We are almost 6 miles above a darkened Virginia country side and outside the thin air is rushing by at close to 500 miles per hour with barely a whisper. My company operates almost 50 aircraft, and despite the fact they all rolled off the same manufacturing line, different ones seem to make more or less noise in flight. Tonight we’ve got ourselves a quiet one. 200 miles behind us the lights of Philadelphia have long since dropped over the horizon, while 500 miles away the lights of Birmingham, Alabama and the end of our day are slowly sliding towards us, held back by the curve of the earth and almost 100 miles an hour of wind slowing us down.

Inside, protected by a 3 layered windshield, the cockpit is warm. It had been dark when we landed in Philly before out dinner break and now, more than 3 hours later and away from the human made ground lighting it is darker still. The airplane has a myriad of ways to adjust the interior lighting. Each display screen has its own dimmer switch which are normally all set to the same level. Beyond that each set (both CA and FO) of Primary Flight Display and Multi Function Display screens (the two directly in front of each pilot) are linked to a dimmer switch. On top of that the two center display screens as well as the Flight Management Computer screen and both Radio Tuning Unit screens are linked to a dimmer as well.

On the center pedestal there is also a dimmer switch which controls flood lighting which is recessed above the display screens. Next to that dimmer switch is another switch which will control of the backlighting on the 4 (or in the case of the -700 2) circuit breaker panels. Also on each control yoke is a small rheostat which controls a small multiple LED light on the map holder. Additionally there is a pop out light on each side panel which can be pointed pretty much anywhere and is very useful when checking for ice buildup on the windshield wipers which is one of the first places it tends to form. There is also an overhead dome light which has two settings (“on” and “dim”) as well as a compass backlight with the same two options.

All the buttons and switches have backlighting which is controlled by one of four other dimmer switches (depending on where the lights are, either on the CA or FO side panel, the center pedestal or the overhead panel). The overhead panel also has two post lights that are linked to the overhead dimmer switch which cast light (ironically enough) on the landing light control panel, the Emergency Locator Transmitter switch as well as the cabin overhead signs controls (seatbelt and electronic device) as well as the emergency light control switch.

This evening, as we cruise southwest bound at 75% of the speed of sound everything is working with the exception of one of the small post lights on the overhead panel. It had apparently burned out the day before and had duly been written up in the aircraft logbook. Maintenance had come out and looked at it, decided it was in fact broken and after checking the Minimum Equipment List (a book which allows them to defer maintenance on non required items) decided we didn’t really need it. Fortunately the aircraft has enough redundancy build into it that even with the other lighting turned way down for night time flight there was enough ambient light to illuminate the cockpit real estate that the missing post light was responsible for.
With the lights of western North Carolina now passing by below us I think back to a flight I’d taken many years ago in an aircraft with many fewer lighting options. I’d been instructing out of Phoenix and had flown to Riverside, CA with a student while they were working on their instrument rating. We left Phoenix in the late afternoon and 3 hours later, after an uneventful flight touched down in California. After a quick dinner at the Airport restaurant (I don’t remember what I had but I remember it wasn’t very good) we got back in the plane and pointed the nose eastbound towards home.

About halfway there one of the two (there is one on each engine) alternators tripped off line. The other alternator dutifully stepped up its load to cover the shortfall but rapidly spiked due to the increased demands and shut down as well. This left us with just the battery which depending on the load would last anywhere from 15 to 45 minutes. My student was in the left seat and I was daydreaming in the right seat while he tracked towards our next waypoint of Blyth, where I10 crossing the Colorado River. The sight of the ALT light coming on and both alternator gauges showing 0 quickly brought me back from dreaming about getting out of Phoenix and going to fly bigger planes with more comfortable seats (and from now on I was going to add a better electric system to that dream).

I had my student (now a charter pilot on several jets in Phoenix) turn off both alternator switches and then turn them back on. The left alternator immediately shut off and after about 30 seconds of the load slowly rising on the right, it shut off as well. As the cockpit lighting slowly dimmed I quickly ran through out options in my mind. We could land at Blyth some 10 miles off our nose. However, at this hour of night there wouldn’t be anybody there and we would probably get stuck for the night. The other option was to keep heading towards Phoenix. Even if we did lose all of our electrics the engines would keep turning and while we would no longer have our radios (including navigation radios) it was clear out and the lights of I10 below us would lead us directly back to Phoenix. While I didn’t particularly like the option of flying around the south of Phoenix’s airspace at night with no lights on, I liked that option a lot more than setting down in the middle of nowhere.

