Bruce (a.k.a. brian747)
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Posts posted by Bruce (a.k.a. brian747)
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Hi John!USB3 is the only issue I had with my "new" (getting on for a year old, now) PC. It has a plethora of external USB3 sockets. Unfortunately, none of them will run at USB3 speeds when I connect an external hard drive — in fact they run at slightly *below* USB2 speed!All that the vendor (Scan) could suggest was returning the machine for them to check, which seems ridiculous when the problem has every appearance of being a driver issue, and there are no other faults. So in the months following its arrival I spent about five days fiddling with various combinations of drivers, all to no avail. I even, albeit with some trepidation, resorted to a couple of those apps which claim to fix your drivers for you (they didn't, so I restored the disk to its previous state from a backup).I have solved the problem, though: I shoved in an additional internal HD and now do my backups to that.
Regarding the points you made:For me, USB2 devices *do* work in the sockets, at USB2 speeds obviously.(Haven't tried a short USB extension, but the long ones are fine as you say; and I don't use keyboard switches so can't compare).Good luck, my friend: USB3 appears to be something of a minefield....Cheers,brucea.k.a. brian747
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All the very best, Steph - and many of 'em!
Cheers,
B.
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Ah, nostalgia....
Funny thing is, I don't remember Meigs looking like that on my original IBM PC in the early 1980s?
Great video — thank you.
Cheers,
bruce
a.k.a. brian747
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Regarding GWX — this may or may not be relevant on other people's systems but....
I implemented the GWX Control Panel and set everything to be protected, but still allowed notifications (but not downloads and certainly not installs) of Micro$oft updates. The following day I had notifications of many updates, so after weeding out (hiding, not simply unchecking) the ones I didn't want, I let it rip.
The update process ran until it started the so-called "Malicious Software Removal" tool, which took about 40% CPU and hammered my C: drive for over half an hour before I killed it. So in future I'll be hiding the Malicious Tool, as well.
I mention this just in case anyone else experiences the same issue (it could, of course, be sheer coincidence that I'd just installed GWX).
Cheers,
bruce
a.k.a. brian747
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Hi, Steph!
A great PIREP, excellent yarn, and terrific photos — you've done the baton proud!
I was much impressed by your setup for John in his next escapade (no doubt from gaol to gaol again
), but your whole account was gripping from start to finish. Many congratulations and thank you — I very much enjoyed reading it. 
Cheers,
bruce
a.k.a. brian747
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Sounds a bit as though it might be an AFCAD thing??
Google gave me these, which might perhaps be pertinent:
http://www.avsim.com/topic/8895-afcad-question/
https://flyawaysimulation.com/downloads/files/10715/afcad-file-for-lemg/ and https://flyawaysimulation.com/downloads/files/14094/afcad-file-for-lemd-update/
Hope it helps....?
Cheers,
bruce
a.k.a. brian747
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<grin> interesting "mistake", though, wasn't it?
> "...I'm still curious, why they are so desperate to force the whole planet to use their 'thing'."
Their 'thing' being W10? Well to discover the truth about that you'd have to ask someone at Micro$oft who would be honest with you (good luck with that), but FWIW I gave you my suggestion above —
"....the commercial reality that this is a company that can only make money if they relentlessly force upgrades on users (dare one say, regardless of the fact that the said users may be perfectly content with the version they already have)."
But that's just my wild guess, of course: I could be totally wrong.
Cheers,
bruce
a.k.a. brian747
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Hi John!
That's a most interesting viewpoint, thank you, but whilst I appreciate the points you are making I have to be concerned that Micro$oft has already used the mechanism of its so-called "security updates" to promote Windows 10, hence the widespread speculation that the intensity and degree of that promotion will inevitably increase. Do bear in mind the commercial reality that this is a company that can only make money if they relentlessly force upgrades on users (dare one say, regardless of the fact that the said users may be perfectly content with the version they already have). They have a certain track record in that respect....
And if the upgrade to W10 were to be forced upon users then subsequent legislation may indeed happen, but given the lethargy of legal processes it would inevitably happen far too late for all those who found themselves lumbered with W10 but who would have preferred to have remained with W7.
Hence the reason why I will be proactively attempting to circumvent any such Micro$oft knavery; but for others I suppose it all depends on how confident you are concerning the universal probity of Micro$oft's actions....
Good luck to us all,
Cheers,
bruce
a.k.a. brian747
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Thank you -- that's exactly what I have been looking for. (I was using a couple of batch files, but wasn't too happy with either of them).
I'll be using that on all my Windows 7 machines.... er, which is actually all my Windoze machines.
Thanks applied!
Cheers,
bruce
a.k.a. brian747
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Great pics and an entertaining PREP, John, although I was sad to see that you got banged up again at the end — but, seemingly, only briefly?
Although I'm afraid your theory about my aircraft ("It shouted out like a foghorn: 'THIS IS WHERE THE BATON IS'") can't hold water. The Brian's Charter fleet actually comprises quite a few such white and green beacons of various Boeing varieties and sizes (oh, and one Bell helicopter), so poor old Mr. P. would have to play a pretty good guessing game in order to conjecture which of them might (just occasionally) contain the baton!
But well done for making your point to Constantina, too!
Cheers,
B.
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I'm with John.
