Out of the Pattern: The longest cross-countries

As a flight instructor, one of my most difficult tasks is teaching students about the insidious, dangerous nature of fatigue. The required dual cross-countries aren't long enough to create fatigue, and it's not economically feasible for most students to carry out, say, a six-hour dual cross-country at night as part of their training. On the other hand, there's nothing to stop those same students from conducting the same cross-country trip with the ink still wet on their private pilot certificates. Nothing, that is, except good judgment and awareness of what might happen if they get too tired.

The "fatigue" lesson may be hard to get across in the training environment; it's easy, however, to teach by example. I thought I knew about fatigue and flying after I'd finished a few of my own long cross-country trips in instrument weather conditions. Recent experience as a guest in the cockpit of a Quantas Boeing 747-400 on a trip from Los Angeles, California, to Auckland, New Zealand, however, has taught me more.

The NTSB Reporter and NASA's Aviation Safety Reporting Service (ASRS) bulletins are full of pilots confessing to missed landing clearances, busted altitudes, and unstabilized approaches resulting in hard landings, even unusual attitudes, at the end of long, boring flights. One airline crew misread their instruments and, not recognizing an autopilot failure, allowed their 747 to enter a diving spiral. After losing 25,000 terrifying feet, they managed to right the aircraft and land in San Francisco, but it certainly wasn't pretty.

This was all on my mind at 9 p.m. Pacific time when the captain pushed the throttles up and released the brakes, allowing the 747-400 to lumber down the runway, accelerating at an excruciatingly slow pace for someone used to flying in much lighter craft. The takeoff was not unlike that off an aircraft carrier, the airplane, even at rotation, just didn't feel like it would fly. But it did, which is good, because the lights of Los Angeles rapidly receded behind us as we climbed through 20,000 feet. In front of us was the vast Pacific Ocean glimmering in the light of a full moon. That's pretty much all we would see on this trip, too. The route of flight took us over no significant landmasses for the next 13 hours. We had three inertial navigation systems and two independent Global Positioning System satellite receivers to keep us on course, but it wasn't a challenge on this night. The wind was on our nose, and there's only one way to get to New Zealand, follow a heading of 220 degrees and wait.

The Asia-based captain explained that he finds it easiest to remain on Asian time and get back home as soon as possible. He'll sleep and wake at odd hours during the crew's 18-hour stops abroad. That way, the jet lag from crossing so many time zones doesn't really catch up with him until he's home again.

Conversation dwindled after the first hour as the monotony of the air hissing across the cockpit windows lulled us all into a sort of trance. It was hard for me to stay awake. There wasn't even the noise of air traffic control conversations in this advanced cockpit. These pilots communicated digitally with the controllers, and messages flashed on the flight plan screen, accompanied by an insistent beep. Waypoints on the CRT displays turned from white to magenta and blinked as we seemed to crawl across the featureless waterscape at nearly 500 mph. The most significant tasks were fuel management and reporting to controllers. The pilots burned fuel first from the tail tanks, then the center tank, and finally the wing tanks. As the fuel vaporized and the weight of the massive airplane decreased, we drifted upward, finally settling at an altitude of 37,000 feet.

In all, the flight took nearly 14 hours, during which time we switched pilots four times, allowing each crew member to get the required amount of rest. No one was fresh, though, by the time we descended into Auckland's dawn. All four pilots were in position in the cockpit for the approach. The captain explained that it takes four sets of eyes and ears to keep the flying pilots awake and alert enough to ensure a safe arrival.

It was an uncomplicated approach and landing, but it doesn't always happen that way. Fatigue has played a part in many accidents and incidents at the end of long flights. When I went out to stretch my legs, I found myself wobbly, even dizzy after so many hours spent sitting up. The cool morning air was bracing. I was suddenly hungry and felt happy to be on the ground. I'd never been so tired. I knew then I'd rather learn about fatigue from others. It's an easier lesson that way, don't you agree?