PIREP Leg 36 - Hawaii Hilo to McClellan California: PHTO - KMCC

[Bruce (a.k.a. brian747) 142]

Some days before the flight, I had a chat with Geoff Swanson, my First Officer and world famous wind-up merchant, mainly to give him an outline of our next trip. When I mentioned the word “Hawaii” his face lit up. I made the most of the moment, because I like to wind him up occasionally, just to even the score a little. Then I said “But it’s Hilo”, and his face fell a mile. “You are definitely kidding me, right?”, he begged.

 

But I wasn’t kidding, to his huge disappointment. As you can see from the map, Hilo is about as far east of the island chain as you can possibly get without falling into the Pacific; furthermore the main inbound flights at that airport are mostly local (from Honolulu, which is where Geoff had assumed he was going).

 

 

When you compare the five major airports in Hawaii, Hilo is by far the smallest in terms of passenger throughput (around a quarter of the number that use Maui’s Kahului Airport, for example), and also it’s the only one of the five airports which has no non-stop flights to North America. Hmm. Not exactly a backwater; but a little... under-used, shall we say, perhaps because it’s not near any of Hawaii’s main tourist districts. (So much so in fact, that there’s a lively trade going on in turning nearby hotels into apartments or condominiums).

 

But although all of Hilo’s passenger terminal’s six gates (yup, it boasts just the six) are unusual in that they can all accommodate a 747 —

 

 

— we bypassed them on landing since our role this time was as box shifters, so we had no seats but plenty of room in the back and hence were directed to the... shall we say, 'somewhat unglamorous' cargo area which is well away from the new passenger terminal that is to the south of the longer runway 8-26, being sited in what was the old passenger terminal on the western edge of runway 3-21.

 

 

Which immediately makes my suspicious mind (I carried out a variety of governmental and military roles before settling down to running a Charter company, which is probably what affected me that way) wonder why we’re picking up a hefty load at the very place where the minimum number of people in Hawaii would be able to see us. 

 

Here’s an overhead view of my 744 parked in the cargo area (ringed in dark red) — as you can see, the passenger terminal is about a mile away (ringed in yellow). We’re definitely not going to be overlooked, then.....

 

 

All I had been told up to this point was that the job involved collecting some heavy crates and delivering them to McClellan Airport (KMCC), on the outskirts of Sacramento (not to be confused with the similarly-named McClellan-Palomar Airport, KCRQ, which is near San Diego). Until the year 2000 our destination used to be known as McClellan Air Force Base, but these days it’s enjoying a gentler retirement as a public airport). 

 

So a fairly normal sort of load for us, yet there was definitely something odd going on, and hence I had despatched CJ, my genial Loadmaster, to get the details of the load, whilst Geoff and I made a start on the flight plan. The route was about as straightforward as you could get, and if the forecasted winds held we would also have an easy approach into McClellan’s runway 16. With around four hours of the cruise taking place whilst crossing the Pacific Ocean, had I been in the company’s 777 I would have needed to take account of the ETOPS requirements, but with my trusty four RR engines I had no concerns even on this trip (with our certification there are very few flights — Australia to South America is one example that comes to mind — where we need to take ETOPS into consideration).

 

Here’s the flight plan route (probably the hardest part is the slight wiggle in the PARIS FOUR departure out of Hilo):

 

 

I had slightly fuzzy recollections (increasing age has the unfortunate effect, amongst others I might add, of diminishing one's capacity for alcohol) of spending a great evening with Jess yesterday, a session which began (as she had predicted) with debating the finer points of Boeing vs. Airbus before moving onwards towards a range of other and rather less technical and even more interesting topics; but happily before we parted I was still sufficiently sober to remember to ask her for the baton (stop it, Brett!) — and so this morning it was now time for me to concentrate what was left of my brain on the forthcoming flight to California.

