Crosswind to remember

The fourth day of a recent trip found me in Covington, Kentucky in a six-fifteen AM van, after sleeping fairly well for about the last seven hours. My cellphone playing U2 in the van alerted me to crew scheduling calling. What I dreaded wasn’t occurring; there was a plane at the airport with our name on it, but our revenue flight from Cincinnati to Philadelphia had been cancelled, and we were to ferry it there instead.

After researching the problem in the aircraft logbook, surveying the ferry flight permit, discussing it with my fine First Officer ‘Cindy’, performing all our checklists and briefings, and getting the frost de-iced from our wings, we sped down the runway in the morning light.

A single bell chime and flashing yellow ‘master caution’ light a few hundred feet AGL (above ground level) on climbout didn’t startle us, we expected it. The associated caution message on ‘ED1’, our display screen that shows our engine and fuel parameters, read in yellow letters “STEERING INOP”, referring to the nosewheel steering. At the appropriate time thereafter my F.O. read and performed the QRH (quick reference handbook) procedure for this message. Actually she read it and I performed it. This was simply to cycle the nosewheel steering switch (located on my side and accessible only to me) off and back on. The steering was restored, the message disappeared, and we continued upward and onward.

The previous crew flying this plane had received this message on climbout after retracting the gear, and during the approach to land after extending it. They ‘wrote it up’ after parking for the overnight in Cincinnati. This problem was why we were ferrying the empty jet to Philadelphia: you obviously don’t want passengers on a plane with its nosewheel steering on the blink.

During our talk on the ground in Cincinnati Cindy and I shared the hope that if the steering inop message occurred again with gear extension on the approach and landing into Philadelphia that we would be able to get it back via the same QRH procedure. A review of the weather in Philly gave us both some concern that a landing attempt without nosewheel steering would most likely be not advisable, or in plain words, unsafe.

A slow moving cold front and ‘associated low pressure system’ was finally finishing its path across the northeast, and the Philadelphia airport had pretty strong, gusty winds from the northwest at 29 to 37 mph. For our jet emptied of passengers, it would be a strong crosswind from the right side, relative to the west, landing on runway 27 (landing to the west, 270 degrees magnetic, wind from the northwest).

(This is a crosswind component chart.  See if you can determine the crosswind component for our conditions.  The runway direction was 270 degrees magnetic, the winds were blowing at 25 knots from a 330 degrees magnetic direction.)

This ferry permit placed in the maintenance logbook required that we land on runway 27L or 27R in Philly, the longest runways there; runways 26 (5000 feet) and 35 (6500 feet) were prohibited. In Cincinnati I thought about what I would do if we were unable to restore the nosewheel steering if it failed upon gear extension in these conditions upon arrival at Philadelphia. This was where someone would say that “this is why they pay you the big bucks”.

With no steering, I would’ve rather landed on runway 35, it was less of a crosswind than on 27 (20 degrees of crosswind instead of 60), but the ferry permit prohibited it. I could’ve called our Flight Department manager who authorized the permit and asked him to authorize 35, but that promised perhaps thirty minutes of work added to a morning which was already behind schedule, with no guarantee of success. We had been given a Baltimore alternate from our Dispatcher, which I appreciated, and that airport, with runways aligned to the northwest and more directly into the wind, would’ve been a better choice if we had to land without nosewheel steering.

The risk of losing the steering completely on approach was clear in my mind and gut as I decided to go ahead with the flight. I was confident that if it failed on gear extension that we would be able to restore it, because cycling the switch had worked in the past. My guess was that a nosewheel steering wire was getting pinched somewhere during the retraction and extension cycle, causing the steering to go offline. Because of this tendency, I felt fairly assured that it wouldn’t fail suddenly on landing after touchdown. But there are no guarantees in life, or in flight.

Landing without steering in a crosswind that strong would highly risk that differential braking (we brake the left and right main wheels separately) and aerodynamic forces from the rudder would not provide enough control to prevent the airplane from ‘weathervaning’ into the wind and then skittering downwind across the runway, and I didn’t want to try. In a normal crosswind landing, considerable steering input to the nosewheel is required during deceleration from landing speed to taxi speed (140 mph to 10 mph). With no steering, the nosewheels caster freely, much like a front shopping cart wheel.

I had landed without nosewheel steering before, as a non-flying first officer at Chicago O’Hare. The Captain did a fine job, we were towed in from the runway we closed down, and it’s a great story for another time. But that was in calm winds, not in a crosswind which had gusts exceeding the steady state crosswind maximum published for our jet.

