A no automation Zero Zero Landing with finesse
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A no automation Zero Zero Landing with finesse
A friend of mine sent this story to me. With ever increasing autopilot sophistication the majority of airline pilots today now "manage" instead of flying their aircraft. This has resulted in significantly fewer accidents than the `old` days. Along with the now normal acceptance of recruiting of low experience cadet pilots into the second in command position of big jets, there is no shortage of reliable evidence that automation addiction has caused erosion of manipulative skills that were gained during elementary and advanced flying training.
This where flight simulators come in on their own and allow pilots who see handling skills as equally important to automation management skills, to practice their pursuit of excellence. Next time you fly a simulator ask the check pilot to switch off the visual screens and let you practice a zero/zero approach and landing without the help of autothrottles, flight director and automatic pilot.
The following story from yesteryear beautifully illustrates the importance of the pursuit of excellence in pure flying skills.
The article was in Flying's November 1976 issue, and the article was called Zero/Zero, by Charles D.
Svoboda. Unforgettable. It was #438 in the series "I Learned About Flying From That".
Zero/Zero
By
Charles Svoboda
It happened sometime in 1965, in Germany. I was a copilot, so I knew, everything there was to know about flying, and I was frustrated by pilots like my aircraft commander. He was one of those by-the-numbers types, no class, no imagination, no "feel" for flying.
You have to be able to feel an airplane. So what if your altitude is a little off, or if the glideslope indicator is off a hair? If it feels okay then it is okay. That's what I believed. Every time he let me make an approach, even in VFR conditions, he demanded perfection.
Not the slightest deviation was permitted. "If you can't do it when there is no pressure, you surely can't do it when the pucker factor increases," he would say. When he shot an approach, it was as if all the instruments were frozen - perfection, but no class
.
Then came that routine flight from the Azores to Germany. The weather was okay; we had 45,000 pounds of fuel and enough cargo to bring the weight of our C-124 Globemaster up to 180,000 pounds, 5,000 pounds below the max allowable. It would be an easy, routine flight all the way. Halfway to the European mainland, the weather started getting bad. I kept getting updates by high frequency radio. Our destination, a fighter base, went zero/zero. Our two alternates followed shortly thereafter. All of France was down. We held for two hours, and the weather got worse. Somewhere I heard a fighter pilot declare an emergency because of minimum fuel. He shot two approaches and saw nothing. On the third try, he flamed out and had to eject.
We made a precision radar approach; there was nothing but fuzzy fog at minimums. The sun was setting. Now I started to sweat a little. I turned on the instrument lights. When I looked out to where the wings should be, I couldn't even see the navigation lights 85 feet from my eyes. I could barely make out a dull glow from the exhaust stacks of the closest engine, and then only on climb power. When we reduced power to maximum endurance, that friendly glow faded. The pilot asked the engineer where we stood on fuel. The reply was, "I don't know--- we're so low that the book says the gauges are unreliable below this point. The navigator became a little frantic. We didn't carry parachutes on regular MAC flights, so we couldn't follow the fighter pilot's example. We would land or crash with the airplane.
The pilot then asked me which of the two nearby fighter bases had the widest runway. I looked it up and we declared an emergency as we headed for that field. The pilot then began his briefing.
"This will be for real. No missed approach. We'll make an ILS and get precision radar to keep us honest. Copilot, we'll use half flaps. That'll put the approach speed a little higher, but the pitch angle will be almost level, requiring less attitude change in the flare."
Why hadn't I thought of that? Where was my "feel" and "class" now? The briefing continued, "I'll lock on the gauges. You get ready to take over and complete the landing if you see the runway - that way there will be less room for trouble with me trying to transition from instruments to visual with only a second or two before touchdown." Hey, he's even going to take advantage of his copilot, I thought. He's not so stupid, after all.
"Until we get the runway, you call off every 100 feet above touchdown; until we get down to 100 feet, use the pressure altimeter. Then switch to the radar altimeter for the last 100 feet, and call off every 25 feet. Keep me honest on the airspeed, also. Engineer, when we touch down, I'll cut the mixtures with the master control lever, and you cut all of the mags. Are there any questions? Let's go!" All of a sudden, this unfeeling, by the numbers robot was making a lot of sense. Maybe he really was a pilot and maybe I had something more to learn about flying.
