Position: KPHX; taxiway Echo; number 21 for runway 25R
Equipment: A321 Enhanced New Metal
Pax-on-Board: 183
Winds: 180 degrees at 29, gusting to 40 kts
It's one of those nights that airline pilots dread. Thunderstorms all quadrants, intense lightning, moderate rain, blowing mud, hot and gusty crosswinds at or above the limits... Everything at the performance limits. Except for the captain, that is...
This is my speciality... Nasty electric weather in an Electric Jet. We arrived from Mexico in an A319, did a bag drag to another gate where a new A321 was waiting with 183 passengers already boarded and waiting for the pilots... Where you guys been? You can see it in their faces.
The whole system is weather crippled tonight with monsoonal moisture flow thunderstorms.
Not enough Jet-A...
The fuel tanks have enough to fly the flight-plan route to KSFO, using KOAK as the alternate, 45 minute reserve, 30 minutes of hold, 18 minutes of taxi, and a smidgen of extra. Not enough for tonight. My dispatcher is pulling her hair out... Flights diverting with minimum fuel.
I give it my best guess on what will happen to us:
1. Re-route- fly north hundreds of miles, then a 90 degree turn toward the west around the north edge of the weather... It will happen out on the taxiway. Better have some fuel to handle the extra miles, or you will be forced to return to the gate, and that gets ugly in a hurry as multiple aircraft are doing the same...
2. Intense storms will close the airport as they pass overhead. Taxi fuel burn will be outrageous. I do not like to shut down both engines (especially during a storm) and rely on the APU for power and pneumatics. If it fails, you are totally out of luck until a company tug arrives for that embarrassing tow back to the gate.
3. The winds will change and PHX tower will be forced to turn the airport around... Uh-oh! What number were you for departure?
Yes, we need more fuel. I look at the take-off weight, and subtract the flight-plan fuel burn... We can carry another 9,000 pounds. That will give us tanker fuel, too. It is cheaper to carry fuel to California, than to purchase at the airports. A quick email to my dispatcher... Then hurry up and wait. She is very busy. Since I am confident she will go for it, I call the fueler back to the aircraft.
The pax are informed via my best Robert Stack captain's voice that we will need another twenty minutes of their time... By now, they can see the lightning flashes, blowing dirt, and feel the big vertical tail-fin moving in the gusts.
In five minutes the email alert light flashes... She is go for the kerosene upload. I see the fueler pulling his ladder over to our right wing. Things are coming together on this text book example of a dark and stormy night.
45 minutes on the taxiway...
Number one is turning, two is waiting. As I suspected, a re-route was given to us on the taxiway. After that, a large cell moved over the airport causing havoc... Departures stopped and the wind switched directions. The Conga Line had to do a one-eighty and face east. More than a few crews are giving up and returning to the gate for more fuel.
I am totally relaxed inside our digital cocoon while the storm segment of my brain runs scenario after scenario. We are now about number six for the runway. PHX tower is doing a magnificent job dealing with the heavy weather. Wide swaths of the sky flash with incredible brilliance every few seconds illuminating the whole airport in pure white light... The points of origin from all quadrants. Between airport illumination moments, heavy lightning bolts hit the ground to the west, south and east... Thick electric trunks with hundreds of branches sizzling in all directions. Yeah Baby! This is indeed one of those nights.
Light rain, blowing mud, wind socks extended straight out as I ask my young co-pilot to start number two, please. He told me earlier he was glad it was my leg and I think he meant it. Number two starts without a problem in the 35-40 knot crosswind. Love these engines! It rolls back to idle and we check flight controls, speeds, weight, navigation, and warn the flight attendants.
I reach overhead and ring the lead flight attendant for a little last minute chat about the weather. I tell her, again, exactly what to expect and in what sequence it will happen and not to worry. Next, a mini-pep talk to the pax advising them what to expect, i.e., bright flashes flooding the cabin, lots of rain, light to moderate turbulence for about ten minutes and please, please do not get out of your seats.
Wipers to HI...
