Avoiding Bad Ju-Ju, under the ice or over the storm

In the past two weeks I have been assigned a lot of flights between Austin Texas and Salt Lake City Utah, meaning that I'm spending a lot of time in thunderstorm territory. Naturally aircraft need to avoid thunderstorms because of the destructive hail and violent wind shears, but you may be surprised to learn that "avoiding thunderstorms" is not as easy as you may believe. Yes, all modern airline aircraft are equipped with weather radar and use it as the primary avoidance tool, but interpreting the real story behind the radar picture is not as easy as watching TV. In fact, it very much reminds me of my submarine days when we used sonar to navigate through ice ridges when transiting through the Bering Strait into the Arctic Ocean. I thought you might be interested in a comparison of the two.

First of all, both radar and sonar work in the same general way; a beam of energy is transmitted (through air for radar and through water for sonar) and is bounced back or returned for processing and display. The strength of the return is proportional to the size or density of the mass reflecting the return, and the time it takes to bounce back is proportional to the distance to the target. Simple enough. Imagine that I have placed you in the middle of a dark, open room of unknown size. I then hand you a bucket of tennis balls and tell you to start tossing them at your surroundings. As you tossed tennis balls and listened to where they hit the wall and how long it took you would eventually get some idea of the size and shape of the room you were in. Now, let's make it a little easier and give you a flashlight. Same dark room, but this time I hand you a flashlight and tell you to walk around and find the dimensions of the room, but don't bump into anything while moving around. Should be easy, right? What if I only allowed you to hold the flashlight straight out and did not allow you to point it at the floor or at the ceiling? Think you could avoid tripping on a few objects laying about, or perhaps a fixture hanging from the ceiling? What if I placed some objects painted flat black in the room? Even with the flashlight you might not see them well enough to avoid hitting them. Now you understand some of the limitations of both radar and sonar.

In my day, submarines used the AN/BQS-14 sonar for ice detection and avoidance. Originally developed to detect underwater mines, this sonar underwent many upgrades and eventually became known as PFLU (pronounced Pee-Flu) or Pulsed Forward Looking Upgrade. This sonar sent a narrow beam of energy straight forward from the sail of the sub and the returned data was displayed on a screen in the control room. But wait...why do you even need sonar to avoid overhead ice? Why don't you just submerge the submarine to a safe depth and sail along safely below the ice? Believe it or not, the bottom of the Arctic ice pack is NOT flat, not even close. The Arctic is a very dynamic environment, and the ice pack is not one solid sheet of ice. Hundreds and thousands of ice islands are floating along slowly with the current, and like tectonic plates of the earth, when they collide they are forced together with tons of pressure which forces the ice both up on the surface, and down into the ocean. With a few exceptions the bottom of the Arctic ice pack looks like the upper surface of a cave, with thousands of staligtights hanging down. Naturally if the water was deep enough you would simply pass under these ice "keels", but unfortunately, the Bering Strait is very shallow and the winter ice keels can actually reach all the way to the bottom. Bad Ju-Ju to hit those. Take a look at this photo of our actual PFLU display during the Bering transient:

In this example, the submarine is operating submerged in 157 feet of water (!), and is currently only 26 feet from the bottom (!!!). The sonar is showing us a significant ice keel target ahead at 600 yards, but we need to know if that keel reaches down to our depth or if we will pass safely below it. We will know we are in trouble if the return is still present when we get within 300 yards of it, which is the magenta line you see on the PFLU display. This is because just like aircraft radar, the PFLU beams out its energy in a cone shape, narrow at the transmitter and gradually widening out with distance. Almost any ice keel will be detected at distance because the beam is very wide, but as you approach these shallow keels they will eventually pass out of the beam and their return will fade from the screen. If however you are still seeing a return at 300 yards, it is a sure bet that this ice keel is at a dangerous depth and you must turn to avoid it. Also note on the PFLU display the submarine's speed of 5 knots. Imagine being in a 5000 ton nuclear submarine, 26 feet from the bottom of the ocean, watching as you move closer to an ice keel, hoping and praying that the return will soon fade, only to realize that you are now 300 yards from it and you must now take evasive action within the next minute or you will hit it. Now THAT'S exciting! Through hours and hours of experience we became pretty efficient at interpreting the display, understanding the limitations imposed by its fixed beam, and avoiding the ice.

