(As a computer, I find your faith in technology amusing)

<< Linkage >>

Personal...

personal photos (updtd 01 June 06)

TE favorites

Indices...

Blue Mountain 1, 2

Honduras/Nicaragua 2005

Long Bay (March 2006)

VBS 2006 1, 2, 3

Friends...

Bekah

Jenn

Recommended...

KCRW stream

sky.fm: classical guitar

WNRN stream

Tools...

bible.gospelcom.net

Jamaica ESSO map

mas linkage (wx links)

wikipedia.com


<< Sarcasm Scale >>

An explanation...

[0] = drop dead serious

[1] = no sarcasm, take it at face value

[2] = light banter

[3] = sarcastic, but still in a good mood

[4] = very sarcastic, almost enough to make you take a step back and say, "whoa"

[5] = very sarcastic, perhaps a skosh overboard [3] (and typically it means I'm upset)


j5 200908194.2007

19 November 2005 21:07

Wednesday, 16 November

The mornings happen quickly here, but still manage to be relaxed...I usually arrive around quarter to seven and find myself taxiing out 35 to 40 minutes later.  After I finish my preflight, I usually have five to ten minutes while waiting for my flight plan to be filed.  Often I walk out on the taxiway torwards the runway.

It's very peaceful there, the quietest place I ever get to see these days (it's the only time I'm ever outside a city anymore).  Between the apron and the taxiway is a very tall stand of grass waving in the breeze.  Most of it is close to six feet tall, an undulating sea of brownish green.  This morning when I taxied out I intentionally swung a wing over the edge--sure enough, it was tall enough to bat against the leading edge as itpassed by.  I'll have to try and get a picture next time.

Takeoff at Tuxtla is usually pretty intense due to three things: the higher elevation (3500', not super-high, but a factor), taking off into the sun (runway 09), and the high weight (max gross, or 10200lbs.  When the airplane comes off the ground at that weight it doesn't exactly leap and frolic about like a young gazelle.  (That's what made my near empty weight takeoff the other night so much fun--the improved agility).

Takeoff at gross consists of accelerating an extra five knots past your normal rotate speed, then gently easing her up off the runway.  Once you get the gear up you can finally build a little speed and pitch up to a good climb rate.

Climbing through six and seven thousand feet I got to have some fun playing around in the cloud tops.  There were a few little kid-sized updrafts, so I danced through them--dipping a wing into a cloud and arcing around it before breaking off and moving to the next.  Though once again, "dancing" is a far cry from what a King Air actually handles like at gross.

Aside from the actual landing and takeoffs, I think the departure/climbout is the most interesting phase of the flight.  There's a lot going on, a lot to coordinate (even if you're familiar with the route, because then you tend to do all your prepping on the run instead of ahead of time), and perhaps most importantly; you've been sitting in that not-so-luxurious crew seat for only 30 minutes, not five hours.

Once I've reached a decent altitude and gotten things completely stabilized (usually around 12000 feet or so) I pull out my flight log and finish up yesterday's paperwork before starting on today's.  Upon arriving in Mexico, I'm usually leaving the airport within 30 minutes of landing, having already gotten fuel.  Part of the secret there is skipping the paperwork.

By the time I'm approaching FL200 (approximately 20000 feet) the plane's enthusiasm has obviously waned as we climbing at a sickly rate of two or three hundred feet per minute (a vertical speed of about 3mph, as opposed to a standard climb of about 11mph vertically at lower altitudes (1000fpm)).  Here at this altitude our best climb speed is down towards the stall speed; far enough away to have a good safety margin, yet close enought that you need to keep a good eye on it, and definately close enough to make the controls sluggish.

A while later after the plane has stabalized in cruise I record a fuel checkpoint (I do about one per hour to moniter fuel burn).  It readily confirms that I'll be needing a fuel stop.  The GPS calculates that I will land with 25lbs of fuel on board--well below the company minimum of 350lbs (52.5 gallons, or 45 minutes).

Our fuel meter gives a current readout of our specific fuel consumption in pounds per ten nautical miles.  By using the GPS and the fuel meter, I can easily calculate the minimum specific fuel required to land me at my destination with 350lbs of fuel on board.  Today my minimum is 5.1NM/10lbs.  Currently I'm only making 4.3.  That will improve as I burn off fuel (weight), and will improve as I move out over the water where the winds should shift in my favor.  My fuel consumption would improve too, if I were to climb higher--something I could do in another hour or so after I've burned off enough weight.  But experience dictates that it's rare to gain more than 175lbs or so of landing fuel over the course of a flight.

This morning's radar showed a mass of low pressure pushing up from Panama anyway--this will bring adverse winds and weather that will divert me north regardless...straight towards Grand Cayman.

There's no rush either; the first airway headed for Cayman turns from Belize, and I'm not due there for another hour.  The last practical turning point is Cisne; that's an hour and a half past Belize City yet.

About 50 miles from Belize City, I make a call to CenAmer Control and get my destination changed.  The GPS immediately recalculates, showing me landing with 630 pounds on board.  More than enough.  When I get there, I'll have them load 100-120 gallons depending how much I actually land with.  Jamaica's only 1:45 flight, so by not taking full fuel I save wear and tear on the airframe by not having to do another max weight takeoff.

Meanwhile, I've come within visual range of the weather moving north from Panama.  Since I don't have onboard radar, I scan for buildups before I fly into the cloudmass.  This one looks fairly stable, but one wonders what it will look like after I've been inside for an hour and have moved 175 miles down the line (farther than I can see at the moment).

Looks like I'll get to play in the tops again, as there's a stratus layer rising slowly to meet me.  This is a good time to check my icing equipment to make sure it's working.  The beauty of flying in the Carribbean is the ability to descend if icing gets bad.  Freezing level is usually around 15000 feet.  Too much ice?  No problem, just drop to 14 or 13000 and viola! it melts.  (The problem then becomes a much higher fuel burn at the lower altitude.  But in this case we have 300 extra pounds to use--again, no problem).

Postscript:  I made it safely to Jamaica, a total of 5.9 hours flight time, plus time on the ground at Grand Cayman while refueling.  Two days later I did it again.  Three days after that, I'll be doing it again.  Then maybe I'll get a much needed vacation :).

21:07   email me   permalink / commentary (3)


Your writings are quite excellent, thanks for sharing.    19 November, 2005 23:11 – Blogger aduma  

Thank you for noticing.

...Attempting to be somewhat more educational than usual.    19 November, 2005 23:16 – Blogger Brendan  

My head is spinning. All I have to do at work is make sure people sign in the right places; I'm afraid any attempts to fly a plane would be disastrous.

But, hey! You have a comments option now! Very snazzy. I like it.    20 November, 2005 09:25 – Blogger Samantha  


<< add comment >>

Powered By Blogger TM

gostats.com  

statcounter.com