Posts Tagged ‘IFR’

Your instrument training tips

Friday, June 14th, 2013

04-348_IFRTrainingSince many pilots start instrument training almost immediately after completing their private pilot certificate, I wondered if our Facebook friends had any tips for those about to take the plunge. Turns out, you do—probably based on personal experience. As with almost any aviation topic, there were some divergent views.  Here’s a sampling:

  1. “Learn paper! Get the iPad out of the cockpit until you can master paper plates!”—Patrick Smith, seconded by Jim Chambers.
  2. On the other hand, “Use what you’re going to use in reality. This isn’t primary training anymore so if you’re going to use an iPad for charts use it in training. That way you won’t be fumbling your first time out alone with your orginazatiom of electronic charts. Learn your GPS, it will save your butt in training and in real life.”—Miranda Noble Rydstrom
  3. Get experience flying in actual instrument conditions—Anne Scheer Wright, seconded by Steven Bristow, Bill Green, Sam Grice, and Brian Harman.
  4. “As an instrument instructor for Army flight school, I would encourage instrument students to focus on their basic instrument (BI) skills for getting too focused on the advanced (AI) procedures such as departures, approaches, etc. If your BI is bad, your AI will be even worse.”—Wylie Mathis Sr., seconded by Mackey Simbajon, Luca Simioni, and Cm Thrasher.
  5. Use a simulator to help you practice approaches.—Daryl Sweeney, seconded by Brad Rodriguez, Jim Chambers, Chad Baker, and Alejo Echevarria.

Some had very specific suggestions for choosing the right CFII.

  • “Find an instructor who has experience outside of instructing. Someone who has worked as a Part 135 pilot and has flown a great deal in the ATC system.”—Collin Hughes
  • “A few things: 1. Make sure you are working with a syllabus that your instructor initials after completing tasks satisfactorily. 2. Interview the instructor to make sure he’s a good fit. 3. Ask the instructor if he is working as a CFI in order to build time to head off to a corporate or airline job. If he is, ask if he is currently interviewing and where he is in the process. 4. Is he willing to use a simulator to accomplish part of your training. 5. How can he integrate the use of a home simulator, like FSX into your training.”—Kevin Jarchow

There were many more suggestions, and you can read them all on our Facebook page. In the meantime, I’ll close with this very smart advice from Damian M. Campayo, because it happens to tie in brilliantly with an article in the upcoming issue.—Jill W. Tallman

  • “Keep money in reserve. You’ll need it to keep your currency!”

First things first

Friday, October 5th, 2012

Here’s a pop quiz: What are the first two words of every single missed approach procedure? Here is a bit of a twist to the question: it’s the same procedure no matter if you are VFR or IFR.

It’s actually quite simple. The first two words are always, always, always “Climb and…” You may be climbing to maintain an altitude or climbing and turning, but you are always climbing. The reason is simple—you are awfully close to the ground and, given that you can’t see the ground, or that you can’t safely land in VFR conditions, safety increases dramatically with altitude and airspeed.

There is another command that is not as plainspoken, but it also occurs regularly. In this case it is on numerous checklists, and tends to be condition-specific, but it is still a do-it-now issue: fuel shutoff. If you have a perceived or potential fire, then you are nearly always commanded to close the throttle, thus limiting fuel flow, and then told to shut off the fuel entirely. On a piston engine, you would shut of the mixture, and on a turbine you would move the appropriate lever to the fuel shut-off position.

In the case of the fuel, it’s important that you recognize that the leap to safety in this case comes from taking a step that will actually force you to land. After all, without fuel, you are without power, and without power you are a glider. But the circumstance is such (in the eyes of the manufacturer, as well as common sense) that you are better off isolating the source of the fire. It may be that other emergency checklists will also start with some form of FUEL OFF or THROTTLE CLOSE, and it would behoove you to be familiar with all of them. In fact, you should memorize which checklists they are.