What concerns me is the possibility (or, some would say, probability) that Micro$oft will use their so-called "security updates" to at some point forcibly update us to W10 whether we like it or not. Hopefully there'll be some way of stopping that happening (but in the interim, I'm seriously considering disabling Micro$oft Updates, just in case).
(And please don't trouble to tell me that's a bad move: I'm well protected in other ways). Cheers,
bruce
a.k.a. brian747
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Thank you for that, Joe!
The link you gave didn't work for me, but the UK2000 sales page seems to be at http://www.uk2000scenery.com/newsite/My_Homepage_Files/Page48.html
(Just ignore the bit top right, where it says "Welcome to Southend airport").
Sadly, with a longest Landing Distance Available of 6,791 ft I don't think I'll be taking my 744 there, however.
Cheers,
bruce
a.k.a. brian747
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Hi James!
Here are a few suggestions for you to consider....
> "...only resulted in my Norton yelling at me..."
Regardless of what brand of anti-virus you use (and I have to agree with others in this thread that Norton is not the best, I'm afraid), it's a good idea to go into its settings and add your fsx directory (and its subdirectories) to the list of "exclusions", in other words the list of directories which will not be scanned by your anti-virus. FSX tends to shuffle a lot of files as you fly along, and if your AV insists on scanning each one to make sure that it's OK that will slow things down.
Another possible cause for freezes might be that you have some sort of autosave operating to save your flight at regular intervals, but I assume that doesn't apply to you?
Have you tried any of the suggestions on this page? (Be careful, though, since some of the suggestions involve using powerful utilities that can bite you if you make a mistake) -
https://support.microsoft.com/en-us/kb/2681286
Although you said:
> "...freeze for anywhere between 30 seconds and a minute and a half ..."
That's a huge time for a freeze! Might it be that your virtual memory is insufficient (which would mean that the Operating System is having to do a lot of swapping from real memory to virtual memory and vice versa)? I'd suggest, say, 12Gb as a starting point (you can then use the resource monitor to determine how much of it you actually use when FSX is running). If you don't know what virtual memory is, then please check these links:
http://windows.microsoft.com/en-us/windows/what-is-virtual-memory#1TC=windows-7
and
http://windows.microsoft.com/en-us/windows/change-virtual-memory-size#1TC=windows-7
In view of the length of the freezes, I would also recommend you to look in the Event Viewer to see if there are any repeated error messages or crashes, which might point us towards a cause. If you're not familiar with the Event Viewer then you may need to get someone who is familiar with it to help you, since the messages can be somewhat cryptic. Here's a link that may help to start you off:
http://www.sevenforums.com/tutorials/226084-event-viewer-open-use-windows-7-a.html
Finally, please forgive me if I mention that FSX's performance is notoriously heavily dependent on the speed of the CPU in your machine. I'm not too familiar with AMD Athlon CPUs, but Google leads me to believe that yours is a 2-core CPU running at 2.6GHz? If that is so then I fear this might perhaps be a limiting factor for you.
Cheers,
bruce
a.k.a. brian747
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A really helpful and informative review, thank you Joe.
Although, as you know, magnetos and manifolds are not my thing, I do have a huge respect for those who take to the air in such aircraft, and I read these reviews in the vague hope that one day I might get bitten by the bug. TBH I'm having such fun in my 744 that I haven't been bitten yet: but that's not the fault of the aircraft and certainly not of reviews such as yours, which I read with much enjoyment (albeit occasional mystification).
So thank you for another intriguing peek into a parallel universe.
Cheers,
bruce
a.k.a. brian747
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Thank you, kind sir. The modelling fee, unfortunately, is based on a percentage of my own, but I look forward to buying you a drink when we next meet.
Cheers,
B.
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Thank you, gentlemen.
@Matt
Joe, I believe, is in good shape.... He's not the kind of guy who would be caught so easily.
It's true that I didn't mention Joe's exit from SBNT, but there was a reason for my silence. I was reticent about the matter because I received the distinct impression that a certain arrangement <*cough*> had been made to effect his escape — but I'd better not say more in case Colonel Fernandez' bosses are reading this.
However, by coincidence (shall we say), there is a persistent rumour that a microjet has been acquired by the FAB under mysterious circumstances....
Cheers,
B.
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A great guy, but definitely my favourite screen villain, too. A sad loss.
B.
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Unusually for me, I was not feeling my habitually amiable self. The reason for this (the wounds were self-inflicted, as you’ll see — which only made things worse) was that I had given both Ken and Geoff, my F/Os, leave for the whole of the Christmas and (beyond) New Year period, assisted by the fact that as it happened there was no demand for our specialised services during that time anyway. I had been warned to have one of them on standby by Julie (my FD, Company Secretary, and obsessive bean-counter) — but in my usual generous fashion, and wanting to give the guys a decent amount of time with their families, I had opted to ignore her advice.
Then the request for this ATWC flight came in. It would, naturally. Life’s like that, don’t you find? As a result, every time Julie meets me now, she gets that supercilious look on her face. <sigh> Hey ho, she’ll get over it.
