As you will have guessed, since you are reading about this in Aftermath and not in I Learned About Flying From That, the flight did not end well. About 25 minutes after takeoff and shortly after crossing the Arkansas border, the 31-year-old pilot, whose in-command time amounted to 75 hours, lost control of the airplane and went down in a remote woodland. All aboard perished.

A few minutes before the impact, as he was climbing to 9,500 feet msl, the pilot contacted ATC and requested flight following. The weather along his route—which, notably, he had last checked with ForeFlight 17 hours earlier—was generally VFR, with a chance of scattered convective activity. There was, however, one patch of rainy weather just to the left of his course, and the controller advised him to turn right to avoid it.

On the controller’s display, the target of the Cirrus crept eastward just below the edge of the weather. Radar paints rain, however, not cloud. The flight was over a remote area with few ground lights and the harvest moon had not yet risen, but its hidden glow may have faintly defined an eastern horizon. In the inspissated blackness of the night, the pilot, whose instrument experience was limited to what little was required for the private certificate, probably could not tell clear air from cloud.

As the Cirrus reached 9,500 feet, it began to turn to the left toward the area of weather. Perhaps the tasks of trimming and setting the mixture for cruise distracted the pilot from his heading. The controller noticed the change and pointed it out to the pilot, who replied he intended to return to Muskogee. He now began a turn to the right. Rather than reverse course, however, he continued the turn until he was heading northward back into the weather. The controller, who by now sensed trouble, said to the pilot that he showed him on a heading of 340 degrees and asked whether he concurred. The pilot, whose voice until this point had betrayed no sense of unease, replied somewhat incoherently that “the wind caught me, [but now] I’m out of it.”

With a tone of increasing urgency, the controller instructed the pilot to turn left to a heading of 270. The pilot acknowledged the instruction, but he did not comply. Instead, he continued turning to the right. At the same time, he was descending at an increasing rate and was now at 6,000 feet. “I show you losing serious altitude,” the controller said. “Level your wings if able and fly directly southbound…Add power if you can.”

It was already too late. In a turning dive, its speed increasing past 220 knots, the Cirrus continued downward. Moments later, its radar target disappeared.

In its discussion of the accident, the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) focused upon the pilot’s preparedness—in the broadest sense—for the flight. A former Marine, he should have been semper paratus—always ready—but his history suggested a headstrong personality with a certain tendency to ignore loose ends as he plunged ahead.

He had failed his first private pilot test on questions related to airplane systems; he passed on a retest the following week. But this little glitch tells us nothing about his airmanship. His instructor reported he responded calmly and reasonably to turbulence, and was “good” at simulated instrument flight. He had enrolled in Cirrus Embark transition training shortly before acquiring the airplane. He completed all of the flight training lessons, but—again, a hint of impatience with tiresome minutiae—may not have completed the online self-study lessons. The flight training was strictly VFR and did not include night or instrument components.

The airplane was extremely well equipped for instrument flying, but it was a 2001 model, and its avionics were, according to the Cirrus Embark instructors, “old technology” and “not easy to use.” In other words, it did not have a glass panel, and its classical instruments, which included a flight director, were sophisticated and possibly confusing to a novice. The airplane was equipped with an autopilot, and the pilot had been trained in at least the elements of its use.

The airplane was also equipped with an airframe parachute, but it was not deployed during the loss of control. In any case, its use is limited to indicated speeds below 133 kias, and it might not have functioned properly in a spiral dive.

• READ MORE: Dissecting a Tragedy in the Third Dimension

An instructor familiar with the pilot and his airplane—whether this was the same instructor as the one whom he called on the night of the fatal flight is not clear—wrote to the NTSB that the pilot had made the night flight to South Carolina at least once before, and he had called her at midnight before departing to come help him fix a flat tire. She declined and urged him to get some sleep and make the trip in the morning.

“I told him he was starting down the ‘accident chain,’” she wrote. “New pilot, new plane, late start, nighttime, bad terrain, etc….To me, he seemed a little overly self-confident in his piloting skills, but he didn’t know enough to know what he didn’t know.”

He fixed the tire himself and made the trip safely that night. Undoubtedly, that success encouraged him to go again.

