Just finished another six day trip and did a short one-day recurrent training event thereafter in Atlanta.

 There’s been a lot of upward movement at the company, many people getting their first captain’s seat, A LOT junior to me which gave me a little pause. 

Domestic captain or international FO?

 By the quality of flying, the people I met and the overall operation, I think I’m going to sit in the right seat for a few more years and transition to international captain. 

It’s not really that far off and it might be worth waiting a little extra longer for my first captain’s seat rather than coming back to domestic.  I can hold domestic captain now, in a few bases with decent seniority, but I’ll betchya in another year I’ll be able to hold 767ER captain.   And hell yeah, I’ll be all over that.

 In New York, I’d made “fast friends” with a lot of the pilots and it seems like the people I’m usually flying with are part of the same “Flying Club” that I enjoyed being a part of in DFW and SLC, but the trips are WAY better.   Corky, Alpha Oscar, CougarBait, “The Force”, Cube, Staplegun how’d I ever go a career without flying with these guys? :) 

I’ve only flown two trips this month and had a phenomenal time with the pilots.  Just like I told a former college roommate over dinner a few days ago, I think transitioning to the ER has really saved my career because I didn’t realize how bored to death I was being the senior know-it-all FO on the MD-88/90.

 Yup, it’s that much fun.  Call me an a-hole if you’d like, but yes, international absolutely freaking rocks.  Change it up, fly to weird places, enjoy the culture.

 Rinse… 

Repeat!

 Recurrent.  Six months?

Yup, every six months.

 On the MD-88/90 program, I did a recurrent every twelve months.  I’d get perhaps two or three landings per day, lots of cycles in and out of hubs and build a much quicker familiarity with the operation. 

Now, I’m getting two or three landings a month so I don’t have the repetitive nature of domestic to grow accustomed to the aircraft like I was able to build so quickly.  Due to the nature of the domestic narrowbody operation, I was able to feel like a pro after a few short months. 

The 767 still feels very new, but luckily, the MD-88/90 taught me not to be a slave to automation, mistrust the autopilot/autothrottle (as another JC’er that works for my airline was able to witness when he sat in on our sim — nice to meet ya Chris! )

 So a combination of no one every getting a lot of time flying the airplane, not dong many takeoff and landings in an average month, the FAA wants ER captains and FO’s to go through recurrent twice per year.  But that’s not a bad thing. 

The “six month” recurrent check is a non-jeopardy event.  We mostly spend the brief talking about the simulator session, there’s no oral evaluation, trade some international stories between one another and a few maneuvers in the simulator. 

Today, we had an item called a “First Look” maneuver.  It’s not briefed, they can’t even tell you what it’s going to be, but it’s a type of pilot “quality control” where they give you a random event, watch how you react and feed that de-identified information back to the training department to see if people are able to react to a non-briefed event.  That way, if people aren’t able to avoid killing themselves, they can reintroduce that into the training cycle. 

Our “First Look” event was a flap malfunction during climb which resulted in us coming back and shooting a pure visual approach into ATL with a massive crosswind.  It’s not a problem, just stay with the airplane, think about the vector that the wind is affecting the aircraft, target the touchdown zone and formulate that the aircraft is going to want to “float” down the runway.  You’re at a high speed because of the flap malfunction so you want to be on speed, on glide path and consider “ducking under” the glide path. 

Oh, no glide slope or VASI.  Do you remember how high you should be when you pass over the first flasher on the approach lights?  That comes in handy when trying to determine if you’re high on the approach.  You’ve got to remember this stuff, work out a plan and execute it off the top of your head in a team.  Real time, no pausing, no brief and you’d better land in the touchdown zone, buddy!

 Next, we did some RNP approaches into Atlanta, Quito and Bogota.  They’re not too bad and we’re really not allowed to accomplish them in the aircraft because not all of our 757/767 fleet has GPS/PEGASUS FMS units installed.  ALL have FMS, some have the PIP FMS boxes… Ehh, minutia that you’re probably not interested in.

 Perhaps you are.  You can have an FMS.

 All FMS units in our fleet have laser-ring gyros.  All of them are “drift corrected” with DME-DME, unless, of course they have GPS drift corection.  The units with the GPS drift correction are massively accurate.

 We took a quick break and a JC user that works in flight operations stopped by to introduce himself.  It was a pleasure meeting ya, Chris!  He got a chance to sit in on the second half of our simulator period.

 This time, we departed London-Gatwick, joined the North Atlantic Track system with me being the flying pilot, and we had an engine failure over the ocean.  There’s a litany of special procedures we need to follow when this happens, including diverting to nearest suitable alternate (adequate and suitable are two different terms, we’ll go into this on another web log entry) which happened to be Shannon, Ireland.

  So, considering I had another JC user in the observers seat, I wanted to make sure I did a decent job with the single engine approach and landing because if I ended up borking the maneuver, I know I’d hear about it on the forum! 

All went well.  I’m good for six more months.

 Six months from now, I’ll do more of a traditional recurrent with an oral evaluation, graded maneuvers and a hell of a lot more jeopardy. 