We made a short procedure turn to save gas. Radar helped us to get to the outer marker. Half a mile away, we performed the Before Landing Checklist; gear down, flaps 20 degrees. The course deviation indicator was locked in the middle, with the glideslope indicator beginning its trip down from the top of the case. When the GSI centered, the pilot called for a small power reduction, lowered the nose slightly, and all of the instruments, except the altimeter, froze. My Lord, that man had a feel for that airplane! He thought something, and the airplane, all 135,000 pounds of it, did what he thought.
"Five hundred feet," I called out, "400 feet........300 feet.......200 feet, MATS minimums.......100 feet, Air Force minimums; I'm switching to the radar altimeter ........75 feet nothing in sight......50 feet, still nothing....25 feet, airspeed 100 knots,"
The nose of the aircraft rotated just a couple of degrees, and the airspeed started down. The pilot then casually said, "Hang on, we're landing."
"Airspeed 90 knots....10 feet, here we go!"
The pilot reached up and cut the mixtures with the master control lever, without taking his eyes off the instruments. He told the engineer to cut all the mags to reduce the chance of fire. CONTACT! I could barely feel it. As smooth a landing as I have ever known, and I couldn't even tell if we were on the runway, because we could only see the occasional blur of a light streaking by.
"Copilot, verify hydraulic boost is on, I'll need it for brakes and steering." I complied.
"Hydraulic boost pump is on, pressure is up." The brakes came on slowly---we didn't want to skid this big beast now. I looked over at the pilot. He was still on the instruments, steering to keep the course deviation indicator in the center, and that is exactly where it stayed.
"Airspeed, 50 knots." We might make it yet.
"Airspeed, 25 knots." We'll make it if we don't run off a cliff. Then I heard a strange sound. I could hear the whir of the gyros, the buzz of the inverters, and a low frequency thumping. Nothing else. The thumping was my pulse, and I couldn't hear anyone breathing. We had made it! We were standing still!
The aircraft commander was still all pilot. "After-landing checklist, get all those motors, radar and un-necessary radios off while we still have batteries. Copilot, tell them that we have arrived, to send a follow me truck out to the runway because we can't even see the edges."
I left the VHF on and thanked GCA for the approach. The guys in the tower didn't believe we were there. They had walked outside and couldn't hear or see anything. We assured them that we were there, somewhere on the localizer centerline, with about half a mile showing on the DME.
We waited about 20 minutes for the truck. Not being in our customary hurry, just getting our breath back and letting our pulses diminish to a reasonable rate. Then I felt it. The cockpit shuddered as if the nose gear had run over a bump. I told the loadmaster to go out the crew entrance to see what happened. He dropped the door (which is immediately in front of the nose gear) , and it hit something with a loud , metallic bang. He came on the interphone and said "Sir, you'll never believe this. The follow-me truck couldn't see us and ran smack into our nose tire with his bumper, but he bounced off, and nothing is hurt." The pilot then told the tower that we were parking the bird right where it was and that we would come in via the truck. It took a few minutes to get our clothing and to button up the airplane. I climbed out and saw the nose tires straddling the runway centerline. A few feet away was the truck with its embarrassed driver.
Total damage---one dent in the hood of the follow me truck where the hatch had opened onto it.
Then I remembered the story from Fate Is the Hunter. When Gann was an airline copilot making a simple night range approach, his captain kept lighting matches in front of his eyes. It scarred and infuriated Gann. When they landed, the captain said that Gann was ready to upgrade to captain. If he could handle a night-range approach with all of that harassment, then he could handle anything.
At last I understood what true professionalism is. Being a pilot isn't all seat-of-the-pants flying and glory.
It's self- discipline, practice, study, analysis and preparation. It's precision.
If you can't keep the gauges where you want them with everything free and easy, how can you keep them there when everything goes wrong?
This where flight simulators come in on their own and allow pilots who see handling skills as equally important to automation management skills, to practice their pursuit of excellence. Next time you fly a simulator ask the check pilot to switch off the visual screens and let you practice a zero/zero approach and landing without the help of autothrottles, flight director and automatic pilot.
The following story from yesteryear beautifully illustrates the importance of the pursuit of excellence in pure flying skills.
The article was in Flying's November 1976 issue, and the article was called Zero/Zero, by Charles D.
Svoboda. Unforgettable. It was #438 in the series "I Learned About Flying From That".
Zero/Zero
By
Charles Svoboda
It happened sometime in 1965, in Germany. I was a copilot, so I knew, everything there was to know about flying, and I was frustrated by pilots like my aircraft commander. He was one of those by-the-numbers types, no class, no imagination, no "feel" for flying.
