INTERNATIONAL FLYING

The flying in Asia was different from anything that I had experienced before. It began with an International Ground School in Wilmington a month before. The school consisted of one day of classroom instruction. I was very disappointed.

Every one of us were going to be flying in Asia. Some were leaving right away. Others like myself were going in a few weeks. The entire morning and the first part of the afternoon was spent discussing flying in South America and plotting Trans-Atlantic courses. Not one word was spoken about how to operate in Asia until the last part of the day.

Only then did we get into the subject matter that was pertinent to us. Only then did we learn that there were many various and complex methods of setting altimeters and interpreting approach and enroute charts for altitude restrictions and approach minimums. It was confusing, and there simply was not enough time to cover it. If they wanted to cover the trans-Atlantic and South American material, there should have been a second day to cover Asia.

I flew ComAir from Orlando to Atlanta, then transferred to Delta for a non-stop flight to Tokyo’s Narita Airport. The Atlanta to Tokyo flight was fourteen hours. That’s a long time in the air, but when you consider how far you’re going, it’s not that long at all. I couldn’t sleep. I suppose you could say that I was excited. It was an adventure unlike any other I’d had up until that time in my life.

After clearing customs and immigration in Tokyo, I waited outside the terminal for the shuttle bus that would take me to our hotel. In Japan, everything runs on a tight schedule. If they are even a minute late, the Japanese get very upset. The shuttle bus arrived exactly on time and departed exactly on time. At the front desk, I was relieved, but not really surprised, to find that they all spoke perfect English.

I checked in, and inquired as to which room Greg Bienert was staying in. Greg, I had been told, would be our check airman during the first flight from Tokyo to Dalian, China, the following day. Greg was not checked in. No other pilots from ABX were at the hotel, I was told. Just me. This concerned me. Had I gone to Tokyo, when I was supposed to go to Osaka instead?

Just then, I heard a familiar voice. “Hey, Wayne.” I turned to find Corey Butler standing behind me, smiling. We shook hands, both of us relieved to have found the other. Corey would be flying as my First Officer while we were there. I was glad. I always enjoyed flying with Corey. He is the sort of fellow that I hoped that my daughter, Angi, would find some day. I waited while he checked in, and then we discussed the absence of any check airmen at the hotel. We figured at least if one of us was in the wrong city, we were both in the wrong city.

We agreed to meet later for dinner, and went to our rooms to get settled in and cleaned up. My room was very clean, perhaps a bit smaller than what I have become accustomed to in the U.S. The bed was low, barely more than a foot off the floor. The electrical outlets were two-prong, and my computer power cord had three prongs. I had intended to purchase an adapter to bring along but had forgotten to do so. I found that I was able to remove my ground prong and make the power cord work.

Before leaving home, I had subscribed to Skype, and I decided to give it a try. I soon found that I could call back home, or for that matter anywhere in the world, and have a connection that sounded as if the other person was standing right next to me, although there was a problem with my Internet connection dropping off at the Tokyo hotel.

Corey and I ate dinner at the hotel, each of us marveling that we had made it to Japan. Neither of us expected our flying careers to lead to this. Corey had been able to contact crew scheduling when he had gone to his room. He had learned that our check airman was going to be Larry , a pilot we both knew and liked. He was flying in on an airline flight from Bangkok.

After dinner, Corey and I agreed to meet downstairs the following morning for breakfast. Later that night, I checked at the front desk to find out what room Larry was in, and slipped a note under his door to let him know what time we would be having breakfast.

Larry met us downstairs the next morning. After we ate, we got together in the hotel lobby for a preflight briefing. We then caught the bus to the airport and walked to the ANA (All Nippon Airways) operations area. There we obtained our flight release and walked to the flight dispatch area (lots of walking – long distances) for our weather briefing. After that we walked to customs. From there we were driven to the airplane.