So I had no choice other than to see who I could fish out of the current pool of 747-400 F/Os for hire. It wasn’t easy, given the time of year, but in the end I found one, although of course he lacked the specific knowledge of some of Brian’s Charter’s more.... let’s say “specialised” operations, so inevitably he wasn’t my ideal. But hey — the ATWC flight was a boringly straight line 1500 mile milk run over the Atlantic, from the top right-hand corner of Brazil up to a small island 350 miles off the west coast of Africa, so what could possibly go wrong?
(I know, I know...).
Well the first thing that went.... let’s say not exactly right (?!) was that I had to collect the baton from where Jess was leaving it for me, which was scheduled to be Augusto Severo International Airport (SBNT). Now the rather considerable snag with that was that SBNT closed to civil aviation on May 31st, 2014, when all such flights moved to Governador Aluízio Alves International Airport (SBSG) — and, trust me, it’s quite difficult to take something the size of a 747-400 into a closed airport without someone complaining. Furthermore, long experience has taught me that it’s one thing to take an item in to an airport, but it tends to be something else entirely when you want to take it out.
So it was time to pick up the phone and try to get in touch with one of my many contacts — those that were were answering the phone just after Christmas, at least. It took a full morning of increasing irritation whilst listening to extended ringtones and recorded invitations to leave messages until I finally got to speak to an old RAF contact of mine currently working in a Retired Officer post in the M.O.D., and who said that he’d do his best.... but was I aware that Brazil wasn’t exactly a healthy place to go to, what with mosquitoes, dengue fever, and the Chikunyunga and Zika viruses, not to mention violent protests and underlying terrorism threats?
I thanked him for this recycled HMG-issue information as cordially as I could (not easy when you’re gritting your teeth at the time), but nonetheless persisted in enquiring how I could arrange to land at SBNT where, he told me, the Brazilian military still had a presence. (In fact I was cheered by that information, since that meant that with any luck the navaids would still be working). So I pressed him again to see whether he could make the necessary arrangements. Sighing deeply in what I felt was an unnecessarily patronising sort of way, he grudgingly said that he’d do his best — but added that I wasn’t to hope for too much. However, since, reading between the lines, he was in the office more or less on his own with little better to do (and, even more to the point, knowing that he owed me a few favours), I did have some slight cause for optimism as I waited for him to ring back.
When the phone finally rang it was late afternoon. I made myself wait for three rings before answering (I didn’t want him to feel I was too eager), and then had to put up with a long tale about how complicated, difficult, and stressful his task had proved to be. But the bottom line was that everything was arranged. Once having received the details, including the all-important questions of where in Brazil to send a copy of my flight plan and the military contact frequency for the airfield, I thanked him sincerely for his help, promised to buy him lunch next time I was in London, closed the call, and awarded myself a modest glass of single malt.
SBNT, here I come.
Once the soothing effects of the single malt started to take effect, I then began to review the flight. One potential problem which could arise was the possibility of a thorough search of the aircraft by the military on arrival, so I resolved to be scrupulously careful and ensure that my 744 would be conspicuously empty and pristine when it arrived at SBNT. I also have to mention that this wouldn’t be the first time that the requirements of the ATWC meant that I had to fly without any payload at all — which hurts, for a Charter operator like me.
But hey — anything for the ATWC, right?
Fast forward a week or so and you find me in the cockpit of my 744, approaching the northeast coast of Brazil. In the right-hand seat is my temporary F/O, whose name turned out to Timothy. “Not Tim!”, he emphasised in his breathless fashion as we introduced ourselves. He had the bounding energy of a young puppy, and seeing him enthusiastically frisking about I resigned myself to the prospect of double-checking everything that he did in the cockpit as soon as I had the chance.
We had been assigned a specific frequency in the 128.85 MHz -132.00 MHz range for talking to the Brazilian military, and so as we entered Brazilian airspace I attempted to contact them as instructed, but for some reason was unable to do so. And as the miles slipped by there continued to be no reply, which was a matter for increasing concern. When we had started our descent towards SBNT and the silence still continued my disquiet moved up a notch into outright worry, whilst Timothy’s excitement was evidently increasing. “Gosh”, he burbled, “I’ve never landed at a military airport before”. Well whoopee, I felt like saying, I certainly have, and I’d be an awful lot happier if I was talking to them right now.
With the alarm bells getting louder in my head, on a sudden impulse I asked Timothy to tune his HF radio to 243.0 MHz (the radios on my aircraft have extended coverage into the military range specifically for occasions like this — one of a number of non-standard modifications which are fitted). I then needed to explain to him that 243.0 was the emergency frequency for military use (also known as Military Air Distress, which makes for a not entirely inappropriate acronym). He selected the frequency on his ACP, and immediately we picked up a transmission requesting us to acknowledge. Hmm. Clearly, whoever was on the other end of the radio was, shall we say, somewhat unfamiliar with civilian practices <sigh>. But once communication had been established I was able to feel a little easier (although I should have known better) — and soon after crossing the coastline....
.... we landed, and were instructed to proceed to Gate 2 which, like the rest of the civilian side of the old airport, was completely devoid of aircraft (unless Jess’s A320 was for some reason hiding in the nearby hangar). In other words, worryingly, it seemed that Jess hadn’t yet arrived — unless perhaps she had already done so and then left? Questions, questions.... But I put them out of my mind as I approached Gate 2 when it quickly became obvious that the stands at SBNT had not been designed with a 747’s wingspan in mind, since there was no chance whatsoever that the aircraft would fit between the jetways. So I had to stop short of the marks — so far short, in fact, that Timothy looked at me in considerable surprise — something which I affected not to notice. Truly is it said that youth is wasted upon the young.
