Previous Bravo Blog...

The excitement was building in the cabin. After five hours, our flight from San Francisco to Maui was nearing its final destination. As the noise-level in coach increased, the noise-level outside the window of the Boeing 777 decreased, as the engines throttled back for our descent.

"Folks, we're a few minutes from landing. Temperature in Kahului is 78 degrees, with some showers in the area. The seatbelt sign is coming on, so please take your seats. Aloha." The captain, as usual, sounded calm and confident.

I peered outside my window and, between a broken layer of puffy clouds, saw the beautifully jagged mountains of West Maui, set behind the brilliant blue water of the Pacific Ocean.

Kahului Airport (OGG) is set at the north end of the valley between the mountains to the west, and the 10,000 foot Haleakala Crater to the east. The terrain creates a funneling effect, often sending 15 knot trade winds right down Runway 2 at a gusty 30 knots. With 6,995 feet, a light plane has plenty of room to float in these conditions. Uh, but this was a 777 loaded with 250 people.

I sat back in my seat and put my wanna-be ATP hat on, calculating that we were well within the limits of the aircraft. The triple-seven's huge wing and massive engines make it ideal for shorter runways, and besides, we were light from burning 5 hours of fuel. Oh, and they do this every day.

The Boeing maneuvered onto final approach, zigzagging between moderate showers, and sometimes through them, buffeting only slightly going in and out of the clouds. The engines slowed. The flaps and gear came out effortlessly. All was quiet, smooth, and stabilized.

The Maui countryside came into view as we descended below the bases of the clouds. The captain no doubt had the airport in sight descending through 500 feet.

But then things got interesting. The view quickly disappeared as we hit a wall of water. The engines fought back, and the heavy jet maintained its glide slope. Water was going sideways, and droplets streamed off of the windows. The noise in the cabin was suddenly hushed as Hawaii disappeared below us.

I searched for the ground outside the window, but only saw bits and pieces of it. And when I did, it was definitely getting closer. This was no longer a visual approach. Or was it? My question would be answered moments later.

The engines suddenly increased their tempo. But it was too late. The gear dug into the asphalt, violently shaking the cabin, tossing luggage around in overhead bins, and sending passengers deeper into their seats. We had arrived, and then some.

I looked outside and saw the spoilers deploy, and was pressed against my seatbelt. The thrust reversers went to work. And the 777 came to rest near the end of the runway, then gently turned off Runway 2 towards the gate. Then, something a bit unusual.

"Uh, folks, sorry about that," the captain crackled on the PA. "The windshield wipers couldn't keep up with the rain back there, so we couldn't see the runway."

I don't know about you, but I would not have minded putting my vacation on hold for another 10 minutes while he gave it another try.

Article by Chris Archer; Send him an email