I had hoped to be able to arrive early to allow for a thorough preflight and familiarization of the airplane. This particular airplane had a “flat panel” instrument display, and it was the first time that I had ever laid eyes on one. It’s not that complicated, but there are a lot of differences, and they are significant. I also wanted extra time to look over our route of flight on the enroute charts. Unfortunately, due to the Japanese obsession with everything running precisely on schedule, we were not allowed the extra time. It seems it is just as unacceptable in Japan to show up early as it is to be late.

So, before I knew it, we were taxiing out in the rain for departure from Tokyo to Dalian, China. I remember thinking, Holy Cow! How many people from Sumner, Illinois would believe this? As I am prone to do during such times, I thought of Marsha, Angi, and her yet-to-be-born baby. I thought of my dad. I thought of Earl Smith, and John Schnepper. How many of them would believe this? Many times, I imagined having Dad ride along with me when I was doing something more than I ever thought I could do. I suppose someone smarter than me could analyze that, but I like to think it is because I’d like for him to have the chance to see me make him proud.

We were on our way, I in the captain seat, Larry in the first officer’s seat. Corey was in the jump seat directly behind me, monitoring everything on the headset. Behind us, in the courier compartment, were a mechanic and a loadmaster. I was listening but having trouble picking out the radio transmissions intended for us. To begin with, if for instance our flight number was 123, I was accustomed to being called “ABEX  123” and over there we were called “ANA 123.” Add to that the fact that although the controllers were speaking to everyone in English (the official language of aviation worldwide), it was with a distinct Japanese accent. Eventually I caught on.

Corey and Larry switched seats for the enroute phase. Tokyo turned us over to Incheon Center (located in Seoul, South Korea).  Incheon worked our flight for a considerable amount of time. Careful attention had to be paid to maintaining precise adherence to our clearance. Straying into North Korean airspace could be hazardous. Considering that this was a flight that traversed through the airspace of numerous countries, we also had to be careful so as not to arrive at entry points prior to the stated estimated time of arrival. As we neared Chinese airspace, we could see weather returns on our radar. These thunderstorms were not unexpected. They were the remnants of a typhoon that had passed through Japan a few days prior to our arrival. As we were to soon learn, they still packed one heck of a punch as they lingered in China.

Unlike the Japanese, who spoke English at all times on the air traffic control frequencies, the Chinese controllers and the Chinese pilots all conversed in Chinese. The only time the controllers spoke English was when they were talking to us. And they were much more difficult to understand than the Japanese had been.  The ATIS –Automated Terminal Information Service, a recorded message that informs pilots of the current weather and field conditions – reported a thunderstorm in progress on the field, and visibility below our landing minimums. By this time, Corey and Larry had switched seats again and were back in their original positions.

Larry called Dalian approach, saying, “Dalian Approach, ANA 123 . . . the weather is below our minimums. Where would you like for us to hold?”

Silence at first, followed by “ANA 123 ? . . .”

Larry repeated himself. “Dalian Approach, ANA 123 . . . the weather is below our minimums. Where would you like for us to hold?”

“ANA 123 . . . Weather below minimum. Orbit DABOX intersection.”

We did not want to hold at DABOX intersection. That was precisely where the worst of the weather was located. DABOX was situated on the published arrival, and under other circumstances would have been a good place to hold until the weather came up to minimums and we could commence the approach from there. But not today.

I have since learned that what we should have done was chosen where we wanted to go, and specifically have requested it as follows: “ANA 123 request orbit at XYZ intersection, due to weather. Over.” Our chances would have been a lot better than they were the way that we handled it that day. In the states, we could have explained our concerns about the weather and would have been issued a clearance to help us stay out of it. But we were in China, and the controller did not understand us, nor did he care that we were being issued clearance for holding in a severe thunderstorm.

We slowed to maneuvering speed, entered the thunderstorm, and then upon reaching DABOX, entered the holding pattern. We got the living snot kicked out of us. A lot of thoughts were going through my mind right about then. I thought of Corey, sitting behind me. He was trusting his life to me and Larry, and we had flown him directly into the jaws of hell. I thought of his wife and two small children. I thought of the mechanic and the loadmaster in the back, and how uncomfortable they must be as we were being tossed around like a rag doll, with lightning and thunder all around us, and the heavy precipitation pounding on every square inch of the airplane. I thought of my family, Marsha and Angi. I thought of my soon-to-be-born granddaughter that I couldn’t wait to see in August. I thought of every accident report that I ever read, and how it was always a chain of about seven events that led up to the accident. Break the chain, and the accident never happens. I started counting the links. We were up to about five.