At that point I was still hoping that I might meet up with Jess and the baton inside the old terminal. Having no clue what might await us at SBNT, I had brought on board sufficient refreshment for us, since it seemed distinctly possible that we might be on our way immediately (foreign civilians and their aircraft are rarely afforded the warmest of welcomes at military airfields). So I set the parking brake and we got on with the business of starting to prepare the aircraft for a short stay — however whilst I was shutting down the engines I was distracted by another squawk from burbling Timothy. “Hey great”, he enthused, “They’re giving us a military escort”. I looked outside. We were encircled with men all right, but this was no escort, not with every one of them pointing automatic weapons at us.
Having no wish to see my aircraft turned into the world’s largest colander, I had no option other than to leave a puzzled Timothy temporarily in charge whilst I went to find out what was going on: so after first of all giving him some succinct and extremely explicit instructions I went to greet the natives. They had evidently been expecting us, since they had jury-rigged a dangerous-looking series of steps, mounted on wheels for additional instability, that just about reached the level of the lower doors. Evidently the primary gunslinger had no English, but he and his SMG made it pellucidly clear, using the international patois of violence and intimidation, that I was to descend to ground level. So I did, although the steps swayed and bent alarmingly during the process — the Elf of Safety clearly wasn’t a part of the culture here.
I was frogmarched with the minimum of courtesy into the old aircraft terminal and thence to the upper floor (which gave me, at one point, a view of my aircraft — Timbo was still in his seat, so hopefully he was carrying out my instructions).
My destination was evidently someone’s office, in which I was unceremoniously shoved into a chair facing the desk — clearly, their brand of military courtesy wasn’t quite what I was used to. On the other side of the ornate desk sat an immaculately turned out little man with slicked-back hair and a uniform whose badges of rank I couldn’t decipher, but who was clearly the boss man in these parts. To my relief, it quickly became obvious that he spoke good English, so that at least communication was not going to be a problem. His entourage was ranged around the room, some of them seated at what looked like military folding tables. But I couldn’t help noticing (I find that being in a room full of unfriendly men with guns tends to sharpen my perceptions) that no one looked remotely pleased to see me.
After a suitable pause for effect, the individual behind the desk condescended to notice my arrival. “Welcome, to Natal, Captain”, he said (without, I noticed, making the slightest effort to sound in any way welcoming), “I am Colonel Fernadez. So exactly why have you come to visit us?”
Well so much for social chit-chat, this guy obviously preferred to cut to the chase. I considered my options, whilst simultaneously wishing that I knew exactly what my friend in the M.O.D. had told them. When in doubt, I generally opt for sticking to the obvious (whilst also trying to say as little as possible), so I explained to him about the baton and the relay, although I also embroidered things a little and made it sound like a race, in the hope of expediting matters.
He pursed his lips, gave a pseudo-sad shake of his head, and dropped his bombshell. “I regret to inform you, Captain”, he said, “that we have no baton for you. No one has arrived with your so-called baton. It appears, therefore, that this talk of relays and races is merely a pitiful excuse for you to land here, and that you are a spy.”
I began to sweat in a manner which had nothing to do with the temperature, and embarked upon an emphatic denial that I had any association with espionage. But whilst I was still in full flow one of the Colonel’s colleagues went to him and began whispering in his ear. Stopping my indignant explanations with an emphatic gesture, he stated “Ah, it now appears that another aircraft is on its way here, and will be landing soon”. I was suitably relieved. “So it seems that there are two of you involved in this!”, the Colonel triumphantly pronounced.
Things were definitely not going well, but it should help if I could demonstrate that all was as previously arranged. “I think you will find that the incoming aircraft an Airbus A320”, I stated. To my chagrin, the Colonel assumed a thin smile and shook his head, “Not at all. It is apparently a microjet, similar to the type used by some of our drug smugglers.” Oh terrific. Not only a suspected spy, but now a suspected drug smuggler, too. Wondering what on earth had happened to Jess and her A320, I realised that I needed to talk my way out of this one fast.
But the Colonel was now engaged in a whispered discussion with two of his senior officers, so I felt it politic to await the outcome. Turning back to face me, Colonel Fernandez seemed grimmer than ever. “The pilot of the incoming aircraft is clearly one of your fellow criminals,” he declared, “since she has asked to be directed to where you are when she lands. Very well. You will meet her in the restaurant area below us, where you will be served with coffee. You will not inform her of any of this conversation; we will be listening and will shoot both of you if you reveal anything to your colleague — if she should ask, tell her that this terminal is empty”.
I agreed to this scenario with what little enthusiasm I could simulate (although I was relieved to discover that Jess was OK), and I was bundled downstairs into the restaurant, just in time to see her taxying a microjet to a halt at the south-easterly end of the terminal. I was then ordered to beckon her inside, and to sit at a particular table (presumably, the one with the microphones, and with a clear field of fire for the hidden snipers). As Jess came into the restaurant I was relieved to see that she was carrying the baton, although I was definitely not looking forward to explaining to her that the only form of liquid refreshment on offer was coffee.