You have to be able to feel an airplane. So what if your altitude is a little off, or if the glideslope indicator is off a hair? If it feels okay then it is okay. That's what I believed. Every time he let me make an approach, even in VFR conditions, he demanded perfection.
Not the slightest deviation was permitted. "If you can't do it when there is no pressure, you surely can't do it when the pucker factor increases," he would say. When he shot an approach, it was as if all the instruments were frozen - perfection, but no class
.
Then came that routine flight from the Azores to Germany. The weather was okay; we had 45,000 pounds of fuel and enough cargo to bring the weight of our C-124 Globemaster up to 180,000 pounds, 5,000 pounds below the max allowable. It would be an easy, routine flight all the way. Halfway to the European mainland, the weather started getting bad. I kept getting updates by high frequency radio. Our destination, a fighter base, went zero/zero. Our two alternates followed shortly thereafter. All of France was down. We held for two hours, and the weather got worse. Somewhere I heard a fighter pilot declare an emergency because of minimum fuel. He shot two approaches and saw nothing. On the third try, he flamed out and had to eject.
We made a precision radar approach; there was nothing but fuzzy fog at minimums. The sun was setting. Now I started to sweat a little. I turned on the instrument lights. When I looked out to where the wings should be, I couldn't even see the navigation lights 85 feet from my eyes. I could barely make out a dull glow from the exhaust stacks of the closest engine, and then only on climb power. When we reduced power to maximum endurance, that friendly glow faded. The pilot asked the engineer where we stood on fuel. The reply was, "I don't know--- we're so low that the book says the gauges are unreliable below this point. The navigator became a little frantic. We didn't carry parachutes on regular MAC flights, so we couldn't follow the fighter pilot's example. We would land or crash with the airplane.
The pilot then asked me which of the two nearby fighter bases had the widest runway. I looked it up and we declared an emergency as we headed for that field. The pilot then began his briefing.
"This will be for real. No missed approach. We'll make an ILS and get precision radar to keep us honest. Copilot, we'll use half flaps. That'll put the approach speed a little higher, but the pitch angle will be almost level, requiring less attitude change in the flare."
Why hadn't I thought of that? Where was my "feel" and "class" now? The briefing continued, "I'll lock on the gauges. You get ready to take over and complete the landing if you see the runway - that way there will be less room for trouble with me trying to transition from instruments to visual with only a second or two before touchdown." Hey, he's even going to take advantage of his copilot, I thought. He's not so stupid, after all.
"Until we get the runway, you call off every 100 feet above touchdown; until we get down to 100 feet, use the pressure altimeter. Then switch to the radar altimeter for the last 100 feet, and call off every 25 feet. Keep me honest on the airspeed, also. Engineer, when we touch down, I'll cut the mixtures with the master control lever, and you cut all of the mags. Are there any questions? Let's go!" All of a sudden, this unfeeling, by the numbers robot was making a lot of sense. Maybe he really was a pilot and maybe I had something more to learn about flying.
We made a short procedure turn to save gas. Radar helped us to get to the outer marker. Half a mile away, we performed the Before Landing Checklist; gear down, flaps 20 degrees. The course deviation indicator was locked in the middle, with the glideslope indicator beginning its trip down from the top of the case. When the GSI centered, the pilot called for a small power reduction, lowered the nose slightly, and all of the instruments, except the altimeter, froze. My Lord, that man had a feel for that airplane! He thought something, and the airplane, all 135,000 pounds of it, did what he thought.
"Five hundred feet," I called out, "400 feet........300 feet.......200 feet, MATS minimums.......100 feet, Air Force minimums; I'm switching to the radar altimeter ........75 feet nothing in sight......50 feet, still nothing....25 feet, airspeed 100 knots,"
The nose of the aircraft rotated just a couple of degrees, and the airspeed started down. The pilot then casually said, "Hang on, we're landing."
"Airspeed 90 knots....10 feet, here we go!"
The pilot reached up and cut the mixtures with the master control lever, without taking his eyes off the instruments. He told the engineer to cut all the mags to reduce the chance of fire. CONTACT! I could barely feel it. As smooth a landing as I have ever known, and I couldn't even tell if we were on the runway, because we could only see the occasional blur of a light streaking by.
"Copilot, verify hydraulic boost is on, I'll need it for brakes and steering." I complied.
