G SXTY
21st May 2008, 11:33
This forum is getting a bit gloomy at the moment, what with all the talk of "is it worth it?" and 95 pages of "will there still be an economy next year?" You lot need cheering up. So just for a change (and to prove that it really is all worth it) here is a typical day for a low-cost FO - one who until very recently was a wannabe himself.
I wake up naturally - no need to set the alarm as I'm not reporting until lunchtime. This makes a nice change, having left the house at 05:00 for the last three days. Today is a typical four sector day, the afternoon Norwich to Dublin and back, then the evening Manchester and back. I have some light breakfast and make sure there are a couple of bananas in my flight case. Banana Man (remember him?) was right - 'nanas are miracle food, a great source of energy when you're starting to feel tired.
A nice leisurely bath, then I shave and get dressed. Allow myself a couple of moments of self-admiration in the mirror. I know I shouldn't, but it does look good. Anyway, what the hell, that uniform cost me forty-five thousand pounds - why not get your money's worth? Briefly consider popping into the village shop dressed like this, then decide against it on the grounds they'll think I'm the bloke from Securicor. Jump in the car and drive to the airport.
Park up and stride as purposefully as I can through the passenger terminal. No-one realises my flight bag actually contains bananas - my secret is safe. Get to security, there is no queue and they're happy for me to leave my shoes on today (wearing the same pair of socks three days running must have done the trick). Put my bag, mobile, jacket, etc on the conveyor and walk through the metal detector. For once I don't set it off. Security lady compliments me on the size of my bananas - today is going to be a good day.
Walk round to the crew room. Being new and keen, I'm early and have the place to myself. Get a coffee, then check-in on the system and print off the paperwork - plogs, weather, notams etc. It's a nice aeroplane today with no defects, and the weather looks good - winds light and easterly with a high cloud base just about everywhere. The captain arrives and we discuss the weather and fuel figures. Agree on a fuel uplift in Dublin, then I phone all the figures through to the dispatchers. The cabin crew have arrived so we join them to brief the weather and discuss a couple of emergency scenarios.
The aircraft arrives. The incoming crew have left us with enough fuel to get to Dublin, have pulled out all the aerodrome charts that we'll need, and even plugged the route into the FMS for us - one of the benefits of working at a small base where everyone knows each other and gets on well. The captain does the walkround while I go into the flightdeck and start setting up. A quick scan to check all the switches are in the right place (they are) then I get the ATIS and pull out the performance manual. The good book confirms we can do a full-flex takeoff (the Q400 is hugely overpowered, and it's not often that we don't fully flex). I bug acceleration altitude and double check the data in the FMS. It was a box of mysteries when I first started, but it's amazing how quickly you pick up the basics.
The captain joins me, we review the performance figures and FMS data entry, then I brief emergencies and the departure (today I'm flying the first three sectors). I remember my first departure brief, back during the MCC, when I had to read it off a piece of paper. When you're doing it four times a day however, it soon becomes second nature. The passengers board, and today there are no discrepancies with numbers or missing bags. They're even sitting in their assigned seats - most important on this aircraft - so we shut the doors and I call ATC for push and start. On the push I start number two then number one. Two good starts (not like the sim, where every time you flick a switch you can expect something to catch fire or explode).
The tug disconnects and we run through the after start checks. These take the form of a memory item flow, followed by a challenge and response checklist. In the sim I couldn't get my head round the flows, so the only way to memorise them was to set them to music. "Flaps, aux pumps, autofeather sel . . ." to the tune of the Itchy and Scratchy Show from The Simpsons. It worked though - at least I don't have to sing them now.
Departure clearance is received as we taxy. We line up, and I have control. Of an airliner. With 70 passengers in the back. A few months ago that was a distant fantasy. Forget all that now - concentrate. "Set Power." Even at full flex (81% of rated torque) the acceleration is fierce. A bit of right rudder to counteract the props, respond to the "eighty knots both" call, and Vr comes up in seconds. Smoothly rotate to the flight director command bars, trim the elevators and ease off on the rudder. At acceleration altitude the autopilot is engaged - I have hand flown the aircraft for barely a minute, but I don't mind - it can fly much smoother than I can, and it gives me a chance to admire the views. We're climbing between layers of overcast, but pop out the top at around twelve thousand feet. The passengers are released and now we're climbing above a sea of cotton wool. God, I love this view. It makes me want to write poetry, but there's work to be done first.
