Position: Over TOU (Tatoosh)
Altitude: 36,000 feeet
Groundspeed: 441 knots
Equipment: A319
Pax-on-Board: 123
Airborne...
As TOU passes beneath, I note the compass heading leaving U.S. airspace is 295 degrees. The ETP (equatime; half-way point) is still in front of us... PANC (Anchorage) ahead and over the dark horizon. Local time is 2215 hrs.
The center-tanks are almost empty as we go feet wet. Fi-Fi will run the center-pumps an extra five minutes after the last of the fuel is sucked out, just to make sure.
My dispatcher and I agreed on a fuel load that gives us 15 minutes hold over PANC, 35 miles of fuel to reach Elmendorf AFB for an emergency alternate, 10 minutes of captain Dave's "uh-oh" fuel, and the required 45-minute reserve. The weather forecast is favorable for a visual approach and landing... Never forget it is Alaska, though.
I have the warm Jet-A fuzzies as the VOR needle rotates 180 degrees indicating TOU is receding in our six.
ETP sequenced...
The equatime point has been sequenced by Fi-Fi nav... Half-way to Anchorage folks. Outside, minus sixty-two centigrade with winds from the west-south-west at 120 knots. Polaris is in our two o'clock high. The sky above is lovely, clear, and full of heavenly beacons. Beneath us, nothing... A total lack of shape, form or light.
Position check...
The weather radar antenna is tilted down below the horizon and giving good returns on the southern most islands of the Queen Charlotte archipelago. I dial in the frequency for Sandspit VOR (YZP) and look at the RMI (radio magnetic indicator) needle and DME (distance measuring equipment) mileage readout.
Hmm... Looks like the 150 degree radial and about 65 miles (think about a wheel with 360 spokes, one for each degree of the compass; so, we are crossing the 150 degree spoke, i.e., south-east of the VOR). Remembering this raw data, I compare it to Fi-Fi Magic-Nav, a combination of laser-ring inertial and satellite. If she gets bored, she looks at VOR, NDB, localizer, and DME, combining everything for a super accurate fix.
Fi-Fi, where is YZP?
Dave, YZP is bearing 330.3 degrees at 64.6 miles.
She knows her position in time and space... Life is good. Ahead, the faint green glow of the aurora borealis.
Wife check...
I push the rear-galley button over my head and get the #3 flight attendant, a hot-reserve newbie. She was sitting hot-reserve at the airport waiting for the inevitable call from crew scheduling. She tells me the wife-of-my-youth is asleep in the last row, aisle seat, covered with my leather flight jacket.
When this new flight attendant showed up at the aircraft, I noticed she had no coat. I have seen that a thousand times... They are so nervous about the flight that they forget simple things like coats for Alaska. In fact, I have seen it so many times I carry a spare, lightweight jacket for new flight attendants to borrow.
Under the Northern Lights...
Six hundred nautical miles to PANC... The aurora borealis is very active tonight. Overhead, fast moving sheets of green light with interspersed red streaks. My amateurish syntax cannot adequately describe what we see. The night sky is discharging green and red light... Being underneath it in an Electric Jet is, well, simply amazing.
It would be nice to have a real wordsmith/editor like Gerard Van der Leun riding in the cockpit jump-seat to write an accurate description.
The glow of Anchorage...
South of Valdez... We can see the glow of PANC ahead like a little galaxy hanging beneath the electric skies. I take one more look at the terrain charts around Anchorage, even though I memorized them long ago.
The mini-printer spits out the ATIS (auto-terminal info service). Runway 7-Right is closed, so it will be 7-Left... Plenty of stopping distance available even with a bit of snow cover. Surface temperature is 25 F with light snow showers, winds light and variable. Variable always means a tailwind on a slick runway... You can count on it. Vis is five miles, clouds 2500 broken, 3500 overcast, i.e., good VFR conditions for Anchorage.
The math geeks at Performance Engineering have given us landing distance charts for slick runways. I guess 6400 feet before I look at the chart. Pretty close... 6650. That is calculated with full reverse thrust and moderate-to-heavy braking, touching down at the 1,000 foot marker. I am confident I can stop in 6,000 feet or less.
YESKA intersection...
Anchorage ATC Center assigned 11,000 feet at YESKA, speed our discretion. I level the Electric Jet at 11,000 feet/310 knots five miles east of YESKA and begin to slow. The lead flight attendant reports that everyone is strapped in and the cabin is secure for landing. We received reports of moderate turbulence below 10,000 feet descending into PANC.
The clouds beneath are full of ice... Time to raise the shields. Blue lights on the overhead panel indicate engine cowlings and wing leading edges are hot. Yeah baby!
Fire Island...
I ask the co-pilot, "You got the runway yet?"
Looking out his heated right window, he snickers, "Yeah, sort of... It's in and out of the clouds."
