Grant Corriveau's Blog, page 3

Bathroom Breaks – part 4 – conclusion

I was flying a fully loaded, C-177 Cardinal in a trio of aircraft rented from the Edmonton Flying Club on a tour of the foothills southbound from Edmonton to Rocky Mountain House, then south to Calgary. My bladder began making me seriously regret my morning coffee. As we neared Calgary, the “pain” became urgent and I briefly considered using the sick sack, but in that crowded cabin with four occupants, I decided to persevere, hoping to avoid an even worse calamity. Needless to say, I diverted from the sight-seeing mission and dove at maximum speed into Springbank airport (which, at the time, was a relatively new training satellite airport west of Calgary). Immediately after landing and clearing the runway I switched the VHF radio to the ground controller and asked for “vectors” to the nearest bathroom! I was beyond modesty at this point and taxying as fast as safely able. We received prompt instructions and I’m sure I could hear a smile in the controller’s voice. We were followed by the rest of our group and as each aircraft cleared the runway and checked in, they were told: “Cleared to follow the aircraft ahead to the nearest bathroom.” Thankfully, I made it in the knick of time, but I endured good-natured ribbing from the rest of the gang. It seems, everyone knows a ton of bathroom puns and isn’t afraid to use them.

This day, upon arrival in Winnipeg, I didn’t need to request vectors to the nearest bathroom, but again, I wasted no time during taxi. Happily, our plan went smoothly. Our passengers flooded off the plane and scuttled into a long lineup that wound around the holding room. No one dawdled but took care of business as efficiently as practicable and we got everyone back on board without leaving anyone behind. Meanwhile our mechanics installed a new computer component and again, reset the system. I used a washroom near the ramp office where the first officer and I picked up a new flight plan, while the refueller squirted a few more kilos of Jet-A into our tanks. Our pushback crew arrived promptly, did their thing, and as quickly as possible, we were on our way again. Several minutes later we were climbing eastward again towards Montreal. Above the critical altitude I had the purser re-test the toilets, hoping. Joy! Everything worked!

The passengers took the unplanned “adventure” in stride with good humor. We arrived in Montreal close enough to schedule so no one missed their connections. As we said goodbye from the flight deck doorway, there were smiles and laughter and good-natured teasing — and even more people with bathroom jokes to share. It’s surprising how this relatively small break from routine caused a sudden camaraderie in a group of people who would otherwise have little to say to one another.

I’ve had other flights where unserviceable toilets became an issue. Our MEL (Minimum Equipment List) actually contains “go,” “no-go” guidelines (groan) based upon the number of toilets unserviceable, number of passengers and duration of the flight — in case you are wondering — but this was my only trip when all the lavatories shut down unexpectedly, and we had to make an unplanned pit stop.

Bathroom Breaks – part 3

Previously in this story: “Attention, this is the captain. Please hold your pee.”

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We suddenly got very busy on the company radio and our Datalink printer, in a discussion with the various company departments concerning our options. Someone suggested we cancel the rest of the trip and rebook passengers later in the day on the next flight from Winnipeg to Montreal. Someone else proposed we try once again to fix the problem and push on. The first officer and I discussed, just between ourselves, a possible third alternative. Could we descend below 16,000 feet, give everyone a chance to use the facilities, then climb back up to cruise altitude? We decided we didn’t have enough fuel, even if we could figure out the logistics. We didn’t bother including this in the discussion. Finally, the gurus in that mysterious department which every airline has, but pilots seldom see — that one that claims to have The Big Picture — settled on the second idea. We would attempt to fix the problem and keep going.

Now we had to scramble and “make it so.” We were already nearing our descent point into Winnipeg and time was growing short. I coordinated the flight plan deviation with ATC. As soon as we’d copied down the new clearance we assured them we did not require the emergency vehicles to meet us after landing – no, not even the infamous “honey wagon” that services our lavatory holding tanks. Suddenly, ATC was developing a sense of humor. Then we got busy typing this information into the FMC (Flight Management Computer), listening to the Winnipeg ATIS and searching out the necessary approach charts from our flight bags, setting up our navaids and briefing the new landing approach.

