moxiepilot
Well-Known Member
I had one of those "memorable flights" yesterday and thought I might share. If you have a story to tell, please do because there are nuggets of knowledge tucked in that everyone can learn from (and be entertained by).
As many of you know, I work in Afghanistan doing fun stuff for the coalition forces here. If you don't know anything about Afghanistan, know this: everything here wants to kill you and if it's not a paved runway it probably looks like the surface of that asteroid in Armageddon. There are limited airports we can land at due to security.
So there I was....happily doing my job, looking at about another 45 minutes of flying. The thunderstorms had been building all afternoon in all quadrants surrounding the area, with over shooting tops into the mid thirties. I fly a king air 350 with lots of stuff on it, so it behaves a bit differently than an aerodynamic plane. It kind of behaves like a rock. But with boots.
I noticed a wave of dust arcing south from the direction from one of these thunderheads. So I figured it was a microburst kicking up the moon dust from a dying storm. (In places, the dust here is as fine as talc powder. When it gets disturbed it's like seeing videos of the moon dust kicked up by the astronauts, or like those little brown puff balls you might find in your yard as a kid and stomp on. What the hell are those things anyway?)
The summer is known as the 120 days of wind because the wind blows constantly. It can be very strong because of the katabatic wind, oragraphic lifting, thermal lifting and a combination. It is also common for visibility to drop to less than 1000 meters because of the dust.
Anyway, I wasn't concerned with the dust because that would blow through soon. Microbursts last, what? 15 minutes maximum duration? There were about two more waves of dust, but I didn't pay too much attention because I was mission focused. Waves of dust seem odd though.
Listening to approach of one of the nearby airports, I heard a controller call out winds 120 23 gusting 37. Well that's strong. The airport I'm scheduled to land at in 45 minutes or so is using runway 3 and twenty miles from that one. Take note though, the demonstrated crosswind of the generic model of the plane I'm flying is 20 knots, which can be coupled to the autopilot (increasing that to 32 knots). We do not fly a generic model... No worries though, microbursts don't last too long.
Because there was no previous weather phenomena to raise concern, though - I am now at a disadvantage to start looking at alternate options. These winds came out of nowhere with the only cue being the dust which arrived about 5 minutes before the controller advised of the wind conditions. So let's assess the situation:
Winds have increased from 11 knots to 23 gusting 37 rapidly and without warning.
Thunderstorms surround all quadrants but are not a factor (possibly the cause of the winds).
The airport I am landing at uses runway 3 and my alternate is 270 miles away.
I have just reached 900 pounds of fuel.
Now I start looking for my outs in case things don't improve. Fuel consumption to alternate with direct vectoring: 850 pounds. That means if anything goes bad: strong wind, mis planned fuel burn, early descent...I'm probably landing outside the wire (where everything wants to kill me) on terrain like an asteroid.
Option two - shoot approach at scheduled airport with a 90 degree crosswind. Fuel consumption estimate: one approach, missed approach, hold 10 minutes maximum, shoot approach, and commit to that landing or run out of fuel.
Ok. Now this sucks.
Winds are now 120 29 gusting 46 and visibility is dropping rapidly in certain locations (think of the haboob in The Mummy).
Now, here's the rub:
I would prefer not to land in a microburst. It seems prudent to wait another 15 minutes to see how the winds die down even though the limited visibility will linger. But if I do that, then I really limit my options to one approach, missed and an immediate committed approach to landing. And on the other hand the winds haven't died down, they've increased over the last half hour, so something funky is going on here.
Here's how it played out:
I talked with the crew about available options and we decide to immediately vector for the approach to see what we encounter and use that knowledge for the second approach, if required. I ask the right seater to fly for a minute while I secure everything in the cabin since, honestly, if we depart the runway or crash the fewer things we have flying around the better. It also enables me to step away for a minute to think.