In view of her various excursions on the way to SBNT Jess had a lot to tell me, and the subsequent monologue must have expanded the listeners’ knowledge of the certain aspects of the English language quite considerably, although happily it should also do much to explain to them the reason for her late arrival. I gently steered the conversation towards the ATWC in general, and we chatted about previous legs (and certain personalities — I think your ears might have been burning, Joe) in a way which I hoped that our hosts would find reassuring. Perhaps they did, for at that point our conversation was interrupted by the arrival at our table of Colonel Fernandez.
After curtly introducing himself to Jess, he briefly explained to her that unfortunately the airfield was closed to civilian traffic, and hence it would be necessary for her to immediately fly the very short distance to Governador Aluízio Alves International Airport (SBSG) for her overnight stay, for which purpose her A320 was being pushed out of the adjacent hangar and would soon be ready for her to board. Seeing Jess’s face darkening at this unwelcome turn of events I had to forestall the imminent explosion somehow, so I hastily interjected “And I must be on my way too — thank you for your hospitality, Colonel.” (Sarcasm may perhaps be the lowest form of wit, but I felt it to be entirely appropriate at that point).
But this was not what the Colonel had in mind. “No”, he shouted at me, wagging his finger for emphasis, “She may go, but you — you will stay!” With a puzzled glance in my direction, Jess got up and hurried away to be reunited with her A320, her tiredness temporarily forgotten. Meanwhile, back in the restaurant, the Colonel had seized the baton, while his gun-toting merry men took me upstairs to his office again. This was getting wearisome, but at least I could be hopeful that Jess would be on the radio to Tim, to warn him that things were not well and that he should stay put and await further developments. As to how Jess’s A320 had arrived — that was a mystery which was explained only later (see Jess's own account for details).
After a short delay, Colonel Fernandez and the remainder of his officers entered the room: the Colonel sat down at his desk and regarded me with disfavour, albeit not unmixed with some puzzlement. “You expect me to believe that it would take an A320 and a Boeing 747 to carry your small baton?”, he mused. “Yet it is not at all heavy.”
Put like that, I had to admit that it must have seemed odd, but sensing an opportunity I explained that the mix of aircraft during the relay race was merely a question of what the individual pilots considered appropriate, or had to hand. The baton itself, whilst not heavy or bulky, was nonetheless the most essential aspect of the relay, since to win the bet it had to be returned to its starting point as quickly as possible. So I ended by saying “I would therefore be most grateful if you return the baton to me, and allow me to proceed on my way with all possible speed, Colonel”.
Colonel Fernandez sat in silence for a few moments and then snapped his fingers, at which to my surprise one of his flunkeys stepped forward (I thought that only happened in Mafia movies), and I saw he was holding the baton.
I put out my hand to take it from him, but Colonel Fernandez had no intention of releasing it just yet, and dismissed the flunkey back to the sidelines with a wave of his manicured hand. “You know, Captain”, he said, “we have a lot of trouble here with drug smugglers.” Aha, I thought, that’s where we are — although I was relieved to note that at least espionage seemed to now be off the menu following Jess’s explanations of her extended trip, so I remained cautiously silent. But Fernandez then continued: “Perhaps this... baton of yours is full of cocaine? So we should open it to find out, no?” Faced with the prospect of his goons systematically reducing the baton to matchwood in search of imaginary drugs, I needed to come up with something quickly.
“Colonel”, I suggested, “this airfield was closed to civilian traffic only eighteen months ago. You must still have some of the old luggage scanning equipment in use — especially since, to judge by the baggage carts outside, you still use this terminal for troop movements”. We exchanged glances — clearly we both had experience of troop movements and some of the interesting items which turned up in troops’ luggage from time to time. I continued “Why don’t you simply scan the baton to prove to you that it is harmless, and then I can be on my way, since any further delay could imperil the bet and prove very costly”. The Colonel gave his staff the evil eye — someone was going to pay for not suggesting this to him earlier — and regarded me slightly less coldly.
“Very well”, he announced, “I will do that. And whilst my staff carry out this order as rapidly as possible, you will tell me more about your relay race and the bet, yes?”. I tried to look delighted at the prospect of inventing a full-scale and detailed around the world relay race bet story on the fly, and thanked the Colonel for his courtesy. He rattled off some clipped Portuguese orders and the baton-carrier literally ran from the room. Clearly, Colonel Fernandez could be a man to be feared.
I will gloss over the next ten minutes or so, during which I invented in fanciful detail the tale of a bet between an unnamed billionaire and a group of adventurers from the internationally-known Mutley’s Hangar team of crack flyers who were determined to complete the relay in time to win the prize. Clearly, the Colonel was a betting man himself, because he listened with increasing enthusiasm and was starting to ask about the amount of money involved when the flunkey returned, somewhat out of breath (and with the baton still intact, I was relieved to see). The unfortunate scapegoat was then made to stand at quivering attention whilst he received a severe tongue-lashing in front of his peers, which I was (perhaps fortunately) unable to understand since my Portuguese is more or less limited to ordering beer, but which clearly had a considerably chastening effect.
After snatching the baton out of his quivering hands and dismissing the unfortunate fellow, presumably to spend the remainder of his career in the Brazilian equivalent of Siberia, the Colonel rose from his chair and offered the baton to me. “Here you are, Captain”, he said, all smiles now, “Please allow me to escort you back to your aircraft.”