Yesterday Captain Tim and I were returning to Austin from Salt Lake City, and as expected there were a lot of thunderstorms brewing up between us and a cold beer on the ground. Assuming that you can see these monsters they can be easy enough to avoid, but while flying at 35,000 feet (FL350), we were in a solid blanket of cloud and were just as blind as a submerged submarine. Our first defence is to try to stay visual, so we climb to FL370 which works for while, but eventually the clouds rise and envelope us again, leaving us with our WXR-840 weather radar as our primary defence tool. Although there are some similarities, there are significant differences between this radar and the BQS-14 sonar on the submarine, not to mention the operational differences between an aircraft and a submarine. Let's discuss the equipment differences.

WXR-840 weather radar uses a flat plate "dish" in the aircraft nose that sweeps to the left and right of the aircraft's flight path. Unlike the sonar however, the 840 can be tilted up and down. Using this tilt control is absolutely critical to safely avoiding killer thunderstorms. Here's why. Without getting into too much detail, a mature thunderstorm is a highly complex system, and has several well-defined zones or areas within its boundaries. Below the clouds it typically the rain curtain and its associated wind, lightning and thunder. That's what we all experienced on the ground countless times, and depending on the storm's strength they can be scary. What's really scary is the middle section of the vertical storm, which contains up and down drafts of fantastic strength, wind shears that can instantly cause structural damage to aircraft, and most often heavy quantities of rain and wet hail. It is this middle section that reflects radar energy so well and shows up vividly on our radar display. The upper section of a storm, and remember that these devils can reach altitudes much higher that the 41,000 our CRJ can climb to, contains very little moisture. However, they still contain the wind shear, violent up and down drafts, and often dry hail, and unfortunately none of these will reflect radar energy. It is not unheard of to have pilots flying aircraft with working weather radar fly into the dangerous upper areas of a storm because they had their radar set to sweep only the upper altitudes where they are flying, not realizing that unless they tilted their radar so that it could look down into the reflective zones of the storm there stood no chance of seeing anything. These encounters rarely end well for either crew or passengers.

Take a look at the photos below taken on our flight yesterday (click on the photos to enlarge them).

In the photo on the left, we are flying at FL360 heading toward Junction City and are "painting" a moderate return about 20 degrees left of course at about 70 miles. In the upper right corner of the display you will see "T+1.0" which is our current tilt setting, which is ahead and slightly up. In the second photo taken only a minute later, you can note two things...the tilt setting has been lowered to -0.5, and that same storm suddenly looks a lot meaner. This is what it looked like from the cockpit window:



I had it easy on my leg since I was above the cloud deck and could visually avoid the storms. On Tim's return leg we were "in the goo" for almost the entire trip, leaving us to navigate around the bad Ju-Ju using the WXR-840 display, and more importantly, our experience in reading those returns. With a few zigs and a few zags we were able to get our 73 passengers safely to Austin on time without them even knowing anything about the tactical decisions being made each minute of that flight.

Once back at the hotel, Tom and I were discussing the physical and mental toll that a six hour return flight can place on a flight crew, and we both realized that from the minute the first checklist starts on the ground until we complete the final checklist at the destination, flying in this summer thunderstorm environment forces the crew to make literally hundreds of thousands of decisions, one on top of another, non-stop. There is no room for error, for just like in a submarine operating 26 feet from the ocean bottom with ice passing feet above you, navigating through thunderstorms is unforgiving, and a single mistake can prove fatal. Unlike submarines however, airline crews do this every hour of everyday, all around the world.