"Hydraulic boost pump is on, pressure is up." The brakes came on slowly---we didn't want to skid this big beast now. I looked over at the pilot. He was still on the instruments, steering to keep the course deviation indicator in the center, and that is exactly where it stayed.
"Airspeed, 50 knots." We might make it yet.
"Airspeed, 25 knots." We'll make it if we don't run off a cliff. Then I heard a strange sound. I could hear the whir of the gyros, the buzz of the inverters, and a low frequency thumping. Nothing else. The thumping was my pulse, and I couldn't hear anyone breathing. We had made it! We were standing still!
The aircraft commander was still all pilot. "After-landing checklist, get all those motors, radar and un-necessary radios off while we still have batteries. Copilot, tell them that we have arrived, to send a follow me truck out to the runway because we can't even see the edges."
I left the VHF on and thanked GCA for the approach. The guys in the tower didn't believe we were there. They had walked outside and couldn't hear or see anything. We assured them that we were there, somewhere on the localizer centerline, with about half a mile showing on the DME.
We waited about 20 minutes for the truck. Not being in our customary hurry, just getting our breath back and letting our pulses diminish to a reasonable rate. Then I felt it. The cockpit shuddered as if the nose gear had run over a bump. I told the loadmaster to go out the crew entrance to see what happened. He dropped the door (which is immediately in front of the nose gear) , and it hit something with a loud , metallic bang. He came on the interphone and said "Sir, you'll never believe this. The follow-me truck couldn't see us and ran smack into our nose tire with his bumper, but he bounced off, and nothing is hurt." The pilot then told the tower that we were parking the bird right where it was and that we would come in via the truck. It took a few minutes to get our clothing and to button up the airplane. I climbed out and saw the nose tires straddling the runway centerline. A few feet away was the truck with its embarrassed driver.
Total damage---one dent in the hood of the follow me truck where the hatch had opened onto it.
Then I remembered the story from Fate Is the Hunter. When Gann was an airline copilot making a simple night range approach, his captain kept lighting matches in front of his eyes. It scarred and infuriated Gann. When they landed, the captain said that Gann was ready to upgrade to captain. If he could handle a night-range approach with all of that harassment, then he could handle anything.
At last I understood what true professionalism is. Being a pilot isn't all seat-of-the-pants flying and glory.
It's self- discipline, practice, study, analysis and preparation. It's precision.
If you can't keep the gauges where you want them with everything free and easy, how can you keep them there when everything goes wrong?
Last edited by Centaurus; 15th Apr 2017 at 14:42.
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Next time you fly a simulator ask the check pilot to switch off the visual screens and let you practice a zero/zero approach and landing without the help of autothrottles, flight director and automatic pilot.
Why switch off the visuals? Simply fly a CAT 2/3 approach manually and allow you to see if you succeed. It requires very soft calm hands <500', both control column & thrust.
I was flew with a very unassuming captain: B732. He was Polish and had flown Spits in WW2. He enjoyed classical music and a gentle 1/2, not many pints, on night stops. A real soft calm gentleman. Excellent pilot also. The B732 had very basic avionics & autopilot. It was CAT 2, manual throttle, Man Land. We were approaching in CAT 2 weather with a shifting turning varying wind. The A/P was not making it comfortable, and with manual thrust he did not feel in touch with the a/c. I was astonished when he said he could do better on his own and disconnected the A/P. Now his senses were in control of the a/c using both hands, eyes, ears and feel. He had a sense when to let the ac/ bounce around and not follow every twitch of the LOC & G/S. There was a calmness in all the accuracy, and there we were, at DA in the slot.
"I learnt about flying from that".
Why switch off the visuals? Simply fly a CAT 2/3 approach manually and allow you to see if you succeed. It requires very soft calm hands <500', both control column & thrust.
I was flew with a very unassuming captain: B732. He was Polish and had flown Spits in WW2. He enjoyed classical music and a gentle 1/2, not many pints, on night stops. A real soft calm gentleman. Excellent pilot also. The B732 had very basic avionics & autopilot. It was CAT 2, manual throttle, Man Land. We were approaching in CAT 2 weather with a shifting turning varying wind. The A/P was not making it comfortable, and with manual thrust he did not feel in touch with the a/c. I was astonished when he said he could do better on his own and disconnected the A/P. Now his senses were in control of the a/c using both hands, eyes, ears and feel. He had a sense when to let the ac/ bounce around and not follow every twitch of the LOC & G/S. There was a calmness in all the accuracy, and there we were, at DA in the slot.