As I retraced my steps through the terminal building accompanied by the Colonel (with his entourage trailing behind us), he regaled me with stories of the marvellous string of racehorses which he kept, all of which, it appeared, were certain winners — providing he could keep them out of the hands of the dopers. I sympathised deeply, speaking with warm feeling of the curse of cheats and envious owners in the racing community (entirely on the flimsy basis of information acquired during a fun greyhound race evening, many years previously). “Do you own any racehorses yourself?”, the Colonel enquired. I considered the tempting prospect for a moment, but the well springs of inventiveness had more or less run dry whilst I was coming up with the relay bet saga, and besides, I couldn’t see my way clear to trying to accommodate a racehorse in my small garden shed, so that I simply informed him that, alas, I was not so blessed. “That is sad”, he said, “you should. Name your first one in honour of me.”
I gravely undertook to do so, and the Colonel would, I think, have accompanied me on board the aircraft — right up to the moment when he caught sight of the rickety and hastily lashed together steps, at which point he came to an abrupt halt on terra firma and formally wished me well. We shook hands, his entourage managed a ragged salute, and with considerable care, not unmixed with trepidation, I managed to ascend the wobbly temporary steps and get safely through the door. Turning, I saluted them in return in the best RAF tradition and added a final cheery wave with the baton, before closing and arming the door prior to re-joining Timothy in the cockpit.
To give the lad his due, he had followed my instructions to the letter and the aircraft was fully prepared for immediate engine start and taxy, so that literally within seconds of resuming my seat (after a quick glance to be sure that the Brazilians had all retreated to a safe distance) we started engines 3 and 4, closely followed (as soon as 3 and 4 were stable) by 1 and 2. Timothy had, whilst I was away, managed to work it out. “You knew there wasn’t going to be any pushback, didn’t you?” he beamed. Not being a betting man (in spite of my words to the Colonel) I wasn’t able to give him the exact vanishingly short odds, so I contended myself with a mumbled affirmative as I released the parking brake and applied gentle amounts of thrust. Then as we started moving I eased the tiller hard over. Assisted by additional thrust on the outboard engine on the port wing together with some gentle pressure on the starboard toe brakes, the aircraft made an immaculately tight right turn without clobbering any of the jetways, and soon we were trundling along the taxyway towards the runway threshold.
To my surprise, in my absence there had apparently been no search of the aircraft, but I would surmise that the troops probably felt the same about those jerry-built temporary steps as did I and the Colonel. Besides, it was still extremely hot out there, although happily Timothy had followed my instructions to the letter and kept running the pack which supplied the cockpit (using bleed air supplied in turn by the APU), so that we were perfectly comfortable and able to concentrate fully on the job in hand.
I asked Timothy to switch on the strobes and the landing and taxy lights straight away — if the rest of these guys were as unfamiliar with civilian practices as the idiot on the radio then at least they couldn’t claim that they didn’t see us coming. Whilst taxying, I was able to point out to Timothy some of the FAB military aircraft parked on the other side of the field, including an Embraer E-99 (airborne early warning and control), several C-130s (tactical transport), a Boeing KC-767 (also equipped for in-flight refuelling), and a clutch of AS-332 Super Pumas (transport helicopters). Six months ago, the FAB reached an agreement with Sweden to finance the purchase of a batch of 36 Gripen NGs, too, so this bunch are very serious people.
In a way I would have liked to have stayed longer to chat to the good Colonel, but it was probably better this way. Clearly, he and his staff were bored, and indeed it’s generally known that in the absence of any serious external or internal threats, the Brazilian armed forces are searching for a new role. Promotion, I reflected, would hardly be rapid in a situation such as that, and in view of a certain episode in my past I have good reason to know very well what can happen when highly-trained personnel are left with too much time on their hands.
But my reflections ceased as we approached the runway threshold, and we were then cleared to enter the runway….
….. and, almost immediately, to take off. I sensed the Colonel’s hand in this (I could only hope that he wasn’t expecting a percentage of our imaginary winnings) but in any event we lost no time in applying take-off thrust and subsequently leaving Natal behind us. With four powerful Rolls Royce engines more used to powering a rather stately take-off when the aircraft is fully laden with around 240 tonnes of payload and full fuel tanks at the start of a very long trip indeed, our empty 747-400 would have achieved startling climb rates well in excess of 4,000 ft/min had I not previously reminded Timothy to derate the climb — even with the derate, we ascended at a rate (for a 744) that must have astonished anyone tracking us.
Once safely into the climb-out phase I handed over control to Timothy and tried to contact Jess over the radio, but it seemed that she must have already landed at SBSG (which is only 12 nm away from SBNT, after all).
Our departure took us first of all out towards the coast….
…. after which we headed northwards to join the airway across the Atlantic….
…. and after joining it we were cleared to climb to our cruise altitude of FL370.
There was a lot of traffic on the airway, both inbound and outbound, as depicted by the TCAS (Traffic Collision and Avoidance System) on the ND (Navigation Display).