We have seen over and over how capable pilots, including ones with much more experience than this pilot, fail to perform at their usual level when they encounter weather emergencies. A sudden, unexpected plunge into IMC—which, on a dark night, can happen very easily—opens the door to a Pandora’s box of fear, confusion, and disorientation for which training cannot prepare you.

There are two clear avenues of escape. One is the autopilot. Switch it on, take your hands off the controls, breathe, and count to 20. The fact the pilot did not take this step suggests how paralyzed his mental faculties may have become.

The other is the attitude indicator. It’s a simple mechanical game. Put the toy airplane on the horizon line and align the wings with it. That’s all. It’s so simple. Yet in a crisis, apparently, it’s terribly hard to do. The fact that so many pilots have lost control of their airplanes in IMC should be a warning to every noninstrument-rated pilot to treat clouds—and, above all, clouds in darkness—with extreme respect.

This column first appeared in the November 2023/Issue 943 of FLYING’s print edition.

The post A Night Flight Leads a Pilot to a Tragic End appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

The CFI was new to the craft. He told the chief that the learner’s medical certificate had the limitation “night flying prohibited” printed on it. The CFI interpreted this to mean the learner was not allowed to fly after dark, and he didn’t want to risk his certificate by flying with the learner after sundown.

The learner had a color vision challenge, and the aviation medical examiner added the limitation to his medical certificate to reflect this. The learner said it was his understanding that his color vision might make night flight challenging, which was why he couldn’t be the pilot in command (PIC) at night, but he was still required to do the training, not only to satisfy the requirements for the certificate, but also to prepare him just in case he was caught out after dark. He was correct.

The training could take place because the instructor is PIC on dual instructional flights. The task became how to provide the best instruction for this particular learner while meeting the requirements.

Training for Night Flight

Training for night flight usually begins with a review of the challenges, such as reduced visual acuity, reduced depth perception, inability to see clouds, and understanding the required lighting for both outside and inside the cockpit.

Learners know they will need a flashlight for the lesson. I recommend one with a white light for doing the preflight inspection if it is after dark and one with a colored lens—red, blue, green or amber—for in the cockpit. I remind them the light on their smartphone won’t work in the cockpit because it is white light that destroys your night vision for 30 minutes (or more) after exposure.

• READ MORE: Scenarios for Training

When Does Night Begin?

FAR 1.1 defines night as the “time between the end of evening civil twilight and the beginning of morning civil twilight, as published in the Air Almanac, converted to local time.”

Note the time of sunset locally because nav lights are required between sunset and sunrise, and we can start logging night experience one hour after sunset to one hour before sunrise—used for night currency and carrying passengers. One popular way to ease the learner into the world of night flight is to take off just before sunset, so they can watch how the scenery changes and their eyes adjust.

The color-challenged learner found it very useful to note the roads adjacent to the local airports that helped him spot the rotating beacons and then the runways. The learner noted that he was glad to have the training “just in case,” but he planned to take care to make sure he was back on the ground an hour before sunset.

Three Hours of Instrument Training

The three hours of flight by reference to instruments only is another one of those ”just-in-case” requirements for private pilots. Yet there are those learners who balk at this training, saying they will only fly on good weather days, therefore, they don’t need it. Famous last words. The accident reports at NTSB.gov are filled with VFR into IMC situations. I bet those pilots didn’t intend to fly into bad weather—but it happened.

The three hours under the view-limiting device should be done gradually, as instrument flying can be very mentally fatiguing—especially at first. The concept of scan, cross-check, and instrument interpretation is best introduced in bite-sized chunks. I suggest not more than 10 minutes of hood time during the flight when it is introduced, as the learners grasp the use of the attitude indicator, heading indicator, altimeter, etc. Each subsequent flight will include more hood time focusing on climbs, turns, descents, and basic navigation. It’s very easy to fly visually, then put the learner under the hood for a few minutes, then return to visual flight. 

Keep in mind that IMC doesn’t just come from clouds. One summer there was a sudden onset of a smoke event caused by a wildfire in Seattle. Although the reported weather at the airport was VFR, a savvy flight instructor obtained an IFR clearance and taught a private pilot candidate to fly the RNAV into the home airport under the hood because, frankly, although the AWOS was reporting 4 to 6 miles from the air, it was “deceptively crappy” as my former chief used to say.