We had over an hour airborne to think more about the possibilities that could happen. I decided and briefed that we wouldn’t attempt a landing without nosewheel steering at Philadelphia, that we would extend the landing gear ten miles out so we would have time to deal with a steering failure, and if the steering failed after touchdown I would apply maximum braking on the runway. It all sounded good to Cindy as well.

Once we reached the Philadelphia area, things happened fast, since we were arriving in between ‘pushes’, a busy time of arrivals, then departure. ATC vectored us quickly, and I thought that I should’ve managed my speed better as we noticed on a tight base vector that we were going to overshoot the final approach to runway 27R, due to a strong tailwind. I’m modest: the controller should’ve given us an earlier turn to final to prevent this from occurring in the first place. I hand flew a healthy crab angle back to the north, and we were basically aligned with the runway.

I say basically, because the constant moderate turbulence and kicking, gusting winds made airport and runway scene jumble and swerve around out the windscreen eight miles ahead. Philly has three runways aligned in the same direction and an old runway in use as a taxiway, and I admit that in the turbulence it had taken a few seconds to find the right one. By this time, we were relieved to verify that the landing gear was ‘down, three green’ and the nosewheel steering was still ‘on-line’ (its ‘steer by wire’).

I was a bit out of our element at this moment, but knew what to do – fly the plane, and how to do it. We were at a very light weight, and I had the thrust at a setting I thought would counter the strong headwinds buffeting us from the right side. But a series of gusts at this altitude, 1,500 feet above the ground, kept us from joining the glideslope (we were a little high) and slowing to the proper speed for a few more seconds. “Chop and drop” occurred, as they say, but only for a little bit, we were soon configured, on glide path, and ‘stabilized’ (as much as you can be in 20+ knot gusts) with the thrust ‘up’ by 1,000 feet AGL.

The exact wind report on the ATIS was 330 degrees at 25 knots, gusts to 32. The math on that works out to a crosswind of 60 degrees and a crosswind ‘factor’ of about .87, or a crosswind component of 22 knots, gusting to 28.  The maximum demonstrated landing crosswind component for our CRJ200 is 27 knots, so this was pushing it.

Its unnatural, well, it looks unnatural, to be pointed away from the runway, into the wind, flying sideways in a strong crosswind, but that’s how birds do it and that’s how man does it. Any seasoned pilot has landed in some strong ones, and this one was impressive, intimidating even. With our nose cocked twenty degrees to the right of the runway, the touchdown zone loomed into view.

“100 - - - 50 – 40 – 30 – 20 - 10”. The automated voice called out our radar (airplane based) measured altitudes down to the ground. At the fifty foot call I had the thrust levers coming back and felt them reach the idle stops by twenty. At that moment I applied a healthy amount of left rudder pressure and right control wheel pressure, and had already applied back pressure to start the flare.

Our empty and gust buffeted jet, save the three of us, gyrated on all axes, its right wing now banked low against the ground, with the nose aligned with the centerline of the runway and pitching up to permit the main landing gear to touchdown first.

The CRJ has a fairly low wing and the wingtip and/or wing flaps has a good likelihood of scraping the ground when touching down in a bank angle of ten degrees or more. I’ve never really been afraid of this occurring in a crosswind, although it’s happened before at our airline. In strong crosswinds a cautious “pilot not flying” monitors the bank angle on touchdown and advises when it reaches ten degrees. This frees up the landing pilot to completely focus on landing.

In the moments over the runway I kept increasing control deflection as our airspeed was decreasing, till I had full left rudder in and lots of right aileron. Then, just a hair before we touched down, inexplicably, I relaxed the aileron pressure, enough that the wings returned towards level. Oops. I don’t know how many strong crosswinds I’ve landed in, but it’s been a very long time since I’ve done such a ‘fool’ thing as this. I think that in this wind I was concerned about the wingtip and flaps, and ‘gave up’ too soon. The aviation axioms I failed to fulfill in this instance is to ‘fly the plane till every part stops moving’ – don’t stop flying the plane. In a flash, literally, I watched the runway slide over to the right fifteen feet, right as we touched down, not hard however, wings basically level, with the four main gear tires spinning up, smoking and sliding across the grooved runway surface. I had let the wind win, and it had pushed us across the runway, downwind (I don’t call it drifting).