Meanwhile, we were coordinating our arrival time with our Winnipeg station to make sure we would have a gate and staff on hand to direct our “neediest” passengers to the nearest washrooms. We also called our dispatcher to generate a new flight plan for the next leg, and this time we made sure to include enough fuel to fly the entire route at 16,000 feet if the problem persisted. Winnipeg’s maintenance facility rushed to find the needed computer replacement part and have someone standing by at our arrival.

I advised the passengers as we neared Winnipeg, that as soon as they could get into the terminal building lounge, and make a ‘comfort stop’, they should re-board the aircraft so we could be on our way as quickly as possible. 

Now, the jokes came at us from every quarter: “Be sure to make an extra smooth landing so no one “spills” anything,” from the Purser. “Would this be a bad time to issue a holding clearance?” And “Do you need clearance for a “let down?” and, “Cleared direct to the Potty Intersection if you can find it?” from ATC. Those folks revealed a truly dark side to their humor that day. It reminded me briefly of an earlier time in my flying career when bladder limitations and wry ATC humor coincided. (to be continued) …

Bathroom Breaks – part 2

Anyway – back to our story.

That’s when I learned how the flushing system on the Airbus A320 works. Of course, a computer is involved. At lower altitudes flushing is a function of some sort of electro-mechanical, vacuum-producing pumps, but as we climb higher another system takes over that uses differential pressure between the inside and the outside of the aircraft to suck and swirl away the offending contents of the toilet bowls and deposit this into the holding tanks. The key change-over altitude is 16,000 feet.

 So, after resetting some obscure on-board computer, and checking over and over again that all three of the toilets flushed properly on the ground — something I personally tested, knowing my own bladder range limitations — we pushed back from the gate and departed. However, we knew that the moment of truth lay ahead — or above — that is. Only after we’d climbed through 16,000 feet, where the system switches over to the secondary mode of operation, could we be sure that our toilets would keep flushing for the duration of the trip to Montreal. With a full load of passengers plus crew-members, this was not a trivial matter — although it was hard not to make light-hearted jokes about it.

“BZZZZZZ!” The flight attendant call-tone blasted loudly in the flight deck, once again providing an unintended test of my cardiac fitness. Every time this annoying horn went off (which was frequently in any given day’s work) I mildly cursed the Airbus engineers or regulatory authorities who I blamed for setting the volume of this darn thing. It’s literally the loudest warning on our Airbus flight decks.

I fumbled for my handset to make the noise stop. “What’s the news?”

“Not good, Captain. None of the toilets are flushing.”

Long pause.

“Okay.” I felt my own bladder twinge at the thought of the several hours to go before we would arrive in Montreal. “Any ideas?” I asked.

“Can we make an en-route landing and ask people to hold themselves as much as possible? If anyone has an emergency, the toilet bowls will handle that much — I hope.“

“I can’t think of anything better,” I said. “Do you want to tell the passengers or will I?”

“You’d better say something,” he replied. “They probably won’t believe me.”

“Okay. Just give me a minute to coordinate with company and make sure this fits into their “Big Picture.” Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll find us an aircraft swap. Winnipeg Is about half way. It’ll be our best bet.”

I took a moment to brief the first officer who was capably flying this leg and, so far, seemed not to have gotten us lost. Then, after assuring myself that he was also handling our ATC communications, I connected with our company dispatcher on number two radio. It took a few minutes to get the urgency of our problem accurately understood. “No! We can’t just use the sick sacs!”

After that, we coordinated a plan to make the pit stop at Winnipeg. It was doubtful that they’d have a spare Airbus sitting around to exchange with our broken machine, but they did have working toilets in the terminal building. And, importantly, they had a full maintenance facility available so maybe, just maybe, they could take one more crack at solving the flushing problem and make “it” all go away. Literally. We hoped.