 

Really, what I needed the most at this point was the details of our cargo in order to be able to calculate our fuel requirements and file the flight plan, so that CJ could then start superintending the loading with his usual obsessive care. But first (I was suddenly and unexpectedly informed) I needed to meet someone privately for a “discussion” to take place. Geoff’s eyebrows rose, and I knew I’d be in for another of his ribbing sessions when I returned, but I followed the messenger through some corridors into a part of the cargo offices I hadn’t seen before.

 

Behind a somewhat battered desk sat a huge and craggy man with precise creases in his shirt that could only be the result of a military background of some kind; and who was silently regarding me with what might politely be described as an unfriendly gaze. Introductions, it appeared, were not on the agenda. Brusquely waving me to a chair, he took his cigar out of his mouth for just long enough to comment (it wasn’t a question) “You’re ex-military, right?”. Well I can do cryptic too, so I simply nodded, whilst speculating about who his contacts might be and hence which parts of my unorthodox career he might perhaps know about. “OK”, he grunted, “Well we’ll have to make do with you, I guess, since we’ve got a deadline to meet”. And I think you’re wonderful too, I thought, but didn’t say anything for the moment (it seemed as though he thought I was only there to listen, anyway).

 

Apparently the ‘mission’ (obviously I’d been right about his military background) involved taking a number of large crates across to McClellan airport on the U.S. mainland — which as far as it went didn’t impress me much since I knew that already. The interesting part came when I was emphatically told that I and my ‘staff’ were under no circumstances to examine the crates or their contents, before turning them over to the ‘authorities’ at McClellan. “And if you're thinking that the manifest will tell you what’s in them then forget it, it won’t”, he concluded.

 

A number of options were going through my mind at that point, but as a fairly reliable opening gambit I contented myself with flatly and emphatically stating that unless I could be certain that the contents of the crates would in no way endanger my aircraft, they were not going to be loaded on board. 

 

Impasse. So we then had a staring contest, which he lost.

 

“Yeah”, he growled, pawing at some papers, “They said you’d be trouble”. After eventually finding what he wanted in a drawer in his desk, he handed me an envelope: “I reckon this will change your mind”, he said. From the smug look on his face he was pretty sure about that, too. So I took my time examining the envelope: “Did you have much trouble sealing it up again?”, I asked. His face darkened, but he managed not to comment, just sat there chomping his cigar whilst I opened the envelope and read the contents, which were pretty much what I feared they would be.

 

Bearing the crest of the British Embassy in Washington, it was more or less a direct instruction to cooperate with Colonel Schulster (presumably, the smug guy on the other side of the desk) in performing a mission of great importance, although to whom or in what way was not stated. I tested the seal with my thumb and it seemed genuine, but anyway I recognised the signature at the bottom of the letter as being that of an Embassy official whom I had met when I went to the Washington Embassy not long ago to complain about the treatment that was meted out to some of my passengers following a trip into Dulles (it’s a long story — some other time, perhaps).

 

Hence I was irritated to find that Schulster was right, and I was indeed stuck with the deal.

 

“OK”, I said. (I’ve found that there’s a certain type of American who automatically bristles when a Brit uses prolix language and the tone of Empire — which is why so many Hollywood villains have British accents, of course — and it seemed a fair bet that here was one of them, so I turned the effect up to the max). Getting up from the chair I announced, as portentously as I could, “In view of the unquestionable fact that force majeure appears to have been resorted to in order to coerce me into accepting this assignment, I will indubitably proceed to register a complaint in the strongest possible terms that I was not approached or consulted in advance of the event; and I must therefore regard the terms of my engagement as being fundamentally untenable. Your own culpability in the affair will be ascertained at a later date”.

