Cockpit Chronicles: Our easiest trip: the two-day San Juan

by Kent Wien on

I finished the last Paris trip four hours before my wife Linda and the kids would arrive in Boston on a Lufthansa flight from Germany. I debated waiting for them at the airport, but I knew Linda would be especially thrilled if she didn’t have to go to the store on the way home to pick up some milk for her morning tea. So I drove up to New Hampshire, picked up some milk and fresh fruit, dropped off the groceries and my work gear at home and raced back down to Boston.

While the family was away in Germany, I had arranged to have the interior of the house painted as a Mother’s Day surprise for Linda. Part of me wanted to paint it myself, but the entryway has some high walls and pilots just shouldn’t be on ladders. I can’t tell you how many stories I’ve heard of aviators falling off a roof while putting up christmas lights, sliding down a ladder while painting the trim or falling out of a tree while cleaning out dead branches. The fact that pilots are dangerous around ladders makes it much easier for me to get out of some of the ugliest projects.

After picking up everyone at the airport, I couldn’t wait to get them home to see the freshly-painted house. My six-year old ran straight up the stairs to her room while Linda walked in the door. She looked right into the living room, and mentioned just how clean the house looked.I couldn’t believe she didn’t notice the new color. I tried not to smirk while she set down our two-year old girl. It wasn’t until Linda actually walked into the living room that she realized just why the house looked so clean.

“Oh, my gosh!” She gasped, with nearly the same enthusiasm as a participant on one of those home improvement reality TV shows. We lived in this house for eight years before finally getting some color on those walls.

The next morning I mowed the lawn and helped with the kids while Linda unpacked and did load after load of laundry. After four days in a row of flying, I wasn’t looking forward to going back to work after just a day off. But I knew it was the price I had to pay to get the first week of the month off.

Fortunately the two-day San Juan was about the easiest trip I’ve ever flown. Just one leg down to Puerto Rico, layover for 24 hours followed by one leg back. I could catch up on some writing and mess around with my new favorite gadget (more on that later).

The 9:30 a.m. departure time was a welcome change from the 5:45 a.m. Caribbean trips. I’m tempted to bid a month of these trips, but the only drawback is the two-day on and two-day off schedule. Most pilots prefer to fly more hours while they’re on the job, so they can have more days off in between trips.

I flew with Captain Hank who, like me, flew up in Alaska before coming to work here. We last flew together on the 737 in 2001, so it was nice to catch up and talk about some of the people from Alaska that we both know. We tried to outdo each other with wild and exciting tales of our Alaska-flying days, which made the flight go by very quickly. Pilots refer to conversations like this as ‘hangar flying’ but is it really hangar flying if we’re telling the stories in-flight?

The conversation stopped when we came upon a thunderstorm that required a deviation from our planned route of flight. This can be challenging, since we have to first call New York radio, who then relays the information to the Western Atlantic controllers (who I like to imagine are pushing little airplanes around on a table with long pool sticks.)

After getting a hold of N.Y. Radio via the very low-tech HF radio, we waited for a few minutes for them to co-ordinate our 20 nautical mile deviation to the left of course. Because we called more than a hundred miles before the weather ahead, they got back to us in time.

This was how the thunderstorm looked out the window (note the round ball-shaped cloud on the right):

Six minutes later, that round ball reached it’s maximum height and flattened off:

And this was how the radar depicted it. The dashed line is a 20NM offset from our current route. As you can see, we’re moving left toward that line:

There weren’t any bumps from the thunderstorm, since we were 20 miles downwind of it.

We landed just before 1 p.m., a whole 30 minutes ahead of schedule due to some favorable winds. We wasted no time in the cockpit packing up our headsets and approach before heading to the hotel. I had about four days worth of sleep to catch up on. After a much needed nap I thought I’d lay next to the pool and get some reading in with my new favorite gadget, an Amazon Kindle book reader. This lightweight device reads like a book, without the harsh backlighting a computer uses. Books can be downloaded directly into it–usually at a significant discount. All best sellers from the Amazon Kindle store are $9.95. I also subscribe to Time and Newsweek and the latest Reuters news updates for just $1.50 each per month. This a great way to travel lighter–and best of all there’s no charge for the wireless Sprint network connection used for downloading this material.