"I learnt about flying from that".
Last edited by RAT 5; 21st Apr 2017 at 20:33.
Thread Starter
Agree and thanks for mentioning it. When initially I posted the story on Tech Log I was conscious that many of the younger generation would probably read it since Tech Log is always a popular forum. It had a technical aspect since thoughts on automation were discussed and automation dependency is a flight safety issue. I added a note to my post specifically requesting the Mods to leave it on Tech Log for that reason.
That was because a few days earlier, another thread, this one where inadvertent thrust increase instead of reverse decrease was the main cause of a 747 accident, was posted on Tech Log. It disappeared from Tech Log almost as soon as it was posted. The duty Mod(s) had switched that to Aviation History and Nostalgia forum. The 747 accident occurred in 1985 but many current Pprune readers would not have been aware it.
So it seems once a date from years gone by is mentioned, someone switches it to the Aviation History and Nostalgia Forum without regard to the fact the subject matter is technical and very much still relevant to readers of Tech Log. My personal opinion of course.
If nothing else, if a Mod decides in his wisdom to switch a subject to a different Forum, a short note should be placed on the original forum that this action has taken place. This would enable interested readers to follow the offending thread.
That was because a few days earlier, another thread, this one where inadvertent thrust increase instead of reverse decrease was the main cause of a 747 accident, was posted on Tech Log. It disappeared from Tech Log almost as soon as it was posted. The duty Mod(s) had switched that to Aviation History and Nostalgia forum. The 747 accident occurred in 1985 but many current Pprune readers would not have been aware it.
So it seems once a date from years gone by is mentioned, someone switches it to the Aviation History and Nostalgia Forum without regard to the fact the subject matter is technical and very much still relevant to readers of Tech Log. My personal opinion of course.
If nothing else, if a Mod decides in his wisdom to switch a subject to a different Forum, a short note should be placed on the original forum that this action has taken place. This would enable interested readers to follow the offending thread.
Moderator
Not aware of the history of this thread but will chase it up and endeavour to get it transferred back to Tech Log.
For info, on the infrequent occasions I move a thread, I leave a redirection note for a suitable period so that folks can see what has transpired. Generally, I only move a thread if it is overtly inappropriate for Tech Log.
For info, on the infrequent occasions I move a thread, I leave a redirection note for a suitable period so that folks can see what has transpired. Generally, I only move a thread if it is overtly inappropriate for Tech Log.
Centaurus: A great read in the "Ernest Gann" style however what got my interest was the fact that they held for TWO hours and then ran themselves short of options! Surely this would have made an interesting CRM module on marginal decision making?
Not bad that - best I can claim is a Canberra T17 at St Mawgan, as the country went out in fog - 125 ft on the rad alt. Boss forgot I only had the (only) white card on the squadron and left me at the top of the stack of six. On the other hand, maybe he left me until last in case I blacked the runway.....
The procedure on the North Sea helicopters I flew was that the PF(pilot flying) would fly the helicopter down the glideslope until Decision Height where he would call 'Decide'.
At this the PNF (pilot not flying) would asses whether he was visual with the runway and if so would call 'Visual; I have control' and land it. Should he not be visual he would advise 'Not Visual, Go Around'.
On tight days the call at decision would be:
'DeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeCiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiideeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrr'.
At this the PNF (pilot not flying) would asses whether he was visual with the runway and if so would call 'Visual; I have control' and land it. Should he not be visual he would advise 'Not Visual, Go Around'.
On tight days the call at decision would be:
'DeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeCiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiideeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrr'.
Last edited by Fareastdriver; 18th Apr 2017 at 09:23.
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On tight days the call at decision would be:
'DeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeCiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiideeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrr'.
'DeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeCiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiideeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrr'.
Thread Starter
At this the PNF (pilot not flying) would asses whether he was visual with the runway and if so would call 'Visual; I have control' and land it
Perhaps apocryphal, perhaps an embellishment of the truth . . .
In the early days of BEA autoland operation a Trident is inbound to LHR, which is stubbornly below limits for Cat I ILS, with little improvement likely for a while. The three pilots find – a rarity – that not only are all of them autoland certified, but so is the Gripper's autopilot. So they carefully brief themselves on the procedures and calls required.