The radar altimeter is bouncing off of Fire Island 2,000 feet below us while the approach controller vectors us to a base leg for an intercept of the localizer beam, runway 7-Left.
The controller asks, "Can you guys see the airport... two o'clock and about 7 miles?"
"Ahh, we keep losing it in the clouds. We better stay on the approach."
"Roger... Fly heading zero-four-zero and intercept seven left localizer, maintain one thousand six hundred until established, cleared for the ILS seven left approach. Tower at webbi."
I extend two fingers while the co-pilot is reading back the approach clearance. He moves the flap lever to position TWO. The trailing edge flaps move back and down into the cold slipstream; it feels like an anchor has been thrown overboard as Fi-Fi starts slowing from the increased drag.
WEBBI intersection...
The landing gear is down and locked with three green lights, flaps are FULL, ice shields are UP, speed is under control with glide-slope and localizer centered. As a long gone Captain-of-my-youth was fond of saying, we are cooking on the front burner.
The snow flakes are rushing past at 140 knots in the multi-million candlepower landing lights. Ahead, we can see blurred runway lights. The co-pilot calls out "one thousand"... Runway 7-Left is white, covered with a layer of thin snow.
On the parallel taxiway to the runway waits a long line of snow plows and runway de-icing vehicles, amber lights flashing. They will be busy tonight. The tower controller tells snow-boss, "Remain clear of seven left, landing aircraft." Yes, please.... That would be us.
Airport boundary fence...
Auto-pilot OFF, flight directors OFF, bring the FPV (bird) on-line...
The nose is pointing about two degrees right of the runway centerline... Feels like a slight tail-wind. Of course it is; I look at the inertial-platform wind arrow and see a ten knot wind behind the right wing, or a quartering right tail-wind. Uh... That's about a four knot component; add another 500 feet of stopping effort on a slick runway.
At 100 feet, the runway threshold passes beneath at 140 knots... Auto-thrust OFF.
1,000 foot marker...
Nothing fancy tonight, as in get it on the ground like right now. I plop it firmly on the snow covered 1,000 foot marker... Before the nose gear touches down, I pull the reverse thrust triggers back to MAX. The spoilers rise and shear away the lift. It's not pretty, but we need to get wheel spin-up for the anti-skid to start working.
MAX reverse thrust is impressive at sea-level on a cold, snowy night. The roaring, flower shaped plumes of hot gas are shaking the aircraft and blasting the loose snow into a brilliant white canopy which covers the aft fuselage. My feet slowly mash the tops of the rudder pedals to max deflection yielding massive braking power... The anti-skid is working beautifully, releasing the brakes when either wheel starts to skid, then reapplying in a micro-second, over and over. It is amazing how effective anti-skid technology has become.
When I was a young co-pilot, the Captains called the new technology anti-stop. They would love this stuff.
Fi-Fi tracks straight and true while shedding energy... As we slow, the reverse thrust blizzard starts to move forward into our landing lights. When we are about to lose forward vis, the co-pilot calls out "eighty knots." I reduce reverse thrust, but keep the brake pedals at full deflection. The anti-skid continues to release/reapply the brakes... It is enough to bring tears to an old pilot's eyes. Sorry, this aircraft makes me all emotional.
At 60 knots the reverse thrust is useless... I stow the reverse sleeves with hydraulic power and look at the engine gauges to confirm that they are closed. The brake pedals stay at full deflection until groundspeed is three knots. In front of the cockpit, about 5,000 feet of runway remains... It's a beautiful thing as we turn left at the next available exit. Oh no, I think I am going to cry again... Pass the Kleenex, would you?
I call for "flaps UP", but the co-pilot reminds me about the reverse thrust snowstorm and the icing conditions in general. Yep, he is absolutely correct... We need to inspect the flaps at the gate for icing.
Frozen ramp...
The ramp is slippery... There is about four inches of loose snow. Taxiing the aircraft is an exercise in patience; slow, ever so slow and please take it easy on the thrust captain.
Three rampers wearing bright orange polar suits and holding lighted wands are waiting... We can see their exhaled breath being wicked away by the wind.
I increase the thrust slightly on the left engine to help the nosewheels plow snow in a right turn toward the lead in line. Finally, approaching the gate at crawling speed, lead ramp crosses the batons. Parking brake ON... I forgot to ask for the auxiliary power unit to be started, but the co-pilot started it anyway.
He is cleaning up after me... Need to thank him for that later. I used to do the same thing for Captains that I respected. I guess that is a good sign.
Both engine master switches to OFF. Behind us, several electrical relays clack shut as the APU takes the load from the engine generators.
We have arrived ahead of schedule... Early enough that this crew (and one non-revenue dependent) can make F-Street Station before closing time. And, oh by the way.... The captain is buying.
Life on the Line continues...
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