We are lined up with 25 Right... Wipers on HI. The best radar money can buy is looking at the weather in our twelve, antenna angle at eight degrees above the horizon. Moderate rain, crosswind at the limit, sky flashing bright and white, as I move the thrust levers forward. A lot of rudder is required to stay on the centerline. Outside, the wet, dirty, hot airmass is moving from left to right, momentarily frozen by electric flashes. It is a surrealistic scene with ramifications an airline pilot clearly understands.
New IAE-V2500 engines ignore the hot and humid conditions and mash us back in our seats with authority. The crosswind is pushing on the airframe, especially the vertical fin, as we churn the rain into steam behind us.
V1... 145 knots...
Past the go/no-go point and still strong acceleration. The wind is trying to lift the left wing which I counter with quick aileron movements, but not enough to raise the spoilers. Finesse makes Fi-Fi happy and when she is happy...
Rotate... 153 knots...
On the instruments as the nosegear levitates... The bursts of electric light are rapid and intense in our twelve. Rudder pressure released as the mains leave the runway and the airframe rotates left briskly toward the wind component. Call for the gear UP... We are out of here, finally.
Electric mist...
One thousand feet happens fast... Thrust levers back to climb power, flaps/slats UP, check pressurization, run the after take-off checklist. The ground lights begin to fade as an electric mist envelopes the aircraft. Without being told, the co-pilot requests twenty degrees right to thread the needle between rain shafts shown on the radar.
At 2,000 feet we are in thick clouds, heavy rain, fifty knots from the southwest, light turbulence, and brilliant electric flashes. I reach overhead and turn the flightdeck lights to BRIGHT. The departure controller gives us a heading of zero three zero and maintain 230 knots. Roger that...
At 3,000 feet... Moderate turbulence, heavy rain, smell of ozone as we climb out of the hot Phoenix basin. Underwing lights are boring twin photon tunnels ahead; bright rain drops moving toward us at 250 knots. Small corrections left and right to miss the heaviest rain and turbulence depicted on the radar screen. Anything loose in the
At 6,000 feet... The airliner ahead of us, a mad-dog 90, is getting hammered. The pilot on the radio is struggling to make a complete sentence in the turbulence. My co-pilot asks for twenty left... The long 321 is whipping and twisting in the turbulence as I lower the left wing and try to get an average fifteen degree bank angle... It varies from thirty five to zero. Airspeed is all over the place... Plus or minus twenty knots. Climb rate is averaging 3,000 fpm.
At 10,000 feet... Static electricity on the radio antennas is making communications difficult. Our radar shows the heaviest rain is mostly behind, west, and east of us now. Just because I can, I depress the radar antenna and sweep the ground ahead. Yep, it's still there... No radar shadow ahead.
Polaris...
At 15,000 feet... Movement at twelve o'clock high. Flightdeck lights OFF... Oh yeah, I see it. Brief glimpses of stars as the clouds start to crack. Back on the instruments el cap-i-tan. No star gazing.
18,000 feet... set three altimeters to standard (29.92 inches of mercury)... The cloud cracks are getting bigger. Stars and clouds blurring with velocity. The electric flashing is mostly in our six now and radio comm is back to normal as we contact ABQ ATC.
There it is... Twelve high... Big Dipper... And, uh... Yep, Polaris. See it?
Got it... Beautiful!
A crack in the sky...
Our lovely stretch Fi-Fi ascends into the night. To our left and right are towering piles of cumulus rain clouds, interiors illuminating every few seconds. Auto-pilot one ON... She takes it and I relax a bit. The sky is smooth here. I ring the lead flight attendant... How's it goin' back there? She reports all is well and asks about the ride ahead. Smooth as my wife's tiny hin... Uh, it'll be smooth.
Our compass heading will be about 350 degrees for several hundred miles as we fly to the northern edge of the storm system. Keeping Polaris above the center windscreen post will do nicely.
Cold air...
The storms are behind us and west of us as we climb into the cold, thin, dry air. It's been one of those summers of heavy storm activity that comes every third or fourth year. Another month and it will begin to settle into perfect October flying weather. I am looking forward to it.
Flight Level 340...
Looks like we will be about one hour late at the KSFO gate; not bad considering. Now that the adrenalin is gone, I am getting tired. Welcome to Life on the Line...
And it continues...
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