Final Argosy Part Four - Adios Amigos

By Tony Vallillo (9 April 2009)

A nap and a late wake-up are as good a preparation for an all-nighter as can be had. Thus, when the phone rings at 6pm I am inclined to answer the call, rather than go AWOL in the interest of a few more hours of sleep! Up and at 'em, as the saying goes! And so, for the final time in these southern latitudes, I gird myself for the task at hand - a farewell to the skies of South America.

In reality, a week has passed since the Montevideo trip I described for you in the last installment. The flight I am now preparing for is the second leg of the short layover version of the BA trip, one of which cropped up at the end of my monthly schedule, the better to put the final significant figures on the monthly paycheck, or rather, as is now the case, on the monthly direct deposit! Perhaps it is fitting that my very last South America trip is the same as my first - just down and back!

As we gather for pickup, the daily pour-out is once again in full swing in the crew room, and we can avail ourselves of the opportunity for some cheese and crackers (wine, of course, is off the menu tonight!!) and a reunion with yet another group of our friends and fellow crewmembers. After sharing a few pleasantries, and confirming for a few hopeful copilots and less senior captains that yes, this probably will be my last BA trip (thereby making their day, as Clint Eastwood might have put it!) I board the bus and we are whisked away through the early evening's pink glow to the airport, some 45 minutes away.

We arrive at Ezieza at the busiest time of the day. The terminal is overflowing with passengers all of whom will depart between now and midnight on flights that are headed north. The cabin crew heads directly to the gates, but the F/O's and I have to pick our way carefully through the crowd to get behind the ticket counters and into the operations office. This small complex of offices serves not only as flight ops but also as the back office for the entire ticket counter operation. Once again it is manned, in this busiest of times, exclusively by young men and women. I am the only greybeard in sight as I take off the jacket-of-lights and prepare to examine the voluminous documentation for flight 956, the flip-side of the flight that brought us down yesterday.

A section of the flight plan, with the terrain enroute alternate section highlighted.

The No-Fly area on the Jepp chart.

Weather satellite image for the evening, with the route overlaid in yellow.

Right away I am pleased. The dispatcher has chosen a different route than the usual one, which more or less reverses the route we took on the way down here. Tonight he has chosen instead a route that takes us up just east of the Andes, crossing the mountains in Columbia and going feet-wet near Barranquilla, an old colonial town in the heart of the Spanish Main. From Barranquilla we will head almost straight north over Jamaica, Cuba and Nassau, joining the Atlantic Routes (AR routes) as if this were a flight from MIA to JFK. This is different enough from the norm, at least south of Jamaica, to be worth looking forward to!

You may wonder why such a small thing as a different route adds interest to a flight, at least for me. Well, after flying the same routes many times over the years, it is always good to have a change of scenery, even if you can't see what lies below, as will be the case this evening. The mind is challenged with the occasional new consideration, such as the terrain awareness issues we will bear in mind tonight, and even the communications with different ATC facilities makes for a wee spark of interest! Not that flying can ever be truly boring you understand; but it can acquire a sameness that, at an extreme, can have a soporific effect on certain mental processes best kept sharp. So I am indeed pleased to find that my last traverse of these skies will be via the route less traveled.

As is usually the case for a flight of this duration, the plan is lengthy and will probably choke the FMC as we try to load it! The route is as follows:

BIVA 2 A BIVAM, UW8 ERE, UL417 UMZ, UB503 ENAMO, B503 ZQA, BARTS, AR3 OLDEY, DIW, WETRO, CEBEE, SWL, J121 SIE, CAMRN 4 JFK

Because we will actually cross some significant mountains on this flight, terrain clearance becomes an issue both in terms of planning, and in terms of the actual operation of the trip. There is an additional notation on this flight plan, about halfway down the list of waypoints, called "Enroute Alternate Information". No, we won't be over long stretches of water on this flight, and ETOPS will not be a consideration. But some of the terrain we are proposing to fly over exceeds the single engine ceiling of the airplane at the estimated weights that would prevail at that moment in the flight. If we were to suffer an engine failure over terrain like that we would be faced with an immediate need to maneuver toward lower ground. Such potential events are worth pre-planning for, and so it is that the flight planning system has calculated a decision point for us - a point at which we would be more or less equidistant from lower terrain in either the direction we are headed or the direction from which we came.