Often experiences like this lead to the learner pursuing an instrument rating, keeping in mind the most important skill for a noninstrument-rated pilot to have is the ability to read a weather report and correctly interpret the information.

The post Three Hours of Just-in-Case Training Is Required appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

I was wrong. While visiting a fellow pilot in Michigan, he mentioned having a simulator available at his airport. After finding out that I had no sim experience, he essentially insisted that I give it a try.

• READ MORE: What Are the Best Flight Simulators?

Minutes later, I was in the pilot seat of a Cessna 172 RG, holding short at Runway 26 right at Grand Rapids Gerald R. Ford International Airport (KGRR). This certainly was not a full-motion model that mimics the attitudes and sensations of climbing, banking, descending, and bouncing a landing. But its large wrap-around screen filled my field of vision and was realistic enough to bring on fatigue, target fixation, and minor motion sickness.

Initially, the most difficult part of simulator flying was getting a feel for the controls, especially the yoke, which was surprisingly sensitive in pitch. Roll was better, and the rudder pedals felt about the same as those in the 172P that I flew for many years. Next, I had to get used to the digital landscape, over which I had difficulty judging altitude and lateral distances. I soon realized that the electronic terrain, based on the area’s actual terrain, simply was flatter than where I typically fly. The lack of variation was forcing me to adjust my perspective.

I flew from Grand Rapids to other airports in the surrounding area, including West Michigan Regional (KBIV) in Holland and Padgham Field (35D) in Allegan. I was almost comfortable flying the virtual 172 Cutlass when I heard my friend tapping his keyboard and found myself under a low overcast and then suddenly in IMC—a frighteningly realistic scenario.

• READ MORE: Flight Simulators Can Bring Sport Aviation to Your Desktop

This situation reminded me of recent long trips during which clouds began to close in and I wound up carrying on long conversations with ATC while requesting a series of heading and altitude changes. Those incidents were stressful but eventually turned out well. Still, flying in such conditions quickly becomes tiring.

Focusing on  my instruments while testing my ability to keep the airplane under control in a cloud quickly wore me out, and I could feel myself getting worse at keeping the wings level and maintaining standard rate turns. Occasionally, I stared for too long at the altimeter or turn coordinator before realizing that my airspeed had fallen below 60 knots. No wonder I was having trouble with directional control. That is why scanning is a fundamental part of instrument training and why instructors teach specific scanning techniques for keeping the airplane in stable flight.    

Overall, the simulator time was immensely helpful and encouraged me to seek more before beginning the flying part of my instrument training. It also gave me an idea of what to expect in the clouds and at least a hint of how uncomfortable it will be, at least in the beginning. I recommend it—and will do more soon.

The post Simulator Training Helps You Fly Your Ideal Aircraft Better appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

With this phrase, my instrument instructor took me into the clouds for the first time. We were on an IFR flight plan on a Marginal VFR (MVFR) day. He warned me that going in and out of the clouds, with that frequent change from light to dark and back again would induce spatial disorientation. He was correct. 

I also asked for this. I wanted at least 15 hours of actual IMC (instrument meteorological conditions) before I took the checkride. I had been reading accident reports from the National Transportation Safety Board, and I was disturbed by how many of those accidents were attributed to inadvertent flight into instrument meteorological conditions by a pilot who was either untrained, had never been in actual IMC, or lacked proficiency. I wanted to lessen my risk of startle factor, as the startle factor and spatial disorientation can lead to a loss of control.

Nick Sinopoli, the inventor of the ICARUS Device, shares a similar view. The name ICARUS is an acronym; it stands for Instrument Conditions Awareness Recognition and Understanding System. Sinopoli, who is rated in both helicopters and airplanes and holds an engineering degree from Purdue University, invented the device in 2016 after losing a friend in an aviation accident.

The ICARUS Device

Most view-limiting devices used for IFR training are basically hoods or glasses designed to limit the pilot’s field of view to the instrument panel. The limited view remains until the pilot removes the device. Simulated IFR to VFR is instantaneous, as is the reverse—ready for IFR? Put the device on. Want out? Take it off. That’s not how it works in the real world, says Sinopoli, “IFR can sneak up on you.”

