Maggie's Farm

Remember that Asiana flight crashing at San Fran Int'l a while back, clipping off the tail as it hit the edge of the runway?

The reason that was given was, due to some confusion in the cockpit, the autopilot was assumed to be taking care of the aircraft's speed, which it wasn't.  So, they lost altitude quickly at the end and clipped the edge of the runway.

But that doesn't really answer why the pilot was trying to land so near the edge of the runway in the first place, what with a long, expansive landing strip in front of them.  And this is especially true in S.F., where there's no pre-runway to safeguard against such things, because the runways jut out into this big watery thing called a "bay".

But upon watching the following video, pointed out to me by my buddy Feebs, I was suddenly reminded of a nasty experience I once had, which might just answer that elusive why.

For airplane buffs, this is a very interesting video showing the last number of minutes of an airliner landing at SFO from inside the cockpit.

A few things to watch for:

— I like they way they label it "Silicon Valley, CA".  Silicon Valley is a euphemism for an area loosely composed of parts of San Jose, Santa Clara and Sunnyvale.

— Since we presume they didn't do any editing-out in this thing, both the 'Landing' and 'Shutdown' check lists are stunningly short.

— There's an interesting moment when the computer calls out "200" feet, and it appears the pilot actually has to give it the verbal command to "continue" for things to progress as normal.  I presume he's actually talking to the co-pilot, following routine, but you'll see what I mean about it appearing like he's talking to the computer.

— It's also interesting how bouncy the cockpit is once they touch down.  You don't get that feeling at all from the rest of the plane, but these guys are seriously a'shakin'.

— And how in the world do the pilots see those baton-waving directional guys way down on the ground?  For the final 'stop' command, do they raise some guy way up on a crane in front of the cockpit?  Well, not exactly.

What they're going to do is fly in high over S.F. heading southward, go down to the South Bay (Silicon Valley), turn around and head back up to the airport over the bay.

It was at San Carlos airport, mid-way down the Peninsula, and I was being given a demo ride by an instructor.  I was about 30 or so, had just come into a small inheritance, and wanted to fulfill a lifelong dream of getting a pilot's license.

We took a Cessna 172 up, up and away, flew over the coastal range that runs down the spine of the Peninsula, cruised out over the Pacific, did a few basic acrobatics, and headed back home.

And there was the edge in front of us, and the pilot came in low, over water, aiming for the very rim of the runway.  At the last moment, I was 99.99% positive we were going to hit it with the wheels, cartwheel over and die.

Whoomp!  We landed safely and I immediately (1) signed up for lessons with (2) the condition that it not be that guy.  It honestly scared me like I've seldom been in my life.

And just why was he trying to get so close to the edge, when there was figuratively miles of runway in front of him?

Because getting close to the edge was the only challenge in sight.

In my Culture in the Cockpit post, I noted how sometimes airline disasters can almost be directly attributable to countries with militaristic backgrounds whose Air Force pilots then turn to commercial aviation, and how that "don't question authority" mindset can often be their undoing.

But this is different.

Place yourself in the Asiana plane, as a junior pilot wanting to impress his superiors by just nailing that edge.  Except that this time the autopilot doesn't have your back.

This wasn't a cultural crash.

This might have been nothing more than pride.