I put the right aileron pressure back in instantly, lowered the nose to get the steering wheels on the ground, pulled the thrust levers into full reverse, applied the main wheel brakes on the rudder pedals, and muttered questioning and un-congratulatory words to myself. Steering the plane back to the centerline using the rudder pedals isn’t that difficult, once the other proper controls are applied, I relearned.

During our taxi in the tower updated that at our moment of landing the wind was now blowing at 31, gusting to 40, and I believed it. That was equivalent to a direct crosswind of 27 knots, gusting to 36, as much as we are allowed to do and as much as I want to handle in a CRJ. We parked next to the maintenance hangar, told the mechanics they could have it, and braved the gale in a short walk to the concourse to resume our scheduled day.

Landing in strong, gusty crosswinds bug piston and turbine engine pilots (especially at the lower levels of experience) both practically more than any other issue involved in flying planes. It tends to be black and white too, you either are comfortable or you aren’t. The problem if you’re not is that you have to go out in it and get exposure to the windy, gusty conditions to increase your proficiency and confidence in them. It is a major practical and mental barrier to pilot confidence and competence, and a major cause of minor incidents and accidents. Crosswind proficiency should be mastered at the lower levels of aviation and training. It takes courage to go conquer crosswinds with an instructor, and even more to do so by yourself. But when you relish the opportunity to meet the challenge and find yourself alone in the traffic pattern, battling them and ‘winning’, you enjoy a great feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction, because you know you will carry that confidence and proficiency with you the rest of your flying career.

God bless you, and thanks for reading my blog. He Loves all of us, you know!

A Better Vantage Point, part II

Recently, in late summer I’ve experienced some beautiful sights and challenging work days: a vertical moon beam projected downward through a narrow gap in the clouds, an expansive and vibrant rainbow, cumulus clouds that carry a punch greater than their looks, the real milky way coupled with meteors, cloud shadows trying to camouflage themselves as the woods in hill valley bottoms below, ‘embedded’ thunderstorms trying to hide behind haze and surrounding stratus clouds, a selection of ‘interesting’ (to say the least) Flight Attendants, an ATC induced go-around at Philadelphia and Indianapolis, and a few long, delayed duty days.

But for this second ‘vantage point’, I’d like to take you back in time a few years to just after the 9/11 terrorist attacks in 2001, when I was based in Denver as a Captain flying the Beechcraft 1900 turboprop.

Flying for Great Lakes was basically driving me nuts, because during the fall of 2001I was getting junior manned to fly as a First Officer instead of as a Captain, and junior manned down to ten days off a month as well. I was able to switch bases to Minneapolis-St. Paul, and hoped for a lighter schedule load, and some adventurous winter flying. I learned that Vanguard Airlines, out of Kansas City, was growing their fleet and switching from 737’s to MD-80’s. KC is halfway between Tulsa, Oklahoma, where I grew up, and where we still live now in northwestern Iowa. It was kind of like a attracting an insect to a blue light.

That was the flying career situation for me by the spring of 2002. With tens of thousands of ‘heavy iron’ drivers furloughed or about to be furloughed from the majors, and none of the low cost carriers hiring, Vanguard seemed like a great place to go, until the majors and low cost carriers started hiring again, at least.

Their minimums were 1000 hours turbine PIC (pilot in command), but I applied anyway with 800 Turbine PIC, and got no response. After applying again with 1100, things happened quickly. I was soon in Vanguard’s ground school in Long Beach, California, experiencing a cool and rainy ‘So Cal’ spring while drinking up the MD-80’s systems ground school course from a fire hose, as the saying goes.

I had never flown a jet before, not a LearJet, and not a CitationJet. I was a little intimidated, because this was ‘Mad Dog’ jet, aptly named because of the MD initials and because the flying and handling characteristics aren’t reputed to be near as nice as the jets Mr. Boeing builds. Several fellow students in my class were veterans of Vanguard’s 737, and after learning about the McDonnell-Douglas product they recycled the old joke ‘Boeing builds airplanes, Douglas builds character’ among us. For an interesting page on the MD-80, click here.