777 Trivia.

Apparently, when the 777 first came out, the simulator was easier to fly than the real aircraft.  With the 777 being fly-by-wire, many of the operators lobbied Boeing to change the flight control software to fly more like the simulator.   So when you fly the 777 simulator, the real aircraft is programmed to fly the same way! Betchya didn’t know that!

But there’s a couple of new areas of operation that I’d like to talk about.

This month, I’ve flown to both Accra, Ghana and Moscow, Russia.

Let’s start with Accra first. Flying from New York to Accra, you’re pretty far south of the organized track system. So we fly a thing called a “random track” further south on the earth’s latitudinal lines.

This presents two challenges. First, you’re very far south of most of the trans-Atlantic traffic so gleaning things like weather reports and turbulence conditions are hard to receive. You’re pretty much the only aircraft that far south flying the route so apart from being radio-monitored by New York and Santa Maria Oceanic, so you’re on your own.

The actual crossing enroute to Africa isn’t so hard, it’s a lot like flying a non-SATCOM aircraft.

What’s SATCOM? SATCOM is short for “Satellite Communications”. In the northerly latitudes, the aircraft will automatically uplink a position report to the controlling agency so besides a few SELCAL checks over the ocean, there’s not much else to do.

SELCAL is short for “Selective Availability”. This means instead of constantly monitoring VHF or HF radios, we can actually de-select or turn the volume down and when an agency wants to speak to us, they’ll send a special signal to the aircraft which will send us an audible and visual alert which directs us to re-select the radio. Unfortunately, it sounds a lot like the flight attendant call button so whenever we hear an “Bonnnng!” in flight, the first reaction is to look up at the ‘cabin call’ panel and see if it’s forward, mid or aft cabin, SELCAL or the cockpit printer alert.

Large parts of Africa aren’t in radar coverage so that presents a few challenges.

The first challenge is that you’ll be flying “offsets” or parallel courses on your cleared route. This does two things. Provides an extra level of separation between you and opposite direction aircraft plus helps you avoid VFR aircraft.

VFR aircraft? At FL390?

Absolutely.

Africa has an epidemic of smugglers flying 727’s at all sorts of altitudes, without transponders, flight plans or anything. Some of the countries you fly over enroute to Ghana can be buckwild so you have to lookout for yourself by taking extra precautions.

Descent and arrival into Ghana is just like any other airport, but as you descend lower you’ll see lots of red dirt roads, some ’shanty towns’ and sparse amounts of organized development.

Upon arrival, I was surprised how friendly and absolutely professional the ground crews were. They’re sharp, run to help marshall the aircraft to the parking spot and do their job right the first time. It’s not like taxiing into the gate in some cities where workers slowly meander out to the aircraft and marshall the aircraft into the parking spot with wreckless abandon. They’re happy to be there, happy you came and absolutely aim to please.

After we park the station manager, I can’t remember her name, comes directly to the cockpit to introduce herself. I tell her that I’m bringing my wife, make sure Kristie meets her and she gets her expedited through immigration.

An American plan arriving in Ghana is big news. There might be several hundred people standing outside of the fence to greet you and wave. It’s bizarre because you almost feel like a rockstar. They LOVE American magazines so I’ll have to remember to bring some next trip.

Accra was a fun city. I didn’t see anything larger than a fly, even though I had copious amounts of 97% Deet on my skin in an attempt to shoo away mosquitoes. People are absolutely friendly, will help you across the street and are more than willing to make sure you have a great experience.

Moscow.
Flying to Russia is a lot like other oceanic crossings, right until you hit the former Eastern Bloc nations because they’ll use “meters” for the flight levels.

In most of western Europe, you say “Flight Level 310″ but in many parts of Eastern Europe, they’ll say, “Climb and maintain flight lever 9600 meters standard”. Some aircraft like the Airbus and the 767-400/777 you can press a button and convert the altimeters and altitude windows to metric, but on the 767-300, whenever we get an altitude assigment, we’ll dial in 096 into the VOR course window to remind us that we’re going to 9600 meters, then use the international conversion chart to determine how many feet 9600 meters is, triple confirm then climb or descent appropriately.

At first, it’s a little intimidating but after a few altitude assignments, it’s pretty easy.

Almost fun.

On second thought, very fun as it’s something I would never experience flying into Fresno!

Arrival into Moscow is a little strange. It’s almost like you perform an FMS-driven overhead break and line up for the final approach course.

There are special civilian corridors and a large amount of “DO NOT CROSS ZYX radial 089″ directives and special lost comm procedures. From reading the “Moscow Gouge”, you don’t want to fly over downtown or blast into Moscow airspace without talking with anyone because there are a lot of “shoot down” warnings.

The runway markings are quite different in Moscow, which is why it’s always good to brief what you expect to see when you break out of the clouds. Surprisingly enough, Moscow has no radar so you’re still conducting position reports on arrival.