According to Sinopoli, the ICARUS Device is a smart, view-limiting device made of a polymer dispersed liquid crystal (PDLC) film that the pilot wears in front of their eyes, either clamped onto a hat or headset or clipped into a flight helmet. The PDLC is powered by a battery. The device is paired with an app controlled by the flight instructor. The CFII can degrade the visual conditions gradually, allowing the client to experience the sensation of a sudden loss of outside visual cues while flying in the actual aircraft. There is also the option for the CFII to press a button to bring on the clouds, and the rate and amount of occlusion can also be adjusted by the CFII for a more realistic IFR experience.

“The old hoods haven’t changed since 1929, and they can’t change visibility,” said Erik Sabiston, a professional pilot and co-founder of ICARUS Devices. “They can’t replicate marginal VFR, simulate dust and snow, or replicate breaking out at minimums on a precision approach and then reentering the clouds, necessitating a missed approach,” he said.

“Both the NTSB and the FAA know for certain that the startle effect is the primary danger to pilots when they fly into low visibility conditions unexpectedly,” Sabiston continued. “After the crash that killed Kobe Bryant and eight others, the NTSB asked the FAA to find a new way to accurately simulate spatial disorientation. ICARUS is the first device in the world that does exactly that.”

FLYING Test Flies the Device

Nick Sinopoli allowed FLYING to try out the ICARUS Device. Unfortunately, Seattle was experiencing LIFR (low instrument flight rules) with a freezing level down to the surface so a flight in the Cessna 172 was not an option.

Sinopoli rolled with the punches, saying, “You can plan a pretty picnic, but you can’t predict the weather,” so we ended up using a Redbird FMX Advanced Aviation Training Device (AATD) as a test platform. I wanted to see if it would work with the AATD, because one of the complaints the learners make is that they know something is about to happen when they hear the instructor tapping on the keyboard or tablet. Sinopoli said ICARUS has found a way around that.

The ICARUS Device can clip to a headset, a flight helmet or a ball cap and once installed, you are looking at the world through a screen of clear plastic—at first.

I programmed the FMX for MVFR for a flight between Pierce County Thun Field (KPLU) to Tacoma Narrows (KTIW). This is a quick flight, a mere 15nm to the west for the ILS 17. The FMX was programmed for motion, moderate turbulence, and a crosswind just to be festive.

With the ICARUS Device, there were no audible cues, as Sinopoli adjusted the visibility with the app, and I found myself moving in and out of IFR conditions. I adjusted my scan accordingly and Sinopoli played along, reducing and enhancing visibility, as in right when you think you have the runway made and start to relax, here comes the fog. Stay ahead of the airplane and execute the missed approach.

Sinopoli says they already have approximately 300 devices, which run about $1,250, in use around the U.S. at major flight schools and training centers. The unit is made in the U.S., he noted.

Military Application

Sinopoli, who in addition to being an inventor is an Air Assault pilot in the National Guard,  announced that the U.S. Army has expanded the ICARUS Devices Airworthiness Release fleetwide to include every UH-60L and UH/HH-60M Blackhawk Helicopter. For the last year, multiple training and operational units have been using ICARUS with a unit-specific AWR (Airworthiness Release).

According to Sinopoli, the military AWR is similar to the civilian Supplemental Type Certificate.

“Basically the Army has now allowed any Army Blackhawk unit to fly with the device. Previously, with the AWR, just a few units could train with it.” Sinopoli said, adding that since the device does not require mounting or aircraft power—it has a self-contained battery and an STC is not necessary.

“The death rates for Inadvertent Instrument Meteorological Conditions (IIMC) are unacceptable for our soldiers,” Sabiston said. “No other device but ICARUS can accurately replicate the inputs or mental challenges that the startle effect places upon our aircrews. If you can survive your first IIMC, chances are you will never have a problem again. When you train the stress of the Startle Effect out of pilots, they survive the real thing. Multiple lives have already been saved by the device.”

ICARUS Devices will continue to work closely with U.S. Army Aviation units to further develop and deploy associated Tactics, Techniques, and Procedures. The ICARUS team anticipates fielding the device with other airframes in the Army and branches of the Military for use in scenario-based training.

The post ICARUS Device Enhances IFR Training appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

These were the words of my CFII (certified flight instructor-instrument) the first time he took me into the clouds. He is ex-Air Force and taught me to fly the AF way. The acronyms MARTHA, the UPs and the 5Ts were all part of my training—as was going in and out of clouds. “Nothing but water vapor!” he declared. We always double checked the temperature because flying through a cloud in freezing conditions would turn us into a Cessna-cicle or Piper-cicle in a hurry, something we wished to avoid.