When I come back I divide the responsibilities. Copilot will handle radios (we run four at the same time) but delegate them as necessary to the third crew member. He should feel free to take the initiative to ask for deviations to avoid weather or request altitude changes in anticipation of the approach so I can focus on managing the aircraft. He will also assist with visual identification of the airport environment as usual. He will assist with crosswind correction since I will be one hand on the yoke, one hand on the throttles and over any demonstrated crosswind. He will assist with braking and directional control if he judges that it is required. My responsibilities will be to monitor the autopilot on the approach, control speed and plan on landing to the right of centerline for drift. We discuss to land with only approach flaps for speed fluxuations and airflow over the control surfaces.
We commence the approach and have light turbulence and about 2 and a half miles visibility. Flaps approach, VREF is set to VREF+20 due to the winds and approach flaps setting. Five miles out: visibility 2 miles, gear down, props forward, landing checklist.
"Tower, XYZ 5 miles with the gear."
"Roger, cleared to land runway 3, wind 120 at 29 gusting 46."
Four miles.
We hit the wall of dust. It's a brownout. The ground is brown, the sky is brown. There is no visibility, moderate turbulence, and expected airspeed fluxuations.
Two miles. Nothing but bumps and brown.
One mile.
Minimums. Minimums.
There is nothing. There is no rabbit. There are no lights. There is just the sinking feeling that today may end very badly and an internal monologue may need to begin.
Push TOGA button, begin advancing throttles.
Copilot calls out, "runway 11 o'clock low." There was a break in the dust about the width of the runway that revealed the numbers. I have no lights of any kind in sight, visibility is maybe 500 feet, but I've got the runway. Autopilot is disengaged and I drive to the runway, speeding along. Throttles to idle and I plant it on the runway.
And skip.
About 5 times.
But we're on the ground. I know this because the copilot told me we are no longer flying. I was very focused
I call for the copilot to hold in full crosswind correction as we slow down and I watch tumbleweeds, yes actual tumbleweeds, blow over the runway as we roll out.
My legs shake a bit as we taxi to parking and shut down.
I suspect these were unforecast katabatic winds driven by multiple factors.
I have to commend the crew for the excellence in CRM and trust in each other. There was luck involved in the happy outcome of the flight. But the crew worked together as a team, as an organism of various moving parts to reduce the risk and increase the chance of success. It was humbling to be handed my ass by Mother Nature once more.
Don't forget, she is one mother effing badass.
As many of you know, I work in Afghanistan doing fun stuff for the coalition forces here. If you don't know anything about Afghanistan, know this: everything here wants to kill you and if it's not a paved runway it probably looks like the surface of that asteroid in Armageddon. There are limited airports we can land at due to security.
So there I was....happily doing my job, looking at about another 45 minutes of flying. The thunderstorms had been building all afternoon in all quadrants surrounding the area, with over shooting tops into the mid thirties. I fly a king air 350 with lots of stuff on it, so it behaves a bit differently than an aerodynamic plane. It kind of behaves like a rock. But with boots.
I noticed a wave of dust arcing south from the direction from one of these thunderheads. So I figured it was a microburst kicking up the moon dust from a dying storm. (In places, the dust here is as fine as talc powder. When it gets disturbed it's like seeing videos of the moon dust kicked up by the astronauts, or like those little brown puff balls you might find in your yard as a kid and stomp on. What the hell are those things anyway?)
The summer is known as the 120 days of wind because the wind blows constantly. It can be very strong because of the katabatic wind, oragraphic lifting, thermal lifting and a combination. It is also common for visibility to drop to less than 1000 meters because of the dust.
Anyway, I wasn't concerned with the dust because that would blow through soon. Microbursts last, what? 15 minutes maximum duration? There were about two more waves of dust, but I didn't pay too much attention because I was mission focused. Waves of dust seem odd though.
Listening to approach of one of the nearby airports, I heard a controller call out winds 120 23 gusting 37. Well that's strong. The airport I'm scheduled to land at in 45 minutes or so is using runway 3 and twenty miles from that one. Take note though, the demonstrated crosswind of the generic model of the plane I'm flying is 20 knots, which can be coupled to the autopilot (increasing that to 32 knots). We do not fly a generic model... No worries though, microbursts don't last too long.