Taxiways are numbered. They’re not designated with ICAO alphabet like most other airports (”taxi via echo, hotel, foxtrot 2, mike delta to the ramp”, it’s more like “taxi via taxiway 12, taxiway 43, main taxiway two, report “follow me truck”)

Arrival at the ramp is a little different.

We’re met by an officer in the standard “old style” Soviet Union military outfit that takes out secondary passports w/Russian visas. We exit the plane via the staircase and make a long walk outside (rain, snow or shine!) through passport control and go wait in the terminal for our passports to be given back to us.

If there’s a person on the crew that hasn’t been to Moscow before, the wait can be (and WAS) about 45 minutes before you’re able to get your passports back and depart for the hotel. I’ve been told they’re checking to see if you were in the military and whatever branch you’re in, to make sure you’re not presently in armed conflict with any part of the Russian Federation.

The drive to the hotel can last anywhere from 40 to 90 minutes depending on traffic. It’s not a matter, as much, of the conditions of the roads, but it’s contingient on how many automobiles are broken down along the road, it’s pretty interesting.

There are also quite a few landmarks along the road as well, most notable is a large monument to the limit of the advancing Germany Army during the siege of Moscow during World War 2. Check out the “Pictures from the Road V2.0″ section of http://forums.jetcareers.com under one of the Moscow threads.

The hotel is a great hotel, but then they make additional copies of your passport for a ‘hotel certification’ (whatever the hell that is) and such.

Departing is a little stranger.

We drop our passports off at the immigration control window, screen our bags twice thru the x-ray, pass through crew “duty free” and then a metal detector, and then we have another person dressed in the standard olive drab Russian military physically dig through each and every bag looking for God knows what.

After the inspection, there’s an inspection sticker affixed to your articles that really doesn’t come off and damned near semi-permanent.

Actually departing Moscow is a lot like arriving, not that big of a deal at all as long as you mentally prepare yourself for the differences.

Moscow was a six-day trip. We flew JFK-SVO-ATL-SVO-JFK.

The first two legs, I flew with Jetcareers member “Staplegun” and that was exciting because the first time I flew with him, I was doing my very first North Atlantic crossing and was absolutely clueless. It was fantastic to fly with him again and demonstrate how much I had learned in the last three or so months. I really think he’s ‘got it going on’ and his procedures and techniques I strive to fashion my own after.

On the next two legs, we had a new pilot to the 767 international operation at the level of experience that I had when I first flew with Staplegun. It was great being able to impart some wisdom on a new guy, showing him what matters, what doesn’t and what REALLY matters. He did a great job. Former Skywest pilot and their loss is my airline’s gain! ;o)

Conclusion:
After four months on the 767 international, it’s going to be a LONG time before I fly another domestic leg. I thoroughly enjoy the principles of teamwork dealing with 11 crew members, I love the cultural differences and opportunities to go places that I couldn’t go with any other airline and especially the international mindset. People look after one another, we all have a great time together and best of all, the aircraft WORK. There’s a mechanic on every leg to make sure the aircraft is certified and the entire team really pulls together to make sure the flight is successful.

Despite what some people say, yes, international is the bomb-diggity and so much more rewarding than I experienced during my 11 years flying domestic airline operations. Gate changes, broken airplanes, short layovers, angry needy passengers flying to Orlando, the “people with the wife-beaters sporting the neck tatoo”…. ehh, you can keep it.

I’m not afraid to say that.

I’ve worked 12 days this month for 93 hours. Kick ass.

I’ve got a better feeling for the aircraft as it lands a lot like an MD-90 without all of the “Yoke English” that you’ve got to exert during the landing phase. The Boeing is logical, works great, lasts a long time. It’s impossible to love an inanimate object, but “love’s” pretty damned close.

I’ve think I’ve found a home for the next phase. I can almost hold ER captain so that’ll be grand for when I need a change, I enjoy 98% of the guys I fly with, I love the exciting aspects of learning about new cultures and seeing things I’ve only seen on television and exploring parts of cities I had no idea existed. That little ‘tingle’ of fear is back so it’s really brought my ‘edge’ back and I feel more fulfilled.

In October, I fly to Istanbul, Turkey for a 48-hour layover and to Budapest, Hungary for another long layover and I’m dragging Kristie along. But between now and my next string of trips, we’re going to Oktoberfest in Germany for a little “Beer ‘n Chicken”.

Thanks for reading! :o) :o) :o)

I apologize.

Since I’ve ‘popped the international cherry’ and gotten much more comfortable with operation and know what the hell I’m doing now, well, mostly at least, I’ll walk you through an oceanic crossing.

I’m JFK-based so all of my trips originate and terminate in JFK.

I have to check in about an 90 minutes before the flight departs of which hopefully one of the three pilots have printed the information we require for the flight.

The information includes:

A “North Atlantic Track Message” which indicates the identifiers and coordinates of that days “routes” across the Atlantic. Those chance daily according to efficient winds, turbulence avoidance, etc.

A turbulence chart, so we can see where our planned track crosses any areas of turbulence so we can prewarn the flight attendants and have a basic idea of when it’s going to begin and when it’s going to end. If at all.