Here's hoping you can avoid all of the bad Ju-Ju in your life!

And the GOOD news is.....

Those readers with some airline background will not be surprised to learn that there have been some changes in the Delta world since my last post. A week ago I was pretty certain that I'd be out the door on August 4, but now it looks like I may remain firmly planted into the CRJ right-hand seat until this fall, possibly November. Although I'm still on the furlough list, I'm ecstatic that I get to stay on a few extra months. So, instead of concentrating on the bad news, I want to focus this blog on the good news, not just in my life, but in those around me.

Cathy and I are healthy and happy, and have just spent the past three months working side by side with our condo renovations. Yes Cathy is out of work, and yes my paychecks have not been as miniscule since my early Navy days, but we're getting by and in fact we are having a blast this summer. Times are tough, but we've never been happier together. Cathy is soon heading to Newfoundland to attend an aunt's wedding and visit family, so she's very excited about that. Oh, I guess I should also mention that we FINALLY managed to catch that damn grand daddy carp that's been hanging around the boat!















As I mentioned in the last posting, Jamie and Brandon are also healthy and are meeting the challenges that mid-20's adults can expect, in some cases more than their fair share. Jamie continues to try to balance her personal life, work, and school and is doing an amazing job on maintaining her focus and priorities. Jamie works for a small family-run flooring business, and as you can imagine times are tough for the business and its employees. As she prepares to start school, like most Americans these days she is having to plan every penny she spends. Brandon is preparing to start the fall semester at Purdue University, and having just left the Army after 5 years, does not yet have employment lined up. Brandon is facing a very challenging course load, financial strain, and uncertainy of the future, but is focused and positive. Cathy and I are immensely proud to see that both Jamie and Brandon are taking positive steps to enrich their lives, even in these tough times. Many adults could learn a lot from their attitudes and persistence.

Speaking of attitudes and persistence, my friend Rick continues to not only survive with pancreatic cancer, but remain positive and energetic. When diagnosed with cancer over two years ago, many did not expect Rick to survive to see Christmas. Well, Rick continues to beat the odds and is enjoying his summer driving his beautiful Corvette around Illinois. There have been many soldiers labeled "hero" because they faced an overwhelming enemy with resolve and remained cool under fire. Rick may have never served in armed services, but he is no less a hero in the way he stands up to his enemy. I pray for the day that we can wipe cancer off the face of the earth.

Another good friend and follower of this blog Jeff has just recently passed the written exam for Senior Reactor Operator. Jeff and I served in the Navy together on the USS Casimir Pulaski (SSBN 633 Blue) and instead of ricocheting all around North America from one out-of-the-ordinary job to another like me, Jeff settled into a position in a nuclear power plant in South Carolina. Although he still faces simulator evaluations and another VERY subjective work evaluation before being licensed by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, Jeff's months and months of "academic hell" are soon to be over. If you pilots out there think a PC or RGS is tough, it does not even scratch the surface of an NRC license exam. Then again, the smoking hole we make when we screw up is nowhere as big as the smoking hole Jeff would make if he screwed up. Congratulations Jeff!

These are just a few examples of good news in my life and there are many more. Surrounded with so many good news stories, there is simply no way I can start a pity party about me being furloughed in November, especially when I think that a year ago, I never really expected to be hired by an airline to start with! So, for the next few months I’ll continue to fly every opportunity and will share my adventures. I recently had my first experience with St Elmo’s fire, and with flying from DCA airport, both of which I will share in future posts.

Stay positive and enjoy life!

The Great Silence

I can't believe that it has been three months since I've posted anything! I apologize for the silence and will only offer as an excuse the fact that Cathy and I have been as busy in the past few months as either of us has been in our lives. I won't post all of the details, but here's the Reader's Digest Condensed version of the past two months.