 

It worked even better than I had hoped. Narrowly avoiding swallowing what was left of his cigar, and with his face assuming an unbecoming tinge of purple, Col Schulster extremely vocally disagreed, and he continued to loudly and profanely register his dissent to my departing back as I retraced my steps to where CJ and Geoff were waiting. Rather than enter into long explanations I decided it was simpler to cut to the chase. “It’s like this, guys,” I said, “Rather unexpectedly, this has just become a Special Job”. They exchanged glances (Special Jobs came along from time to time with Brian’s Charter; and best of all from their point of view, those jobs invariably attracted bonus payments). “The terms of engagement are”, I continued, “That we are not repeat not to examine the cargo, or attempt to establish what’s in the crates. OK?”. They both nodded. I knew that I could be entirely confident that they were up for this sort of deal — otherwise they wouldn’t be working for me.

 

It is almost three hours later, and CJ has superintended the loading of the crates by a group of unusually smart baggage handlers. Geoff and I meanwhile had calculated our fuel (having factored in the weight of the crates and their contents, and the distance to our alternate airport), and also done our take-off and landing performance calculations: as a result we had relatively few concerns about the lengths of the respective runways. So we were all as happy as we could possibly be whilst transporting unknown varieties of extremely heavy matériel  thousands of miles across the United States. Even (or perhaps especially) if most of that trip would be over the Pacific Ocean.

 

 

The advantage of being a small and tightly-knit team is that we have all worked together for long enough to be able to shrug off things that there’s no point in worrying about, and simply rely on each other’s expertise. So while CJ thoughtfully regarded the mysterious crates and double-checked that they were properly secured to the aircraft, Geoff and I got on with the pre-flight. The met reports were entirely consistent, so it seemed increasingly certain that we would be landing on rwy 16 at McClellan (via the DASHE transition) — but we would only firm that up with the FMC once we had the ATIS and were crossing the Californian coast. Meanwhile, the runway in use at Hilo was rwy 26, which meant that once we had left the cargo terminal apron we would proceed along taxyway A for almost its full length, passing the passenger terminal and then turning left onto the runway at the end of the taxyway.

 

 

Geoff having ascertained that we had permission to start engines (no push was required from here) ....

 

 

.... I checked the overhead panel to ensure that we were good to go. 

 

 

With the APU running to supply the engines with bleed air for starting, and the packs off to maximise the amount of air available (also ringed in green, above), we started engines 3 and 4.

 

 

On a 744, much of the startup is automated, so it’s simply a question of watching for occasional hiccups such as a hot start or whatever — but on this occasion all was well, and once 3 and 4 were stabilised we started 1 and 2. The disappearance of the amber captions meant that the engine-driven generators were confirmed to be online, so we could then switch off the APU and turn on hydraulic pump 4 — and also turn the packs back on again.

 

 

Having received clearance to proceed onto the taxyway, we then followed the instructions of the marshaller and made our way cautiously across the apron past the old Tower (the new one is between the cargo area and the passenger terminal) to the yellow line, then headed for the intersection with taxyway A, where we turned right.

 

 

We trundled gently along the taxyway past the passenger terminal ...

 

 

... all the way down to the threshold of runway 26, and awaited clearance to enter.

 

Clearance having been received, we turned onto the runway, turning on landing lights and strobes, arming the autothrottle, and setting the TCAS to RA/TA. (Having previously established that there was sufficient performance margin, we left the packs on for the take-off). Here, incidentally, is the take-off view that I have set up within PSX:

 

 

As you can see from the terrain display on the ND, a timely sharp right turn is required soon after take-off to avoid the mountains immediately ahead of us, which can also be seen from the outside view:

 

 

With the before takeoff checklist done, we were all set to go when ATC came through with the take-off clearance. Everything stayed looking good as we accelerated down the runway, and we lifted off with bags of room to spare.

 

 

I was hand-flying the climb out: I turned right to avoid the mountains, and then we were over the Pacific Ocean.

 

 

On reaching 20,000ft I turned the aircraft over to VNAV and LNAV, and then monitored the automation whilst it made easy work of the PARIS FOUR Departure from Hilo (you can see the ‘wiggle’ that I mentioned earlier, shown on the Navigation Display) — following which we headed for the airway which would take us to California.