A flight plan. Just like the basic domestic flight plan.

A chart. Being that the North Atlantic Tracks change daily, we need to manually plot them as there’s no permanent airways over the North Atlantic.

NOTAMS. Aircraft can’t fly without NOTAMS.

A hotel sheet…. Important Important Important. It includes the names, employee numbers and bases of all three pilots so we can hand the sheet to the hotel when we arrive and they can prepare the keys for us. Do it while you’re awake.

A “flight folder”. We have to turn in the chart and “part 1″ of the flight plan at the end of the trip for storage. Basically it’s an insurance policy if Gander, Shanwick, New York or Santa Maria Oceanic Control think we experienced a gross navigational error that we can prove that we were in fact on course, etc.

We’ll meet in the designated briefing room, plot the track, review the materials and introduce one another. Proper CRM is your lifeline, will keep you out of trouble and generally ensure that you have a great trip.

Normally, not always, but for simplicity, the captain usually flies the first leg from JFK to our destination. Not always, of course, but most times. Then we usually flip a coin or roll the dice or query which of the two first officers needs a landing for currency. So, the captain’s ALWAYS the captain, the FO that’s not going to get a landing plays “relief pilot” the first leg and the FO who is going to get a landing is relief on the return trip.

Remember in my writing how I mentioned how there was a “captain” and “first officer”, a “pilot flying” and a “pilot monitoring” on domestic legs? Well, it gets much more confusing on the international side.

We have one captain and two first officers.

On any given leg, we have:

A captain (who may be “pilot monitoring” (working the radios more or less)
An FO (who may be “pilot monitoring” or “pilot flying”)
Another FO who acts as “relief”.

A little more on this later.

We’ll arrive at the aircraft after the pre-flight planning is done and greet the flight attendants. Getting acquianted with the flight attendants is very important because these are you co-workers for the next three days (well, two FLIGHT days, but you’ll be dealing with them for three). The captain will generally gather everyone in business class and brief everyone on the flight time, his expectations and any forecast weather for the route.

It’s also important to meet the language speakers for the flight. For example, if we fly to Paris, the language speakers are *usually* nationals of the country you’re flying to and know great places to sight see, interesting tips for your layover, places to AVOID (important!) and are fantastic sources of information during the layover. Trust me, one was absolutely worth DOUBLE her weight in gold during my Bucharest, Romania trip.

The captain and the first officer will go the cockpit to load (and crosscheck) the FMS and the designated relief pilot will check lavatory service (very important because if it wasn’t serviced, you’re going to end up landing in Iceland and having to explain to the chief pilot why you didn’t verify the tanks were emptied), conduct the exterior preflight, verify condition of the pilot rest seat and do some basic cockpit preflight work.

The flying pilot (FO or captain) loads the FMS and the pilot monitoring will confirm the load, certify the inertial reference unit initialization and cross check the data entry.

Pushback, taxi, takeoff and climb are pretty standard.

As you’re climbing, the relief pilot will write down the “estimated time of arrival” over the waypoints on the flight plan, create the ‘break schedule’ (where we figure out how long the rest breaks in flight are going to be for us to go back to the crew rest seat and catch a nap) and load the data for the oceanic clearance.

At top of climb, the ‘relief pilot’ will generally head back for roughly a two hour nap. You can sleep, eat, read, tinker with your ipod, whatever you’d like to do. One of the FO’s is ALWAYS the relief pilot on a three-man crew.

Note: On shorter flights like JFK to Dublin, there are only two pilots so there’s no rest break.

As we progress in the flight, we’ll pick up an Oceanic clearance. Remember, the clearance you receive from air traffic control is only valid to an ‘oceanic entry point’ and you need a clearance to enter the North Atlantic Track system.

Usually, the clearance is as planned by your dispatcher, but sometimes, they’ll issue you a different route, a different altitude or different airspeed. The Airbuses, 767’s and 777’s are usually fairly medium altitude around .80, but the 747’s (which are speed demons in terms of commerical passenger airplanes) fly higher at .85-.87 it seems like.

Every ten degrees, the FMS on most aircraft will spit out a position report to whatever controlling authority is covering your flight. There “officially” isn’t radar coverage over the ocean, so it’s pretty much handled like the old days prior to widespread radar in the domestic United States. Position, time, altitude, next position, expected time, fuel on board.

On some aircfraft without automatic position reporting, we have to call Shanwick or Gander Radio and perform the position report by voice on HF (high frequency) radio. On most aircraft the FMS (via SATCOM (satellite communications)) will conduct the report for you.

HF is an interesting thing. It sounds a bit like the radio chatter on Star Wars, but then the useable rang is tremendous. We can be sitting on the ground in New York and have a voice conversation with Ireland almost like he was next door.

Enroute, we have a thing called “ETP” or “Equal Time Points”. It’s more or less positions on your flight plan where if you had a emergency over the ocean, you’d have a few geographic positions where it might be better to turn around and head for Newfoundland, or north to Keflavik, Iceland or Lajes, Azores, or even to Shannon, Ireland. More on this in another blog entry.