Awaiting the last pushback from Buenos Aires.

The terminal in twilight, shortly after the last salute.

Over the years this part of the planning system has undergone a few changes, as refinements have been incorporated. Originally there was no special plan included with the flight plan, and terrain avoidance was simply the responsibility of the Captain. While this is still true, it became clear over time that certain tools could make the decision process more effective. Decision points began to appear on flight plans about a decade ago, and on some flights that spent considerable time over high terrain there appeared more than one such point, occasionally three or four. Between each pair of decision points there was an enroute alternate selected, the direct route to which was determined to be within single engine glide distance of suitably lower terrain. In other words, if you lost an engine at any moment between a pair of decision points, you were assured of terrain clearance provided you turned immediately to a direct course to the applicable enroute alternate and flew the single engine drift-down speed profile. (This is a different, and much slower, speed than we would use after an engine failure on the ETOPS flights, where time to alternate is the important consideration, not altitude. The non-ETOPS drift down speed is very close to VRef plus 100 knots, and would be somewhere around 250 knots for most of our flight tonight.)

At this point it may be worth revisiting an important performance consideration. Any multi-engine airplane will have an engine-out performance ceiling which is a function of weight and the air temperature that exists at altitude. The higher the weight, and/or the higher the temperature, the lower the altitude that can be maintained with one engine inoperative. In the 767, the difference between the normal cruise altitude and the engine out maximum altitude can be considerable - often over 10,000 feet, and the terrain in areas like the Andes can easily reach higher than the altitude the airplane can maintain on one engine!

Fortunately, the Andes are, in most places, a relatively narrow mountain chain and can be traversed within the span of distance that would encompass a single engine descent to the maximum single engine altitude. This drift-down distance can be 100 miles or more, and we can use this period of time to turn toward the lowest terrain. The flight plan locates the critical points for us and shows the path of least terrain resistance, as it were.

Since we will be skirting the edge of the Andes tonight, we will only need to concern ourselves with one decision point a bit south of La Paz, in Bolivia. Here, between the points ASUVO and DELMA, we will overfly terrain in excess of 18,000 feet, and a simple straight-ahead-or-return plan with no enroute alternate will suffice to keep us clear of the terrain if we had to descend. Later, far to the north, we will actually cross the mountains in northern Columbia, but by that time our single engine maximum altitude will be comfortably above the 16,000 foot terrain in the area, and no special plan or decision points are needed.

The fuel plan is typical for a long flight. The total release fuel here at EZE is 145,811 lb, of which 118,455 lb will be consumed in the flight to JFK itself, and the remainder will provide our reserves and fuel to the alternate, which is KIAD. The dispatcher has thoughtfully provided fuel for holding at JFK before diverting to IAD, although at 711 lb this is only worth about 5 minutes, just about 1 circuit of the holding pattern! Hardly enough to do more than arrange for the clearance to Dulles!

The TPS shows a planned takeoff weight very close to the maximum: 406,300 lb. The flight is nearly full - only nine seats are expected to remain empty, all in coach. These 216 passengers weigh, according to the FAA, 42,012 lb, which works out to around 195 lb each; a number which I'm sure is not too flattering to the female passengers! Of course this includes clothing and carry-on items as well; which can, as you all know, amount to a good chunk of weight. In the old days, the airlines got an individual weight for each passenger, but over time the regulations changed and incorporated an average weight, one for men and another for women, that increased during specified winter months. For some unusual passenger groups, like sports teams, real weights are sometimes used, but this is not something the average line pilot sees often.

The weather is a mixed bag tonight. Here in Argentina, of course, it is summer, and a beautiful summer evening at that! Scattered clouds, excellent visibility, the wind right down runway 11 and a temperature of 80 degrees will make for a comfortable walk-around for the FB, if nothing else. JFK, at this moment, is almost identical, except for the temperature - a chilly 29 degrees F. But the forecast is a different story, for a fast moving low pressure system has the New York area in its sights. By the time we get there tomorrow morning, things may deteriorate to a visibility of 1.5 miles in rain and fog under a 900 foot overcast sky. Dulles, our alternate, will get the precipitation as a mix of snow and rain, but will clear up by the time we would need to go there, and is forecast to have a ceiling of around 3500 feet, with visibility around 5 miles - more than enough for our purposes.