But soon we were at cruising altitude, with three and a half hours of Atlantic Ocean to look forward to. Here’s a view of some water in the Atlantic Ocean:
And, er, some more water:
And some clouds (with more water below):
At this point, you will be beginning to understand why my introduction to this piece was more extended than usual: there really are very finite limits to the number of pictures of the Atlantic Ocean that most people can put up with, especially during a straight-line flight of <yawn> 1500 miles. So if you don’t mind, I’ll omit the rest of the water pictures and move on to the point where we’re approaching the top of the descent towards Sal (GVAC).
Cape Verde (or "the Republic of Cabo Verde", as its government would nowadays prefer it to be known), is an island country spanning an archipelago of 10 volcanic islands in the central Atlantic Ocean, and located 350 miles (570 kilometres) off the coast of Western Africa. Between them, the islands comprise a combined area of slightly over 1,500 sq miles (4,000 square kilometres). According to the Wikipedia entry I had looked at before leaving home, “Since independence Cape Verde has been a stable representative democracy, and remains one of the most developed and democratic countries in Africa”.
We were headed for Amílcar Cabral International Airport (GVAC), also known as Amílcar Cabral Airport, or, since it is located on the island of Sal, Sal International Airport. (So good they named it thrice?). As you can see from the map, above, Sal (top right) is by no means the biggest of the islands, however until September 2005 GVAC was the only airport in Cape Verde to serve international flights. The airport's main runway is 10,734 ft (3,272 m) long, and is still the longest in Cape Verde. It’s therefore used for long-haul flights, and it was also one of the designated emergency landing strips for the U.S. Space Shuttle.
Arriving from a south-westerly-ish direction, we would overfly the tip of the main island of Santiago as we began our descent towards GVAC. You can see in the next picture that our aircraft is just about to pass Santiago: you may also notice that most of the islands in the archipelago now have airfields.
As we neared the rocky volcanic island of Sal, we passed the island of Boa Vista on our right.
A few details of our destination were now becoming visible, and we began to have an idea about how the very dry-looking Sal got its name. (After we had landed, the barman confirmed that the island is indeed named after the Portuguese for “salt” — from the salt mines at Pedra de Lume).
A short time later, here we are about to land:
In spite of the long runway, there seemed to be few visitors to the airport apart from another 747 parked on the ramp, so we taxied to our assigned gate, parked, and shut down the aircraft.
And finally it was time for a long cool drink or two — and a suitable opportunity, also, to complete a few items of Timothy’s education whilst we awaited John’s arrival, and the handover of the baton.
Until the next trip, then….
Cheers,
Brian
(a.k.a. bruce)
Resources:
* Accurate and complete 747-400 aircraft simulation with ATC, traffic generation, and planetary real time weather: Precision Simulator X v10.0.6c
* Information injection into FSX for the visuals: VisualPSX v6.6
* Traffic injection into FSX: TrafficPSX v6.6
* Puppet aircraft in FSX: the iFly (free) FSX 747 (with Brian’s Charter repaint)
* Scenery generator: FSX (in permanent DX10 mode, thanks to Steve’s Fixer)
* Generic scenery: Orbx Global base, Vector, [and OpenLC Europe + OpenLC North America Alaska & Canada], with worldwide mesh
* Sky and water textures: Rex 4 Texture Direct with Soft Clouds
* Real world weather: Active Sky Next
Afterword:
My thanks to Steph for her reminder about the military presence at SBNT, without which Colonel Fernandez might never have been created; and thanks also to Micke for the picture of his hands holding the baton (you may remember me taking the original photo whilst we were at RAF Cosford last year, Micke
).Finally (@Joe) — I did remember to include a reference to a shed!
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> "My new PC is going back to the manufactures tomorrow
Deep sympathies, John. Hugely frustrating! But hopefully it will be 100% when you get it back.
Cheers,
Brian
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Thank you, Micke!
They're definitely kinda impressive when viewed as a series.
Cheers,
bruce
a.k.a. brian747
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Great one, Jess.
I very much enjoyed reading your saga (although recalling Ian Fleming's famous quote, "It reads better than i lives", I respect your right to feel slightly differently about the whole affair). Great pics, too!
However, as I went on to discover, there was also a twee problemette at SBNT (I'll explain about that when I do my own write-up). Suffice it to say that we were both done over in different ways, but I was happy to see that after our chat you and your A320 were able to leave without any further problems.
No one said the ATWC was going to be easy, right?
Cheers,
B.
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@ Micke
When I said "...it could be a flight plan thing, I guess..." I must admit I hadn't dug out the charts. Thank you for that information.