Checking in with London Airways (as it used to be) they are instructed to maintain FL350 and call entering the hold at Lydd. So they play their master card, announcing their special capabilities and requesting descent for an approach and autoland.
'Roger, Bealine, the RVR is now 700 metres and you're number 17 in the landing sequence.'
In the early days of BEA autoland operation a Trident is inbound to LHR, which is stubbornly below limits for Cat I ILS, with little improvement likely for a while. The three pilots find – a rarity – that not only are all of them autoland certified, but so is the Gripper's autopilot. So they carefully brief themselves on the procedures and calls required.
Checking in with London Airways (as it used to be) they are instructed to maintain FL350 and call entering the hold at Lydd. So they play their master card, announcing their special capabilities and requesting descent for an approach and autoland.
'Roger, Bealine, the RVR is now 700 metres and you're number 17 in the landing sequence.'
Always luved that story.
There was another story published in Flying around the same time, I think by Ernest K Gann, of "Fate is the Hunter" Fame. It was called "Kwajalein" and concerned an aircraft that disappeared off radar on approach..suddenly reappeared 12 minutes later in the last position. Landed ..all was well except that the folks on the plane watches were 12 minutes behind those on the ground. I have never been able to find a copy of it.
Anyone have a clue?
There was another story published in Flying around the same time, I think by Ernest K Gann, of "Fate is the Hunter" Fame. It was called "Kwajalein" and concerned an aircraft that disappeared off radar on approach..suddenly reappeared 12 minutes later in the last position. Landed ..all was well except that the folks on the plane watches were 12 minutes behind those on the ground. I have never been able to find a copy of it.
Anyone have a clue?
Discorde had that happen on the gripper but was saved in my last company with the early morning Lhr- Zrh with an exception of a kraut who would invariably take min fuel no matter how much I protested.
The katabatic flow along with sunrise could suddenly close ZRH and was often not in the TAF. Befor we crossed the border we had cat 1 and an hours holding...looked like we were going to Stuttgart...just before we diverted the Viz dropped and we were number two...I had already given sir a withering look and he never argued about a few extra tonnes again.
HAND FLOWN CAT 2+
We had a semi BEA monitored approach but better as we did our own throttles and had better handling skills...we often hand flew to minimums but only in IFR as VFR was for looking out.
We also were allowed to ignore RVR if we suspected the accuracy which wasn't that far fetched as I was once on the last flight out of london with a layer of fog just covering the transmissometers...gin clear at eyeball level.
Heathrow had closed and at Gatwick it was below cat 2.... not being Brit we asked and got an approach. At minimums 200ft we had a continue phase down to 100ft which the copilot flew...at the 100 call there was a pause...as unlike BEA where the minimum call wasn't used to look outside and access the situation before commencing the missed approach (I was criticised during my training for initiating the missed approach immediately as per BEA).
Around 80ft a light appeared and the skipper took over. It wasn't the normal greaser but many a modern pilot would have been pleased.
The skipper turned around and with a wink said you should get home tonight Alan.
The copilot wasn't any the wiser and it saved me a coach ride down from Manchester.
The katabatic flow along with sunrise could suddenly close ZRH and was often not in the TAF. Befor we crossed the border we had cat 1 and an hours holding...looked like we were going to Stuttgart...just before we diverted the Viz dropped and we were number two...I had already given sir a withering look and he never argued about a few extra tonnes again.
HAND FLOWN CAT 2+
We had a semi BEA monitored approach but better as we did our own throttles and had better handling skills...we often hand flew to minimums but only in IFR as VFR was for looking out.
We also were allowed to ignore RVR if we suspected the accuracy which wasn't that far fetched as I was once on the last flight out of london with a layer of fog just covering the transmissometers...gin clear at eyeball level.
Heathrow had closed and at Gatwick it was below cat 2.... not being Brit we asked and got an approach. At minimums 200ft we had a continue phase down to 100ft which the copilot flew...at the 100 call there was a pause...as unlike BEA where the minimum call wasn't used to look outside and access the situation before commencing the missed approach (I was criticised during my training for initiating the missed approach immediately as per BEA).
Around 80ft a light appeared and the skipper took over. It wasn't the normal greaser but many a modern pilot would have been pleased.
The skipper turned around and with a wink said you should get home tonight Alan.
The copilot wasn't any the wiser and it saved me a coach ride down from Manchester.