Finally, I picked up the PA handset from it’s holder on the center console, and pushed the necessary buttons, and prepared to make one of the strangest announcements ever to my passengers.

 “Attention, this is the captain. Please hold your pee.”

Well, not quite like that — but sort of.

…To be continued… (cross your legs as required)

Bathroom Breaks – part 1

“We’re ‘go’ for toilet testing,” I informed our purser. I used my best, fake NASA rocket launcher voice as I spoke into the A320’s crew inter-phone system, and watched our altitude ascend through the required level. This was funny — but not funny. This fault could have a real impact on our ability to continue the flight.

“Okay, Captain. Standby, I’ll call you back.” The line went dead as he hung up his handset. I waited expectantly while we continued climbing away from Edmonton on a scheduled, non-stop flight to Montreal — if the bathrooms were working, that is. If the toilets did not pass this crucial flush test I wasn’t sure what we’d do next.

Our plumbing issues had started on our previous flight from Vancouver to Edmonton. During that climb-out, our flight attendants had discovered that all our toilets had stopped flushing. By the time they advised me and we’d applied whatever slim checklists we could find to throw at the problem, (I had definitely never practiced this particular fault during flight simulator training); and then communicated with our company maintenance personnel (only to discover that they also had no hidden secrets about how to fix the problem), we were almost in Edmonton. So, flushless, we pressed on and completed that first leg. But our second leg — a four-and-a-half hour flight from Edmonton to Montreal — presented a more serious challenge.

As we spoke over the company VHF radio, I could imagine our maintenance personnel pouring over the complex schematic charts and trouble-shooting diagrams. No sooner had we parked at our gate in Edmonton, than they swarmed into the aircraft’s electronics bay to begin a hurried attempt to fix the problem without delaying our departure. On-time performance is a very high priority in this competitive airline business.

 But so is peeing! Trust me. That’s the important point I kept trying to make. Even though it never appears in any of the complex charts and airline metrics used to define a successful airline, you can bet that no one would book flights on a “no-peeing” airline, no matter how cheap the tickets. There’s such a thing as taking “no frills” service, too far.

The infamously-cheap airline, RyanAir discovered this a few years ago when they proposed to put coin-slots on bathroom doors. Without dating yourself — does anyone recall the bad old days when many public toilets had dime-operated door locks on the stalls? And the practice of slipping under the doors in an emergency, when a dime wasn’t handy, was often necessary? RyanAir, however, was planning to charge much more than one thin dime until the public outcry caused them to back down. Whether it was a real proposal, or just a gimmick to get some newspaper attention, is up for debate. Some airline execs will go to extreme lengths to chisel out a little more profit — if the passengers let them get away with it. https://abcnews.go.com/Travel/Green/paying-pee-airlines-critics-call-ryanairs-fee-inhumane/story?id=10355139

Information Blizzard?

This article raises some issues of huge significance for airline safety: https://medium.com/@markzee/why-pilots-are-reading-a-reel-of-telegrams-in-the-cockpit-5ff6efd93db3

Air Canada 759 missed the one telling them that 28R was closed in San Fransisco, so they tried to land on the taxiway. Only an alert United crew prevented the worst crash in American history, and then only by 14 feet, or 1 second. That led to the NTSB to declare “Notams are Garbage”.
https://medium.com/@markzee/why-pilots-are-reading-a-reel-of-telegrams-in-the-cockpit-5ff6efd93db3

View at Medium.com

Wheely Good

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I noticed one day how my F/O was carrying his wheel-equipped suitcase like a regular bag instead of pulling it. I looked at him and said with concern in my voice, “You do know there are wheels on that thing, don’t you?” He laughed, ensured me he did and went on to explain he was carrying it because the wheels were worn out from too many miles of dragging through the winter salt and slush in airport parking lots. The axles were severely rusted. Later he demonstrated by rolling it for a few steps. It produced a terrifying wail, like sheet-metal being fed into a wood-chipper. I quickly reminded him how much more macho he’d look carrying it.