@John
What was in my mind was a rather vague recollection of a phenomenon called ice crystal icing, although the details of it had become a little fuzzy. However the Internet knows all —
High-Altitude Ice Crystal IcingThis type of icing does not appear on radar due to its low reflectivity. Neither airplane ice detectors nor visual indications reliably indicate the presence of ice crystal icing conditions. It is often undetected by the flight crew and has caused many high-altitude engine failures.According to NASA scientists Harold E. Addy Jr. and Jospeh P. Veres of the Glenn Research Center in Cleveland in “An Overview of NASA Engine Ice-Crystal Icing Research,” (NASA/TM-2011-217254, November 2011), “It is a problem whose frequency is alarmingly high…. Evidence indicates that engine icing incidents caused by ice accreting inside the core of jet-based engines have been occurring for over two decades.”Ice shed into the compressor can drive the engine into stall due to the combined effect of several mechanisms (lost inertial and heat energy to the ice), as well as the inefficiency of airfoils with ice on them. The chain of events begins with a sudden flow reversal (compressor surge) followed by engine rotor speed decay (engine “stall”) as airflow is reduced due to the presence of airflow separation in compressor stages. The combustor remains lit; however, due to lack of airflow, the EGT typically rises quickly.Flameout occurs due to quenching of the combustor following the ingestion of ice. Engine damage happens when engine blades and vanes are impacted by shed ice. Minor blade-tip curl has occurred. Rare instances of blade release have occurred.(The above extracts are from http://aviationweek.com/bca/high-altitude-ice-crystal-icing ).Thus prompted, I was then able to pin down my recollection of the topic as emanating from the more recent editions of the Boeing 747 Flight Crew Training Manual (my preferred bedtime reading, as you know ). The FCTM has this to say:Ice Crystal IcingIce Crystal Icing Ice crystals at high altitude are often not considered a threat to jet transportairplanes because they don't lead to airframe icing. However, a condition existswhere solid ice particles can cool interior engine surfaces through melting and icebuildup can occur. When the ice breaks off, it can result in engine power loss ordamage. Symptoms can include surge, flameout or high vibration.Typically, the engine power loss has occurred at high altitude, in clouds, as theairplane is flying above an area of convective weather where little or no airplaneweather radar returns were observed at the flight altitude. In other cases, flightaltitude radar returns were observed and pilots conducted the flight to avoid theseareas. Despite pilot avoidance of reflected weather, engine power losses haveoccurred. Avoidance of ice crystals is a challenge because they are not easilyidentified.Boeing has been an integral part of ongoing studies to better understand ice crystalicing. For more detailed information on this subject, see the Boeing FlightOperations Technical Bulletin titled Ice Crystal Icing. This bulletin providesinformation about actual events, including those experiencing engine power lossand damage associated with flight in ice crystal icing. It also provides methods ofrecognizing ice crystal icing conditions and suggested actions if ice crystal icingis suspected. An Ice Crystal Icing Supplementary Procedure is also available inthe Adverse Weather section, Volume 1 of the FCOM.Note: An Ice Crystal Icing NNC is available in the QRH.That Boeing AERO bulletin lists this as the first of the possible scenarios in which ice crystal icing is encountered:Researchers have identified several conditions that are connected to engine ice crystal icing events. The most important factors are:
High altitudes and cold temperatures. Commercial airplane power-loss events associated with ice crystals have occurred at altitudes of 9,000 to 39,000 feet, with a median of 26,800 feet, and at ambient temperatures of -5 to -55 degrees C with a median of -27 degrees C. The engine power-loss events generally occur on days when the ambient temperature is warmer than the standard atmosphere...
But (with all due respect to the gentlemen from NASA) when viewed against the number of flights that take place I had thought that this phenomenon was statistically rare. When I was trying to think of something that might cause a descent like that from FL330, ice crystal icing occurred to me only as a remote possibility — we can place it very firmly in the Wild Guess category, I reckon!
Cheers,brucea.k.a. brian747-
2
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Requiescat in pace the Spanish Captain and French F/O.
Having spent some months in RAF Puma helicopters flying in northern Norway during their harsh winters I would venture to confirm what Micke has said about flying in that area at this time of the year -- the conditions can indeed be bitterly cold and very changeable, with icing, sudden blinding snowstorms (and/or equally treacherous mists) making life very difficult if you're anywhere near the hard stuff below you.
But having said that, I'm left with two questions in my mind.
1. If en route from Oslo to Tromsö, it seems a little unusual that they should be over northern Sweden? (But it could be a flight plan thing, I guess, especially since other reports place the crash on the Norwegian/Swedish border).
2. "Flightradar reported that the aircraft fell quickly, from an altitude of 33,000 feet to 11,725 feet in just 60 seconds." Ouch. That's not the result of low level weather conditions -- it sounds as though perhaps icing caused a stall, or some such thing?
But it's so sad, notably for the families of those who were killed. Hopefully something may be learned from the recorders.
'“It was a powerful crash, right into the ground,” Daniel Lindblad, spokesman for the Swedish rescue service, told news bureau NTB. A Scandinavian news source said the pilot, from Spain, was 42 and the co-pilot, from France, was 34. Between the two men, they had 6,000 hours of flight experience.' ( http://aircargoworld.com/crj-200pf-carrying-mail-crashes-in-northern-sweden/ )
"Flight hours: Captain 2,050 hours on type, total hours 3,173
First officer: 900 hours on type, total hours 3,050"
B.
USB woes
in Hardware
Posted
Hi Chris!
Just to clarify:
> "...just about every USB 3.0 hub is sold with a 10" length cable..."
Er, 10" is read in this country as ten inches. Surely you mean ten feet (10')?
Cheers,
bruce
a.k.a. brian747
[Later edit — quote from the reference you gave:
"The 3.0/3.1 specification does not specify a maximum cable length between USB 3.0/3.1 devices (SuperSpeed or SuperSpeed+), but there is a recommended length of 3 meters (or about 9 feet and 10 inches). However, the biggest limitation to the length of the cable is the quality of the cable". ]