Sometime late this afternoon, I’ll get an email telling me about tomorrow. I keep a close eye on my phone, as this will be my first rotation as captain. I hope I get paired with a strong first officer.
Upgrading to captain has come just two years after the official start of my career as a full-time pilot for pay. It feels that this is just about the right amount of time. Certainly a year ago would have been way too soon, even though I got my private pilot’s license in 1967 and have been flying nonstop ever since. But that was all Part 91, in rented airplanes or in my airplanes, when and where I wanted to go. If the weather was bad, I just stayed home.
The upgrade experience has been both mundane and remarkable simultaneously, if that is possible. My week of training at CAE in New Jersey was pretty much like it had been in the past, though my imminent promotion focused the mind more acutely. Two days of company policy indoc in California was fun and informative, but lacked any surprises or secret insights. Then, last rotation, I was paired with a check airman for upgrade experience. When he and I felt ready, the check ride under Part 135.299 would be conducted. In the vernacular, this is called a 299.
I know that some readers have been captains in the Part 91, 135 and 121 environments for thousands of hours and many years. To them, these musings may seem somewhat sophomoric and hyperbolic. Other readers may rent a Cessna 172 infrequently when finances and family allow. I have spent way more time in this latter capacity than in the former, so I hope these ruminations are of interest to both types of pilots and all in between.
Things started auspiciously. I like the check airman, Joel, and had flown with him before. Though a man of few words and an aviator of high standards, his demeanor is welcoming and his communication skills are excellent. I drove from New Hampshire to Teterboro, New Jersey, in time for our first leg to Rockland, Maine. We met and preflighted the airplane together. There are certain things a captain worries about that never crossed my mind as an FO. Smoke goggles can fall down behind the pilot seats and get crushed. If you don’t check them, a surprise ramp check might find you lacking, not to mention that an actual fire might cause you to die for want of this simple safety check.
Joel offered me my choice of seats. I chose the right seat for the first leg. I knew that I had to do at least one leg in the FO capacity so that I could be judged on my ability to oversee the safe conduct of flight from that position and to perform those duties competently. Besides, what with all the training, I hadn’t been in an actual airplane in three weeks. Our trip to Rockland was smooth; the weather was 1,000-foot overcast with good visibility below. A great dinner followed.
Since we had flown together often before, Joel felt we could get this all done in two legs the next day. I was to fly from Rockland to Martha’s Vineyard (KMVY) and then to Bedford, Massachusetts (KBED). If the first leg went well, Joel would offer me the opportunity to have the second leg count as the 299 ride. I did all the flight planning, weight and balance, FBO communication, fuel and so on. Since KMVY has no weather forecasting, I was required to provide an alternate, according to Part 135 rules. There was some rain about, but the forecast for Hyannis (KHYA) was for 1,000 overcast with 10 miles visibility. I didn’t anticipate much difficulty getting into the Vineyard.
We launched without commotion and were sailing along toward the tip of Cape Cod fully briefed for the ILS 24 at KMVY when we were instructed to slow to the slowest practical speed. Several airplanes were in a hold waiting to get into the Vineyard. What’s this?
Rain, it turned out. The new ATIS reported 700 overcast, visibility of 1¾ miles. These numbers were well above minimums, so why the hold? We never did find out, but we had time to learn that the approach had changed from the ILS 24 to the RNAV 6. Joel put the new approach in the FMS, we transferred the controls again, and I briefed the new approach and reset the approach minimums and ref speeds.
All set up for Runway 6 and doing 180 knots at 4,000 feet, Cape Approach instructed us to turn left to a heading of 190 degrees to intercept the localizer. Confusion again. There is no localizer to Runway 6. Joel queried the controller, and we were cleared for the ILS 24. His quick hands reset the approach, I extended speed brakes, and we just caught the glideslope and the localizer at the final approach fix. From there on in, it was easy.
After that workout, we decided that I was as sharp as I was going to get and that the next leg would be the 299 ride. After our passengers had boarded and I’d started the engines, Joel said, “I have to inform you that this is an official check ride.” What he didn’t say, but told me later, was this: I could be disqualified if I violated an assigned altitude by more than 100 feet, had an airway deviation, failed to understand how to use any of the navigation equipment, or exercised bad judgment. A failure meant retraining. I would be taken off the line and sent back to CAE in New Jersey for more work. There was not to be another chance another day, no “let’s try this again.”
The object, though, is to observe the captain-to-be as he or she discharges the everyday duties the job demands. As the check airman is the FO, he or she must function in that capacity while making these observations. Is the aviator capable as captain, does she make good decisions, run a relaxed, professional cockpit and observe standard operating procedures? In short, does he know what he is doing?
KMVY to KBED is short. This makes the flying more difficult because all the tasks are compressed. There is no leisurely discussion of the ATIS, briefing of the glass, or time for discussion about where to have dinner. Things happen quickly down low in a jet doing the speed limit of 250 knots over a distance of 71 nm as the crow flies.
We were both busy. Several heading changes, rerouting, frequency changes and altitude changes cut short any time for contemplation. We were soon cleared for the ILS 11 at KBED. Once on the ground and taxied in, we discharged our passengers. A quick handshake from Joel led me to believe it had gone well. We arranged to have the airplane detailed and washed. Whew. I needed to be detailed and washed too.
I collapsed into a happy reverie at the Rectrix FBO in Bedford, content to watch other airplanes come and go. I was spent. That tired sense that first manifests itself in the eyes signaled an emotional letdown. Funnily enough, I didn’t feel elated. Making captain is a little like passing a school exam. It is only important if you don’t pass it. I can only imagine how embarrassed I would have been. Still, I had a quiet feeling of expectation for my next rotation.
Not so fast. The company suddenly called with instructions to reposition to Teterboro for a 7 a.m. flight to Illinois. To be legal we had to land by 1930 tonight in order to get 10 hours rest before our 0600 show in the morning. I quickly filed and did the performance. The great cleaners at Elite in KBED picked up the tempo. The airplane looked great. We were airborne by 1745 and on the ground less than an hour later.
But I was not the aviator I had been earlier in the day. With the check ride over and the day over, or so I had thought, I let the fatigue wash over me. My adrenals had degranulated. Now I needed to regroup. Joel tapped my hand to remind me about flaps. I realized I had let my guard down before I had dutied off. The rest of the flight went well. I made an early turnoff at KTEB. I learned once again how unpredictable the life of a Part 135 pilot can be.
The phone just chirped. I’m off to Austin by airliner. I’ve been assigned an FO who has flown for and retired from a major airline. He will certainly know, as do I, that he knows way more than I do. Here goes.