After learning that the aircrafts’ roll control and pitch control wasn’t by hydraulics and was only by cable and ‘control tabs’, these same pilots said the MD-80 was the ‘0riginal fly by wire jet – on a one-eighth inch cable’. The ‘80’ was a stretched version of the DC-9, which had the same type of flight control system. The MD-80 also ushered in some new technology to the airlines, but it did so using an old style cockpit display and instrumentation. It had the ‘old school’ style ‘six pack’ of flight instruments in front of each pilot, but with an electronic display version of the attitude and horizontal situation indicator (EATT and EHSI). Added on was an advanced flight guidance system for the autopilot, automatic thrust control for the engines (autothrottles), and a flight management system (FMS). All this advancement in technology was meant to reduce the workload of the pilots, but because of the way it was cobbled together with the same usual instrumentation, plus additional panels for all the new technology, meant that in a way this aircraft actually increased the workload required by the pilots. I found this out quickly when flying it, and after transitioning later in my career to aircraft which have a full EFIS (Electronic Flight Instrumentation System) presentation on six TV like flight displays, I appreciated ‘full glass’ much more.

Once in the simulator, I found out that the quirks this jet had were true, the flying characteristics were like nothing I’ve ever flown before, even considering that I had never flown a jet. It was like being on the front end of a struggling sky dart. I was happy with how I made it through training in the simulator. However, once I started flying the real plane and got checked out online, it was an anxious transition. The controls felt funny, and it was a long jet, so long that I couldn’t see the wings from the seat. I was apprehensive about where to look, what to touch, and what the plane was going to do next.

The flight guidance system, which controlled the autopilot and flight director, was fully functional, but had to be used gingerly and wisely, or one would risk giving the passengers an uncomfortable and jerky ride. The same thinking went regarding the autothrottles. On line, good technique necessitated that we lead and lag the autothrottles thrust settings, and program a descent or climb rate slowly. Otherwise the passengers would get pushed or pulled in their seats too much.

The FMA – the flight mode annunciator, was a panel which displayed the armed and active modes of the autopilot and flight director. On a more modern EFIS aircraft the flight modes are shown just above the attitude indication, so in result, this separate panel actually increased our work scan: it was another instrument to include in our ‘scan’.

Hand flying the jet was interesting. Lag in the control response was to be expected, especially in pitch. In pitch the force felt in the control yoke was springy and spongy, light at first but it increased at a non-linear rate. There was a large null spot where the aircraft was trimmed out, where movement of the yoke seemed to not affect the pitch attitude of the aircraft at all. It was light in roll, and the yoke was spring centered back to neutral when released. When the yoke reached 5 degrees deflection, the roll spoilers deployed, and the roll rate increased suddenly. The rudder was the only surface powered hydraulically.

Click here for a good link to a few pictures of Vanguard's Md-80's. My first landing in one, with my hands on the controls was a doozey, oh it was! Seeing in my peripheral vision my Check Airman Captain reaching for yoke during flare is not a good thing. I had already increased back pressure during the flare, and didn’t know just where the ground was, so to speak. I was trying to land it ‘like the simulator’, how I had been told. But the sight picture out the window was totally different than I was used to, as at touchdown the deck height above the ground in the ‘80’ is quite a few feet higher than in the 1900. I knew this, and tried to compensate for it. Observing the plane sink the last ten feet down to the runway surface is a useful clue while landing, but it takes a while to get used to the sight picture in order to discern this. In a long jet the nose is increasing in pitch angle as you land, this mitigates the sink sight clues somewhat. The radio altimeter had called out our height above the ground from 50 feet down in ten foot increments. Well, it was supposed to be ten foot increments. “50-30-20-10” bam! Somewhere far behind me (72 feet or thereabouts) the tires hit like a body part hitting furniture while walking in slumber in a friend’s dark house. We didn’t bounce, I realized as I perceived the cockpit bulkhead shaking behind us in a wave of reverberation from the point of impact. Ugh, oh well. Chuck, my Check Airman, didn’t ask for a hard landing inspection after we both gave it a good once over during the post flight inspection. That was good, and I hoped I could redeem myself. The next few landings went better, fortunately!

There are similarities between learning and flying a new and unfamiliar airplane and growing spiritually in a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Apprehension, anxiety, excitement/joy, and exhilaration can and will be experienced from one moment to the next, side by side. A classic phrase from aviation (the movie Top Gun) is "highway to the danger zone", and the similar phrase in Christianity describing spiritual growth, especially in mission, is to "get out of your comfort zone". A sense of purpose, mission, and challenge that each arena has can help provide motivation to fulfill the hopes and goals presented. Most of all, learning a new plane or growing in Christ isn’t best done alone; one is much more productive being engaged with the intimate personal assistance, teaching, and learning involved in each endeavor.