I dispense with the Norwich plates, retrieve the Dublin ones and start setting up the navaids for our approach. We've got an hour to go, but the trick in this game is to stay ahead of the aircraft. Particularly this one - it might have propellers, but it will cruise at 360 knots true airspeed, which is almost as quick as a BAe146. Either way, it's a lot faster than the Duchesses I've been flying. The captain carries out a fuel check and has already got me the Dublin weather. As expected, it's runway 10, which means a relatively leisurely arrival, all the way round to the north and then west of the airport. I brief the arrival, noting the speeds ATC will expect from us. Dublin is a very busy place and if you don't adhere to the speed profiles, you'll cause chaos.
Briefing complete, landing weight calculated and speeds bugged, time to sit back and enjoy a banana. Before long we're coasting out past the Wirral, Manchester hand us to Dublin, and we start the descent. There's no holding today, and we're immediately given radar vectors in preparation for the approach. Through flight level one hundred, the landing lights go on, and I can see at least four other aircraft around us on TCAS - as usual it's busy. After a pretty much continuous descent, we're given an intercept heading to the ILS. I remember to arm approach mode (my bugbear) and the autopilot smoothly intercepts. Now it's all about the speeds - not below 160 to 4. With a Vref (landing speed) of around 120 knots it doesn't allow much time to configure the aircraft and get everything stable by 500 feet.
It's a little lumpy today, but the autopilot is doing fine, and I concentrate on power settings to maintain the speed. Inside four miles, we take landing flap, landing checks, and I start bringing the speed back towards Vref plus five. "Five hundred" and we're stable, cleared to land. The speed is within limits, but higher than I'd like and increasing, I pull off some power - not too much as the power levers are very sensitive. Three hundred feet, I take out the autopilot and concentrate on sticking to the flight director. We're over the runway threshold, "Fifty, forty, thirty". The radalt calls are quite close together. I flare but daren't overdo it - a tailstrike would ruin my day. We're still sinking quite quickly - a tiny dab of power, but I'm a fraction too late. Boing - my first bounce. How embarrassing. Don't panic, don't pull back, don't yank off the power - and the aircraft settles back onto the runway. Sixty knots, the captain has control and we taxy in.
The passengers get off and no-one says anything - perhaps they didn't notice? The cabin crew did however; "That was a nice gentle landing, then we realised we were flying again." Thanks ladies! We debrief and I make a mental note to be more gentle with power changes. The captain does the walkround, I start setting up for the return flight. It's a 25 minute turn round and the passengers are ready to board. I engage in what I think is some harmless flirting with the dispatcher, which escalates alarmingly. It seems that if we ever go tech in Dublin, I'm guaranteed somewhere to stay for the night. Another mental note to self - hide in toilet next time we're here.
The return trip is a mirror image of the outbound one. A firm but acceptable arrival at Norwich, but this is from an NDB approach to a much shorter runway - not a place to go looking for greasers. Very much a case of right place, right speed . . .
Off to Manchester now, and this is one busy flight. My record is 38 minutes airborne, but today we're on the easterly runways, so it will take a little longer. Brief the approach in the climb, no time for a banana, and straight away we're descending and being vectored for runway 05R. We turn onto the localiser and I manage to arm approach mode again - that's twice in one day, I'm getting good at this. Determined to get a good landing, the wind is variable less than five knots. Autopilot out a little earlier this time, give myself a chance to retrim and nail the flight director. Nail the speed, supersize your scan rate. Nail the centreline. "Fifty, forty." The radalt calls are much better spaced now, I've got a ten thousand foot runway to play with, and we'll have to roll a long way before we can turn off. "Twenty." "Ten." I leave the power levers alone. Just as I start to think we're floating, the main wheels kiss the runway. A greaser! One of the smoothest landings I've managed in anything, let alone a Q400. Grinning like a kid at Christmas, I hand over control to the captain as we slow down.
I'm happy but tired. That landing took a lot of effort, and I'm glad he's flying us back home. Another 25 minute turn round and we're off again. In the evening light the clouds have a pinky glow to them. I marvel at the view one last time as we sink down into the murk, back down to the real world. The captain demonstrates an immaculate wing-down crosswind landing, we taxy back in and shutdown. Back to the crewroom, I key all the trip data into the computer, file the paperwork, make sure I've validated my car park ticket. We walk back through the terminal to the car park. It's dark now and I'm too tired to do anything else tonight. Tomorrow is a nice easy two sector day, and I'm looking forward to it already. I know the novelty will wear off one day, but until then I'm enjoying every minute.
