FSX
Normally, cylinder head temperatures, spark plug fouling, torque, carburetor icing, vapor lock, superchargers and supertanker sized oil comsumption at speeds that send you right to sleep isn't much to get me excited. But sometimes, you just need a change of pace after reading an airline biography that mostly seems to deal with the formative and exciting years when aeronautical progress moved at the speed of every new exciting flying prop-driven contraption devised, financed and introduced into service.
(Yes, books still work as a source for inspiration. Who'd have thought?)
Anyway, why not take the evolutionary peak of those aeronautical dinosaurs for a spin and throw some economy into the mix while one's at it?
Well, enter the DC-6A. Unlike the swan song airliners of its era with its engines that exhibit equally swan-like touchiness (do not mess with these avians, ever!), you can probably take a sledgehammer to the airframe and its R2800s and still fly around the world - if you take enough oil along, that is.
Anyway, the DC-6A/B works in FSX with the usual model-related drawbacks (prop disks vs clouds) and after some more modifications (new, experimental autopilot; automixture gauge; textures converted to .dds files; MI Tool installation), "Douglas Freight"'s DC-6A in vintage American Airlines Cargo colors is ready at Burbank and waiting for its first assignment.
The mobile phone buzzes. "Please get 13112 lbs of unspecified cargo to Grand Junction and do not mess up. It's already ready for loading. Bye."
Burbank - Grand Junction. Out of the busy L.A. metropolitan area and over a whole lot of mountains. 570 nm. 2+ hours at economy cruise.
Well, alright. Actually, the plan was to channel the 50s and go to Tulsa just like AA did back in the day, but apparently dispatch couldn't find suitable airway maps from back then.
So GJT it is.
No need for a GPS today, since the navigator's seat is occupied by LittleNavMap, a capable android that doesn't talk, won't pull pranks and doesn't consume any beverages, leaving more for me and myself. The right seat is occupied by Otto's brother Otto (name spelled backwards; terribly creative family). Inflatable, flexible, used to be in the weather observation business in the armed forces before hitting it big with his cargo driver job here. A bit shy, but never judges and never complains. Nice wife, too.
Flight engineering has to be done by yours truly since I have an engineering degree and the boss is scottish.
Since this is a modern company, a loadmaster is not on the payroll. Outsourced. Tough times indeed.
Still, the cargo sheet books 600 lbs for the crew, regardless of occupancy. No, I'm not that large. Most of it is oil for the engines and other...things (ssssh!).
Anyway, while the ground service personnel loads the cargo and contrab-...other things without violating any center of gravity regulations, I plot the route. Owing to the limited avionics aboard, routing is old fashioned - navaid to navaid. No waypoints or standard approach/departure routes.
To stay clear of other airspace, the first fix is the NDB in El Monte that serves as a beacon to Pomona VORTAC (POM) while keeping me away from the San Gabriel mountains, which is not the most unpopular location for involuntary disassembly of man and flying machine.
After that, it's a turn northeast toward Daggett VORTAC (DAG), trying my luck to leave as much of the terrain above and below me (this would become a very short-lived career otherwise). Should the plan not work, my contingency is following State Route 210 and then taking a left turn onto Interstate 15 through the valley before slumbering on - just need to make sure not to stop at red lights or for traffic (lack of airspeed is apparently not popular with wings).
Singing overrated, stereotypical songs, the next fix is LAS VORTAC. No technical stops. ("Had to inspected the roulette gear and blackjack lines. No more money for fuel. Kidneys already sold. Send help!")
After that, it's straight onward toward an apparently well-smelling or tasting VORTAC (MMM) not too far from Lake Mead. Cutting right through Bob Marley Nationa-...erm, Iron, Lion, Zion National Park, is the (air)way to Bryce Willis Canyon VORTAC (BCE).
While already pretty well covered by tough terrain, on the leg toward Hanksville VORTAC (HVE), the peaks of the Aquarius Plateu constitute a welcome invitation to turn an engine out situation into a spontaneous invitation to camping and mountaineering trip (provided the apt pilot finds a place to park).
Finally, skimming the northern tip of the Canyonlands National Park and roughly keeping alongside the Grand Valley, the last fix is Grand Junction VORTAC (JNC), before it's a quite literal dive into the valley to land at the destination, Grand Junction, Walker (Texas Ranger) airport.
Overall, it's a picturesque route over some breathtaking landscapes and with a rich history.
Too bad it's already 7:30 p.m.
And pitch dark outside.
But hey, at least the weatheris supposed to be good all the way!
Meanwhile, the outsourced ground handlers have finished loading, the fuel planning is done (8000 something lbs of oil for the engines, 200 gallons of fue-...no wait, the other way around), the route is ready to be cleared by ATC and I've studied the checklists and reference documents. I may be crazy to practically solo a 100000 lbs aircraft, but I'm not dumb. At least not *that* dumb.
The smart notepad app shows that gross weight is well within limits, that take off speeds are reasonable, that CHT and oil temperatures are dangerously low and that the pilot is the best there is (I know!).