Although there is no requirement for the instrument rating candidate to log time in actual conditions, I wanted at least 15 hours of “actual” before I took the instrument check ride. When I trained for the instrument instructor rating I did the same thing—delaying the check ride until I had time in the clouds with the most experienced instructors I could find, because I wanted to be sure I could fly in the clouds and more importantly, that I could teach in the clouds.

You’ve probably heard the warnings of how quickly a non-instrument rated or out-of-proficiency instrument rated pilot can get themselves into trouble when they enter instrument meteorological conditions (IMC). The ability to obtain and correctly interpret a weather report, plus good situational awareness are the most helpful tools to keep a non-instrument rated pilot out of IMC, but sometimes it can manifest abruptly and suddenly—such as when smoke from a forest fire suddenly pops up.

I had this experience one summer when a sudden and fast-moving fire and a wind shift resulted in smoke covering the airport. I was flying with a private pilot candidate. The smoke and haze obscured the airport despite the 6 miles of visibility the one-minute-weather advertised. The learner put on the view-limiting hood and we picked up an IFR clearance for the RNAV 35 approach into the airport. He did the flying, and I stayed on the radios. He was stoked to get actual IFR experience—and had a new respect for the requirement for private pilot candidates to log three hours of flight by reference to instruments only, the idea being that should they enter a low visibility situation they will be able to maintain control of the aircraft—and exit IMC.

Benefits of an Instrument Rating

Having an instrument rating can give you more confidence in the airplane. There’s no rule that says you must fly in the clouds, but, if you need to, you can do so legally and if you maintain proficiency, safely. Holding an instrument rating can also reduce your insurance costs.

If you intend to be a flight instructor for private pilots and above, you will be required to have that instrument ticket. Keeping current and proficient, especially in the “good weather months” is another thing—do your best to do this—because instrument skills come in handy on days when the airport is IFR, but surrounding areas are VFR, and the client is a private pilot candidate. The CFI can file IFR and depart to VFR conditions, then reverse the process for the return if necessary, including an IFR approach, if appropriate. This will likely result in the learner wanting to earn their instrument rating.

Into the Soup

The first time you intentionally enter a cloud, it can be spooky. Because you are going from an area of relatively warmer air into cooler air, there will be a bump, like tripping when you go up a flight of stairs. If you are anticipating it, and are relaxed, it is a non-event. Your instructor will caution you to stay on the gauges, because it’s that look out the window, then look back to the panel move that can introduce disorientation.

Developing a good scan—that is observing, correctly interpreting the information and acting on the information provided by the instruments, is critical. I compare it to watching a box of kittens—if you fixate on just one, the others are going to get out and cause mischief. So don’t stare at Whiskers the altitude kitten because Fluffy the attitude kitten and Tigger the airspeed kitten will get away from you. In the clouds, it is more difficult to notice uncommanded heading, attitude, or altitude changes because outside visual references are limited.

Oddly enough, there are some schools that either prohibit or strongly discourage their CFIIs from taking the IFR applicants into actual IFR conditions. In addition, there are instrument-rated pilots and CFIIs who, because of where they trained for their IFR and or CFII ratings, have never had the opportunity to log actual IFR flight time. This can work against them. A friend who owns a flight school told me she doesn’t like to hire the instructors that came from a particular college because she knows they are prohibited from flying in actual IFR, and her flight school is in the Pacific Northwest where MVFR and IFR conditions are as common as Starbucks and flannel shirts.

If the school you are training at has a similar rule or is geographically located in a place where flyable IMC is rare to non-existent, it behooves you to go someplace where you can get this valuable experience.

Training for the IFR Rating

Training for the instrument rating can be intense, but it is likely the most useful rating you will earn.