After a couple hours, the “relief pilot” will return to the cockpit and replace the “pilot flying”. Basically, whoever is doing the landing will generally have the second break so he can return in order to do the arrival planning.

Another couple hours goes by, the ‘pilot flying’ returns, and then the relief pilot will replace the ‘pilot monitoring’ as he goes on break.

The ‘relief pilot’ for the leg is more or less a jack of all trades.

Some airlines have systems where they designate a relief pilot, other airlines, like mine, will enable to pilots to determine for themselves who is flying relief.

Just like we have an ‘oceanic entry point’ we also have an ‘exit point’ as which we require a clearance to fly from that position.

Once you receive your clearance to your destination, it’s just like flying over the United States perhaps for a few exceptions.

In the United States, we have “J” airways. Like J42…J138, etc.

In Europe, they have “UL” or “Upper LIma”, “UM” or “Upper Mike” airways. They more or less work the same.

So your clearance at your Oceanic exit point may come like:

“Delta Four Four (it’s not forty four in international ops), cleared to LFPG (ICAO for Paris, Charles De Gaulle) via direct MALOT UL586 SHA UM123 flight planned route, maintain flight level 370″

Each airport you fly into is different. There’s very little standardization so reading all available information, including NOTAMS, “Best Practices” guides and asking the other pilot, “Uhh, you been here before?” and asking lots and lots of questions is absolutely imperative.

Note: Don’t (ever ever ever)^100 presume ATC is going to hold your hand or even correct you if you read back the wrong instructions. Know what you’re going *at all times* Don’t end up in the Gulag. I’m not kidding either!

At this point, you’re more or less flying a domestic flight, with strange transition levels (in the US, we always go from 29.92 to local altimeter setting at 18,000) whereas the flight levels may be as low at 5,000 feet in Europe. “Descend to flight like five hundred” is an uncommon instruction overseas.

Many airport have STARS, approach transitions and approaches. Often, in lieu of vectors to final approach course, you’ll be assigned a transition off of the STAR, join the transition and follow an lateral/vertical path to final approach course. Yet again, there is a basic amount of standardization once you land, but you need to be ready for anything from very broken English, incomplete instructions or contradictory information from air traffic control so everyone’s got their 10-9 airport depiction pages out, listening intently to ATC and coordinating with one another to ensure that we understand what ATC is directing us to do.

Once you arrive at the gate, it’s just like another domestic flight.

Naturally, you go from a van like you’d have domestic to a bus for the flight crew.

Customs is a piece of cake. Remember, the TSA isn’t in Europe so they have a greater respect for flight crews so you generally don’t have the hassle entering a country in Europe like you do returning to your own country in the United States.

Shorter layovers in Europe are 23 hours, whereas some layovers may be 4 days depending on the city and the tie of the year.

Generally, I’ll get to the hotel, take about a two to two and a half hour nap, get up, shower and do the tourist thing. I’ll swing back by the hotel later that afternoon sometimes to see if there’s a dinner ‘n cocktail group meeting or I’ll meander around the city. If I sleep too much when I first get in, that just ensures that I’ll be up very late that night and get little or no sleep before having to go back to work the next afternoon.

For me, if I stay a little tired, by the time I get back to the hotel around 10 or 11pm, I’d absolutely wiped and and sleep very well.

Well, that’s pretty much the gist of international flight. Any question, ask me over at Jetcareers!

As usual, thanks for reading.

Primarily, since the flight is so long and sometimes your max duty day can be short enough not to leave a lot of leeway for going on duty and then getting delayed, it seems like they do a pretty good job of keeping you informed about delays and such.

Frankfurt, by the way, is a great airport to be delayed in because there’s an employee cafeteria which had great prices on all sorts of food, and it’s inexpensive, exceptionally clean and friendly. You can get most of your German favorites served fresh, or one of their daily specials which may be anything.

I guess my biggest challenge this morning is deciding whether to go have breakfast downstairs at the hotel, getting dressed and heading toward the hauptbahnhof for a sandwich or just waiting until arriving at the airport for grub.

**UPDATE** Had the schnitzel!

On the way to Frankfurt on the second crossing, we flew over Scotland. The Scottish sound a lot like “Shrek” on the radio, it’s very interesting.

“Del.. TAH WAN zeeeeeeero seeeex, contICT ConTROlllllll aaaaahan won turr-TEE point dddddREEEE sevum FAAAAAAhve.”

We also had what they call a “Pegasus GPS” aircraft. So all of the position reports are done thru SATCOM so the aircraft electronically produces it’s own position reports so we don’t have to speak to anyone across the Atlantic more than probably twice as we chance from Gander radio’s airspace into Shanwick. Plus, with having three intertial reference units and a GPS, the navigation performance is absolutely phenomenal.

We need an RNP, or “Required Navigational Performance” of 12, but I think the most I saw was about 0.04, which is amazing.