(Excerpt from my latest book – Airline Pilot: A Day in the Life)

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Airline Pilot: A Day in the Life (a short excerpt from my latest book)

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Here’s a quick sketch of how an airline pilot’s day begins at our imaginary airline, GooseAir:

Departure Time: -03H:15M 

The alarm clock sounds… As I stumble to the bathroom, my few functional brain cells discover that I already know what city I’m in — without having to read the cover on the phone book. Home. Montreal. Despite the early morning darkness, I sense, and avoid, that toe-cracking table leg, enter the bathroom. I revel in the knowledge of where to reach for the light switch. Avoiding table legs and finding light switches. That’s why I love turn-around flights where I get to sleep every night in my own home.

Departure Time: -02H:15M 

In the early days of my career, the terminals were small enough that I could park in the employee lot and take a mind-clearing, five-minute stroll to the flight planning center. Now, the continuing growth of airports has seen employee parking pushed out to the surrounding industrial no man’s land where walking would be life-threatening. So, I park the car and then huddle in the Lexan shelter, collar turned up against the morning chill, and scramble aboard the crew bus with the other denizens of the morning shift.

A weak morning sun struggles to lighten the eastern horizon through grimy bus windows, while I cling to the grab-bar against sudden bus-lurches. This experience makes me grin inwardly — somewhat cynically. In the earlier days of my career, for our flights to depart on schedule, we would occasionally start the pushback procedure, extra slowly and carefully, while the last few passengers were still standing in the aisles. But not anymore. Now, the regulations stipulate that absolutely, without exception, in every situation, we can’t budge the aircraft until all the luggage is stowed and all the passengers are seated, strapped in, and counted, and then, and only then, may we depart. But when we arrive at our destination, our passengers disgorge into various modes of transport such as busses or underground subways that leave them hanging by their fingernails to straps and grab-bars, lurching and bouncing along at 30 or 40 kph. Our pushback restrictions seem laughably over-cautious by comparison. But, we must err on the side of safety. I suspect that minimizing lawsuits also is essential.

Departure Time: -01H:15M 

I find F/O Paula standing at one of the planning kiosks, already working. We exchange greetings. As expected, she’s already printed a copy of our flight plan from the dispatch computer as well as the updates to the aircraft technical bulletins. I log into the weather terminal for our official preflight review. For a half a second, I pause to wonder at the fact that I’m viewing actual snapshots of the earth. They were taken just a few minutes ago — from outer space! The incredible has become routine.

An old aviation maxim says: “We don’t fly until the weight of the paper equals the weight of the pilot.” And, just like my waistline, the paperwork has increased over the years. Once on board, the datalink will start spitting out paper like… well, like it grows on trees. Because of this appetite for paper and the fact that the first Airbus accident involved a spectacular encounter with a forest, there are plenty of one-liners floating around about how Airbus hates trees. Paula hoists about an elm-and-a-half off of the counter, and we make our way back over to the luggage rack.

As we trundle off toward our gate, I recall briefly how, after the events of 9/11, airport security procedures suddenly required flight attendants and pilots to join the semi-disrobing parade of passengers through the screening process. Overnight, our crew ID photo tags, and fingerprinting, and police background checks, and the grueling training we’d endured to become crew-members were deemed worthless. 

Suddenly, the intrusiveness of airport security screening escalated. We understood the necessity of extra vigilance, but still, it felt wrong. It’s as if the bond of trust required for any society to function was now presumed to be missing. Having lived our lives in a justice system that deems everyone “innocent until proven guilty,” we were disoriented by the realization that the premise had reversed. The fact that crew-members are especially conspicuous in our spiffy uniforms accentuated that feeling. It’s as if the special bond of trust for our passengers’ welfare had also been violated. 