In ‘A better Vantage Point, Part I’ in August I wrote a little about the Vantage Point 3 program, a discipleship course my wife and I were in last year at our church. I’ll share with you now the details of the course. In part III (there’s a part III? ;) I’ll share the changes I’ve experienced as a result.

VP3 (for short) has helped to spark a process of renewal in both of our lives and in our marriage. Growing in Christ can be difficult; we’ve learned again that growing pains aren’t only for children. As Christians, it’s often easy to feel comfortable where we are in our spiritual lives. VP3 is a ministry based in Sioux Falls, SD, and their purpose is to develop emerging leaders for the church, to call and enable Christians to become who they are destined to be in Christ Jesus. It’s much like a discipleship group, but it operates a little differently. Our group of five men and nine women, plus our facilitator/associate Pastor, met together for an hour and a half each week. The sessions presented challenging thoughts and questions, and involved personal introspection and sharing from all of us.

The first stage of VP3 was called Biblical Foundations of Leadership. From a scripturally personal standpoint, I became reacquainted with my Christian foundations, and articulated my own personal biblical values. It was a confrontational experience to consider the values I say I have verses how I actually live them out. I was asked to consider and draft a personal biblical mandate.

As a class, we read four books. My two favorites were In the Name of Jesus by Henri Nouwen, and The Gift of Being Yourself by David Benner. Nouwen has a unique but sound angle to our relationship with Jesus and how he can authentically be lived out in our lives. One big concept Nouwen expresses is that we should seek to be irrelevant to other people, not relevant, as one would assume. Why? Because as we are irrelevant to others while in relationship with them, they see and receive us as vulnerable, naked, and stripped to the core of our being. A being which has Christ lived out of us in Love, sacrifice, suffering, and serving others purely, just as Jesus did when he walked the earth. They can only respond in two ways: receive us as we are in Christ’s Love, or reject us.

Knowing God was of course a focus of VP3, but more emphasis was put on knowing your self, in that knowing yourself better, you can know God better as well, and thus permit God to indwell in the real you. David Benner’s great book The Gift of Being Yourself does a lot for the reader in that process; it is a deep book that I’ll read again this year. This is a concept which I hadn’t heard much about, and is very refreshing.

We were asked to write a personal faith narrative, framed by our life stories and events. In recounting my spiritual journey, I came to grips with my victories and my defeats, the times I’ve accepted the call of Christ and the times I’ve turned and gone my own way, and the pain it caused myself and others. I remembered and honored the ‘God things’ I’ve experienced: the events and moments in my life when I have truly seen or felt God and his grace and mercy, and the Holy Spirit act on my behalf. It is my story of God ‘meeting me where I’m at’ in my personal relationship with him, and it has great value to me. Nothing can take away my experiences of God acting personally in my life, leading me back into a right, fruitful, and intimate relationship with him, one step at a time. My VP3 brothers shared our stories with each other, and grew closer to each other in the process.

VP3 emphasized mentoring, both having a mentor during VP3 and becoming a mentor for others. A Christian mentor is more than an accountability partner; a mentor is brother or sister in Christ who listens to the song from your soul. A good mentor is a trusted and close friend, one you can bear your heart to, your spiritual and heartfelt victories, defeats, hang-ups, bitterness, questions, doubts, and one who will challenge you and teach you how to move forward, and to mentor others as well. I believe mentoring is a key to increasing the number of committed and discipled Christians in our nation and world. A united community of mentoring and mentored Christians will produce a harvest the church and the Lord will rejoice over.

The last stage of VP3, Functional Foundations of Leadership, is one I’m still grappling with. What habits and characteristics does a successful Christian leader have? What will I do to ensure I grow into and remain an emerging Christian Leader?

These last two paragraphs give a short version of a couple of the changes I've had as a result of VP3.

These days I have a more central and singular purpose in my life, and it all boils down to Jesus. Sure, my wife and children provide deep meaning and satisfaction to me, but my best person is in relationship with them through Christ. Ultimately, he gives me the deepest meaning, purpose, and satisfaction I have in my life. It sounds crazy, but it’s true.

As much as I love flying a jet through the sky, I sincerely don’t think I would keep doing it if it wasn’t for God sustaining me through the hard times of struggle and sacrifice. Doing it in Christ, through Christ, and for Christ helps me to continue packing for a five day trip away from my wife and family, with a half day commute on both sides.

Praise our one holy and true God!

And thanks again for visiting my blog.