Last night, we more or less stayed around the hotel because the chef, who always introduces himself and creates special “crew only” dishes had a pretty good deal. Plus, there’s an American musician that all of the flight attendants are in love with who was playing at the hotel lounge. He’s a guy that they call “Cheyenne” who is a Hawaiian with long black hair and resembles one of the guys from that show with Chuck Norris in it.

He mostly plays a bunch of soft rock hits, but the flight attendants just love it. I guess I got a glimpse of why the “Bingo Crowd” enjoys Wayne Newton so much.

Most of the other crews were downstairs as well and a lot of them are discussing how hard it’s going to be to give up the international gig to go back and fly as domestic captain. So just as I’m arriving to the international scene, there are a lot of other co pilots making the transition to domestic narrowbody captain.

It’s a good sign or a bad sign, depending on how you look at it.

It more or less means that I’ve REALLY kept my career advancement on hold the last few years because I have the seniority to do the same as well, but it’s good that as folks around my seniority are bidding OFF of international, that my seniority will continue to rapidly improve on the ER, which is fantastic. I don’t have the pressures of paying for ex-wives or stuffing a college fund for three children that have their hearts set on studying dance at “Julliard” so there’s not a big drive to rush off to upgrade to captain.

It might be interesting just to stay as ER FO until I can hold ER captain, which is only a couple thousand seniority numbers away which isn’t bad on a seniority list of over 7,000 pilots.

Wiesbaden is an interesting town because a few parts of the city have natural springs set up where warm mineral water flows from fountains, it’s very interesting.

I was the ‘flying pilot’ on the trip back to New York this evening and I’m starting to get a very good handle on the international procedures. I thought I’d never understand the entire flow of the operation, but just as “Staplegun” promised, “…a few ocean crossings and you’ll get the gist of it” and fortunately, he was correct.

Since we were so late and most of the west bound aircraft had already departed, we were able to fly at our requested altitude and a much higher speed.

A little about how the track system works. Each day, the airlines and the various authorities get together and determine six or seven (I don’t know for sure) different “tracks” or paths across the Atlantic ocean. They’ll look at things like winds, weather turbulence, and good dose of “other” and figure out what the oceanic tracks will be.

Like today, we flew “Track D” which on an oceanic clearance looks like this:

OCEANIC CLEARANCE
1825 070612 EGGX
CLRNCE 453
DAL107 CLRD TO KJFK VIA MALOT
NAT D
MALOT 53N020W 52N030W 51N040W 50N50W KOBEV YQX
FM MALOT/1944 MNTN F360
M082
ATC/LEVEL CHANGE
END OF MESSAGE

We’ll generally get this over ACARS, which is like a “Blackberry” of sorts in the cockpit, or thru voice on VHF, HF or I presume SATCOM as well.

Basically the track says that after we’re out of the continental European control area, we’re cleared to JFK via the waypoint “MALOT, Track “D” which is 53N020W (latitude and longitude), etc, then we’ll exit the track system over KOBEV and coast-in over YQX (Gander). They’re expecting us over MALOT at 1944Z and we’ll climb to flight level 360 and maintain mach 0.82″

The important thing about the times that they expect you over the entry point, flight level and airspeed, is that on the North Atlantic Track system, there is no radar coverage and you’re in RVSM (reduced separation) airspace. Your only quasi-guarantee that you won’t run into anyone over the ocean is position reporting (electronic in FMC-equipped aircraft or voice on the HF radio in non-FMC’s) and making darn sure you’re crossing your waypoints at your expected times. Being more than 3 minutes late or early over your position requires a notification to oceanic radio.

Naturally, JFK was a mess departing, but after some negotiation we were able to push back and start the engines within about 30 mins.

The flight across the Atlantic was significantly easier as I had some familiarity with the operation and had seen a lot of the “different’ things before.

Frankfurt is an interesting airport. If I were to say they “over control” that would be a misnomer. They’d like you to keep a certain speed to a certain fix before the runway and both decelerate and slow to a maneuvering airspeed at which you’ll decelerate to landing speed and do so.

I’t’s kind of a mess but it largely makes sense.

After landing, we get to the hotel and the captain, other FO and I head immediatley to the Wiesbaden hauptbanhof to get a bratwurst and a couple of beers for breakfast.

It sounds bizarre but between the beer and the bratwurst and senf, it makes it a lot eaiser to catch some ZZZ’s after arriving.

Germany is fantastic. Whoodathunkit.

Being the final phase in training after a month of 757/767 school, a domestic IOE and already having a single oceanic crossing under my belt, I felt there was more pressure because there was really no excuse for me not to have my crap together for the trip to Madrid compared my performance (or lack thereof) on the trip to Paris a few weeks ago.

The evening started with a hitch.

We’re about number six or seven for takeoff, taxiing on a single engine and the generator on the operating engine decides to go offline. We try to reset it, it doesn’t work, talk to maintenance and it looks like we’re going to head back to the gate and that the aircraft is unairworthy to cross the Atlantic.