Buenos Aires, 10,000 feet below.

The satellite picture shows why the dispatcher chose the western route - unstable air over the Brazilian jungles is setting off thunderstorms throughout the Amazon basin, with another cluster around the Columbia-Peru border. Only the latter will concern us this evening, and there is a good chance that activity will have petered out by the time we get there. From Barranquilla northward, things look to be good

Mechanically the airplane is sound, and only an inoperative galley oven appears on the flight plan summary of deferred items. There is a note about doing an autoland on this leg, and since the leg is indeed mine, being my last traverse of southern skies, I may be able to accommodate the powers that be on arrival at JFK, depending upon the runway in use. In order for the autoland system to remain certified, an actual automatic landing must be performed and logged every few months. If this is not done, the airplane is restricted to higher landing minimums, and a maintenance inspection of the autopilot system must be performed to return the ship to CAT IIIB status. Since this is an extra bit of work for the already busy maintenance troops, and can be avoided simply by using the autoland system in good or bad weather on occasion, I try to perform and log an autoland whenever the note appears on the flight plan. The note makes its appearance a couple of weeks ahead of the actual deadline, the better to ensure an opportunity to exercise the system. Since I still have a number of opportunities ahead in the next month to indulge myself in the search for the perfect manual landing, I might as well take advantage of the opportunity to perform what may well be my last automatic one. We shall see what we shall see!

After checking all of this, we gather the paperwork and head back through the crowd to the security area for inspection. Once clear of security and passport control, we find ourselves in one of the best stocked duty-free areas in the world! The first item in this delightful gauntlet, and from my point of view the most marvelous, is the perfume area! Fear not, for I am not about to buy anything, even for She-Who-Must, who avoids most fragrances due to various sensitivities. Rather it is the perfume sample girls who always attract my attention! These beauties, chosen from among the bumper crop in BA, one of the world's greatest concentrations of beautiful women, have always ensured that I arrived at the aircraft wide awake, if perhaps a bit breathless on occasion! Tonight, as if it were common knowledge that this is my final trip, there are on duty four of the most beautiful girls I have ever been this close to, and I indulge myself in the fantasy that they are here, as worthy representatives of all of their fellow perfume girls, solely to bid me farewell!

Arriving at the airplane, I find the usual flurry of activity. Since this trip is the short layover version, we are going back with the same cabin crew we brought down yesterday. Thus no introductions are needed, and only a briefing on the expected conditions enroute is in order, a duty quickly tended to prior to the boarding of the passengers. The flight attendants have everything in hand in the cabin, which is often no easy task, since their checklist of things to attend to is as long as ours is up front. One of the advantages of flying with senior cabin crew is that you have the benefit of considerable experience - decades in some cases, and it pays off in many ways! I also make a point of seeking out several of the station personnel that I have come to know over the years and thanking them for the outstanding support they have provided. They are kind enough to express similar sentiments and to assure me that She and I will be welcome if our travels bring us back this way, something I sincerely hope will be the case.

Once the passengers start boarding, things happen quickly, and we are soon buttoned up and ready to go. Ground clears us for push and the tug digs in and starts shoving. Again I hold off on engine start until the pushback is complete. After the ground man's final salute, the last I will receive down here, we start the relatively short taxi over to runway 11. Before I have time to brood upon the fact that this is the last adios, it is time to advance the throttles and roll.

Once we are airborne, tower clears us for a left turn direct on course. I bid them farewell and add a sincere gracias amigos for their great work over the years, and then we are over to departure and cleaning the airplane up as we cross over downtown BA on the way north. I spare a single moment for what I hope will not be a last look at one of my favorite places, now alive with activity in the early evening. No more than a glance, though, because the flap retraction speed is once again very close to the flap limit speed and we don't want to overspeed the slats!

BA as we head up the Plate - the final farewell!

The Andes appear on the terrain display to the west of our route. The highest terrain depicted on the screen is around 21,000 feet.