I recall reading the C-124 story when it was originally published. It resurfaced on PPRUNE I think a few years ago and at that time if I remember rightly, STEPWILK who was formerly a Flying magazine correspondent contributed to the thread. I'm sure I recall him saying the artwork that decorated the magazine article adorns one of the walls in his house.
Truly wonderful account, one of the very best "I learned about flying from that" articles ever published.
I have a feeling STEPWILK may have added some details of the author, the C-124's captain etc.
ps RAT5, I'm sure I know who you are talking about: a true gentleman and a lovely pilot. We must therefore have been colleagues at one time.
Truly wonderful account, one of the very best "I learned about flying from that" articles ever published.
I have a feeling STEPWILK may have added some details of the author, the C-124's captain etc.
ps RAT5, I'm sure I know who you are talking about: a true gentleman and a lovely pilot. We must therefore have been colleagues at one time.
Blind Pew's story reminded me of an 'I learned about flying moment' I had some years ago. We diverted due fog and went for a rather nice lunch. The tower at our original destination rang up and said the weather had improved and was now in limits. We still had just enough fuel for the short hop without passengers and cabin crew (who had been bussed).
Shortly after takeoff we were more or less downwind for our destination and our friend in the tower gave us new RVRs which were just good enough to continue the approach, which was fortunate because we now did not have any holding fuel and if we missed the approach we were going back where we had just come from. The copilot (now a very well respected training captain) and I looked at each other both thinking, how are we going to explain diverting twice? Fortunately at exactly minimum there was just enough visual reference to land, absolutely on limits.
The learning point for me was that the tower has a different perspective on visibility. To him and his instruments it looked pretty good, at 200 above ground on the ILS it was very marginal. I have often experienced it the other way as well, with the tower reporting Cat3 and the lights in sight way above Cat1.
Shortly after takeoff we were more or less downwind for our destination and our friend in the tower gave us new RVRs which were just good enough to continue the approach, which was fortunate because we now did not have any holding fuel and if we missed the approach we were going back where we had just come from. The copilot (now a very well respected training captain) and I looked at each other both thinking, how are we going to explain diverting twice? Fortunately at exactly minimum there was just enough visual reference to land, absolutely on limits.
The learning point for me was that the tower has a different perspective on visibility. To him and his instruments it looked pretty good, at 200 above ground on the ILS it was very marginal. I have often experienced it the other way as well, with the tower reporting Cat3 and the lights in sight way above Cat1.
Last edited by lederhosen; 19th Apr 2017 at 07:21.
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Slant visibility.
Instrument Runway Visual Range is observed and calculated horizontally about 2m above ground next to the landing area.
However, the crew see through fog at a slant angle from above. Work done at RAE Bedford as part of the Blind Landing Trials resulted in a computerised Fog Model.
This showed that under certain circumstances the pilots could see the approach lights before the distance the IRVR predicted. Work didn't progress and the science behind the model has not been developed.
If a way of measuring slant visibility could be safely achieved successful landings in fog around CAT l/ll limit could be ameliorated.
Instrument Runway Visual Range is observed and calculated horizontally about 2m above ground next to the landing area.
However, the crew see through fog at a slant angle from above. Work done at RAE Bedford as part of the Blind Landing Trials resulted in a computerised Fog Model.
This showed that under certain circumstances the pilots could see the approach lights before the distance the IRVR predicted. Work didn't progress and the science behind the model has not been developed.
If a way of measuring slant visibility could be safely achieved successful landings in fog around CAT l/ll limit could be ameliorated.
Paxing All Over The World
Reminds of the story of early days at LTN: in the fog some poor geezer had to sit in a hut by the runway and every n minutes, count how many edge lights he could see and radio them through!
"Mildly" Eccentric Stardriver
At LBA it was the fire crew. Now, LBA is known for some funny fogs. F27. RVR reported in limits by the fire crew. At DH we had the lights and runway in sight. At about 100' it all went grey. A go-around at that height, speed reducing, power well back, full flap. Interesting exercise, and one where I was grateful for the GPWS "don't sink" warning.
...This showed that under certain circumstances the pilots could see the approach lights before the distance the IRVR predicted...
Another (possibly true) LVP tale: A Pan An 747 is lined up for take-off on 28R at LHR, with the RVR sensors blanketed by a shallow layer of dense fog. Tower passes them an RVR below limits.
'Ain't that a shame,' comes the weary response. 'We can see the lights of Reading from up here.'
'Ain't that a shame,' comes the weary response. 'We can see the lights of Reading from up here.'
