[previous by date]
[previous with aircraft operation]

[next by date]
[next with aircraft operation]

[go to Journal menu]

terry.liittschwager@gmail.com

Santiago, Chile, Holiday Inn Crowne Plaza, Sunday, 1995-12-24 00:30 local (Z-3)

Early morning of Christmas eve, and the only reason I'm writing this at this time of the night is that the message light on the telephone in my room is blinking and won't quit. After I and the hotel operator couldn't get it turned off, I tried to explain to her that I really didn't need it fixed right now, that tomorrow would be fine, but we had a little communication problem: my Spanish wasn't anywhere near good enough, and her English lacked just enough to result in the maintenance man being on his way here in the middle of the night. Hey, their hearts are in the right place so I really can't complain. However, I am tired, and as soon as they get here and fix the phone, I'll stop this and resume after a good sleep.

A number of interesting things starting with the Tower accident at JFK. I talked with the F.O. who brought the plane to us in Viracopos, Brazil (more about Viracopos later). He was in a cockpit jumpseat of the airplane that went off the runway. He lives in Miami and was on his way home. It turns out that there is plenty of potential blame to go around.

The first problem was that the control tower gave them runway 4 left for takeoff in spite of there being a direct crosswind. Apparently the crew questioned this, but the tower informed them other aircraft had used that runway without difficulty. However, the guy I talked to said that when they lined up, he didn't notice any recent tracks in the snow.

The second problem was that, in hindsight, the captain should not have accepted a crosswind slippery runway. However, as I said, the tower said no problem. At this point the captain was in a no-win situation. If he refuses the runway, he causes all sorts of delay, and at Kennedy the pressure to not do that is significant. If he elects to go with that runway, he's got the problem with the crosswind and the slippery runway, which of course is what he elected to do...and he got unlucky. Apparently there's also some controversy over how strong the crosswind was. At this point, of course, everyone is trying to cover their own asses.

Some where around 100 knots (that's 115 mph) the airplane started to drift (either right or left, I don't know which, we'll use right for talking purposes). 100 knots is below V1, the rejection speed. The rule is that if there is a problem below V1, you abort the takeoff. However, there's another rule that says to not use reverse if you're skidding sideways because that aggravates the skid. Actually, it's not a rule, it's a law of physics. The captain is really in a no-win situation now. He knows that his brakes won't be much good on the slippery runway, and he can't hold the airplane on the runway. Should he continue and risk going off the runway at much higher speed. or should he abort. He elected to abort. He may have had one other option which is very nonstandard, but which we will talk about in a bit.

Okay, so now he's aborting and feels he has to use reverse (probably very necessary to keep from going off the end). The use of reverse virtually guarantees drifting off the side of the runway, and that is exactly what the airplane does. Now things get more interesting and illustrate the fact that in accidents, it's often a combination of things that produce the final result.

In this case there's a trench off the side of the runway that the New York Port Authority neglected to fill up. The nose gear drops into the trench and gets ripped off. This puts the airplane's nose on the ground, which then causes one of the engines to get ripped off. Had the trench not been there, they might have just wound up with the embarrassment of an airplane off in the snow.

The FAA has a requirement for what is called a runway clear area, and that clear area extends off the side of the runway. I don't know how far, and the distance may be different for different classes of runways. It turns out that the trench in question is right on the line of what would be legal and what would not. So, Tower is of course saying it's in the clear area. The Port Authority of New York is saying it's not.

...okay, the telephone repairman has come and replaced the phone. I now do not have to put up with the blinking red light. The pair of shorts I had covering it would have been fine until tomorrow, but it gave their midnight maintenance man something to do. So, to bed and I'll finish this tomorrow....


...now 11:00 the same day—still Christmas eve. I got up at 10:00 and went down to breakfast. Continuing on....

The captain perhaps had another option. It's rarely talked about and is never practiced in training—the simulators are not programmed to handle it. Once you start skidding (let's say to the left from a right crosswind), the wheels obviously have already broken loose. You don't have any traction. Insofar as the wheels are concerned, you may as well be in the air. Now, what do you do if you want to follow a given course (in this case the runway) with a direct crosswind. You crab into the crosswind. The captain could have used the rudder (he had sufficient speed for it to be effective enough) to crab the aircraft into the crosswind enough to match the crosswind. He then would have been going down the runway at an angle to the centerline, but he would have been able to stay on the runway if he did it just right. Then, when takeoff speed was reached, a normal rotation could have been made.

It would be a risky maneuver. If you didn't do it just right, you would go off the runway anyway—off the downwind side if you didn't crab enough, off the upwind side if you crabbed too much. Except that now you might be leaving the runway at a speed pushing 200 mph instead of the 115 they were at—few people would walk away from that.

What would I have done. I don't know. I and everybody else analyzing it have the luxury of taking all the time we want to think about it. That captain had a couple of seconds at most.

