//------------------------------// // An Ordinary Storm, Just Mother Nature // Story: Pilot Betrayed // by Split Scimitar //------------------------------// “N475UA, Convective SIGMET issued for Iowa, Illinois, Minnesota, North Dakota, Nebraska, South Dakota, Wisconsin. From 40 miles west-northwest of Dauphin to 130 miles east of Moose Jaw to 110 miles west of Thunder Bay to 100 miles north-northwest of Eau Claire to 50 miles east of Duluth; moving from 310 degrees at 35 knots. Tops to Flight Level 420.” “N475UA, roger. Looks like we’ll be passing right in front of it. Thanks for the help.” A couple of minor jolts not outside abnormal warrant a cabin announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve just received word of some turbulence ahead, so please return to your seats, fasten your seatbelts, and secure all loose items at this time.” In anticipation of meeting the frontal system, I buckle up, reduce speed to recommended turbulent air penetration, flip the seat belt sign on, and prepare to hand fly. Noting N2 for airspeed under normal conditions, I disengage the auto throttle and dial the throttles back a few percent N1. As soon as I place my hands on the stick and throttles, the first big jolt hits the aircraft. Enough to displace my head a few degrees, I glue my eyes to the Primary Flight Display and start scanning the other instruments. Even though I can still see the stars, I have no verifiable visual horizon, seeing as it’s pretty late in the night. The turbulence intensifies considerably, comparable to driving in Michigan before road repair season, on steroids. A few seconds later, I encounter the first wind shear. I increase N2 a few percentage points before disengaging the autopilot, hand flying the airplane allowing at most a change in 50-75 feet. A couple minutes of manual control pretty quickly lead to more than I bargained for. The fly by wire system is interfering with my ability to fly the airplane. As a result, I turn off all the computers for the control surfaces so I can get the maximum control response. Suddenly, another big jolt hits, which makes me bump the stick just a little too much. As I correct for it, I hear the faint sound of gasping and yelping from the back. “Ladies & gentlemen, please remain seated as the seatbelt sign is on.” I speak to the cabin before the shaking further intensifies. Airspeed fluctuates drastically as the airplane gets tossed every which way in response to wind shear. The trapezoid sloshes left and right, my eyes eventually become unable to hold a good scan, and now lightning decides to join in the fun. The cockpit door comes loose from its rope and slams shut. Any screams from the cabin are now lost as I fight for control. Turbulence is now severe enough to jostle my headset loose as the storm barrels towards us. It’s pretty close to uncontrollable up here. From one side, a gust sends us into a Dutch roll. As soon as I correct for it, more air being displaced by the storm spills onto us, sending the aircraft in different movements along all three axes, often in opposition, causing lots of sideslip. Suddenly, we hit the biggest air pocket tonight, which shears to a tailwind and plummets us out of our altitude sector, sending stomachs into chests as if we were struck down by the god of thunder himself. “Friendship 1, you are 200 below your assigned altitude. Climb and maintain FL360.” “FL360, in severe turbulence, aircraft control difficult, Friendship 1.” “Friendship 1, roger.” Just as I recover to cruising, another set of strong convective pockets strikes the aircraft with enough force to put the aircraft into considerable zero-G parabolas; I float in my seat then settle back down hard enough to get the seat to creak. “Friendship 1, Winnipeg.” “Friendship 1, *oof*, go ahead.” I say counteracting another Dutch roll. “Friendship 1...” Suddenly, the radio and all the cabin lights go out, leaving the cockpit pitch black. “Shit.” I whisper to myself. Immediately, I grab a red flashlight and the emergency checklist. “If you can hear me, Winnipeg, Friendship 1…” Immediately however I realize “everything’s dead. I was just shouting to myself.” Attempts to restart the generators are futile, so I have to start the APU using the last of battery power I have left. Off the backup