attendants. They needed to see this. A view of Greenland they’d likely never forget.

Of course, you’re welcome to take a look as well:

A piloting career may not be what it used to be. Speeds have changed. The technology has changed. Security procedures and threats have changed. But one thing that has always remained remarkable in this job, even in my grandpa’s era, has been the view.

Those lower altitudes may be filled with more detail, but the higher flight levels can give a wonderful sense of perspective. And sometimes a little perspective is just what we need. I certainly got my fill on this trip.

Cockpit Chronicles takes you along on some of Kent’s trips as an international co-pilot on the Boeing 757 and 767 based in Boston. Follow him on Twitter @veryjr

Cockpit Chronicles: “Flying Drunk” by Joe Balzer

by Kent Wien on

Most people would question their career choice after working for five different airlines in their first six years as a pilot. But the early ’90s were a turbulent time in the industry, and I was simply happy to be working, even if it was as a flight engineer on the 727. Flying is what I wanted to do.

But a flight engineer doesn’t actually fly. This position, once reserved for experienced mechanics, was now populated with junior pilots working their way up the seniority ranks until they could hold a co-pilot or captain seat. I seemed to have had the unfortunate luck to be at my third airline working at that very junior flight engineer seat by 1996.

There I was, sitting in another indoctrination class, in a windowless room featuring six Office Depot particle board tables with twelve swivel-type desk chairs looking at a white dry erase board.

This time I would be learning about Kittyhawk Air Cargo; their rules, procedures, insurance benefits and hazardous material policies among other things.

If I had, even for a moment, felt that my career had been less than charmed up to this point, those thoughts would soon be eclipsed by a pilot sitting behind me and to my left. He was someone with a very well known past.

In the previous row I heard the typical banter of two new-hire pilots. The first pilot answered the most often asked question in this setting; where’d you come from?

It sounds rather direct, but there’s no better way to get to know a fellow aviator; their experience and maybe even if they’ve flown with someone you know.

My ears perked up when I heard my classmate mention he’d flown in Alaska, since I had spent the first 3 years of my career up there. I quickly realized from eavesdropping, that we’d flown in different parts of the state.

“How about you?” The Alaskan pilot asked his neighbor sitting to the left.

“Remember those Northwest pilots who were arrested for flying under the influence?” He said, as everyone in the class glanced toward him like the famous EF Hutton commercial where people stop talking and turn to listen to a far more interesting conversation.

“I was the flight engineer on that flight.”
It’s fair to say that no one has ever had a more turbulent career than Joe Balzer. But flying was what he too, had always wanted to do.

His career started at Delta as an aircraft cleaner while he flew at night as a right-seat pilot/freight loader aboard WWII vintage cargo planes out of Florida to the Bahamas. Later on, he worked as a Learjet pilot before landing his dream job at Eastern Air Lines.

Joe left for greener pastures at Northwest while Eastern began to collapse.

And on a winter’s night in Fargo, North Dakota, his career would also begin to crumble.

Since it was clear that our indoctrination class wouldn’t be starting until we heard Joe’s full story, the instructor agreed to let Joe speak in front of our class.

This wasn’t going to be your typical indoctrination class, I remember thinking.

Joe explained the circumstances that led up to a night of drinking on his long Fargo layover. While he and his co-pilot had given up on their captain and went to bed before the eight-hour “bottle-to-throttle” rule, the captain remained at the pub long afterwards. He made enough of a scene that a few patrons of the bar elected to call the FAA in an effort to prevent this captain’s flight from departing in the morning.

A representative of the FAA met up with the crew the next morning and asked them about the night before. Joe insisted on taking a breathalyzer test, but the inspector deemed that to be unnecessary.

But when they arrived in Minneapolis a few hours later, the state police were there to handcuff all three pilots at the gate and take them away.

It turns out, Joe and the co-pilot were just over the FAA’s legal limit of .04 blood alcohol level.

While we listened to Joe’s story, I couldn’t help notice that he didn’t blame anyone but himself and he remained amazingly positive and upbeat about his situation.

After turning down a plea-bargain (a mistake that cost him dearly) Joe lost all his licenses and ratings to fly and spent a year in a federal penitentiary in Atlanta. It was at this point that the story became edge-of-your-seat interesting.

Joe finished up his story, leaving his classmates and even the instructor in a stunned silence.

Later, I invited Joe to my place, where he relayed the experience in even more detail to my brother and me.

“Joe, you need to write a book.” I remember saying.

Apparently, over the next decade enough people said the same thing to Joe, that he’s done just that.

In July, Flying Drunk was released and I managed to get an early copy. It sat in my suitcase for a few days before I tackled it on a rainy London layover. I missed lunch. A few hundred pages later and I had missed dinner as well.

Joe chronicled his early career, which would be fascinating reading for anyone learning to fly today who hopes to become an airline pilot. Flying Drunk pulled me in like no other aviator autobiography.