When the airplane is cleaned up and we have accelerated to climb speed we can settle back and enjoy the view. This is surely the greatest "corner office" view in the world, and it has always been one of my favorite things about the job. North of BA itself, the ground lights become sparse compared to the USA, and there are times when the number of lights on the ground just about matches the number of visible stars; creating a fascinating illusion that you are suspended in space, with stars both above and below! Astronauts have a better view, but they only get to enjoy it a few times in a long career. We, on the other hand, can indulge ourselves several times a week.

The next order of business is the break plan. This leg, of course, leaves much earlier in the evening than the flight down, and so we are all much better rested. That means that single breaks are the order of the day, and I choose the last one so as to enjoy any scenery that may be on order. Our meals are not long in arriving either, since this cabin crew is one of the best! So for the first few hours we enjoy la cuisine de l'air, keep the carrot in front of the mule just so, and make such ATC reports as are required. As we depart each country's airspace, I again express my gratitude for their contributions to many years of safe flying in these skies.

Safe flying in these skies is not a given. It has always been a major challenge to keep some altitude between the airplane and the mountains, especially back in the days before moving maps and EGPWS. It actually amazes me, as I read books like Flying the Andes (William A. Krusen, University of Tampa Press 1997), that the pilots of Panagra, to say nothing of the other early South American airlines, established such an outstanding safety record in the really old days, before WWII. The performance of the airplanes in that era was just barely adequate to struggle through the passes, well below the actual mountaintops. They managed to do this in all kinds of weather, with no real navigation aids other than an acute sense of pilotage, and they usually made it through unless the airplane itself failed them.

Today the airplanes almost never fail. The big challenge is situational awareness. Since we no longer fly between the mountains but rather over them, we do not have that intuitive sense of precise location that the pioneers had to cultivate. Instead, we have modern navigation aids that provide the precise location without our having to sense it for ourselves. This is both good and bad. It is good in the sense that all it takes is a glance at the Nav Display to assimilate everything that we need to know to keep ourselves separated from the granite. But it is bad in the sense that if, for whatever reason, the systems fail us, we may have little to fall back on in the first few seconds. Were that to happen in an environment where terrain clearance was already critical, such as during an arrival into an airport in a mountainous area, our luck might run out very quickly.

Twice during my career crews from the organization I was flying for found themselves in this situation. A C-141 from my unit at Charleston lost track of their exact position in the days before INS, and flew into a mountain on arrival into La Paz. Lack of navaids (no DME) and stronger than forecast headwinds fooled the navigator into thinking they were beyond the peaks. 25 years later one of our 757's didn't make it into Cali Columbia. Confusion over two navaids with the same identifier in the middle of an enroute descent put them below the level of the surrounding terrain. They recognized the peril of their situation seconds too late; after initiating a climb they failed to clear the terrain by a mere 100 feet.

As we come upon our closest proximity to the mountains I cannot help but think back on these two mishaps. One of them (the C-141) involved a pilot training classmate of mine, and it is easy to imagine myself in that cockpit. Would I have continued a descent based on what was undoubtedly only a best estimate of position, or would I have opted for the more conservative choice - remaining at an altitude higher than any terrain within 100 miles or so and commencing descent in a holding pattern at the La Paz VOR. All navigation charts have had minimum altitudes printed on them since long before I learned to fly and, in theory at least, one can avoid hitting the ground by maintaining the appropriate minimum altitude at all times. But years of radar service in the USA and Europe, with the controllers applying radar minimum altitudes and pilots accepting the assigned altitudes more or less without question, can dull the senses. Of course I know what I would do now, after the fact. But these men were just as good as I consider myself to be, and if it could happen to them...

The FO's have altered the nomenclature on the progress page!!

After the Cali accident, the industry quickly adopted the latest improvement in the GPWS line - the Enhanced GPWS, or EGPWS for short. This is what we fly with today, and it has made situational awareness and terrain avoidance much more intuitive. In essence, an accurate worldwide terrain elevation database, derived mostly from various Space Shuttle radar imaging missions and essentially similar to the terrain database in MSFS, resides within some computer or other on the airplane. It gets the airplane position from the FMC and passes info to it for display on the nav display, if the pilot chooses to select terrain data in lieu of radar. If the airplane gets into a dangerous situation vis-a-vis terrain, the EGPWS overrides the radar, if necessary, and puts up a graphic display of the terrain, accompanied by the usual audio warnings like "Whoop Whoop Pull Up". This warning comes much sooner than the original GPWS warning, which was triggered only by the radar altimeter registering minimum clearance more or less below the aircraft - the system was unaware of what lay ahead along the flight path.