 

 

So as we bid “Aloha” to Hawaii, we now face the prospect of about four and a bit hours of cruising over the Pacific at a gentle Mach 0.84 (corresponding to a ground speed of around 554 mph).

 

 

With Geoff conscientiously checking our fuel estimates at every waypoint against the actual amount we have on board (having a thousand miles of nothing but water to land on in every direction can seriously ruin your day if you run short of fuel for any reason whatsoever), I started to think in terms of step climbs.

 

Well <*cough*> to be honest I have to admit that I didn't have to think too hard at all, because the friendly FMC of the 744 calculates it all for you and then displays the result on the PROGRESS pages on the CDU:

 

 

As you can see, we’ll be reaching the first point at which a step climb is possible (ATC permitting, of course) in 407nm and just under an hour’s time (at 1151 Zulu); just above that information you can also see that our ETA at McClellan KMCC is 1526Z, at which point we should have 8.7 tonnes of fuel remaining (to cover the possibility of a diversion to our alternate, as well as perhaps a hold whilst en route). 

 

But perhaps I’d better quickly explain what a step climb is, just in case you haven’t encountered the term.

 

I'm afraid it’s about saving fuel, again, which is something that the airlines’ bean-counters are obsessive about and which we pilots have to be prepared to justify should we choose to disregard the SOPs. (So if you don’t care about using more virtual fuel than you have to, then please skip this explanation and move on to the next picture).

 

To start with the stuff that everyone knows, fuel is expensive; and the higher a jet engine flies (up to a point, anyway) the more efficient it becomes. The trouble is, of course, that on this trip we couldn't simply opt to fly at FL420 straight away, for the simple reason that we can’t — the FMC very sensibly tries to stop us, knowing that the aircraft is currently too heavy to be able to climb to that altitude without stalling (this is pretty much aerodynamics 101 — so please Google for “coffin corner” or “high altitude aerodynamics” if you’re interested to know more).

 

But obviously, as you cruise along, the aircraft is continually burning fuel, and hence on a long trip it will become significantly lighter. So you will eventually reach the point that the aircraft *can* climb to a higher altitude and get the benefit of greater fuel economy (even on this relatively short hop for a 744 of around 2,200 miles we will burn around 37 tonnes of fuel to get to our destination, much of it during the cruise). Obviously, this weight reduction is a continuous and gradual process, but quite clearly you can’t repeatedly request clearance for a climb to an altitude just a few hundred feet higher than you are at present, so step climbs are usually accomplished in steps of 2,000ft or 4,000ft at a time (depending on how or whether RVSM is implemented in the part of the world you are flying in). Advising ATC on leaving your old altitude and again on arriving at the new one is especially important when you are flying North Atlantic Tracks, of course; but in any event you will always need ATC clearance to leave your allotted altitude.

 

So that’s all there is to it, really. The Navigation Display will show a small green ring on your track with the letters “S/C” alongside it, so it’s easy to spot it coming up — and the VNAV and PROGRESS pages on the CDU will give you the details. All we need to do is to —

 

• Obtain permission from ATC just before reaching the S/C point, and...

• ...(having reached the point) dial the new altitude into the Mode Control Panel and press the ALT knob.

 

(The FMC values as shown on the VNAV CRZ and other CDU pages will be updated for us automatically).

 

So how hard can it be? Let’s try it. We are currently cruising at FL380, so after Geoff received permission from ATC, I turned the ALT knob on the MCP to 40000 and pressed it: the aircraft then started climbing to the new altitude:

 

 

The white box around the value at the top of the altitude tape (ringed in yellow) shows that I have recently changed the value to 40000, and the needle to the right of the altitude tape indicates that we are climbing towards the set figure of FL400 (four huge Rolls Royce jet engines mean that in spite of its impressive size the 744 is no slouch, even when we’re 7½ miles up). The CDU page shows us both our optimum and our maximum cruise levels at our current weight (also ringed in yellow).