There are other scenarios in which the first steps are fairly obvious. Electrical emergencies may or may not start with isolating certain systems. But if there are any on your airplane that quickly lead you to turn off the battery, you need to know them. Likewise, if you have electric trim, and it begins to do a runaway, you need to know how to isolate the trim. Are there circuit breakers you can pull? Can you turn off the radio master? Do you have to turn off the battery master?

A missed approach always starts with “Climb and…” When it comes to the pilot’s operating handbook, you should be intimately familiar with groups of checklists that have a similar start or logic.

That isn’t to say you should memorize all checklists (you shouldn’t), but with the proper review, you will be better prepared to handle a real emergency if one presents itself.—Chip Wright

Truly rare events

Friday, April 6th, 2012

For more than 20 years I’ve been flying airplanes, 15 of them for an airline. As a student and a flight instructor, one skill I practiced repeatedly was the missed approach (or go-around for VFR flying). It’s a critical task to be able to do in any possible landing configuration in any airplane. If you want proof, try doing one in a heavy Cessna 150 with 40 degrees of flaps on a hot day. It’s a challenge, to say the least, and it requires a fair amount of finesse to do well. As an instructor, I probably did no fewer than five go-arounds or missed approaches on a given day. Any that were done for real were almost always done because the preceding traffic was still on the runway.

In airline flying, however, they are exceedingly rare. Controllers handle the spacing, and even when there is a snafu, the missed approach is almost always done in visual meteorological conditions, and it almost always starts from an altitude of 500 feet or above.

What is even more rare, though, is to do one because of weather. I can recall doing fewer than 10 for wind shear or a microburst that beat me to the airport. And I have only done two—two—because we could not see the runway. The first one was an ILS in low ceilings but with good visibility beneath in Charleston, West Virginia. In fact, we saw the runway on the go-around. We came back around and landed on the second try.

The most recently was in January 2012. I was flying the right seat with a simulator instructor in the left. Both of us were slightly out of our element. The weather everywhere that day had been lousy, and we’d already done three ILS approaches to minimums, including our previous leg into Cincinnati that morning. The weather was down to a ceiling of 100 feet and a reported visibility on Runway 18L of a half-mile with the runway visual range hovering at 2,400 feet. The previous aircraft got in, but the crew reported that it was awfully close. We quickly reviewed the missed approach procedure again and went over the calls.

Since I was the nonflying pilot on this leg, it was up to me to make the altitude calls, and it would be up to me to call for the missed approach if the captain did not see the approach lights or the runway. One thing that experience teaches you is that the color of the clouds changes fairly dramatically when you near the base and will break out. These clouds stayed battleship gray. Further, we were flying into the sun, which did not help. The radar altimeter told us when we were crossing the Ohio River. The river and its deep valley have a stark impact on the local weather, and today was no exception. There was no sign of the runway at 500 feet above the minimum descent altitude. No sign of it either at 200 feet or at 100 feet. At the MDA/decision height, I called missed approach. We never once saw the ground.

Normally, an airline crew going missed is all thumbs because of the lack of practice. This one, though, was right out of the book. We had to deal with a flurry of activity in the ensuing minutes as we planned our next course of action. The flight behind us also went missed, and the controllers immediately turned the airport around, which opened the Category II approach to Runway 36R; the RVR was down to 1,600 feet, and the ceiling was holding steady. Our immediate concern was whether or not we had the fuel to do another approach and still safely divert. A call to our dispatcher confirmed that several airports within close range had VFR weather. His fuel computations matched ours, so we decided to try it again.

They only procedure that is on par for me as an unseen runway is a Category II ILS. This was only my fourth one, and it was my first from the right seat (we fly the CAT II as a captain’s-only maneuver). Being two miles from the top of the river valley made all the difference. We got the lights in sight just before reaching our DH, and in the blink of an eye, we had the runway in sight.

There is a lot of satisfaction in executing a difficult maneuver correctly, and a go-around can certainly qualify, especially with tail-mounted engines and wings with no slats. But the training and practice pay off, and that is critical when you are starting the maneuver so close to the ground that you might actually bounce. I haven’t done that yet, so I can’t help but wonder what it’s like…—Chip Wright