The experience required for the instrument rating can be found under FAR 61.65. It includes:

• 40 hours of actual or simulated instrument time in the areas of operation listed in paragraph (c) of 61.65, of which 15 hours must have been received from an authorized instructor who holds an instrument-airplane rating, and the instrument time includes:
• Three hours of instrument flight training from an authorized instructor in an airplane that is appropriate to the instrument-airplane rating within two calendar months before the date of the practical test; and
• Instrument flight training on cross-country flight procedures, including one cross-country flight in an airplane with an authorized instructor, that is performed under instrument flight rules, when a flight plan has been filed with an air traffic control facility, and that involves-
• A flight of 250 nm along airways or by directed routing from an air traffic control facility;
• An instrument approach at each airport; and
• Three different kinds of approaches with the use of navigation systems.

If you train under Part 61, you will need to have logged at least 50 hours of pilot-in-command cross country time—at least 10 of which are in an airplane to be eligible for the instrument rating—this requirement is waived for applicants enrolled and training in Part 141 programs.

This sounds great, unless the applicant is also in pursuit of the commercial certificate which requires a minimum of 170 hours under Part 141 (250 hours under Part 61). The post-IFR candidates often spend a few months building time post-check-ride to be eligible for the commercial certificate.

Don’t Neglect Your Landings

Most of your IFR approaches during training will be “missed approaches,” which is basically a go-around with specific instructions printed on an approach plate. Unlike training for the private or sport pilot certificate, there will not be repeated takeoffs and landings with each lesson. Remember this, and be sure to keep track of both currency and proficiency as you train.

The post Training in Actual IFR Can Be Good for You appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

As part of the partnership, PPN will offer new and current members of NAFI who want to create a local PPN chapter or register their existing group a $100 discount and a free copy of Becoming A CFI by PPN president Radek Wyrzykowski.

PPN says its mission is to increase confidence and proficiency in IMC conditions. The group is designed for instrument-rated pilots and pilots who find themselves in unintended, unpredicted, and unexpected IMC situations. It was created and founded by Wyrzykowski, the founder and creator of the IMC Club and a former senior program manager at the Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA).

“I am delighted to help flight instructors employ their talent and support them in making themselves known to their neighborhood pilot community by getting engaged in improving pilot proficiency and safety and building their business,” said Wyrzykowski. “I believe this relationship benefits NAFI members and the general aviation community at large,” 

What is PPN?

PNN was initiated in March 2022 to help create a community of pilots who share information by encouraging networking with fellow aviation enthusiasts to promote safety and build proficiency. The forum provides CFIs with a platform to inform pilots about activity in their area and allow them to build and increase their aviation business.

Karen Kalishek, board chair of the NAFI, said she is excited to work with PPN. “I am happy that NAFI can participate in this exclusive offer from PPN for our members. NAFI’s objective is to provide resources to all flight instructors to raise and maintain their professional standing in the aviation community and flight instruction excellence. PPN’s offer supports NAFI’s vision of safer pilots through excellence in flight instruction and adds yet another tool to our array of available quality resources.”

What is NAFI?

Members of NAFI work as instructors at flight schools, universities, FBOs, corporate flight departments, airlines, and the military and are dedicated to increasing and maintaining the professionalism of flight instruction and continuously improving its quality.

The post Pilot Proficiency Network and NAFI Announce Strategic Partnership appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Three men chartered a Beechcraft Bonanza for a late-night flight between Mason City (KMCW), Iowa, and Fargo (KFAR), North Dakota, about 200 nautical miles. The 21-year-old charter pilot’s initial review of the forecast that chilly February evening called for VFR weather with bases along the route at 5,000 feet and visibility of 10 miles. The only possible snafu was near Fargo, where a chance of snow showers existed around their original arrival time of 1 a.m., with a cold-front passage due a few hours later.

Just before their original departure time from KMCW, according to the Civil Aeronautics Board report, the pilot checked the weather and learned the ceilings had dropped to 4,200 feet en route, but visibilities were still good. Light snow was reported in Minneapolis, however, some 100 nm southeast of Fargo. The weather briefer also told the pilot that the cold front was moving faster than expected and would pass through Fargo about 2 a.m. local time.

As often happens, the passengers arrived at the Mason City airport late. To save time, the pilot decided to file his VFR flight plan once he was airborne. As the Bonanza departed, just before 1 a.m., the Mason City weather had deteriorated to an obscured ceiling at 3,000 feet and a visibility of 6 miles in light snow. Winds from the south had picked up to 20 knots, with gusts to 30 knots. The VFR-rated pilot pressed on despite the route taking them over sparsely populated terrain at night, which, combined with snow showers, would offer the pilot little or no visible horizon. (Note: At the time of this accident many years ago, charter pilots were allowed to fly single-engine aircraft at night without holding an instrument rating, a rule that has since changed.)