 

So here we are, having arrived at our new altitude:

 

 

But is that the end of our step climbs for this trip? Well, apparently not. (ATC permitting, it goes without saying).

 

 

As you can see from my CDU (left), there’s the possibility of another step climb in just over an hour’s time. Geoff has displayed the CRZ page on his CDU (right), which shows that our optimum altitude is currently FL402, and our max at the current weight is FL437. (If you’re wondering what the stuff in between is, it’s one of the “synoptic views” that you can opt to show on the EICAS (Engine Indicating and Crew Alerting System) screen, in this case giving us details of the operation of the hydraulic systems. Geoff has obviously been checking things, again).

 

Incidentally, although the absolute ceiling for a 747-400 is 45,100 ft, many airlines (and/or pilots) are somewhat reluctant to routinely accept clearances higher than 41,000 ft, specifically to avoid the well-named “coffin corner” where either speeding up or slowing down will equally lead to disaster. (This is one of the relatively few occasions, in my experience, when pilots really *do* care about aerodynamics!) So I’m only really doing this demonstration for your benefit, OK?

 

That said, then, let’s fast forward to a time when we’re approaching the next step climb point, to FL420. This time I’ll show you how it appears on the ND (Navigation Display) — note that the tall triangle represents the aircraft, and the top of the triangle is the aircraft’s position. So as the top gets close to the Step Climb green ring (circled in yellow), it’s time to ask ATC if we can climb to FL420, and we are re-cleared to that altitude. 

 

 

Hence it’s time to turn the ALT knob again to set 42000 in the window, and then press the knob to initiate the climb. Below, you can see the climb to FL420 in progress, whilst the aptly-named PROGRESS (1 of 3) page on the CDU tells us that we are now exactly 500nm away from landing at McClellan (the information ringed in yellow).

 

 

You may feel, therefore, that we won’t have very long at our new altitude before it’s time to start the descent. “So was it worth it?”, I hear you ask. Well yes, in fact — airliners tend to climb as high as they can to take advantage of the fuel savings, even if the result on a short trip is that they are in cruise for only a matter of minutes prior to the top of descent. It’s all about saving fuel (and keeping the bean-counters quiet), these days.   <sigh>

 

But how do you know when it’s time to start the descent? Well one way is to realise that the Captain has just given you his descent brief, no but seriously — the simplest way is to watch for the T/D (Top of Descent) ring on the ND:

 

 

Just in passing: without looking at the CDU (which tells all, of course) — looking at the Navigation Display, roughly how far are we from the ToD? The clue is in the small white “80” just by PYE on the ND: that means that 80 nm is half way up the screen, so the range is currently set to 160nm. On the basis of that, therefore, looking at the distance between the tip of the triangle and the 80 tick mark I’d estimate us to be about 50 nm from the ToD. Anyway, assuming that the descent brief has been done, we can start to think about the descent itself. 

 

We’ll be descending using VNAV, and although the tin brain is very good at sums, it can’t help you if you have given it bad (or no) data. So to help the FMC work out our descent properly we must tell it about the winds which will be present during that time. Happily, in both the RW and in PSX we can do this by simply sending a message via ACARS:

 

 

 

 

Once the uplink is ready we can load the winds in, and the FMC will be able to make a much better job of helping us to get down in time, whilst also achieving a speed at our destination at which it’s possible to land. We will be monitoring the process carefully ourselves, of course, checking our progress in the good old fashioned way. Now is also the time to set the first constraint of our descent into the ALT window of the MCP: if we forget, then at the ToD the aircraft will assume that we have not given it permission to descend below our cruising altitude — not good, especially if we don’t notice and thus end up high, and fast! (But that never happens to this crew, naturally).