After a bit of unprepared switch-searching ont he endless panels, I manage to gracefully start the engines - in the wrong order (3-4-1-2? 4-3-2-1? 1-1-4-23?). Doesn't matter, they now produce an average coastal breeze each and convert oil and fuel to flames and blue smoke.
ATC assigns runway 08 for departure, which is practical, because it points me right toward El Monte. Has FSX ATC finally done something right? Tune in at five to find out more!
Since BUR is a busy airport (Seriously, where do all the aircraft come from?! And where do they go? Does the universe know about them?), mandated interruptions in taxi operations are used for my favourite part of piston aircraft flying - run-up checks. Prop full forward, prop full aft, left magneto, right magneto, no magneto and a 0.0001 drop in RPM...zzzZzzz.
ATC wakes me from my well deserved nap. Checks are completed (talk about doing them in your sleep) and awaiting takeoff clearance from the tower. Put the airplane into "Christmas Tree" mode, line up, set take off power, check flaps, CHT and release brakes. 5700 feet to go. In a jet, I'd be a bit worried, but the four R2800s and the rather low weight really make this thing go. Lift off occurs with several hundred feet to spare and besides, there's that drop at the end of the runway that might provide a gentle bump when push comes to shove.
Gear goes up, nose goes down for acceleration (at least that's what the book says) and at one point, power is reduced to METO. Or at least what I perceive as METO. It turns out that the end of green arc on the MAP gauge does NOT constitute METO, but at that moment, I don't care. CHT is within limits and I need this thing to climb, climb and climb some more.
Flaps go up to 1 to decrease drag and by now, El Monte ADF is picked up and that's where I'll go.
Below, the lights of the Los Angeles megalopolis stretch out to infinity and back and I don't want to think about what would happen if I lost a substantial amount of power and...nope, not going to happen. Not on my watch. This is not an Ernie Gann novel.
Just look at this...lights EVERYWHERE.
I'm still climbing and waiting to intercept the 081 radial to Pomona. The pistons are still giving everything they've got because I really want to make that climb! So much that I forgot about the flaps, which are still at 1.
After passing Pomona, I turn onto the 037 radial to Daggett. This will be the moment of truth. All or nothing. Aviator or something with "a". Moment of glory or PILS (problem in left seat).
Still hammering the engines, still climbing. A glance to my ten o' clock shows Mount San Antonio's peak staring right back into the cockpit. (Uh, hi.) But on the other hand, I can clearly see the glimmering lights of the settlements in the Mojave ahead, so I figure I am going to be fine. Phew!
As I triumphantly soar across the Cucamonga Wilderness and its ~8500 ft peaks, I go into mental overload between wondering why the Mojave is that illuminated, flying the aircraft and finally setting up proper climb power.
Crossing 13 or 14000 ft, I put the superchargers into high gear as the checklist tells me to, but since I'm still hand flying, the process throws me off the radial and my flight path starts to resemble a snake after an evening in a liquor container.
Deciding I've had enough, I switch on the autopilot and let it do its thing. This frees me up to talk ATC out of clearing me all the way up to FL280, which my flightplan is still filed for. It's best for both sides to decrease it to something more sensible, like 190 or so. Fortunately, ATC doesn't need impassioned pleas or other Oscar-nominee acting skills to approve my request.
Arriving at cruising altitude, I show some mercy on the engines and pull back to economy cruise. I've got a tailwind anyway and what is time, after all.
Flying at night might be boring, but a clear desert sky offers some interesting vistas, for example in the form of the Great Las vegas Blotch of Light(TM; you heard it here first!) appearing on the horizon and slowly drifting by beneath me. The urge for a technical stop is nonexistant because Vegas could not look better than from up here.
The Sperry A12 does its thing, Otto is still silent as a rock and my faithful navigator LittleNavMap tells me the frequency and radial of the next VORTAC to tune in.
If I was a stereotypical propliner pilot, I'd go for some coffee, a whistle of "The High and The Mighty" and stories from great piloting adventures from "ye goode olde time" by now, but I'll settle for tea, Guns 'N' Roses and Wikipedia instead. Welcome to the jungle!
The only thing that worries me is that MI Tool shows that the cost of this flight starts to outrun its revenue. And it's not the fuel use or crew salary that's the biggest factor, but "other costs". Premium insurance, I guess. Note to self: Fire financial officer (or retweak the settings).
Past Vegas, the route across National Park Country is composed of darkness below and the stars above, interspersed by the lights of the odd settlement. I'm comfortably at FL210 by now to improve cruise economy, but considering that airlines used to fly this route at no more than 10000 ft at night at half the speed in any weather...
Speaking of weather, somewhere between Mormon Mesa, Bryce Willis and Hanksville, things get mildly cloudy.
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Originally Posted by blanston12
Striker, listen, and you listen close: flying a plane is no different than riding a bicycle, just a lot harder to put baseball cards in the spokes.
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