We purchased a condo in Ypsilanti MI
We gutted the condo and started renovations. This single item has consumed a HUGE amount of our time, energy, and money.
We sold the Bonanza. 3316C is headed to a new home in Germany soon.
We bought a boat since out condo is on Ford Lake.
We have rediscovered fishing.
Most notably, and sadly, I received heads up that furlough is coming soon. Since the Delta purchase of Northwest, things have been changing, and the possibilities of furlough have been in the air. Looks like it may happen next month.

As for other happenings, my daughter Jamie was one of 12 students accepted into a very challenging sonography course in Orlando, and Brandon has been accepted into undergraduate studies at Purdue. Cathy and I are immensely proud of both of them. Great job Jamie and Brandon!

Since this is likely to be my last month of "living the dream", I will do my utmost to publish often and share the adventures. Although I am very sad to have to step down, my heart goes out to my fellow furloughees that are completely saddled with thousands of dollars in student loans and debt. My dream may be short lived and I may on unemployment soon, but unlike many of my fellow pilots, Cathy and I will be OK, thanks to Cathy's persistance in saving for the proverbial rainy day.

Safe travels everyone.

Fun With Numbers

Today I flew a "turn" to Ft. Myers Florida. Turn is short for turn around, where you fly from one point to another, and immediately return to the originating station. Since the Captain was flying the return leg, I had some time on my hands and considered crunching some numbers.

Here are some quick basics of our return flight. We had a full boat, 76 passengers and four crew. Our Zero Fuel Weight, which is the weight of the aircraft, passengers, crew and baggage was 64,700 pounds, and we were fueled with 15,400 pounds of liquid noise, giving us a ramp weight of 80,100 which is well below our maximum of 84,000 pounds. We expected to burn 300 pounds of fuel for taxi out which gave us a takeoff weight of 79,800. However, based on the current temperature (29C/84F), and the length of the available runway (12,000 feet), our maximum takeoff weight was 80,000 pounds. Not a lot of extra room.

We are scheduled to leave the gate at 1620 and actually pushed at 1612. Why stick around when we are already full, and knowing that we've got headwinds on the way home? Our wheels-up time is 1621 and our routing takes us over Orlando, Jacksonville, Spartanburg SC, Henderson WV, Pleasant Valley OH, over the western edge of Lake Erie straight to Detroit. Approximate air distance 1000 miles. Once airborne we climb to our cruise altitude of 35,000 where the flight progresses in smooth air, although we are bucking a stiff headwind.

As we proceed north, our flight computer shows the winds to be from 307 degrees at 122 knots. That equates to a headwind component of 81 knots. What this really means is that although our True Airspeed at FL350 is 469 knots, we are only moving over the ground at about 405 knots, much slower than we would like. Accordingly, the Captain pushes the profile a little, flying at an indicated airspeed of Mach 0.80 instead of the more efficient Mach 0.77 the profile calls for. At this combination of speed and altitude, each of the GE engines are burning 1830 pounds of fuel per hour.

We leave the strong headwind on the decent and touch down on runway 3R at DTW at 1852. After the long taxi via W, J, J-10, Q-1, Q to gate B3 we open the door and stop the pay clock at 1858, nineteen minutes early, thanks to leaving 8 minutes early and the Captain's extra speed. The box shows we have 5,700 pounds of fuel left, meaning we burned 9700 pounds, or roughly 1450 gallons of fuel to cover the 1000 air miles we flew. How efficient is that?

Google Maps puts the road distance between Ft Myers and Detroit airports at 1288 miles. Let's assume that instead of loading into a CRJ-900, all 80 of us loaded into 20 efficient 4-passenger cars that achieved a combined mileage of 25 MPG. These 20 cars would burn 1030 gallons of gas for this trip, or 420 gallons less than the RJ. The road trip would also take almost 20 hours instead of our 2 hour 46 minute block to block time. So it would appear that the real efficiency is that the extra 420 gallons of fuel went into saving about 1360 person-hours of time. Seems like a good trade to me.