 

We also need to preselect what flap setting to use when landing. Although I tend to favour 25º on many occasions, (a) having never landed at McClellan; and (b) bearing in mind that we have a heavy load on board; and ( c) hence at 10,600ft long the runway isn’t enormously long for our landing, on this occasion I’m going to opt for flaps 30 to get the benefit of landing 6kts slower. (Which may not sound like a lot, but the energy which has to be killed by the brakes is proportional to the square of the velocity, so we are reducing the heat potentially generated by getting on for 10%). Therefore, on the APPROACH REF page of the CDU, I tell the FMC about that, too, and it responds with our VREF (133 kts):

 

 

But the tip of the ND triangle has just passed the T/D point, and so the aircraft has started its descent. The Vertical Deviation Indicator appears (ringed, right) — we will be keeping a wary eye on this to ensure that variable unforecasted winds don’t cause us to depart to any significant extent from the vertical path calculated for us by the FMC. You may also notice (ringed, lower left) that the value we chose for the landing flap and the resulting VREF are also now displayed for us at the lower end of the speed tape. Currently, we’re descending at 1,700 ft/min.

 

 

It isn’t long before the coast of California slips past beneath the nose, and we head on towards KMCC.

 

 

After the long hours of cruise, the tempo of life in the cockpit speeds markedly now. Geoff obtains the ATIS for McClellan, and confirms that we will indeed be landing on rwy 16, so I do some CDU typing to request the FMC to set up an ILS rwy 16 landing via the DASHE transition (given the excellent Californian weather I reckon I’ll be landing manually today, but it’s always good to have the ILS tuned too, as a reference). The IAF is WOODO (note the 1500 ft constraint). Geoff having carefully checked and verified what I have done, I execute the changes.

 

 

Stepping outside the cockpit for a moment, PSX has an Instructor station, from which you can implement any and all sorts of grief for the poor guy at the controls, just as in a full motion simulator as used by the airlines (airline training is PSX’s intended purpose, of course). But it also incorporates a moving map, from which the Instructor can readily see the aircraft’s position — here it has crossed the coast not long ago and is continuing inland, eventually intending to turn south towards McClellan’s rwy 16 (the aircraft and KMCC are ringed in blue):

 

 

Whilst we’re looking at other points of view, here’s one from the passenger’s perspective:

 

 

Events are moving swiftly now, and soon we are sufficiently far north of KMCC to start turning towards it for the approach to rwy 16:

 

 

At the point shown above, we are between MYV and DASHE, as depicted on the following chart extract:

 

 

Geoff has already activated the airport’s Pilot-Controlled Lighting on 122.97 (KMCC is an uncontrolled airfield, in what the FAA designates as class “E” airspace); and having achieved the 1500ft constraint at WOODO (the Initial Approach Fix) I’m in perfect shape for the landing, with McClellan’s ILS (it has no DME) already tuned and available for additional guidance if required (which on a lovely day like this it shouldn’t be).

 

 

Here’s the cockpit view when I’m closer in, and at 440ft AGL:

 

 

And soon we’re crossing the threshold —

 

 

Spoilers, autobrakes, and reverse thrust work together to ensure that we’re down to taxying speed at a reassuring distance before the end of the runway.

 

 

Minutes later, having cleaned up the aircraft, we find ourselves taxying to the allocated parking spot:

 

 

Slightly to my surprise, we've been directed to an area not far from the north end of the runway “near to the fire station” (the large block near the centre of this picture):

 

 

A short time later, with the assistance of a baseball-capped marshaller,  we are parked at the north end of the apron.

 

 

But no sooner had we shut down the engines than CJ shot through the cabin door, his normally genial face showing concern. “Boss, I don’t like to worry you, but there’s about thirty guys all in white boiler suits down there, saying that they’re about to unload the aircraft”. With a feeling of grim determination, I went to meet them. If these were friends of Colonel Schulster then as far as I was concerned they weren’t going to unload a thing without being able to produce every single one of the necessary documents in triplicate and 100% in order, preferably signed jointly by the U.S. President and the head of M.I.5.  

 

I elected to meet with the leader of the boiler-suited brigade in the cargo space of the aircraft, with CJ standing by, clearly looking for any excuse to create mayhem — I gently shook my head and he backed off slightly.

