Friday, October 27, 2006

Aye! Oh! Weee!

Howdy. After I got back from San Antonio, I sat around Anchorage for a week, reading silly books and watching C-Span. By the time they were finally ready for me to start my initial operating experience, my brain had turned to putty and I’d forgotten practically everything I’d learned in six weeks of ground school and simulator training. Add to that the fact that we were taking off at 4:00 to 5:00 in the morning, and you have a recipe for the seeming disaster that was my IOE experience. Favorite quotes include “You bust altitudes like other people drink water!” and “Where do you come up with this stuff?! You’re so convincing, but SO WRONG!!” The latter was regarding bogus answers I was giving in response to questions about the IFR alternate airport requirements in our company’s Operations Specifications. Those had been covered in about week two of the training process. Obviously I overestimated my abilities to retain such information. I would have had more luck with questions about candidates for the mid-term election.

Go Me.

In any case, I’m finally flying on line after almost two months of training and initial operating experience. Yesterday was my first day off after 10 days of straight flying. I started feeling better about my performance in the airplane after about day six as well as after some of the other new guys started IOE and I could tell they were going through a very similar experience. I’m still learning a lot (read “Screwing Up”) on every flight, but it keeps getting better.

The flying is very different from what I was doing over the summer. We climb above the clouds here instead of constantly ducking underneath them. On the morning cargo flights, there were several times when I didn’t see a single thing outside the cockpit from the time we took off until the destination runway showed up in the windshield at the bottom of a bumpy instrument approach.

I was having a bit of trouble with my approaches during the first few days. Things were happening really fast and I was having some trouble maintaining situational awareness. I was I was consistently way too fast (or too high, or both) at the initial approach fix because the method I was using didn’t let me monitor the progress of the descent to tell if I was on track or not. This gave me less time to deal with actually flying the approach.

When I started flying with another check airman who had a better method of planning the descent from cruising altitude (about 20,000 ft) to the initial approach altitude (about 3,000 ft), I realized that my trouble on the approaches was starting about 50 miles before the actual approach. So once I got better at planning the descent, the approaches were much more manageable.

That’s just one example of how the learning process has gone over the last couple weeks since I got in the airplane. Landings finally sort of came together on day eight or nine. There are just a lot of things I needed to learn to think about that didn’t really apply when I was flying between the mountains at 500 feet in a Cherokee.

I’m still in Alaska though, and there are definitely some similarities. I was the non-flying-pilot a few days ago when we got bogged down a bit while taking off from a slushy gravel runway on the coast of the Bering Sea. The takeoff ended up fine, but upon landing in Anchorage, we discovered some fairly significant nicks in both propellers. Both were subsequently replaced. A memo is sure to follow.

I’m back in ground school for the next day or so in order to get on the same recurrent training schedule as everybody else. I’m hoping that we talk about IFR alternate airport requirements. I’m ready for him this time! After tomorrow, I’ll probably have about a week off. I’m thinking of trying to jumpseat down to Kansas to see the family for the first time since March. I can do that now. I’m an airline pilot. Go Me.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Better Than A "State Of Denial"

Howdy. Greetings from the “Vagabond Blues” coffee shop in Palmer, Alaska. I drove the hour up here from Anchorage this afternoon to pick up the title to the car I bought a few weeks ago. It’s a ’99 Hyundai Accent. Upon seeing photos, my father, using a newly acquired piece of vocabulary, referred to it as a “hoopty.” Granted, when I found it, body damage on the rear quarter panel required the trunk to be held closed with a bungee cord. I have since secured it from the inside with an industrial strength zip tie. The damage to the sides and the front quarter panel have, at least so far, not required any corrective efforts on my part. The seats are stained with god-knows-what and specked with glitter. In addition to the fact that it only had 53,000 miles and the purchase price was $1,300, all of this leads me to believe that the previous owner was the irresponsible, alcoholic, 16 year old daughter of one of the pillars of this suburban Anchorage community. Seems to run pretty well, though. I just hope it makes it through the winter.

I was awakened at 10:30 this morning by shafts of sunlight shooting through the blinds of my second story bedroom on Government hill. Even though I was still in bed, I could see over downtown Anchorage to the mountains on the opposite side of the valley. The snow is almost perceptibly inching its way down the slopes as the freezing level descends in a Dick Clark style countdown to winter. I got up and made a killer breakfast burrito with eggs, tomatoes, onions, green chili peppers, cheese, and thick slices of bacon.

After a shower, I went to the hangar.

“I just got back from simulator training in San Antonio”, I explained to Ginger the purchasing lady.
“Ah, and you passed your check ride?”
“Yep."
“All right. You’ll need to go and get measured for your pants. You’ll get three pairs and your share is $195. You’ll also need the parka, which is $65. Did you want to get one of the black sweaters?”
“I’m from Kansas. I’ll probably need all the insulation I can get.”
“Yes you will. That’s another $35. We can take $47 out of each of your next six paychecks if you’d like...”
“Uh, yeah."
“OK, here are your wings, epaulettes, tie, and stocking cap.”

Next, I thought I’d see if I could find out when I’ll begin Initial Operating Experience. I couldn’t. After a six week tornado of relocation and all-consuming study of company policies and aircraft systems and procedures, I now find myself restlessly waiting to apply all that I have (or should have) learned. However, it is great to have a chance to breath a bit, do some recreational reading, and worry about the bills I’ve accumulated with the move, the car purchase, and the minimal pay during training.

A couple weeks ago, Mom mentioned to her man-friend that I was in a “state of transition.” He replied that I was always in a state of transition. If you look at the last, oh, eight years, he’s right. As such, it came as a shock to some who know me that I signed a two-year contract with this airline. That’s about four times my tenure with my last three employers. I think that’s a good thing though. If I’d gotten another six month gig, I’d probably have lost all credibility.

Plus, I’m pretty optimistic about this situation. I’ll be home almost every night. I’ll be flying a 17 passenger twin turbo-prop into some really incredible spots (several of our destinations are islands in the Bering Sea). I’ll probably even have the opportunity to do some more bush flying. The schedule here is much better than it was in Juneau. I’m supposed to have 3 days off per week (instead of one), which should give me lots of time to explore all the outdoor spots and community activities available around here. I also have jump seat privileges with most of the big airlines, so I can go pretty much anywhere I want on my days off.

I’m probably going to try to work as much overtime as possible for a while, though.

Gotta pay off the hoopty, yo.