Landing in Bad Visibility

Phil was a highly experienced ex-BOAC Captain who worked for Singapore Airlines (SIA). Having retired from SIA at the mandatory age of 60, he was recruited by Air Lanka as Sri Lanka had extended their mandatory retirement age for Captains to 62 years. This enabled Phil to add two more years to his working life. As a Captain with SIA he ran a tight ship, while his ‘short fuse’ temper and no-nonsense attitude earned him the nickname ‘Smiling Tiger’ from his First Officers.

Phil was no different in Air Lanka. Some First Officers preferred to avoid unpleasantness by reporting sick and staying at home when teamed up with him on the flying roster. Perhaps, tigers don’t change their stripes. But more accommodating pilots like me could not only get on with him but appreciate the constructive criticism he gave with a smile. Hence his nickname. After all, we, First Officers, had worked with even worse Captains in Air Ceylon.

Lockheed Tri Star L1011

Early one cold and foggy morning Phil and I were parked at Zurich Airport, Switzerland (ZRH), waiting to depart for Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris (CDG). We had just flown all night, ‘red eyed’, from Dubai in our Lockheed L-1011 TriStar, and had yet to complete the second leg. As Paris was reporting low cloud base and visibility, and the flight time between ZRH and CDG was short, the wisest thing to do was to stay parked on ground until the observed ceiling and visibility improved when the sun got hotter. Although no extra fuel was uplifted, the minimum fuel was over and above what was needed for the ZRH – CDG leg.

Even though we were operating a so-called ‘state-of-the-art’ TriStar capable of flying to lower limits of altitude and visibility, as our airline (Air Lanka) was still relatively new and ‘wet behind their ears’, the French authorities permitted us to descend to only 200 feet on the Instrument Landing System (ILS) during the final landing approach to CDG. So, that further influenced our decision to wait on ground until observed cloud ceiling had increased to 200 ft or higher.

As a matter of interest, there are three elements that must be satisfied before an airline is allowed to fly to a lower prescribed altitude: (1) the airport ILS must have the accuracy to provide guidance to a lower altitude; (2) the pilots have to be properly certified and capable of demonstrating their ability to fly to lower altitude in low visibility; (3) the aircraft should have the proper instrumentation and capability.

As we waited at ZRH, every half-hour our Flight Engineer was monitoring CDG’s observed weather on the radio. The usual trick was not to make a hasty decision to depart based on one observed report, but to wait for at least two consecutive good reports, as weather was often fickle when close to minimum permissible values.

Suddenly, our radio crackled to life and the Zurich Ground Controller asked us when we would be leaving for CDG. We told him that we were waiting for the weather to improve in CDG. He then informed us that there was another aircraft needing the parking stand we were occupying, and asked whether we could vacate it. All they needed us to do was to push back, get towed to a remote stand, and continue waiting. At this request, Phil became agitated and decided to depart without waiting. Perhaps, at times like this a good First Officer would step in and remind the Captain that the weather in CDG was still below acceptable levels, while persuading him to wait on ground a little longer. Unfortunately, to maintain peace and harmony on the flight deck, I went along with the Captain’s decision.

Our subsequent departure was normal, apart from the fact that we had to select engine anti-ice early on the climb-out as we were ascending through freezing levels. However, when we reached Paris there was a large number of aircraft waiting to land. On days like these, airplanes are usually ‘stacked’, to wait their turn to land, at 1,000 ft intervals, at various holding points.

We were sent to an imaginary point overhead a Very High Frequency (VHF) Radio Station located in the town of Boursonne, France There were over ten aircraft in a ‘racetrack’ holding pattern, literally going in circles. Each circle takes exactly 4 minutes to complete.

The last aircraft to arrive is put on top of the ‘stack’ and they are cleared in stages until the bottom is reached. In clear weather it is an awesome sight to watch all the aircraft circling, above and below, over one place. But on that day it was very cloudy, and we couldn’t see a thing over Boursonne.

After entering the holding pattern we had some time to think. As the Captain, Phil was evaluating his decision, and realised that he had been pressured into leaving Zurich early. From his voice, we could feel the strain he was under. To his credit, Phil was most apologetic to his flight crew for getting us into this messy situation.

Air Traffic Control usually gives crews an expected approach time. That is the time the flight is planned to commence the approach for a landing. Every minute we were up in the air we were burning precious fuel. The question was whether the weather would be above our limits at the time of landing. The redeeming factor was that in Paris we were allowed to come down and have a look to ascertain what the actual visibility is like.

When we started our landing approach the weather was just at our limits. Our approach was stable with the wind calm and no turbulence, as it was early in the morning. Phil kept the aircraft on both automatic pilots. As dictated by procedure, I (as F/O) called “one thousand feet”, at which point Phil was expected to also look outside. With the radio altimeter reading 300 ft, I called “hundred above” (minimums), which was acknowledged by Phil with “Roger”.

The next call was “minimums”, before which point Captain Phil had to announce “Runway lights in sight”, or “No contact”. That day there was no contact, but he didn’t respond. It was my duty to give a second call, and if there was still no response from Phil I would have to take over the controls and go around – just in case Phil had become incapacitated in some way.

Yet, instead of deciding to go around, Phil chose to continue the descent for one second more (before I could give the second call). Suddenly, we broke through the cloud and sighted the runway lights, in the haze. Disconnecting the autopilots we landed manually.

During the long taxi to the parking stand at CDG Phil declared, “Gentlemen, for all practical purposes we saw the runway lights at 200 feet!” He explained that in our situation it made sense to delay the decision to go around by just one second because if we did go around we would have had to join the holding stack at the top and start the approach procedure all over again. That would have cost us a further delay of 40 minutes or more!

 Today, certain European airports have cameras facing upward on the final approach, at the 200ft point. If the camera can’t see the aircraft when it passes overhead, then it proves that the aircraft was still in cloud.

 In the scheme of things in airline operations, an essential part of the First Officer’s job is to understudy the Captain and observe not only what to do but also what not to do. In retrospect, I should have cautioned Phil to not be in a hurry. The relationship between two pilots on a flight deck is not unlike that between a medical specialist doctor and a junior House Officer, to use a medical analogy. The Captain must set the tone and make it ‘OK’ for the F/O to give feedback on critical information which could save lives in a potentially dangerous situation. The essential difference is that medical doctors get to bury their mistakes; but a pilot’s mistakes might bury him – and everyone else on board his airplane!