 

However, if the head honcho and his guys did have anything to do with Colonel Schulster then they had clearly attended a very different charm school. I was very happy to find the more customary broad smile and warm American welcome to be much in evidence, and when these were accompanied by a bottle of my favourite bourbon and enough documents to get their bearer accredited as at least a member of the White House staff if not a close cousin of the archangel Gabriel, I was able to relax and ask CJ to liaise with the rest of his guys to start the unloading process.

 

So as CJ superintended the unloading, and Geoff sorted out the paperwork with the McClellan airport officials, the Colonel (yep, another one) and I sat in the cockpit and tasted the bourbon. Which I have to say, was very good indeed. (Oh come on, there has to be an occasional perk to being the boss).      

 

Soon, we were chatting like old buddies, and I couldn’t help asking Brent (as he had introduced himself) just what the deal was with Schulster and the heavy-handed pressure routine? He chuckled, and replied “Hell, Schulster makes a big deal out of everything he touches. He’s not far from retirement, and he’s desperate to stay in Hawaii, so he kisses everyone’s ass out there to make sure he can — even if that loses him friends over here”.

 

I nodded in understanding, and then asked “So perhaps now you can tell me — just what was in those crates, and why was there such urgency to get them here?” 

 

Brent deliberated for a few moments, and then smiled and said “OK, come with me”. With a slightly regretful glance at the still almost full bottle of bourbon (which had better still be there when I got back) I grabbed my flight bag (containing the Mutley baton along with some other essentials that never leave my side) and followed him. He led me through a locked gate in the airport's wire perimeter fence, across two closely-spaced roads, then through another gate into a large compound.

 

I stared, for once utterly taken aback. 

 

Ranged around me was a fantastic collection of mostly American aircraft. Amazed, I walked amongst the exhibits, admiring them, almost forgetting about Brent until he spoke again. “Friend”, he said, “Welcome to the Aerospace Museum of California. The crates you brought contain our latest exhibit: at the Hawaiian donor’s request I can’t say what it is until the official announcement, but we think it’s going to be one of the stars of our collection by the time we have the celebratory day for it next month — as long as we can get it assembled in time”.  He grinned. “You see, here’s the thing: we point blank refused to tell Schulster anything at all about what was in the crates, no matter how often he asked or he blustered, and that drove him totally nuts — which explains why he was fuming, and why he gave you such a hard time”. 

 

That suddenly struck us both as being hugely funny, and we laughed so much that we had to lean against a nearby F-14D Tomcat for support. I just wished that Schulster had been there to see us.

 

 

After bidding a reluctant farewell to Brent and the Museum, and fixing things so that Pete could collect the baton from the desk when he arrived, I headed back to the hotel to meet up with Geoff and CJ as arranged. But when I joined them I couldn’t help noticing that a certain bottle of bourbon had somehow made its way back there from the aircraft — and it was now strategically positioned on a table, alongside three empty glasses. Hey ho, it seemed that another celebration was about to get under way. This would be a great time to tell them about Schulster....

 

 

Resources:

 

*         Accurate and complete 747-400 aircraft simulation with ATC, traffic generation, and planetary real time weather: Precision Simulator X  v10.0.5

*         Information injection into FSX for the visuals: VisualPSX v6

*         Traffic injection into FSX: TrafficPSX

*         Puppet aircraft in FSX: the stock FSX 747 (repainted)

*         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

*         Other sky and water textures: AS2012

 

 

Aerospace Museum of California: http://http://www.aerospaceca.org/

 

“The museum has over 40 aircraft in its collection from the fully restored, one-of-a-kind 1932 Curtiss Wright B-14B Speedwing to one of the last Grumman F-14D Tomcat retired from U.S. Navy service in 2006. In addition to aircraft, the collection includes many other historic artefacts relating to Sacramento's aerospace heritage. It also houses an extensive collection of historic aircraft engines. These include examples ranging from a World War I-era Gnome-Rhone rotary piston engine to the Pratt & Whitney nine-stage, axial-flow, bypass J-58 turbojet that propelled the SR-71 Blackbird supersonic spyplane. The museum features an art gallery containing more than 60 original works, many on loan from the Air Force Art Collection. The museum's restoration team is nearing completion of a Fairchild PT-19B World War II training aircraft. With new exhibits opening regularly, the Aerospace Museum is a wonderful place to explore the history of aviation”.