And, oddly enough, I thought of Sumner, Illinois and how I would be remembered by the people I had gone to high school with. Wayne Baker killed in China? I always knew something like that would happen to him . . . and thinking, I’ve done ten thousand things they have not, yet this is how they would all remember me. No way it happens here, today.  I hunkered into my seat, cinched my seat belt and shoulder harness tight, and doubled my focus.

The weather came up to our landing minimums, and we were cleared for the ILS approach and landing. I intercepted the localizer, then the glide slope. We threw out the gear and flaps and rode the glide slope toward the runway. Larry called out, “One thousand above minimums, Cleared to land.”

To which I replied, “Roger.”

“Five hundred above minimums. Ref plus seven, sink seven hundred.”

“Roger.” I was two knots faster than target speed of Ref plus five. I made a slight power adjustment.

“One hundred above minimums.”

Still in the soup. Still in the turbulence and heavy precipitation. “Roger.” This was going to be tight. I hoped Larry wasn’t going to be too quick to make the missed approach call when we got to minimums. All I would need was a couple extra seconds on the glide path . . .

“Minimums . . . Runway . . . in . . . sight.”

I glanced up.  Barely able to make out the strobe lead-in lights, I said, “Roger. Going visual.”

“Ref plus five, sink seven hundred.”

Seconds later, the wheels touched down, and the speed brakes deployed. “Spoilers extended,” Larry said. I raised the thrust reverse levers to aid in our deceleration.

At eighty knots, I stowed the thrust reversers and reverted to manual braking. We cleared the runway, and in heavy rain (it was coming down like a cow peeing on a flat rock) taxied to the ramp. Our parking spot was near the passenger terminal.

We were met at the airplane by Chinese Customs officials, who checked our passports. That bit of business completed, the ground personnel were cleared to come on to the aircraft and begin unloading the freight. Corey did a post-flight walk-around inspection in the rain. It wasn’t required of me to do it, but this was my first time in China, so I wanted to get out and walk around the aircraft as well. I could now say that I had stepped foot in China. If not on Chinese soil, at least on Chinese concrete.

We were there another four hours before we were finally cleared to leave. During that time, the visibility did improve just enough for us to be able to see some apartment complexes about a half mile north of the airport. From what little I could tell, they appeared to be fairly new and modern.

Our departure out of Dalian was not nearly as eventful as our arrival, although there was still a lot of precipitation and cloud cover. As we flew directly over the city, the clouds opened up just enough for us to have a peek. Dalian, which I had never heard of prior to going there, looked from the air to be a clean, modern city. Then, after only a few seconds, it was gone as we were swallowed up by the clouds.

There was still a lot of thunderstorm activity, but as we made our way to Osaka, we were able to pick our way around the cells. The way we request clearance for deviations in the U.S. is to say, “ABEX 123 requesting twenty degrees right for weather.” Clearance is usually granted, with a reminder to “advise when able to resume direct to Richmond”, or whatever our next fix is.  Over there, you say, “ANA 123 request deviation five miles left due to weather.” Similar, yet different. At any rate, we were able to avoid the worst of it, and landed at Osaka’s Kansai International Airport – KIX – after dark.

The Osaka hotel was really nice. ANA owned the high-rise hotel. There were a couple of restaurants on the property, and several more nearby. There was a train station where we could catch a ride to anywhere we wanted to go. A couple of times, during my stay there, I went downtown with some of the other pilots for dinner and to take in the sights. Osaka after dark was filled with people, and lights everywhere. Just like you see in the photographs.

It felt great to have done it. To have flown a transport category jet in heavy weather into and out of China. Not bad, I thought, for a kid who grew up on a small farm in southern Illinois and learned to fly puddle-jumpers at a small local airport.