Domestically, you can have a number of malfunctions with the aircraft, some fairly major, many minor and still be legal to dispatch within the contiguous United States. When you start adding in the legalities, procedures and requirements to satisfy “ETOPS” criteria (extended twin-engine operations? I’m too lazy to look it up), each malfunction may or may not deem the aircraft illegal to perform an ocean crossing.

Luckily, there is a spare aircraft that we’re going to swap into once we arrive back at the gate.

Moving a couple hundred people from one plane to another, including containerized cargo, cleaning and servicing the cabin, conducting fresh security sweeps and the crew and I making sure we have our ducks in a row with the redispatch, it can take a longer period of time than you’d expect.

Especially when 33.3% of the cockpit crew is brand new and doesn’t have a firm grasp on what the hell’s going on! Yes, I know, self-deprecating humor.

But here’s the great part about three-man crews with a ‘relief pilot’. They’re just like flight engineers. They’ll coordinate with maintenance, look up items in the logbook for you and are an extra set of hands when things get a little hectic.

We ended up pushing back a couple hours later after returning to the gate, but we have a MAX 16-hour duty window, we’re still getting fed and still getting a nap so it’s a lot different than looking forward to a 14 hour duty day domestic with 5 legs, 4 approaches and a bunch of weather to circumnavigate.

Rewind!

Let me just rewind the clock a bit and tell you what happens BEFORE you get to the aircraft.

Domestic check-in time is about an hour before departure, but international check-in time is two hours prior to departure.

We’ll sign into the computer, meet up with the other crewmembers and determine who needs a landing. This is important because you might get one, two or none in a month and landing currency becomes an issue. Better to do it in the real airplane than go uncurrent and take a trip to Atlanta to do it in a simulator.

The pilot who needs the takeoff or landing will print the flight plan, weather information and ‘track messages’ . A “track message” is more or less a printout of the negotiated airways of sorts, across the Atlantic. There’s an entry point, like HECKK off the coast of Canada, a series of lat/long coordinates and a exit point on the other side where we join the European airway system.

Naturally, that’s oversimplified, but that’s the basic gist.

The pilot who will be flying the leg prepares a plotting chart with our assigned track. He’ll also plot the “equal time points” where if we have an inflight emergency requiring a unplanned diversion, we’ll know instantly whether it’s best to turn around and land at St. Johns, Newfoundland, fly north up to Reyjavik, Iceland or fly south down to Lajes, Azores.

The other pilot will review the plotting chart and crosscheck your work and then you’ll head off to the aircraft.

The flying pilot will program the flight plan, the non-flying pilot will conduct an interior preflight and the relief pilot assigned for the trip will do an exterior preflight inspection, check some of the systems like the lavatory (IMPORTANT as improperly preflighting the lavatory monitoring system is one of the top reasons planes divert in flight and it costs big dollars to divert over an overflowing toilet).

We’ll figure out the breaks. Say we have a 10 hour, flight, take off an hour for the initial climb, an hour for the descent phase, then divide the 8 hours into three breaks. In this example about 2 hours and 40 minutes per pilot. Then we’ll figure out who goes on first break, second break and third break.

There’s a reclining business elite seat, a light curtain and a leather ottoman-type pad called a “Spongebob” that we can use to make the surface more flat if you’re planning on sleeping.

You can sleep, engorge yourself with food (there’s no lack of food on the international side. Careful else you’ll join the ’spandex waistband club’ very quickly), watch a movie, whatever you want to do.

On most of my flights, the relief pilot will take the first break and he’ll take my seat. Next, he’ll come back up, take my seat and then I’ll head back. After his break is up, he’ll come back up and sit in the captains seat.

But all three of us are generally only in the cockpit together for the first and last 45-60 minutes of the flight.

Back to the future:

Since we were so late departing JFK, the Atlantic track system was very quiet, no one talking on 123.45 at all. We’d hear the occasional Aer Lingus flight or a couple of corporate jets, but for the most part, we were on the tail end of the track eastward.

The sun actually rises fairly swiftly as you’re flying over the globe and I got my first glimpse of the sea. Perhaps I’m weird, but on all of my other flights, whether I’m flying or non-revving to Europe, it’s always cloudy so it was a special treat. A weird…special treat.

The arrival into Madrid was a lot easier, in my opinion, than France. Partially because I had more experience and partially because I understood the Spaniards English much better.

It’s a beautiful airport, friendly people and I’ll tell you this, pilots are still “somebody” in Europe. Crowd will clear as you walk through, people are especially cordial and respectful and people take notice. It’s almost like the old days I gather.

When we all arrive at the hotel, some of the crew goes out to do shopping or take a walk, others take naps, some just disappear entirely until you see them at van time the next day.

The captain, FO #2 and I decide we’re going to meet about 6pm downstairs.

Usually, once the andrenaline wears off, you’re dog tired and most elect to take a nap before meeting up for dinner and drinks.

And I’ve noticed that if you don’t set an alarm clock, you’ll probably sleep for much longer than you’ve intended because your circadian rhythm is all screwed up at this point.