Our charts have improved as well. There is, nowadays, a large red-bordered area encompassing the highest terrain levels in the Andes into which AA airplanes will not be dispatched, except for the 757 on flights to airports such as La Paz, which lie within the mountains. The 757 is used for flights into the higher elevation airports for two reasons - superior performance, and a passenger oxygen system that has been designed to allow for a level-off at 25,000 feet for a certain amount of time, rather than an immediate descent to 10,000 feet. This is actually an important consideration in places like South America, where in some locations descent below 20,000 feet or so may not be possible for many minutes.

All is well for us, however, as we fly just to the east of the main cordillera, which is now visible by moonlight to our left. Unfortunately, the moonlight is not bright enough to get a picture. The mountains, while still many miles off to the side, are close enough that the movement of the airplane would blur them during the long time exposure that would be necessary in these conditions. Some sights are eyes only!

The first break comes and goes, and I step back to the cabin for a brief visit to the privy during the "shift change". Things are quiet in the back, as you might expect at Oh-dark-thirty. It is on these flights, the red-eyes, that a deeper sense of the responsibility of the job tends to sink in. The passengers are all asleep, or trying to be, at any rate. They trust us completely with their continued well being, even to the point of dozing off, oblivious to considerations like terrain clearance or alternate airports or weather or all of the other things we must keep track of up front. That is our job, and the fact that they count on us to do it is perhaps the greatest of all of the wonderful aspects of this career. This is something I will miss, when the day comes.

Before too long we come upon the area, in southern Columbia, where thunderstorms were forecast. The forecasts appear to be accurate, although there is plenty of room to stay clear of the cells themselves. This is just as well, since we have entered a high cirrus layer and are now flying on instruments. In the old days, pilots used their intuition and/or experience to pick their way through what they hoped would be the soft spots in lines of thunderstorms, guided by lightning flashes (to be avoided) and perhaps the ADF, which when tuned to any part of the frequency band with no broadcast signal would usually point erratically toward the area of greatest electrical activity (also to be avoided). Neither method worked all that well; and perhaps the principal reason why more aluminum was not scattered across the landscape was that the early transports, like the DC-3 and the DC-4, were built hell-for-stout and were actually capable of penetrating at least the lesser thunderstorms and emerging in one piece. Most of the time, at any rate.

The advent of weather radar, in the late 1950's, brought a great deal of relief to the passengers of that and all subsequent eras - relief from the truly frightening turbulence and rain and hail of a thunderstorm penetration. Today radar is pretty much a no-go item when planning a flight through an area where storms are forecast or reported. Ours is working perfectly tonight, and we can see the actual storm cells clearly. They are widely scattered, and no real deviation is required to avoid them by 20 or more miles. Even so, due to the static buildup from flying through the ice-crystal-laden cirrus layer, we are treated to a display of the aeronautical version of St. Elmo's fire. The first manifestation of this phenomenon is a dancing display of miniature lightning in the electrically heated front windshields. This might be a bit alarming to the novice, but it is harmless, and this is as much of it as we encounter tonight. At a lower altitude, the nose and windshield wiper bolts, to say nothing of the wingtips and tail might pick up an eerie glow, as did the masts and rigging of the sailing ships of an earlier time. The airplane might even trigger a static discharge, which sounds like it has been hit by a thunderbolt, and can occasionally send the electronics into a trance. Modern fly-by-wire airplanes are supposedly hardened against any ill effects from this sort of thing, but we need not concern ourselves now because the 767 is comfortably old technology. Actual control of the airplane is not dependent upon electricity.

St. Elmo's fire, aeronautical version - time exposure over 15 seconds.

Soon enough we are beyond the weather and into the clear once again, just in time to see Barranquilla and Cartagena pass beneath us as we go feet-wet for the first time tonight. As we head out over the Spanish Main toward Jamaica and Cuba I bid a last farewell to a great continent, a magnificent corner of this earth that has been a part of my career almost from the beginning. Adios, Amigos! I hope to visit again!