 

[hurricanemk1c 195]

Another superb insight into the inner workings of a modern airliner!

[brett 2,303]

Well told Brian, enjoyed the ride.  I've met plenty of Shulster's in my time in the service, it was great to see one put in his place.

 

(I have a twin named Brent, my mother wanted us to grow up tough )

[stu7708 244]

Great flight Bruce, love the detail you pour in to your PIREPs.

 

Although I must question your preference for Bourbon considering the fine specimens of similar drinks made much closer to your home

 

Now I'm off to try and update the Departure Board.. looks like it will be a hand full today since InDesign keeps crashing on me  

 

 

[Bruce (a.k.a. brian747) 142]

Thank you for your kind comments, gentlemen!  

 

@brett

 

> "(I have a twin named Brent, my mother wanted us to grow up tough  )"

 

Ah.... I borrowed the name from a great guy I got to know whilst I was in the U.S. I always wondered why he kept a .44 Magnum handgun in his airing cupboard — I think I now understand a little better, perhaps.    

 

@Micke

 

> "...the detail you pour in..."

 

<grin>  Well the rules do include the statement that "...you can never post too much detail!", and I always try to stick to the rules. I'll try to cut it down a bit next time.      

 

As to the alcohol (or rather, as they call it Over There, the 'liquor'), there's an old saying that "When in Rome..." (you do as the Romans do). I got to know Bourbon whilst I was living and working in Texas; however I do have to admit that in other circumstances a single malt would be my personal preference.   

 

But on an airfield in California — I'm happy with the Bourbon.    

 

Good luck with teaching InDesign some manners!

 

Cheers,

 

B.

 

[MyPC8MyBrain 273]

fantastic Brian,

love the B theme!

[mutley 4,493]

Another informative and entertaining PIREP Bruce, plenty of interest for our airline simmers!

 

[Captain Coffee 2,030]

Excellent read Brian. You write a Technical Manual like a short story...the Carl Sagan of FMS Manuals. 

 

Welcome to my neighborhood, you nearly flew right overhead while crossing the Napa North Bay area.

Hope you are in the area long enough to take a short wine tour or SF Bay tourista tour. If I wasn't swamped with RL work I would love to meet for a beer and whatever you are drinking. I stay away from the high octane stuff personally, unless my arm is severely twisted...(shades of a trip with Pat Moran on a past ATWC. )

 

Have a great stay!

 

 

p.s. The things one learns about their own area from foreigners ...Looks like I need to plan a trip to that aerospace museum soon.

[J G 927]

Great PIRIP Brian.

 

Isn't it a bit dodgy taking a cargo blind like that?

It could have been an aircraft broken down, it could have been anything!  

It could have been an aircraft broken down AND anything!

 

I suppose you were "winging it"!  

[hlminx 301]

Loving the PIREP Brian

More detail the better...I could imagine myself being in the second seat for the trip (mind you, that means I'd be sat on Geoff's lap!)

I"ll pour the bourbon if you bring the glasses and the ice next time

[Bruce (a.k.a. brian747) 142]

Many thanks, guys!    

 

@Matt

 

I wish I'd known that was your house, I would have waved.....    

 

But my humble thanks — any comparison to Professor Sagan is a huge tribute indeed!   

 

@John

 

Strange — I would have thought that someone with your taste for the military would have been aware that on such occasions, rather different rules apply.....       

 

@Steph

 

That sounds like a brilliant deal, I'll take it!    

 

All the best,

 

B.