Shortly after departure, the pilot turned northwest and climbed to about 800 feet. The owner of the charter company said that he could clearly see the aircraft’s white recognition light as the aircraft flew away. He later estimated that the Bonanza was about 5 miles from the airport when he observed the taillight descending until it disappeared. The pilot made no radio calls after takeoff.

Following an intensive ground search, the wreckage was located the next morning covered in 4 inches of snow. The pilot, Roger Petersen, was killed, along with his three passengers, Charles Hardin, J.P. Richardson and Richard Valenzuela—all of whom had been thrown clear of the aircraft. The investigation indicated some of the passengers might not have been wearing a seat belt. The passengers, all veteran entertainers, were better known by their professional names: young recording artist Buddy Holly, a musician known as the Big Bopper, and singer and guitarist Ritchie Valens. Their deaths that night later became the subject of Don McLean’s 1971 hit single, “American Pie.” Their tragic flight also became one of best-known examples of a pilot pressing on into weather when he should have turned around—or never departed in the first place.

The CAB said that Roger Petersen held a commercial pilot certificate and had logged 711 hours prior to the accident. Though he was training for the rating, Petersen had failed his instrument check ride nine months prior to the accident and had not tried to retake the test. The CAB learned that the majority of Petersen’s instrument training was taken in aircraft using what was then known as a conventional attitude indicator with a “T-type” symbol representing the airplane. The accident aircraft used a Sperry attitude gyro that offered the pilot a significantly different attitude presentation. Investigators found the Bonanza’s vertical speed indicator stuck at a 3,000 fpm descent while the attitude indicator was jammed in a 90-degree descending right turn. The airplane’s autopilot was inoperative. A tear-down of the Bonanza’s engine uncovered no powerplant issues.

The CAB report (2-0001) identified the cause of the accident as the pilot’s “unwise decision to embark on a flight which would necessitate flying solely by instruments when he was not properly certified or qualified. Contributing factors included serious deficiencies in the weather briefings he received and the pilot’s unfamiliarity with the instrument that determines the attitude of the aircraft.” Today, the National Transportation Safety Board would call this accident “continued VFR flight into instrument meteorological conditions.”

While VFR flight into IMC isn’t responsible for as many accidents as loss of control, more than 60 years after “the day the music died”—as the famous words from the song go—VFR-into-IMC accidents are almost always fatal. Flight into bad weather is simply the precursor to a complete loss of aircraft control, usually followed by a collision with terrain. Inexperienced pilots don’t realize until they’ve entered a cloud—or a rain or snow shower—that looking out the windows for help is useless. Their senses are instantly confused, and their brain can no longer tell up from down or left from right. Factors known to convince pilots to press on include their lack of solid decision-making based on a lack of instrument flying experience, as well as human-factor concerns such as the self-induced pressure to continue a flight as they near home, despite watching the weather close in around them.

Interestingly, the 30th Nall Report data shows that the total number of weather accidents reported for 2018 declined significantly from the previous year—from 42 to 23—though, such a snapshot in time rarely leads to any meaningful conclusions. That same data says 13 of the 14 accidents caused by VFR into IMC were fatal, moving the needle from 76 percent of the total to more than 90 percent. Half of the pilots involved in weather accidents held a private pilot certificate. It is unclear how many of those pilots also held an instrument rating, though some NTSB reports clearly showed that even instrument-rated pilots succumbed to a loss of control in the weather while wrestling to maintain control of their aircraft.

The Question Is: “Why?”

Flying columnist Martha King offered a pragmatic look at GA flying. “VFR flying for transportation is not dependable, and it has the additional downside of luring you into taking the risks that cause [VFR-into-IMC] accidents.” Certainly none of us wake up and decide that we’ll end the day by flying into weather we can’t handle. Yet, these accidents continue.

Some of our primary research for this story included combing through more than 200 of the NTSB’s final accident reports posted over the past 20 years that listed their cause as “continued VFR flight into instrument meteorological conditions.” The accidents broke down into a couple of categories: In the first were pilots who flew straight into the clouds or restrictions to visibility with no attempt—or an unsuccessful attempt—to avoid them. In the second were pilots who attempted VFR flight on moonless nights or beneath solid cloud bases, over unlit terrain or water, unaware that they’d have no useful horizon for guidance.