instruments, I trim for level flight at 36,000’ as the air starts to smooth out. A few moments later, I get the APU started, and the turbulence picks back up, rocking the airplane with enough force to send us into some pretty radical zero g parabolas. Amidst the NASA preview, I hear banging on the cockpit door. Bravely, I get out of my seat to open it, but just as I let Twilight in, a jolt sweeps me off balance, slamming my head into the shelf where all the aircraft manuals are kept. “Oh my gosh! Are you okay?!” “I’m fine.” I spit out as I recover from having just been mildly concussed. “You were supposed to stay seated.” Twilight though presents me with a bottle of water and sits in the right seat as I stop another Dutch roll. “Back to the checklist.” I then say after I reengage the autopilot. “APU and APU generator on. All primary displays returning to life, let’s get the generators restarted.” I continue. “Cycle, attempt restart?” The load meter soars when I turn on the generator. I can breathe a sigh of relief when the generator starts up again, evidenced by the load meter dropping back down and the fault light going out. “Generator 1 online! Generator 2, ready for restart!” Suddenly, the fault light re-illuminates. “Oh, come on.” I whisper. “Let’s try number 2.” “Generator 2… alight!” Unlike generator 1, this one stays on. I restore autopilot and attempt to restart generator 1 again. One extra cycling of the switch, both generators return to normal, but as soon as I put my headset on, Twilight starts panicking. “Twilight, are you okay?” “I...” “Think...” “So...” She says between breaths. “You sick?” “No. I don’t get motion sick.” “Can you make it back to the cabin in case you need a sick bag?” “I’ll be fine. Just do what you need to do.” “Okay.” “Winnipeg Center, Friendship 1.” No response. “Winnipeg, Friendship 1?” “Friendship 1, Winnipeg, how do you read?” “Loud and clear, Friendship 1.” “Is everything okay?” “Affirm, but a pan, pan, pan. Request immediate diversion to best available airport.” “Friendship 1, roger. Stand by for reroute.” “Roger.” “Friendship 1, ready to copy?” “Affirm.” I say with a clipboard handy. “Friendship 1, cleared to Yellowknife airport via YWG J542 YNE NCA15 YSM V21 YZF. Maintain FL320, squawk 1277.” “Cleared to Yellowknife airport via Winnipeg, J542, Norway House, NCA15, Fort Smith, V21, Yellowknife VOR. Maintain FL320, squawk 1277, Friendship 1.” “Friendship 1, readback correct. Will you need emergency services upon landing at Yellowknife?” “Negative, Friendship 1.” “Friendship 1, roger, proceed direct YWG.” “Direct Winnipeg, descending FL320, Friendship 1.” I then get on the PA and announce, “Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize. Due to mechanical issues, we will be diverting to Yellowknife to inspect the airplane. We’ll keep you informed as information becomes available, but for now, please sit back, relax, and prepare for landing. We do ask that you double check the security of our overhead bins and seatbelts, thank you.” Twilight then comes into the cockpit and taps me on the shoulder. I remove an earpiece to give her attention. “You okay?” She asks me. “I should be asking you. Are your belongings secure?” “Yeah.” “Anything come out of the bins?” “Yes, but no damage.” “Good thing.” She says as she takes the right seat. As she fiddles with the belt, I check the fly by wire computers. Hand flying and testing for mushy response, I breathe a sigh of relief and leave them on, so I’ll try and autopilot as much as possible. “Winnipeg, Friendship 1.” “Friendship 1, Winnipeg, go ahead.” “Friendship 1, I need to file an urgent PIREP.” “Roger, stand by.” “Go ahead.” “Friendship 1, from WIEDS intersection, W-I-E-D-S, to Winnipeg VOR, continuous severe turbulence and frequent extreme chop at FL360, first encountered at 0320Z, lasting from about 5 miles NW WIEDS to about 50 miles N of Winnipeg.” “Friendship 1, roger. Say type aircraft.” “Friendship 1 is an Airbus A320.” “Friendship 1, roger. Any other pertinent information?” “Friendship 1, temperature at altitude was minus 8, and in remarks, “strong convective activity, possibly Alberta clipper related, knocked out all of our generators.” “Friendship 1, roger. So, what I have here is “urgent PIREP over WIEDS, W-I-E-D-S at 0320Z, reported by an Airbus A320 at FL360, temperature -8º, continuous severe and frequent extreme chop, remarks, “strong Alberta clipper convective activity, knocked out all your generators.” “Affirm, Friendship 1.” “Friendship 1, roger. Thanks for the PIREP. Descend and maintain FL200, vectors to Yellowknife.” “200, vectors to Yellowknife, Friendship 1.” A few seconds after I set the autopilot, I then say, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now beginning our descent into Yellowknife at this time. