Bingo Fuel: You are Always on My Mind

#6 of my series Behind the Cockpit Door

If you’re a pilot, you’ve probably heard the term “Bingo Fuel” but may not know how much it’s “always on my mind.”  The term refers to what concerns all pilots, especially those of us who are rationed or carry other than full tanks of fuel.  Many passengers don’t realize that airlines almost NEVER fill their fuel tanks…they take what they need plus reserves and contingency fuel to get them to their destination.  That way, there’s more weight allowed for passengers and cargo.

Bingo fuel is a number, and a sacred one, that I’d write in the margin of my flight plans to indicate how low the fuel could go before I HAD to land or proceed to the alternate airport. I always had in mind my personal minimum fuel that needed to be on board as the wheels touched down at (hopefully) the destination.  Adding to that how much I needed to get to that touchdown spot from the holding pattern gave me that “bingo fuel” number which was carved in stone during the trip planning stage, when the heat of the battle was nowhere to be seen. The difference between the FOD or fuel over destination, calculated by the dispatcher as he prepared our computerized flight plan, and the bingo number I wrote down was how long we could “hang around” or delay until I felt we HAD to leave holding and head for our landing site.   

One afternoon as we departed LAX for IAH (Houston Intercontinental Airport), a trip of some 1275 nm or approximately 3 hours flying time, that difference really got my attention. We were scheduled to arrive in the IAH area with 18.0 (18,000) lbs of fuel.  My bingo fuel was 9.0 (9,000) and so there was a lots to spare…  Usually we need to add fuel, so having extra meant that something was going on which required a call to the dispatcher.  “What’s up” I inquired as I was glad to have the extra fuel, but wondered what was so bad as to cause him to give us almost an hour and a half of holding time? “Unforecast thunderstorms in the area, moving slowing ENE,” he told me.  Ah, the dreaded afternoon thunder bumpers that were the mainstay of Texas spring and summer weather. 

With that information in hand, I’d still kept my Bingo Fuel at 9.0 (6.0 @ touchdown + 3.0 to get there from holding) and looked carefully at the two alternate airports I’d had in my pocket as escape plans: Austin and San Antonio. Our flight into IAH would pass directly between them, so I had some options for landing spots if the bad weather persisted (as it was known to do) and hung around, possibly closing IAH as a destination.

We entered the holding pattern at 32,000 feet, waiting for the airport to reopen. As we moved down in the stack of airplanes awaiting clearance to proceed to IAH, the chatter became less and less as more airplanes reached their bingo fuel number and left for their alternate airport.  We kept a close eye on the fuel gauges, watching our fuel on board decrease from 18.0 pounds down to 17, 16, 15, now 14. I began to be less certain that we had enough to wait it out. We’d be down to 9.0 shortly and would have to leave the holding pattern and go to our alternate.  Finally, like a cliffhanger mystery, just as we’re about to yell “Uncle!” the controller said “You’re cleared to the IAH airport, descent and maintain 10,000 feet, you’re number 1 for the approach.” What had seemed like an excessive fuel load back in LAX 4 hours earlier had now saved us from an expensive diversion allowing us to be the first in line to land when the airport reopened.

Personal Fuel Minimums

#5 of my series Behind the Cockpit Door

Everybody’s got their own personal fuel minimums, but as a new captain it’s sometimes hard to figure out just what that number should be for a specific flight on a specific day for a given city pair, particularly if it’s a new destination for you or you’ve not flown there  in the recent past.

For many years I avoided flying into Newark (EWR) as we were constantly cursed with the dreaded “OPEC One” arrival: a low altitude, circuitous routing that seemed to take forever as New York Approach had to vector airliners arriving from the south and southwest to a position North of the airport in order to make a southerly landing.  Just when you could see the airport, they would vector you away from the field and start a long lazy circle that seemed to be an endless chain of follow-the-leader.  Flying at 6000 feet for most of the route, you watched your fuel gauges decrease from a comfortable margin as the Jet A was consumed at a great rate, probably 2-3 times the rate we burn at the higher cruise altitudes.

Adding extra fuel for landings at EWR was part of my insurance policy, particularly if they were landing to the South and I knew my arrival route would have me flying that OPEC One procedure.  My biggest concern was to land with enough fuel to keep my heart rate normal in case of an unexpected go-around, an airport closure or some other unforeseen anomaly.  Consequently, the first thing I always looked at on the flight plan was FOD or fuel over destination. 

If the weather was bad and I had an alternate airport listed (and the fuel to get there, make an approach or 2 as well as extra holding fuel) I would normally rest easier, knowing the dispatcher was required to put on extra fuel required by FARs (Federal Aviation Regulations). I just needed to check the holding fuel to make sure we had enough “hang around” time before we called “bingo” and headed off to the specified alternate airport, or chose a different more weather-friendly one.  