From here on north the run is essentially similar to a trip from Aruba to JFK. We fly over Kingston Jamaica, now sleeping in the wee hours of the morning, and head north for Cuba. For many years, until after 9-11, we carried special charts in our flight manuals for planning in the event that we might have to actually go to Havana uninvited. In the old days that was the only way we would have ever entered Cuban airspace, but things have changed very much for the better in the ensuing years and the airways of Cuba are now open to us. The controllers there are among the best in the area, with good radar and a superb command of English, which is just as well for me, since my command of Spanish goes but little beyond Adios Amigos! Soon enough we will probably be flying scheduled trips to places in Cuba other than Guantanamo, but my involvement in that will be only as a passenger!

We enter Miami Center airspace at ENAMO, and with a bit less than 3 hours remaining it is time for me to hit the sack. But first, I take a quick look at the JFK weather. Things are holding up for the moment, with good visibility and a mid-level overcast. They are currently using runway 22L, which works for me because it is a CAT III runway now, and perfectly suited to host an automatic landing, which, as I mentioned, the airplane is in need of. In fact, with lower ceilings and visibilities to the west, we may well be flying an ILS approach for real by the time we get there.

There is yet another factor that we must consider, one which we do not encounter often. Normally, an early arrival is a good thing, within the limits of gate availability. Gate availability is no problem this morning since we will arrive long before much else gets going at JFK. But Customs availability is another matter. The Customs area at our terminal does not open until 0600, which is only 5 minutes prior to our scheduled arrival time of 0605. If we arrive earlier than 0600 everyone will have to remain on the airplane until Customs gets ready to receive the throng downstairs. So this is one time when we most assuredly do not want to arrive early! It is good to start checking this closely around 3 hours out, and at this point it looks like we may have to slow down a tad, since we are running about 20 minutes ahead of the schedule. Therefore, just before retiring to the crew rest seat, I order a change of speed. We have actually been flying at Mach .78 all night, as per the flight plan, a target which I now reduce to Mach .77. This should be enough for now, and any further reduction can be made during the descent and arrival.

My break passes quickly and all too soon I am back on the flight deck, trying to get my brain in sync with the airplane for the final lap of the trip. We are passing Sea Isle, on the Delmarva Peninsula, and will start descending shortly. I note that we are still running close to 15 minutes ahead of schedule, which would put us on the gate before 0600. I decide to conduct the descent at the FMC economy speed, around 250 knots indicated, which is much slower than our normal enroute descent speed of around 300 knots. The FMC uses a cost index to compute its "economy" speed schedule, and tonight the index the company provided us was 11. A number that low essentially biases the computer in the direction of fuel savings, and results in a very slow descent speed, to say nothing of a cruise speed down around Mach .78, which we had been maintaining until I started my break. We are able to use this low number because the overall wind situation was favorable and the flight plan time less than the scheduled time. Had there been more of a headwind, the dispatcher would have provided a higher cost index, perhaps over 100, to bias the FMC toward thinking that time is more valuable than fuel. This would result in higher speeds all around, instead of the slower profile we are using now.

A descent from 37,000 feet at 250 knots indicated is a prolonged affair, but that is exactly what we want now. That should add around 5-7 minutes to our flight, and any additional foot-dragging can be done on the taxi-in. So let it be written, so let it be done! By the time we are cleared for the ILS 22L approach, we are estimating touchdown at 0555, and that should put us at the gate comfortably after 0600.

The arcing is actually within or on the outside of the window - you can touch the inside of the panel and feel nothing!

7 hours into the flight the FO once again finds self expression on the FMC!

The weather is still VMC, but I plan, brief and fly an automatic landing on 22L, as requested. Otto does his usual fine job, and before I know it the flight is over. As I taxi to the terminal the thought crosses my mind that I have now entered what is likely to be the final month of my AA career, for it is the morning of the 1st of March. Up to this point, there have always been other bid sheets to come, and additional months of flying to do. Now we are down to one. And the first of my significant final argosies is in the log book. But this probably final month still has within it a number of flights, to a number of wonderful places, so I am not burdened by sadness. There is much to look forward to, and much yet to enjoy. See you in Ops for the next installment!

Anthony Vallillo
avallillo@charter.net