For Kittyhawk and later American Airlines to give Joe another shot at a flying career after his horrible mistake in 1992, is a testimony to Joe and those at the subsequent interviews who listened to his story.

Cecil Ewell, the well respected and now retired Vice President of Fight Operations at American, says this about Joe:

“In 1998, a man came to my office looking for a job as a pilot for American Airlines. I had 50,000 applications for only 80 jobs per month. The story he told me nearly caused me to fall out of my chair. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In my 50-year aviation career, his hiring was my greatest success.”

I talked to Joe Balzer this week about the book and his flying career:

Kent: Joe, American took a bit of a publicity risk in hiring you 11 years ago. Have they been supportive of your efforts with this book today?

Joe: The men who hired me at American Airlines knew my hiring had potential for controversy, yet they felt like they were doing the right thing, by giving a man a chance that no other airline would give him. This is a company that is dedicated to helping people recover from alcoholism, saving families and pilots, and getting people back to work with the true potential that they have living sober lives. I struggled for so long to feel useful in the workplace, and writing this book has created the opportunity for me to give something back to all of the employees of American Airlines and the rest of the world.

Kent: There have been a few recent cases of pilots that were pulled off trips while passing through security after they were found to have been drinking prior a flight. Have you ever talked to any of these pilots?


Joe: I have spoken to several pilots who have gotten into trouble. It’s amazing how similar their feelings are to the ones I was having when my life fell apart. Most of these pilots really want to change their lives and get help. They want to surrender and learn about themselves and the disease of alcoholism, find support, get an education and become healthy and sober people.



Alcoholism is a very misunderstood disease, and denial and the negative social stigma do tremendous damage. My desire is to educate people about the disease, and perhaps raise the tragic bottom for someone so they don’t have to go through what I did before they seek help.

Kent: Do you think alcoholism is a widespread problem among airline employees? Should passengers be concerned?

Joe: Based on the letters I have received from other pilots and many conversations I have had, alcoholism is alive and well among every work group in this country, and to think it doesn’t affect pilots in today’s world would be pure denial of reality.



All airlines and companies with flight departments have people who are still suffering from alcoholism and need help, and thankfully, many companies have an employee assistance program to help people recover from this 100% fatal disease.



Over 4,000 pilots have been rehabilitated with the HIMS program, and every single pilot who is flying in recovery is enhancing air safety. Think about it, if just one pilot on the NWA crew in 1990 had been in recovery, the flight would have never left the gate.

Kent: What has been the reaction from the pilots you’re currently flying with?

Joe: The vast majority of pilots I have flown with or talked to have been very positive. Most pilots tell me that they admire my perseverance and are happy that American Airlines offered me the opportunity to fly again for a major airline.



Some amazing things have happened also. One pilot I spoke to on an airplane called me a few weeks after I met him and told me that “after hearing your story and talking to my wife, I decided to enter a treatment program for alcoholism.” When I heard that, I had a feeling of usefulness, that all of my pain and suffering was for the greater good and would help other people.



This pilot is a happy sober pilot today and is grateful for the positive change sobriety has made in his life. It’s easy to be locked into toxic shame and guilt, and in my story I explain how that was very dominating in my life. It kept me from wanting to get help.



Just yesterday I had a jumpseat rider who read my book on a four hour flight home. His comment to me was, “Every pilot in the industry needs to read this book.”

Kent: Had you taken the plea bargain which would have eliminated the felony charges, would you have been able to keep your licenses instead of having to go through, like you did, and earn them all back?

Joe: No, the FAA had already EMERGENCY REVOKED all of my pilot licenses–a very horrible experience to say the least. Obviously, my life had become unmanageable at that point in time, I had compromised my personal values by flying an airplane with too much alcohol is my system, and the locomotive had already crushed me. I was like a bug on the windshield of life, crushed and battered, but still somehow hanging on, just enough to get through the day. My flying days were gone, and a giant vacuum was whistling through my heart. That’s how much I enjoyed flying.


Kent: Are you aware of anyone else, besides the Northwest captain, who lost their licenses and earned them back again after a case like this?

Joe: There are many people flying today who have had to earn their licenses back in order to fly again. I think historically, we were the first ones who were ever charged with criminal charges for flying under the influence.

Kent: What has been the most rewarding thing about telling your story?

Joe: The things people say to me after they read the book are very uplifting. My life was super painful and difficult for a very long time. I suffered from post traumatic shock from being in prison for one. Then endured years of rejection from potential employers. I reflect on the wonderful people who were already in my life, my wife, family and friends, and all of the new people God put in my life who have supported me emotionally and spiritually over the years.


Joe’s book, Flying Drunk is available at book stores or directly from his website.

Cockpit Chronicles takes you along on some of Kent’s trips as an international co-pilot on the Boeing 757 and 767 based in Boston. Have any questions for Kent? Check out Plane Answers.