Some other fun facts: this leg put me over 100 hours in the RJ, so I'm no longer a high-minimums FO, now being just a regular FO, still new, but not green. Total block time for today's trip was about 5 hours, or about $120 in pay, not including per-diem, which will add another $9.80 for the day. It might not seem like much, but I reflected on some things on this flight, like the fact that tomorrow is Easter Sunday, and once again Cathy and I are separated. Easter is about resurrection and new life, and I reflect on how lucky I am to have been given this opportunity. As I fly over Jamie and Brandon in Orlando, Submarine Base Kings Bay GA, my friends Jeff and Amy in SC, I am reminded about my past, different careers, different countries and cities, different challenges, but always the same love of flying. In my new life as an airline pilot, I have learned to cherish each minute I spend with Cathy, because they are few right now. I have learned to save each dollar, because they too are few. I have learned to absorb and capture each and every minute of every flight, because with the talk of potential furloughs in the air, this could be a fleeting dream that I want to remember well. And most of all, I have learned how blessed I can be in this life. Oh, and I guess I learned how loud hitting a goose can be too!

Happy Easter everyone. Go chase dreams.

Sully Only Hit Two!

Now that I’m on reserve, I was looking forward to a quiet month and the occasional flight to continue building experience. After major electrical failures on my first flight and loss of steering on one of my last flights, I was hoping for some routine uneventful trips. Thanks to a small gaggle of Canada geese, that was not to be. Call me “Black Cloud”, but my streak of excitement continues.

Crew Scheduling called yesterday informing me that I had been assigned a last-minute overnight trip to St Louis. That’s exactly the type of trip I hope for; simple, one leg trips, out, overnight, back in. That’s much better than sitting around hoping for flight time. I grab a quick one hour nap, shower, change into uniform and head to the airport early since I know that I have several publication changes I need to install into my manuals. While in the crew room, I meet my Captain for the flight who seems to be sharp and easy going. I head down to gate B15 early since our aircraft is there, review the maintenance log, bring power onto the aircraft, and then head out to the ramp to perform the pre-flight inspection. All is in order and the flight to STL proceeds out early with the Captain driving. All in all it was a textbook relaxing flight, and we arrived about 20 minutes early.

This morning started at 0445 with an AOV (asses on van) time of 0600. We arrive at the airport and quickly pass though security arriving at our gate exactly on time at 0615 for our 0645 push. Because this is the first flight of the day for the aircraft, I take extra time during the pre-flight inspection to open all access panels and perform the required security checks. Noting nothing amiss I return to the flight deck to set up the FMS and instrumentation for the flight back to Detroit, which will be my leg. Copy ATIS weather, call for our ATC clearance, close the passenger door 3 minutes early, call for push, and we’re on our way.

After engine start Captain Sean calls for the after start checklist, and then the before takeoff checklist as we taxi toward runway 12R. It is 4 degrees outside with light rain, so the takeoff will be conducted using both wing and engine cowl anti-ice, and full power will be used instead of the normal “flex thrust”, a procedure we typically employ which allows us to use less than full power on takeoff to minimize stress on the engines. We weigh 76,500 pounds this morning, well below the maximum takeoff weight of 84,500. Our ACARS runway data tells us to set the flaps to 20 degrees, full thrust (due to anti-ice being on), and also tells us that if we lose an engine on takeoff we should continue climbing straight out on a heading of 121 degrees, the runway heading. As we slowly taxi onto the runway, the Captain calls for the runway items checklist, the last series of checks before we transfer control and I start the takeoff roll.