I found Hank reading outside as well, and it wasn’t long before we started to compare notes on various airlines and the pilots who flew for them out of Anchorage and Fairbanks.

We decided to make our way from the hotel pool to the Mexican restaurant down the road. I always enjoy this restaurant, since the tables are right next to the open ocean where you can watch the surf come crashing in. This time there was a kid out fishing right along the shore in front of our window.

Hank flew the leg home the next day. We passed just by Bermuda and slid right into Boston without any delay. While riding on the employee bus to the parking garage, my cell phone rang.

“Hello First Officer Wien.” Camille, the crew scheduler said, using the sweetest inflection of her British accent. “You’re going to REALLY hate me-it’s ugly!”

“What do you have, Camille?” I asked, holding out hope that her idea of an ugly trip just MIGHT be my idea of the perfect trip.

“I need to take you off of your Paris trip the day after tomorrow and give you a Caracas two-day that leaves tomorrow at 5:30 a.m.” she explained.

Compared to a Paris layover, it was ugly all right. But when they get a hold of you on the phone, the company can pretty much send you anywhere to do anything. At least I’d get paid the extra two hours for the Paris trip, and I’d be flying one day less, but I was really looking forward to having a day and a half off and flying with one of my favorite captains. At least Camille owes me one. Hear that, Camille?

Cockpit Chronicles takes you along on each of Kent’s trips as a co-pilot on the Boeing 757 and 767 out of Boston.

Plane Answers: How close are airliners allowed to fly?

by Kent Wien on

Welcome to Plane Answers, where our resident airline pilot, Kent Wien, answers your questions about everything from takeoff to touchdown and beyond. Have a question of your own? Ask away!

This question was submitted by Jim,

Hi Kent,

My question concerns how much advance notice pilots get when there are other planes in their immediate air space. In some of my travels, while at cruising altitude, I’ve seen other planes cross paths just below us. Knowing how many planes fill the sky each day and knowing that your reaction time is minimal, I wonder how pilots and controllers work together to keep all those planes apart. Also, what’s the rule on how much distance must there be between planes when on the same route and at intersection points?Thanks Jim,

I know it can be a little disconcerting to see another airplane cross under or zip by overhead just as you look out the window of an airliner.

Air traffic controllers have rules on how far laterally they must keep airplanes apart as well as how much vertical space needs to be kept between them.

For lateral separation, airplanes that are en route–flying faster and further away from the ATC facility–must have at least 5 nautical miles between them. When the airplanes enter the approach controller’s airspace, that requirement goes down to 3 nautical miles. Finally, when the airplane is in the control of an airport’s tower controller, aircraft can be spaced much closer if that controller has visual contact with the airplanes or if at least one pilot reports they have the other aircraft in sight. A good example of this is the visual approaches to San Francisco where airplanes are lined up on final approach for the parallel runways. You would think the airplanes are flying in formation at times.

This visual separation doesn’t apply when airplanes are in the clouds, in which case the controllers keep airplanes spaced about 2 1/2 NM apart, more if the preceding aircraft is a heavy (over 250,000 pounds–757 or larger) and the following aircraft is not. This limitation is a function of the wake turbulence generated by larger airplanes.

But I suspect the airplanes that you’ve been seeing lately have been even closer laterally than that. Because of some technology improvements to corporate jets and airliners, most of the world has adopted the Reduced Vertical Separation Minima (RVSM) standards. This allows aircraft flying above 29,000 feet to be spaced at 1,000 foot intervals. In the past, that number was 2,000 feet apart.

This has actually had the effect of doubling our airspace above 29,000 feet, which allows for more direct routing and the ability for us to get out of annoying areas of turbulence.

Westbound aircraft are normally put at the even flight levels (altitudes) and eastbound aircraft fly at the odd levels. That doesn’t apply to the North Atlantic, where most of the traffic flies westbound in the morning and eastbound in the afternoon. In that case, airplanes are spaced 1000 feet apart which makes for some great views from our seat as you can see from the following video clip:


Have a question for Kent? Ask away and he’ll pick one to answer here on Friday.