It was almost contradictory how having a cloudy weather forecast at the destination could  actually be a relief.  That way I didn’t have to think about all the possible problems which could occur on a nice clear day, when the azure blue sky can produce a rather false sense of security. Instead, the regulations dictated lots of extra fuel and I could easily justify adding more if I thought it necessary with my reasoning that the more time we had to hold, the more likely we were to get the passengers to exactly where they wanted to go. 

Fuel Pushing

#4 of my series Behind the Cockpit Door

It sounds like a weird notion, Fuel Pushing, but it’s my description of the pressure that can be placed upon the Captain from other airline personnel, be it a dispatcher, a load planner, a gate agent or a supervisor to take less fuel on a particular flight to allow more passengers to be boarded. 

Jet fuel is, after all, weight (at 6.7 pounds per gallon).  If the fuel load is reduced by 1000 pounds (149 Gallons) that’s equal to the weight of 5 or 6 more passengers who can be accommodated on the flight.  Getting passengers from point A to point B, is the name of the game in the airline business, hence the occasional overwhelming push to get the pilot to agree to less fuel which means filling more seats on the airplane, particularly if it’s the last flight of the day and the airline may have to bump passengers and pay the expense of their overnight stay.

As a new captain it’s easy to be caught up in the desire to “help out” while losing sight of the most important issue of all, safety.  Early in my captain career, I found myself the victim of extreme fuel pushing on a winter flight from Boston to Denver where we had very strong headwinds requiring more fuel than normal to make the trip.  Like every captain, I had developed my own personal minimums (which I’ll talk about in another blog) and it was tough to withstand the pressure from so many pleadings to just reduce the fuel by another 1000 pounds, please. 

My argument went something like this:  “It’s not my fault that the airplane doesn’t have the ability to carry all the passengers you want to take AND the fuel I feel we need to safely make this length of flight. I’ll be happy to make a fuel stop (which, if properly planned and coordinated, can be done with as little as 20 minutes of extra time), but I’m not taking less fuel given the strong headwinds and forecast arrival fuel on the flight plan with the current fuel load.”  After being approached by just one more “pusher” (out of a total of 4 or 5 various airline personnel) I thought to myself, “now what part of NO don’t you understand?”

Good Timing is Important

#3 of My Series: Behind the Cockpit Door

My work and life mantra of being proactive and giving people the tools they need to do their job has been uppermost in my mind on every one of my flights in my 27 years of flying as a Captain. Learning when to open my mouth to be proactive soon became the third tenant of my now 3-part personal philosophy:  Be Proactive, Provide the Tools, and Timing is Crucial.  I abbreviate it as PTT or (be) Proactive, (give ‘em the proper) Tools, and Timing (is crucial). 

Using PTT one day on a round trip flight from Houston to Orlando, I decided to take action when I saw we would be late leaving Houston and suspected that would likely snowball into a late arrival back into Houston on the return flight.  I figured I could forward my request to the dispatcher early for extra fuel to fly faster than normal on the return trip in order to make up for lost time and hopefully get the airplane back on schedule when it returned to Houston.

It was a good proactive plan, but, as I was to later learn, bad timing on my part.  As I talked to my dispatcher for the outbound flight and asked him to forward a request for more fuel on the return flight, I didn’t account for the possibility that there might be a dispatcher shift change or that my message could easily get garbled or possibly lost.  Happy to finally get on board our late-arriving airplane, we began our preparations for the delayed outbound flight.  We were making good progress through our checklist until we got to the item called “Flight Plan.”   The First Officer (co-pilot) said, “Captain, there’s something strange here. Our uplinked computer flight plan is wrong, very wrong!”  I took one look at it and realized my error.  I was looking at the return flight plan FROM Orlando to Houston, not the one we needed to fly TO Orlando!

In his desire to help fulfill my “proactive request” the dispatcher had sent us the wrong flight plan data, causing us an unnecessary delay and a flurry of corrective activity at a time when we were already late and chomping at the bit to get moving.  It took us another ten minutes to request a new (correct) flight plan which was the only way practical way to delete the wrong flight plan.  Several cell calls to the dispatcher later, I realized that the real problem was my desire to plan ahead into an area where the wrong timing on my part could easily result in some unwanted and delay-producing results.   

Had I kept my mouth shut and waited until we were airborne, THEN made my request via our single-finger typing system used for sending airborne messages, I could have save everyone a whole lot of hassle. So now I’ve modified my “Timing is Crucial” to include a footnote:  Give ‘em what they need WHEN they need it. Too much info at the wrong time is as bad as no info at all!