Before continuing, let me describe a normal takeoff sequence, or what SHOULD have happened this morning. The final item on the runway items check is a confirmation that the compass reads the expected heading for the runway. This is a final verification that we are in fact taxiing into position for the correct runway, a check that everyone does following the fatal crash of a CRJ a while back that attempted to take off from the wrong runway at Lexington KY. Once the First Officer announces “runway items complete”, the Captain either starts the takeoff roll if it is his leg to fly, or turns control of the throttles over to the FO, announcing “your aircraft” if it is the FO’s leg. The FO then advances the throttles up to around 75% power, checks engine instruments to ensure both engines look good, and then advances the throttles to the “TAKEOFF” detent, announcing “Set Thrust”, and then takes his hands off of the throttles, placing both hands on the control column. Although the FO is performing the takeoff, the Captain still maintains control of the throttles and has the obvious authority to abort the takeoff. When the FO calls “set thrust”, the PNF (Pilot Not Flying, or in this case, the Captain) confirms that both engines are developing the appropriate power, and if so he calls “Thrust Set”, again keeping his hands on the throttles. As the PF concentrates on tracking the centerline of the runway, the PNF calls out “80 knots”, and the PF quickly checks his airspeed indicator to ensure that he sees about 80 knots and calls "checks". The PF then again shifts concentration down the runway, and the PNF calls first “V-1”, and then “Rotate”, where the PF then pulls back on the control column and lifts the aircraft from the runway. Again, this is what happens on 99.9% of takeoffs, but today Captain Sean and I joined the 0.1% Club, thanks to a gaggle of suicidal, dumb-ass geese.

The Captain calls “runway items” was we taxi onto runway 12R. I shut off the automatic fuel cross flow, ensure the transponder is on, check and clear the EICAS display, and call out the indicated runway heading and compare to the expected runway heading. The Captain says “your aircraft” and I bring the throttles up, looking down the runway, seeing nothing but open pavement. I find out later that the geese landed on the right edge of the runway as we were turning onto the runway, but I did not see them as I was running the runway items checks. The Captain did not say anything because they were clear of the runway when they landed, and were moving further away. Anyway, thrust is set and we quickly accelerate down the runway. At 80 knots I don’t hear the Captain’s call, so I look over at him and note that he’s looking down the runway with a concerned look, and he states “I hope they move”. I look and see the geese have decided to take flight, and unfortunately have decided to fly right in front of us. At this point, there is nothing you can do but maintain control of the aircraft and pray that you don’t hit any. Unfortunately we did…five in fact, with one striking the radar dome directly under our feet which made an extremely loud bang. The Captain immediately pulls the throttles back to idle and calls the abort and I immediately inform the tower that we are aborting due to multiple bird strikes, and that they should inspect the runway for bird and/or airplane parts before allowing another aircraft to takeoff or land. As soon as we taxi clear of the runway the Captain makes a PA announcement telling the passengers what has happened, both of us knowing that a high-speed abort like this is very scary to the cabin crew and passengers who have no idea what’s happening. Later we learn that no one in the cabin actually heard the strikes, and until we made the announcement and the passengers looked out their windows at the goo on the wings, they had no idea that something had happened.

Rejected takeoff checklist complete. After landing checklist complete. Operations clears gate A3 for us and we taxi in, allowing the passengers to disembark and hopefully catch another flight to Detroit. The STL contract maintenance guy (that’s right…only one person on duty today) performs a complete rejected takeoff and birdstrike inspection. The crew spends the next 5 hours at the airport, answering questions and performing post-inspection engine checks. We find out from Maintenance and from STL Airport Operations that a total of five dead geese were recovered from the runway, which checks with the visible tally; one on the radar dome, one on the nose gear, one on the right wing, and two on the left wing. We’re finally cleared to return the aircraft to Detroit, where my phone rings and Crew Scheduling tells me that they have another “quick” overnight trip to Buffalo NY for me in a couple of hours. Not even off of the airplane yet, I assist the Captain in terminating the aircraft, pack up my bags, and head to Gate B15 for my Buffalo flight. Gate B15, where the adventure started less than 24 hours ago as I headed off to STL. Again I think of my reasoning in deciding to become an airline pilot, which is to gain experience. God only knows how much more experience I can take!

Fly safe and watch those damn geese!