Because there was no previous weather phenomena to raise concern, though - I am now at a disadvantage to start looking at alternate options. These winds came out of nowhere with the only cue being the dust which arrived about 5 minutes before the controller advised of the wind conditions. So let's assess the situation:
Winds have increased from 11 knots to 23 gusting 37 rapidly and without warning.
Thunderstorms surround all quadrants but are not a factor (possibly the cause of the winds).
The airport I am landing at uses runway 3 and my alternate is 270 miles away.
I have just reached 900 pounds of fuel.
Now I start looking for my outs in case things don't improve. Fuel consumption to alternate with direct vectoring: 850 pounds. That means if anything goes bad: strong wind, mis planned fuel burn, early descent...I'm probably landing outside the wire (where everything wants to kill me) on terrain like an asteroid.
Option two - shoot approach at scheduled airport with a 90 degree crosswind. Fuel consumption estimate: one approach, missed approach, hold 10 minutes maximum, shoot approach, and commit to that landing or run out of fuel.
Ok. Now this sucks.
Winds are now 120 29 gusting 46 and visibility is dropping rapidly in certain locations (think of the haboob in The Mummy).
Now, here's the rub:
I would prefer not to land in a microburst. It seems prudent to wait another 15 minutes to see how the winds die down even though the limited visibility will linger. But if I do that, then I really limit my options to one approach, missed and an immediate committed approach to landing. And on the other hand the winds haven't died down, they've increased over the last half hour, so something funky is going on here.
Here's how it played out:
I talked with the crew about available options and we decide to immediately vector for the approach to see what we encounter and use that knowledge for the second approach, if required. I ask the right seater to fly for a minute while I secure everything in the cabin since, honestly, if we depart the runway or crash the fewer things we have flying around the better. It also enables me to step away for a minute to think.
When I come back I divide the responsibilities. Copilot will handle radios (we run four at the same time) but delegate them as necessary to the third crew member. He should feel free to take the initiative to ask for deviations to avoid weather or request altitude changes in anticipation of the approach so I can focus on managing the aircraft. He will also assist with visual identification of the airport environment as usual. He will assist with crosswind correction since I will be one hand on the yoke, one hand on the throttles and over any demonstrated crosswind. He will assist with braking and directional control if he judges that it is required. My responsibilities will be to monitor the autopilot on the approach, control speed and plan on landing to the right of centerline for drift. We discuss to land with only approach flaps for speed fluxuations and airflow over the control surfaces.
We commence the approach and have light turbulence and about 2 and a half miles visibility. Flaps approach, VREF is set to VREF+20 due to the winds and approach flaps setting. Five miles out: visibility 2 miles, gear down, props forward, landing checklist.
"Tower, XYZ 5 miles with the gear."
"Roger, cleared to land runway 3, wind 120 at 29 gusting 46."
Four miles.
We hit the wall of dust. It's a brownout. The ground is brown, the sky is brown. There is no visibility, moderate turbulence, and expected airspeed fluxuations.
Two miles. Nothing but bumps and brown.
One mile.
Minimums. Minimums.
There is nothing. There is no rabbit. There are no lights. There is just the sinking feeling that today may end very badly and an internal monologue may need to begin.
Push TOGA button, begin advancing throttles.
Copilot calls out, "runway 11 o'clock low." There was a break in the dust about the width of the runway that revealed the numbers. I have no lights of any kind in sight, visibility is maybe 500 feet, but I've got the runway. Autopilot is disengaged and I drive to the runway, speeding along. Throttles to idle and I plant it on the runway.
And skip.
About 5 times.
But we're on the ground. I know this because the copilot told me we are no longer flying. I was very focused
I call for the copilot to hold in full crosswind correction as we slow down and I watch tumbleweeds, yes actual tumbleweeds, blow over the runway as we roll out. My legs shake a bit as we taxi to parking and shut down.
I suspect these were unforecast katabatic winds driven by multiple factors.
I have to commend the crew for the excellence in CRM and trust in each other. There was luck involved in the happy outcome of the flight. But the crew worked together as a team, as an organism of various moving parts to reduce the risk and increase the chance of success. It was humbling to be handed my ass by Mother Nature once more.
Don't forget, she is one mother effing badass.
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