Now to back up to the incident at Amsterdam a couple of weeks ago. They landed long and decided they needed to go around. A go-around decision once you're on the runway is always subject to raised eyebrows. A captain is always going to have to explain to the chief pilot why he did that. Anyway, they initiated a go around. As they lifted off, whoever was flying allowed the right wing to drop when he rotated. The wing tip and the right outboard engine pod scraped the ground. The aircraft then lifted off, and they came around and landed without incident.

The captain is in trouble on this one regardless of whether he or the f.o. was at the controls. The FAA will question his judgement and also accuse him of failing to control the aircraft.

In theory, pilots at the controls of 747s are supposed to be experienced enough that they will never touchdown at a point on the runway beyond which they will be able to stop. Necessary go-around decisions should always be made before touchdown, and nobody will seriously question a go-around made before touchdown. They may say that they thought it unnecessary, but the rule is that if you're uncomfortable with what you see just prior to touchdown, go around. So it's the flying pilot's call. If the f.o. is flying, the captain can also override him. That's as it should be.

By the way, the touchdown zone of a runway is the first 3,000 feet. Ideally a 747 will touchdown between 1,000 and 2,000 feet from the end. If you touchdown less than 1,000 feet from the end, that's considered cutting it a little close, especially since it indicates that you were a little below the glideslope—a real no-no in the 747. The glideslope (the radio signal that allows you to follow a constant three degree, usually, angle to the runway) intersects the runway 1,000 feet from the end. Thus, if you're on the glideslope, you will always touchdown beyond 1,000 feet. A touchdown between 2,000 and 3,000 feet is okay, just not perfect.

Anything beyond 3,000 feet tends to be questionable. However, many pilots on long runways routinely touchdown beyond 3,000. They hold it off trying for a real greaser. It's no real problem if, say, the runway is 12,000 feet long and dry. I like to follow consistent habit patterns, so my rule is to always be down within the touchdown zone. The one time I took an airplane from an f.o. when I was a captain was on a long landing at Narita (Tokyo). This f.o. had been a captain at another airline. He was an excellent pilot, a better stick than I really (the term “stick”refers to a pilot's ability to maneuver the aircraft in the air—it originates in the fact that aircraft used to have sticks rather than today's control columns). He always tried for greasers. To get them, he'd carry ten knots extra speed into the flair and then float, and float, and float...easing it down. Of course, when he did get down, he had to often really pile on the reverse and the brakes to get it stopped. One day at Narita (13,000 foot runway), he still wasn't down at mid length, in other words, we had six to seven thousand feet of runway behind us. That did it, I pushed the control column forward, forcing it on. We had a little talk later. I told him plainly but nicely that when he was with me, get it down within the touchdown zone. Greasers were nice, but I was tired of overheating brakes and raised blood pressure.

Back to Amsterdam, the next problem is that of their having let the wing drop. It's not unusual for pilots new to the 747 to have a little difficulty with dutch roll in the approach and takeoff configurations. Dutch roll is the term applied to alternate movement about the longitudinal axis of the airplane—rocking back and forth left to right. When the flaps are down, the airplane is not as stable about the longitudinal axis (the longitudinal axis is a line from the nose of the airplane to the tail of the airplane) as it is when the flaps are up. The problem for the pilot is that he may not notice that a wing has dropped a little. He has few cues to alert him when he's on the takeoff roll or the last few feet of the landing. In both those situations, his attention is outside the airplane. He has little time to glance at the artificial horizon inside the airplane, and that's the only real indication he has that a wing is down. Of course, he finally does realize a wing is down, and he then corrects. Possibly, and especially if he's new, he may overcorrect. It's the classic situation. The new guy doesn't realize the need for a correction until he has to make a large correction. Large corrections are harder to make than small corrections. I must have said that last statement to students a thousand times when I was instructing.

I'm wondering if there was a new guy at the controls. The thirteen new f.o.s would be just hitting the line now, and Amsterdam is one of the preferred trips for i.o.e. (initial operating experience). Should that be the case, he will probably be let go (nice way to say that he failed to survive probation) and the check captain with him may lose his check airman status (nice way of saying a reduction in pay).

There's another problem if you're on the takeoff roll, which they were since they had touched down. If you have a crosswind, you should hold a little aileron into the crosswind. That means that if the crosswind is from the right, you hold a little right aileron. When you lift off, you take that out. What happens if you forget to take it out. The right wing will drop.

Or, alternately, what happens if you don't hold aileron into that same right crosswind. You risk the wind getting “under” the right wing and lifting it, which of course puts the left wing down. I don't know yet whether they were contending with a crosswind at Amsterdam.

Enough of accidents and technical stuff!

Since I'm no great lover of Christmas, I really don't mind being on the road now. Really, it's better that someone with young children gets to spend Christmas with them and that I be on the road in their place.