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts securely. Please also at this time secure all loose articles and belongings, lower armrests, return your tray tables and seat backs to the full upright and locked position, thank you.” “Friendship 1, proceed direct ITNOT, cross at or below 1,700 and below 220 knots.” “Direct ITNOT, cross at or below 1,700 and below 220 knots, Friendship 1.” Altitude, airspeed set, auto spoilers armed, auto brakes, set to 2. “Approach brief: we can expect runway 16/34, 7,503’ available, airport elevation 675’. Approach speeds, at our current weight, we’ll want to fly the approach at 140 knots, Vref 135 once established, touchdown at 128. Twilight, you mind holding these things?” I ask as she takes my iPad and clipboard. “Uh, Max, did you want me to write that down?” “I already know those by heart, but if you want to, you can.“ “Okay.” “Ever wanted to see a landing from the cockpit?” “Never gave it much thought.” “You’ll get to see one now, albeit in nighttime conditions.” “Sweet!” “Friendship 1, would you like the visual?” “Affirm, Friendship 1.” “Friendship 1, roger. Descend and maintain 2,000, report the airport in sight.” “2,000, looking for the field, Friendship 1.” Speed to 150 now. Flaps 1. Below VLO, gear down. “Field in sight, Friendship 1.” “Friendship 1, roger. Radar service terminated, change to advisory frequency approved. Good night.” “Good night, thanks for the help, Friendship 1.” “Yellowknife traffic, Airbus N475UA is 15 SSE, inbound landing runway 16.” Flaps 2. “Yellowknife traffic, Airbus N475UA, left downwind 16, Yellowknife.” “Speed to VREF, 140. Flaps 3.” “Flaps full. Initiate pattern landing.” “Yellowknife traffic, Airbus N475UA, turning 4 mile left base, runway 16 Yellowknife.” “Speed 135.” Twilight calls. “Thank you.” “Yellowknife traffic, Airbus N475UA, turning final runway 16, Yellowknife.” 50. 40. 30. 20. 10. Touchdown, spoilers up, brakes on, 2 in reverse. Brakes off, no turnouts until end of runway. 45 knots, disengage reverse thrust. “Yellowknife traffic, Airbus N475UA, clear of the runway.” “On behalf of your Southern California based flight crew, welcome to Yellowknife. Local time is 22:57. For your continued comfort and safety, please remain seated until the aircraft has come to a complete stop and the seatbelt sign has been turned off. Our apologies for the diversion, but as I mentioned earlier, we encountered some mechanical faults that may or may not be a result of the turbulence over Winnipeg. As a result, when we do stop, we will need to do a complete inspection of the aircraft as unladen as possible. This means all belongings will have to be offloaded with your person. Again, we apologize for the inconvenience, we’ll try to get going on to Anchorage as soon as possible. Thank you.” A few minutes later, after I turn her around with jet blast considered, I shut her down completely and defer the APU, which needs to provide power to the airplane. I then turn off the seatbelt sign and announce, “disarm door and lower air stair.” I then run to the front and do what I announced, then run to the back and open the garage. Both parents are still stretching to wake up, so I ask Twilight if she can help me unload the cars. I warn them to keep their passports handy in case someone shows up, but once the air stair is locked, I clear them off and clean sweep the cabin for loose belongings. After Twilight follows me to the baggage compartment access, now acting as a garage, she backs SARASA out as I follow with MTCHS. When the airplane is unloaded, I grab two more flashlights and put on my headband. The white light around my head and the other two red, I start at the top of the air stair and run around the entire airplane, specifically checking the wings and gear well (as best I