So, each time I had to undress, then laboriously reassemble myself, slip my shoes back on, refasten my belt, pull on my jacket, re-adjust my hat and re-close my flight bag, I felt I should be asking: “But, do you still respect me?” It was a relief when it was over. I always scurried out of the security screening process eager to get on with less stressful things — like flying airplanes through thunderstorms.

I have long suspected that aircraft designers consider pilots to be a nuisance taking up valuable interior space that could be better used to carry an income-producing payload. Nothing supports my suspicions more than seeing how crowded our flight deck is and how little space is available for getting in and out of our chairs.

Departure Time: -00H:15M

Like a mother hen building her nest and settling carefully onto her eggs, I begin adjusting my chair and rudder pedals and armrests and headrest and lumbar support. This ritual is about more than just comfort, although comfort’s essential too. It’s actually about safety. We not only have to be sure we can reach all the critical controls with hands and feet, but we also need to obtain the best viewing angle by setting up our correct eyeball location. Small pointers, specially mounted on the center window post, show me when my eyes are at the exact position to give me the best chance to see the approach lights and runway environment when landing in poor visibility. If I sit too high or too low, my visual references will be compromised. I tweak my electric seat controls up and forward a little at a time until the indicators are in line.

Along with the advantages of our new, highly-automated, aircraft come certain disadvantages. They are more demanding in how they need to be programmed before each flight, so the guidance computers can accurately calculate things like fuel consumption or the all-important takeoff and climb-out speeds. The more straightforward departure preparations of our steam-driven cockpits were sometimes referred to by ex-air force colleagues as “Kick the tires, light the fires, and blast off.” Such expediency could never be tolerated by the new technology. Now, failing to load the required information accurately triggers a considerable mess for pilots. Our pre-flight programming ritual informs a host of invisible, on-board creatures of automation about our plans and hopes to win their approval so we will be allowed to depart in peace. 

I hear the sounds of galley doors and storage units slamming shut behind me. I glimpse someone in the jetway swinging the main cabin door closed. It must be time to go. 

Departure Time: -00H:00M

It’s no longer possible to visit the front office of an airliner en route, but if you’d like to strap yourself into the jump seat and join first officer Paula and me for the rest of our day’s work, you can find “Airline Pilot: A Day in the Life” at Amazon.ca , in Kindle format or paperback.

I hope you enjoyed this quick glimpse into the life of a “line pilot.”

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Well played, Jetstar. Well played:

https://video.foxnews.com/v/6056608761001/#sp=show-clips

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Cloud Seeding

Wing-mounted flares were ignited from a control box mounted between the pilot seats. As the pilot searched out and flew into updrafts the co-pilot fired off the required sequence of flares and, of course, kept a written log. These flares released silver iodide crystals which (in theory) caused smaller raindrops to form before the vapour content could build up to form hailstones.

Here are a couple of photos of what the wing-mounted flares look like as they burn down.

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Hailstop ’74

There have been a lot of severe thunderstorms running up “Thunderstorm Alley,” this year.

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In the summer of ’74 I flew with a program that had a dual purpose. First off, we were trying to reduce hail damage to crops in central Alberta. Second off, scientists were trying to get a measure of how effective such efforts actually are.

The aircraft shown here is equipped for bottom seeding. In the diagram of “Seeding Concepts,” that’s what’s going on at the bottom of the clouds, next to the mountain range. There was a different aircraft rig used for top seeding, which is represented by that magenta “bubble” across the tops of the newly-growing turrets. I’ll try to find a photo of what the aircraft equipment looked like for that procedure, and explain a little more in a later post.

It was a fascinating few months. If the airline “thing” hadn’t worked out, I’m pretty sure I would have pursued more opportunities to work as a research / weather modification pilot.