Cockpit Chronicles: How pilots choose their schedules

by Kent Wien on

Today’s flight was a turn (out and back in the same day) from Boston to Santo Domingo, in the Dominican Republic. The airplane was a 767, which is always nice to fly. We’re able to fly either the 757 or the 767 using the same procedures and training. I think most pilots prefer flying the 767 versus the 757. It’s something we don’t see as often and it handles differently — a little like going from a Honda’s power steering (the 757) to a Cadillac (the 767).

We had some snow pass through Boston a few hours before departure but the airplane was already de-iced and ready to go by the time we arrived. Since the flight time was over 8 hours for the day, we had a relief co-pilot (FB) on board. Tom was the FB, which meant he would typically do the walk around inspection while I did the interior preflight. I stayed nice and warm while loading the FMS (flight computer that stored our flight plan and works similar to a GPS) and checking the equipment.

The flight down to Santo Domingo went without a hitch. We talked a bit about what trips everyone would be flying in March. For most pilots, there are two dates around the middle of the month that are almost like Christmas. The first is the day our bid sheets come out and the second is the day we get our schedule for the next month. A bid sheet is a print out of every possible schedule we can fly. It shows the trips and the days you’ll be flying them. You simply arrange your preferences in the order you want to fly them and hope someone more senior doesn’t pick the schedule that you’re hoping for.

For those pilots flying the 757 and the 767 internationally from Boston, there are 27 different schedules we can choose that fly four different kinds of trips:

  • Turns (one-day trips) – to Saint Thomas, Santo Domingo or Aruba. These high time trips give you the most days off.
  • A three-day Barbados – not much flight time, which means you’ll fly more days in a month, but the full day on the beach on the second day makes up for that.
  • The two-day London – a high time trip that most pilots prefer.
  • The three-day Panama City and Caracas – that departs very early the first day and gets back after midnight on the third day.

These trips change every couple of months, which is why the bid sheet is eagerly awaited every month. Even though there aren’t many different destinations to choose from, I can’t remember a time when we’ve had so many quality trips. I’d be thrilled to hold any of the first three trips above. The Panama City and Caracas layovers tend to go junior, meaning the pilots with the least amount of seniority usually fly there. Even after 15 years at the company, I’m relatively ‘junior’ on the list, with 4/5ths of the other co-pilots above me. The first six pilots usually choose the London flights, and the Caribbean turns where you’re home every night are usually the next most popular.

If you’re at the bottom 20%, you’re likely to find yourself on reserve, which is like being ‘on call.’ If someone calls in sick, the company will call you to fly. Usually you find out what you’ll be doing the day before. Reserve pilots usually fly less often than a scheduled pilot would and they get paid a flat 90% of a full schedule.

I’ve been lucky enough to hold a line for the last six months straight, but I was awarded a reserve schedule for next month. Hopefully I’ll get called out for a NY or Miami based trip (they often run short of pilots there) to someplace we don’t fly to from Boston.

We go to training every nine months, and I’m scheduled to go down for five days of training next month. Of course I’ll be writing about that.

As we approached Santo Domingo today, we had our usual challenge in understanding the controllers there. The tower controller was especially difficult to understand. Since the runway is closed for repairs, we’re landing on what was formerly the taxiway. Because of this, we had to turn around on the runway to taxi back to the gate. After our runway “U-turn” we were looking straight at a Cessna Caravan a few hundred feet off the ground heading toward us. The Caravan pilot obviously saw us, and I’m sure he just continued his approach until it became completely obvious that the controller’s plan wasn’t going to work. He went around and lined up again for landing a few minutes later.

Maybe I’ll bid around flying to Santo Domingo for a while. With just a little more seniority I should be able to reliably hold the Panama City/Caracas trips. And once you get a schedule, you are free to trade around, which is how I’ve been able to fly to London and Barbados on occasion.

With your seniority number deciding what trips you fly, what base you fly from, when your vacation occurs and, most importantly, when you will upgrade to captain, you can imagine just how important this number is to pilots. It’s so important, in fact, that it can even hold up an airline’s merger plans.