My student and I brainstormed through everything that was drawing electricity and shut down anything we didn’t absolutely need. I let ATC know about our situation and what our plans were and then went back to staring at the alternator gauge. We stopped resetting the left alternator as it obviously was dead but by constantly resetting the right side we were able to get between 15 seconds and 1 minute of life out of before it spiked and shut off. With my student flying with one hand on the yoke and the other on the reset switch we limped eastbound at 6000 feet. With the lights of western Phoenix passing under us and the comforting voice of Phoenix approach talking to us over the radio the alternator finally gave up the ghost and the electric system started drawing from the battery only.

Fortunately just 10 minutes later we were lining up with runway 30C at Williams. The tower operator, having been advised of our issue by Approach, had stuck around 10 minutes passed closing time to make sure we got in ok. With a landing clearance in hand I flipped on the landing light which I’d been saving. I flinched a bit as all the other lights we still had on in the cockpit dimmed with the increased load. My student then flipped down the gear handle which powered an electric pump in the tail. As the landing gear dropped into the night sky, the last of our battery juice was sucked off by the pump and everything went dark. I had trained all of my students for a situation like this and I held my flashlight on the airspeed indicator while my student kept the nose pointed towards the rapidly approach runway. A minute later we were down and taxing back towards the ramp. Once the plane was shut down I made a quick phone call to the tower to let them know we were all set and thank them for their help. The next day a mechanic came out and replaced both alternators in the plane.

Now, almost 5 years later I reach to about the same place the alternator switches would be but instead find the light control for the left side screen brightness which I turn down slightly to better see the lights of Atlanta slide by 100 miles off our left wing. As much as I am glad to be living my daydream from long ago I do miss flying and instructing in small airplanes some times. It was an amazing learning experience and gave me a new challenge every day. I lean back in my seat and look up at the dark night sky. A small smiles plays around the corner of my lips. I don’t miss everything though. I don’t miss the seats in them. Not at all.

I’d been sitting at the airport for over 2 hours now and we were no closer to leaving then when I first arrived. Scheduling at called me at 10:04am, just 4 minutes after my reserve block started with an assignment for a 12:45pm show time. The trip was pretty simple with a flight over to Washington, DC and then a quick Albany turn before I deadheaded back to Dayton for the night. I was actually rather excited for the north east flying as we don’t do much of it any more.

Now, sitting in the third row of the plane eating my Subway turkey sandwich I watched as 4 mechanics clustered in the cockpit. The problem was related to the computer that controlled the heater attached to the First Officer’s side window. All four of our windshield panels up front are heated both as an anti ice measure (so we can see out of them) and to keep the glass somewhat soft so in the event of a bird strike the window doesn’t shatter into a million pieces. Now, the computer wouldn’t tell the heater to turn off, even if the switch was put into the off position. For the last two hours the mechanics has been replacing various control units in the hopes that one would be the faulty part.

Having no luck replacing parts they’d moved on to looking at wiring schematics and ohms resistant charts. Fortunately the gate agents had rebooked all 10 of our passengers on later flights so at least everybody who was traveling from Dayton would get where they were going. The same couldn’t be said for our DCA-Albany passengers and then people waiting for us once we got there after Dispatch called to inform me that they had canceled that turn.

At the three hour point I got off the plane which had turned into something of a popsicle I could have turned on the APU but with ground power plugged into the airplane and a sufficiently warm airport terminal just steps away it seemed sort of silly to do. Now, watching through the terminal windows, I saw all the mechanics (we were now up to 6 working on the plane) get in their two trucks and drive away. After 20 minutes of inactivity and the passage of 4 hours from our original departure time I called Dispatch again to see what was going on. I was informed that the plane was listed as out of service by the Maintenance Controller until 4:30pm, which I pointed out was 12 minutes ago. The Operations Coordinator said he’d call me back and sure enough, 15 minutes later, just as the mechanics showed up at the airplane again he called back and said we were canceled to DC as well.