can). No obvious signs of damage. I didn’t overspeed the engines, I never exceeded maneuvering speed (notwithstanding any excess from wind shear), and the landing wasn’t hard enough for me to warrant terminating the flight. Nevertheless, I thoroughly inspect all three gear and the engine bays. I carefully inspect inside the jet house and do some rotation tests to check for miscues. None I can find, so I ultimately put the fault down to the generators. To avoid excess wear and tear from a quick turnaround, I load the trucks back on, but as for us passengers, I decide to make some conversation. “I’m really sorry for this. I did not expect that system to move that fast. I expected warning shots across the bow, and I got a “[you] sunk [my] battleship.” “That’s alright.” Night Light yawns. “I’m just glad we’re on the ground for now.” “That was amazing!” Velvet exclaims high on adrenaline. “You’re a darn good pilot if you can get us through that like you just did!” “Don’t give me credit just yet. One of the problems with A320’s of this age/generation is that the generators can be... temperamental. I’m thinking that’s what the problem is. I just put the trucks back on, we can reload, but I’m waffling a bit because I don’t want to get back underway just yet. Since we landed less than a half hour ago, and my inspection didn’t take as long as I expected, I don’t want to do a quick turnaround.” “Sure.” Velvet responds. “Let’s get boarded.” Night Light tells his wife. “No problem. I just need to do some more exterior checks.” As they board, I check my iPad and update my weather via the airplane’s WiFi, find my urgent PIlot REPort overlaid onto the map. “UUA /OV WIEDS /TM 0320 /FL 360 /TP A320 /TA M08 /TB CONT SEV FREQ EXTM CHOP /RM STRG ALBERTA CLIPPER CONVECTIVE ACTIVITY KNOCKED OUT ALL OUR GENERATORS” “Nice.” I snicker as I file our route to Anchorage and take a screenshot of the report. Again, we have to wait an hour or two, so as a result, I check the weather fervently, but just as I enter the cabin, I talk to the family again. “Okay, our flight plan is on file, but I need to wait at least an hour before it enters the system. So we’re gonna have to sit here until then. Fuel still looks good with about 1 hour 45 minutes reserve, which is plenty to get us to Anchorage assuming minimal delays.” “Hey, Max.” Twilight says timidly. “You’ve just been through a lot, why not use this time to relax. Take a nap if you need to.” “I appreciate the sentiment, Twilight. Our wheels up time is in about an hour and a half. If I go to sleep, we won’t make it to Anchorage until late tomorrow, and admittedly, I don’t want to stay in Canada for too long.” “Oh.” She retracts. “I just need some water, the bathroom, and we can go.” After I do just that, I take a few sips of water to keep my throat from going dry. Twilight offers to keep me company, so I let her choose between right seat and the cabin. When she belts herself in, I set lights as appropriate and start the engines. Started up no problem, I now cross my fingers and go for the generators. Generator 1 ready. Switch on! Alight! Generator 2 ready. Switch on! Alight! “Hm,” I think to myself, “maybe all they needed was a reset.” “Yellowknife Airport, automated weather observation, 0551Z. Wind variable at 4, visibility 9 in mist. Sky condition scattered 8,200, broken 12,000, broken 14,000. Temperature -24 C, dew point -20 C. Altimeter 29.62. Remarks: density altitude -3800.” Set flaps 2 for takeoff. “Yellowknife traffic, Airbus N475UA on G, departure off runway 34, Yellowknife.” “Edmonton Center, Friendship 1.” I transmit on Com 2. “Calling Edmonton Center, good evening. You’re coming in spotty.” “Roger that, Friendship 1. Stand by.” I then switch to Com 1 and announce, “Yellowknife traffic, Airbus N475UA departing runway 34 to the west.” 80 knots. V1 Rotate. V2 Positive rate, gear up. Flaps up. “Edmonton Center, Friendship 1 off Yellowknife, IFR to Anchorage.” “Friendship 1, Edmonton Center, loud and clear. Radar contact 2 miles NNW of Yellowknife. Cleared to Anchorage Airport via as filed. Maintain 8,000. Squawk 4212.” “Position checks, cleared to Anchorage airport as filed, climb [&] maintain 8,000, squawk 4212, Friendship 1.” “Friendship 1, readback correct, you can expect FL320.” “Expect 320, Friendship 1.”