Is it all worth it? Oh yes.
I wake up naturally - no need to set the alarm as I'm not reporting until lunchtime. This makes a nice change, having left the house at 05:00 for the last three days. Today is a typical four sector day, the afternoon Norwich to Dublin and back, then the evening Manchester and back. I have some light breakfast and make sure there are a couple of bananas in my flight case. Banana Man (remember him?) was right - 'nanas are miracle food, a great source of energy when you're starting to feel tired.
A nice leisurely bath, then I shave and get dressed. Allow myself a couple of moments of self-admiration in the mirror. I know I shouldn't, but it does look good. Anyway, what the hell, that uniform cost me forty-five thousand pounds - why not get your money's worth? Briefly consider popping into the village shop dressed like this, then decide against it on the grounds they'll think I'm the bloke from Securicor. Jump in the car and drive to the airport.
Park up and stride as purposefully as I can through the passenger terminal. No-one realises my flight bag actually contains bananas - my secret is safe. Get to security, there is no queue and they're happy for me to leave my shoes on today (wearing the same pair of socks three days running must have done the trick). Put my bag, mobile, jacket, etc on the conveyor and walk through the metal detector. For once I don't set it off. Security lady compliments me on the size of my bananas - today is going to be a good day.
Walk round to the crew room. Being new and keen, I'm early and have the place to myself. Get a coffee, then check-in on the system and print off the paperwork - plogs, weather, notams etc. It's a nice aeroplane today with no defects, and the weather looks good - winds light and easterly with a high cloud base just about everywhere. The captain arrives and we discuss the weather and fuel figures. Agree on a fuel uplift in Dublin, then I phone all the figures through to the dispatchers. The cabin crew have arrived so we join them to brief the weather and discuss a couple of emergency scenarios.
The aircraft arrives. The incoming crew have left us with enough fuel to get to Dublin, have pulled out all the aerodrome charts that we'll need, and even plugged the route into the FMS for us - one of the benefits of working at a small base where everyone knows each other and gets on well. The captain does the walkround while I go into the flightdeck and start setting up. A quick scan to check all the switches are in the right place (they are) then I get the ATIS and pull out the performance manual. The good book confirms we can do a full-flex takeoff (the Q400 is hugely overpowered, and it's not often that we don't fully flex). I bug acceleration altitude and double check the data in the FMS. It was a box of mysteries when I first started, but it's amazing how quickly you pick up the basics.
The captain joins me, we review the performance figures and FMS data entry, then I brief emergencies and the departure (today I'm flying the first three sectors). I remember my first departure brief, back during the MCC, when I had to read it off a piece of paper. When you're doing it four times a day however, it soon becomes second nature. The passengers board, and today there are no discrepancies with numbers or missing bags. They're even sitting in their assigned seats - most important on this aircraft - so we shut the doors and I call ATC for push and start. On the push I start number two then number one. Two good starts (not like the sim, where every time you flick a switch you can expect something to catch fire or explode).
The tug disconnects and we run through the after start checks. These take the form of a memory item flow, followed by a challenge and response checklist. In the sim I couldn't get my head round the flows, so the only way to memorise them was to set them to music. "Flaps, aux pumps, autofeather sel . . ." to the tune of the Itchy and Scratchy Show from The Simpsons. It worked though - at least I don't have to sing them now.
Departure clearance is received as we taxy. We line up, and I have control. Of an airliner. With 70 passengers in the back. A few months ago that was a distant fantasy. Forget all that now - concentrate. "Set Power." Even at full flex (81% of rated torque) the acceleration is fierce. A bit of right rudder to counteract the props, respond to the "eighty knots both" call, and Vr comes up in seconds. Smoothly rotate to the flight director command bars, trim the elevators and ease off on the rudder. At acceleration altitude the autopilot is engaged - I have hand flown the aircraft for barely a minute, but I don't mind - it can fly much smoother than I can, and it gives me a chance to admire the views. We're climbing between layers of overcast, but pop out the top at around twelve thousand feet. The passengers are released and now we're climbing above a sea of cotton wool. God, I love this view. It makes me want to write poetry, but there's work to be done first.