Later that evening, we met up with some of the captain’s nephews who are residing in Madrid, went to a number of places for “Tapas”, beer and even the famous “Meson de Champignons (??)” which is the place a lot of crews go to for beer and mushroom tapas.

If you’re an eater and a drinker, Madrid is for you.

Going back

The flight back to JFK the next day was enjoyable. I’m starting to finally get a feel for the rhythm of the operation and what needs to be done when and how to do it which I’m transitioning from a perspective of “OH MY GOD, WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?!” to developing comfort and regularity with the procedures.

It was another beautiful day across the Atlantic and even got a picture, albeit not a very good one, of some of the ice shelf melting off the coast of Newfoundland.

I didn’t do such a nice landing like I did in Paris and Madrid, but I was able to walk away from it!

My trips next month are two Frankfurt Germany trips and another Paris. Thanks for reading and make sure you tune in for updates in June.

Some photos:

“Tapas” while watching the bullfights

The “Mushroom House”

The captain’s two nephews who live in Spain

Navigation chores enroute on the tracks

Melting ice shelf over the North Atlantic.

The day started out with sending Kristie on her way to the airport, which you can read about on her blog, but she wasn’t able to ride with the crew to the airport because of the security procedures at CDG. Basically, we’re taken from the layover hotel straight to the airstairs of the jet.

Procedures are a lot different overseas. The ATIS looks different, you get your clearances different, even arranging pushback is different. You’re given your squawk code and a 1 minute pushback clearance window, after which both are void. It’s strange.

Anyway, understanding the French controllers is a HUGE challenge for me at this point. At times I wish they’d just speak French and I’d have a better chance to understand them!

We’re doing an RNAV departure which minimizes the need for speed, altitude and heading vectors so you more or less follow the magenta line. Also, the climb profile is different — something they call the “ICAO II” profile where you maintain takeoff power to 1500 AFE (above field elevation) while holding a speed around V2+20, then at 3000 feet, you start accelerating and retracting flaps on the speed schedule.

A couple ‘cleared directs’ and climbs and we’re on our way. I take about half a millisecond breather only to realize that we’re well within our 90-minute prior position before entering the North Atlantic Tracks. But this time we’re dealing with Shanwick so the rules are a bit different.

Shanwick Oceanic wants us to give them an “alternative track” if our requested track isn’t available and indicate what the next best flight level would be if our requested isn’t available.

It’s really important to get this squared away because you can’t ask for an Oceanic clearance more than 90 minutes away, but it needs to be no later than 30, but you can’t enter their airspace without a clearance in hand, unlike you can while traveling east.

Once that’s all taken care of, the captain sends me back for first break.

And I need it. Holy cow.

The room in Paris was far too hot, ventilation almost nil and I probably got a good solid two hours of sleep because I don’t sleep very well when the room is too warm, I was anxious about the flight and forgot to bring along my melatonin to help me sleep.

Not good, but the two hour nap onboard really helped.

After my breaks up, I go back to the cockpit, switch with Staplegun and the captain and I go over some more transoceanic navigation items, including track changes, emergency procedures and a SATCOM (satellite communications) demonstration where we can dial numbers thru the FMS and have voice conversations with dispatch, maintenance or in this case, FlyChicaga from the website (who didn’t answer) but luckily Iain did so I could learn how the SATCOM works.

Iain asked where we were and all I could really tell him was someplace over the North Atlantic!

Enroute both times, it was undercast so you really have no idea what the open ocean looks like below and the only indication you’re approaching land are VOR symbols starting to appear on your NAV display or the RMI needles slowly springing to life.

The captain starts his break, Staplegun comes back and we start the ‘coast in’ procedure where we’re getting back onto the North American airway system over northeastern Canada.

When we “coast in” we’re usually getting a new ATC clearance, climbing/descending off the assigned track altitude, speeding up or slowing down (we fly an assigned airspeed while on the track, no slower, no faster) and such. It’s a big relief because I’m leaving the odd world of the N. Atlantic route structure back to the normal airway system that I’m much more familiar with so it starts to feel a lot more like a domestic flight.

Then it’s just a basic arrival into CVG with a visual approach and landing a few hours later.

My observations? The flights are A LOT shorter when you’re working them. When you’re sitting in back, it really feels like a 9 hour flight goes ON and ON and ON, but when you’re actually a working crewmember, it’s pretty fast, especially when you account for your crew break period in the rest seat.

My challenges are going to be to develop a rhythm of the operation so I can transition from the training environment to the ‘regular line Joe’ environment and not make a name for myself as “Oh, geez, there’s that dead weight FO!” So I’m trying to actively study before my next trip on Sunday where I go to Madrid.

Interesting thing about Madrid. Since this next trip will be out of JFK, the time between takeoff and hustling to get the oceanic clearance is a lot shorter so it’s going to be hectic once again. And Madrid may prove to be a lot different than the operation in and out of Paris.

Stay tuned, thanks for reading. I apologize for the poor sentence structure, but it’s 0100 out here in PHX!