This was day 1 of 4 for the rest of the crew so they would be deadheading out on a later flight. For me however, this was my last day and I was done and could head home. Some days you just seem to go nowhere fast.

The rain started just as we were taxiing in from the runway. The last bit of daylight had faded somewhere above the clouds tops on the arrival and the rest of the approach was shrouded in the flat gray light so typical of an overcast dusk. Shutdown at the gate with the first rivulets of water running down the windshield I punched up the weather for our next leg on my phone. It actually didn’t look too bad. While Charlotte was supposed to deteriorate through the evening, Fayetteville, NC was suppose to stay good until well after our time of arrival. Of course that could all change over the next two hours while we sat around the airport waiting for our 8:35pm departure time to roll around.

I managed to fill my 2 hour sit with talking to a few other crews hanging around the crew room and eating dinner. Now, full of the latest rumors and a turkey BBQ dinner I headed back out to the airplane which was just as we had left it a few hours earlier. The rain was coming down now and most of the rampers were dressed in their reflective yellow rain gear and hoods. At night, especially during bad weather, the ramp operations slow down which leads to a somewhat safer operation. Even so, I am much happier sitting inside looking out and not having to worry about the fast moving bag carts and fuel trucks that zip between airplanes.

Finally the ramp finished loading our bags and we shut the door, sealing in 46 passengers and 4 crew members for the quick 25 minute flight over to Fayetteville. We managed to push off the gate 3 minutes early, which for Charlotte is no small feat, and then started out taxiing back out to the runway. About halfway there we ran into the back end of the line. The first time we came to a complete stop and I set the parking brake I counted 18 sets of tail lights in front of us. I passed the bad news on the passengers and went into fuel monitoring mode. We had about 800 pounds above our absolute minimum for takeoff and were burning about 600 pounds per hour between our single engine that was running and the APU. That gave us about an hour and fifteen minutes before we would have problems, which I thought was more the sufficient for the current line.

Sure enough, 30 minutes later we’d reached the top of the line (see picture below) and after two tightly spaced arrivals we were cleared on to the runway.

The final checklist run, I lined up the nose on the centerline and once given the takeoff clearance put up the power. Because of the wet conditions the weight and balance computer had decided we would need all our available takeoff power (mostly it gives us a number for a reduced power takeoff) so with the engines putting out their maximum effort and a lightly loaded aircraft it took just a few thousand feet before the nose came up and the wheels came off the pavement and we were flying.

Tower handed us off to departure as I followed the GPS generated course to the north and then back to the east. Departure climbed us to 14,000 feet and then handed us over to Atlanta Center who climb us some more. Leveling off at our final altitude of 15,000 feet we were in the clouds and in moderate rain and turbulence. Of course our weather radar wasn’t painting anything but that’s typical of winter flying when most of the precip we are running into is in the frozen form.

Finally after 10 minutes of bouncing around we broke into clearer air as we were descended back down to 10,000 feet. By now we had been passed off to Washington Center and were now being watched over by a controller sitting behind a scope in Leesburg, VA. Shortly thereafter we were passed on to Fayetteville Approach who assigned us runway 22 and descended us to 5000 feet. By now we were out of the clouds and the airport beacon was in sight.

With the approach briefed and the Flight Attendants making their final preparations for landing in the back I had my FO let the controller know we had the airport visually. Hearing that he cut us loose for a visual approach which, after letting the autopilot bounce through the skies for the last half an hour, I was only too happy to hand fly. With the runway in sight and the flaps and gear out and mentally coached myself through a CRJ700 landing. I told the FO to think light happy thoughts (it’s very easy to flare too late in the 700 and slam the wheels into the ground) as we dropped through 500 feet. A little burble of wind at 200 feet moved us off the centerline but by 100 feet I was back. At 30 feet I pulled the power out and started to bring the nose up. Because we were so light I ended up pulling to hard and thought we were going to go back up into the air for a second. Fortunately we didn’t and the main wheels came down for one of the softest landings I’ve had in a while. I guess sometimes it just takes a really bumpy flight to force a nice landing.