I dispense with the Norwich plates, retrieve the Dublin ones and start setting up the navaids for our approach. We've got an hour to go, but the trick in this game is to stay ahead of the aircraft. Particularly this one - it might have propellers, but it will cruise at 360 knots true airspeed, which is almost as quick as a BAe146. Either way, it's a lot faster than the Duchesses I've been flying. The captain carries out a fuel check and has already got me the Dublin weather. As expected, it's runway 10, which means a relatively leisurely arrival, all the way round to the north and then west of the airport. I brief the arrival, noting the speeds ATC will expect from us. Dublin is a very busy place and if you don't adhere to the speed profiles, you'll cause chaos.
Briefing complete, landing weight calculated and speeds bugged, time to sit back and enjoy a banana. Before long we're coasting out past the Wirral, Manchester hand us to Dublin, and we start the descent. There's no holding today, and we're immediately given radar vectors in preparation for the approach. Through flight level one hundred, the landing lights go on, and I can see at least four other aircraft around us on TCAS - as usual it's busy. After a pretty much continuous descent, we're given an intercept heading to the ILS. I remember to arm approach mode (my bugbear) and the autopilot smoothly intercepts. Now it's all about the speeds - not below 160 to 4. With a Vref (landing speed) of around 120 knots it doesn't allow much time to configure the aircraft and get everything stable by 500 feet.
It's a little lumpy today, but the autopilot is doing fine, and I concentrate on power settings to maintain the speed. Inside four miles, we take landing flap, landing checks, and I start bringing the speed back towards Vref plus five. "Five hundred" and we're stable, cleared to land. The speed is within limits, but higher than I'd like and increasing, I pull off some power - not too much as the power levers are very sensitive. Three hundred feet, I take out the autopilot and concentrate on sticking to the flight director. We're over the runway threshold, "Fifty, forty, thirty". The radalt calls are quite close together. I flare but daren't overdo it - a tailstrike would ruin my day. We're still sinking quite quickly - a tiny dab of power, but I'm a fraction too late. Boing - my first bounce. How embarrassing. Don't panic, don't pull back, don't yank off the power - and the aircraft settles back onto the runway. Sixty knots, the captain has control and we taxy in.
The passengers get off and no-one says anything - perhaps they didn't notice? The cabin crew did however; "That was a nice gentle landing, then we realised we were flying again." Thanks ladies! We debrief and I make a mental note to be more gentle with power changes. The captain does the walkround, I start setting up for the return flight. It's a 25 minute turn round and the passengers are ready to board. I engage in what I think is some harmless flirting with the dispatcher, which escalates alarmingly. It seems that if we ever go tech in Dublin, I'm guaranteed somewhere to stay for the night. Another mental note to self - hide in toilet next time we're here.
The return trip is a mirror image of the outbound one. A firm but acceptable arrival at Norwich, but this is from an NDB approach to a much shorter runway - not a place to go looking for greasers. Very much a case of right place, right speed . . .
Off to Manchester now, and this is one busy flight. My record is 38 minutes airborne, but today we're on the easterly runways, so it will take a little longer. Brief the approach in the climb, no time for a banana, and straight away we're descending and being vectored for runway 05R. We turn onto the localiser and I manage to arm approach mode again - that's twice in one day, I'm getting good at this. Determined to get a good landing, the wind is variable less than five knots. Autopilot out a little earlier this time, give myself a chance to retrim and nail the flight director. Nail the speed, supersize your scan rate. Nail the centreline. "Fifty, forty." The radalt calls are much better spaced now, I've got a ten thousand foot runway to play with, and we'll have to roll a long way before we can turn off. "Twenty." "Ten." I leave the power levers alone. Just as I start to think we're floating, the main wheels kiss the runway. A greaser! One of the smoothest landings I've managed in anything, let alone a Q400. Grinning like a kid at Christmas, I hand over control to the captain as we slow down.
I'm happy but tired. That landing took a lot of effort, and I'm glad he's flying us back home. Another 25 minute turn round and we're off again. In the evening light the clouds have a pinky glow to them. I marvel at the view one last time as we sink down into the murk, back down to the real world. The captain demonstrates an immaculate wing-down crosswind landing, we taxy back in and shutdown. Back to the crewroom, I key all the trip data into the computer, file the paperwork, make sure I've validated my car park ticket. We walk back through the terminal to the car park. It's dark now and I'm too tired to do anything else tonight. Tomorrow is a nice easy two sector day, and I'm looking forward to it already. I know the novelty will wear off one day, but until then I'm enjoying every minute.
Is it all worth it? Oh yes.