Cockpit Chronicles takes you along on each of Kent’s trips as a co-pilot on the Boeing 757 and 767 out of Boston.

Cockpit Chronicles: Miami Closed? You’re pulling my leg!

by Kent Wien on

Occasionally international pilots at our company will fly domestic trips, and a Miami turn I had on my schedule last week is a good example of that. Fly down and an hour later, come back to Boston. When you live somewhat close to the airport, these trips are a great way to avoid being away from home so much.

It would also give me a chance to fly with a domestic captain, Frank, who I had never flown with before. This can be good or bad, since you have no idea what kind of personality you’ll be sitting next to for the next 7 hours. Most captains I’ve flown with can be grouped into five different personalities:

• The quiet type – who manages a few words an hour.

• The thinker– who engages you with conversation about the industry or politics and keeps you pondering the future, asking questions like, “Do you think people are genetically predisposed to favor monarchies over democracies?”

• The grump– who can’t come up with anything positive to say about the day.

• The comedian– who keeps you smiling for the entire trip.

Or

• The control freak– who makes sure that his method of flying becomes YOUR method of flying.

Fortunately in our base we have very few grumps or control freaks. I’m not sure if that ratio holds up at the other bases or not.

For this one-day trip to Miami, I really lucked out. Captain Frank is a comedian. There wasn’t anything subtle about his sense of humor, as this example shows:

Often a captain will turn to ask at some point in the preflight what leg a co-pilot prefers. That is to say, which leg of a flight would they wold like to fly the aircraft while the other pilot talks on the radio. Once this is decided at the beginning of a trip, we usually trade off the flying duties for the rest of the legs. The decision as to who starts off is really up to the captain — as is the choice of meals — but if the he has no preference he may defer the choice to the co-pilot. Frank’s method of asking this question is by pulling out a plastic leg from what I presume was a very chubby doll and saying, “Whose leg is this?” with a puzzled look.

I couldn’t think of a better way to start off a trip than this. It tends to break the ice and makes for a fun day. And a fun day we had.

Halfway into the flight, I was coming back to the cockpit after using the restroom when Frank announced, “The Miami Airport is closed.”

“Yeah, Right.” That Frank is pretty funny, I thought.

“No, it really is. It’s completely fogged in,” he said, pointing to the ATIS (the current airport weather report) that we can print up inflight.

Sure enough, Miami was socked in. The second picture above shows the visibility in feet at the touchdown, midfield and roll out areas on each runway. We commented on how rare of an event this was, since neither of us had actually seen fog in Miami in our careers. It’s so rare, in fact, that the Miami airport doesn’t have an approach system called a CAT III ILS which would allow us to land by using the airplane’s autopilot down to visibilities as low as 500 feet.

So we had to enter yet another holding pattern just abeam Fort Lauderdale while we waited for the fog to clear. Fortunately we had plenty of fuel and we could literally see the FLL airport next to us, which was clear.

We did some quick calculations to figure that we could hold for more than 50 minutes given our current fuel before we would be burning into the reserve needed to go to our furthest alternate airport, fly the approach and still have 45 minutes to play with.

The next calculation was if this extra flight time was going to cause me to exceed 30 hours of flight time in 7 days, which would cause me to lose the three day London trip scheduled the next day. I might have been able to find another trip to pick up, but I had already made plans for the long layover in England. It took just a little bit of adding to discover that I wasn’t going to lose any flying the next day.

The Miami airport opened up after thirty minutes. By the time it was our turn to land, the fog had completely lifted and we were sure that passengers would question the reason for the late arrival. While that wasn’t the case, we did have a couple of people complain, one even saying, “I refuse to say thanks since you got us here late.”

I couldn’t help thinking that we could have certainly got him on the ground on time, only it would have been at the Fort Lauderdale airport.

After this trip, I’ve added Frank to my list of captains that I’ll go out of my way to fly with. Thanks, Frank, for making the day such a pleasure. And thanks to the passengers who understand that we don’t really have much control over the weather.

Cockpit Chronicles takes you along on each of Kent’s trips as a co-pilot on the Boeing 757 and 767 out of Boston.