Downtown Santiago looks very deserted from my hotel window here on the 19th floor. At breakfast this morning, there were less than a dozen people in the large dining room. Understandable, this is a business hotel, and business has virtually ground to a halt. In a few minutes I'm going to go for a walk. The skies are clear but very hazy. It's probably smog. I can just barely see the outline of a fairly high mountain ridge that looks almost within walking distance, although the city itself is pretty much on the flat.

My impression so far, gained from a half hour ride from the airport to downtown, is one of busses—thousands, not hundreds, of busses. They're all white on top and yellow from the bottom of the windows down—blanco ye amarillo for those of you studying Spanish. At one point coming in we were on a six lane thoroughfare. A sign over the road indicated the three rightmost lanes were reserved for busses, the two leftmost for cars, and the third from the left for both. I saw signs indicating there is also a subway, but the busses are everywhere.

Lots of taxis, too. Like Buenos Aires, the taxis all have the same color scheme, amarillo y negro (catching on yet? <g>), yellow on top, black on the bottom. I'm told that in Buenos Aires, the color scheme is dictated by law. I would suspect that the same is true here.

We came here yesterday, Friday, from Viracopos, Brazil. Viracopos is about two hours drive northwest of Sao Paulo. We had commercialled Thursday into Sao Paulo from Buenos Aires and then went via van to Viracopos. I was dreading that van ride. The last time I did it (although from Viracopos to Sao Paulo that time), the driver took a freeway that was really rough. I was seriously worried about my laptop surviving all the jolts. What I didn't know was that there's a freeway, very nice, smooth, with three lanes each way. It, however, is a toll road. This time our driver took that route, forking over a total of about $7 at two toll gates.

We stayed at a place called the Royal Palm Hotel & Racquet Club, rated at five stars. I really wouldn't have rated it more than three stars myself. It was out in the middle of nowhere, which made it a nice place from which to run. I got in a long run, was the only runner around, and got lots of stares—primarily friendly I think. I elected to go shirtless during the run. That was a mistake. My bald spot and my shoulders are now sunburned. I would have put on sun screen, but I took it out of my bag to save weight when I wasn't using it, having picked up enough tan during the summer that I didn't need it. The tan has now faded obviously. Really, though, I was surprised to get sunburnt. It was mostly cloudy.

It was obvious that in the Viracopos area they are VERY concerned with security. I ran past this one motel that was surrounded by a wall about twelve feet high. On top of the wall were four strands of wire. The bottom three were barbed, the top was smooth and mounted on insulators. Obviously it was electrified. There was even an enclosed observation tower at one corner of the compound. The tower had two slits on each side. If you were looking through the top slit (larger than the bottom one), the smaller lower slit would be at the correct height through which to fire an automatic weapon. The gate leading in was like a big cell door. No way a person could get through it even on foot.

A little bit further down the road was a very poor area. Maybe that was the reason for the fortifications at the motel.

Lots of trash on the road side. Much worse than in the U.S.

The commercial flight from Buenos Aires to Sao Paulo on Thursday was interesting in that I spent two hours in a very interesting conversation with a young Argentinean woman who spoke excellent English, the result of having gone to a U.S. university (she's from a well-off family—her father's a retired Air Force officer and now an attorney). She was from the extreme north of Argentina, by their border with Bolivia. After we had talked for awhile, we got to the topic of politics, both Argentinean and U.S. She then asked me why the U.S. was being so foolish when it came to cocaine. Wow, to ask me that of all people. When I told her my views (i.e. legalize), she really opened up. It turned out that her brother is politically active in opposing American involvement (i.e. the DEA) in the area to solve what is a U.S. problem. I won't bore you with all the details of the conversation, but the thing that sticks in my mind most was her personal attitude towards cocaine. That word, cocaine, has been so demonized in our country it is synonymous with evil to many. In her view, cocaine is one of the world's great blessings. Her family often goes hiking in the Andes, and she said they wouldn't think of doing that without each person, children included, having an acuyico (pronounced a-koo-zee-ko). An acuyico is the wad of coca leaves they keep in their mouth. They pick a few leaves, chew it a bit, and then just let the wad set in one cheek. She says it tastes like grass (that's grass grass, not marijuana) for a bit, but you get used to that. The slow delivery of the cocaine allows them to function at those altitudes. In her words, “your lungs would explode” if you didn't use it. That's not really a good metaphor. The times I've been at high altitude heavily exerting myself, it was my heart rate that was going out of sight. Come to think of it, my lungs felt kind of funny too.

I pointed out to the girl that the U.S. had not always been so foolish, that cocaine was used in the original recipes of both Coca-Cola and Pepsi. Coca-Cola, of course, get's its name from that original ingredient.

Time for a walking tour of Santiago. Bye for now...Terry

[previous by date]
[previous with aircraft operation]

[next by date]
[next with aircraft operation]

[go to Journal menu]

terry.liittschwager@gmail.com