Dr. Tony Kern says, “No VFR pilot should get anywhere near a cloud.” Kern—a retired US Air Force officer, B-1 check pilot and the former chairman of the US Air Force Human Factors Division—is the CEO of Convergent Performance, a Colorado Springs, Colorado-based human-factors and performance-training company with ties to the aviation industry. “If you’re not instrument-qualified and -proficient, you have no business being there. But if you do anyway, know that you’re gambling with your life.” He detailed a scenario that adds significant pressure to pilots. “They’ve burned half their gas, thinking, ‘If I do get into weather, I’ve planned for a place to go,’” at least at first. “But when they’re only 20 minutes from home…’get there-itis,’ a fancy name for continuation bias,” takes hold. They often decide their plan “has worked so far. If they can just get through these last 10 minutes, they’re going to be fine.” But they often don’t.

Bob Wright, the former manager of the FAA’s general aviation and commercial division, says: “Of all the accident categories we deal with, these are the most avoidable because of the tools available to anybody today—and the ability to detect conditions under which the VFR-into-IMC accidents are favorable is relatively easy. First of all, in-flight observation and the ability to get a weather briefing have been available to all of us for a long time, but now we have things like a weather data link and autopilots on most airplanes. An autopilot is one way to avoid a [VFR-into-IMC] accident, even if the pilot has only minimal training. Somehow, though, we’re not training pilots the right way.”

Kern agrees, saying, “I don’t think we properly train pilots about the things they just shouldn’t do…that there are risk thresholds they just shouldn’t cross.” Kern calls these “decision gates,” where there’s one way in—and usually no way out. Also, he says, there are people who enjoy and love risk-taking. “The first part of pilot training should make people self-analyze how they feel about risks. Most pilots are courageous people who aren’t afraid to fly. Almost by definition then, that makes them sort of [natural] risk-takers. So how do we [influence] a mindset like that so they can learn the mental discipline to recognize when situations are getting bad?”

Instructors Have a Role To Play

Kern believes CFIs should make certain pilots not only remember basic VFR minimums (a 1,000-foot ceiling and 3-statute-mile visibility) but also be sure they can identify those conditions when they’re airborne. If they should wander into bad weather, he wants them to understand the initial startle effect they’ll likely experience. “Once they do,” Kern says, “most of their brain shuts down, like the prefrontal cortex. Because the brain is a blood hog, it quickly delivers powerful stimulants to the muscles. That’s what makes people grip the controls and push hard on the rudder [pedals]—everything they shouldn’t be doing at that moment. Pilots need to learn ways to calm themselves, like taking a few deep breaths,” before they do anything.

He says those moments when the brain begins shooting adrenaline through the body last only a few seconds. Once that passes, a properly trained pilot needs to focus on controlling the airplane, if they understand what the instruments are telling them. That’s why training pilots under the hood to only the FAA minimums is not likely to be enough to save their lives should they fly into bad weather. This is when a pilot’s body and brain begin offering conflicting cues, usually different from their flight instruments. “We need to train pilots to realize that the most likely thing going on is that their brain is wrong and that the aircraft instruments are right. We need them to be able to fly using those instruments,” Kern says. That translates into instrument training beyond the scant three hours the regulations demand of a private pilot applicant today. That won’t be a regulated change. The demand for better training needs to come from pilots themselves.

Wright says instructors also need to be certain new pilots understand how to use all their aircraft’s available technology. “Even though we train private pilots to make a 180-degree turn out of the weather, a lot of them lose control during that event. The best thing to do if a pilot in an airplane with an autopilot gets stuck in the clouds inadvertently is to turn the darned thing on and sort the rest out later. If you try to turn the airplane around without using the autopilot and the pilot has minimal instrument training, they’re entering uncharted territory.” Wright adds: “The [pilot’s] training must also include interpreting what they see ahead, like how to recognize upcoming VFR and IMC. That makes for effective training.”

Weren’t the airman certification standards introduced a few years ago supposed to offer more practical guidance on the standards to which pilots will be held for problem areas such as VFR into IMC? Wright says: “Not yet, but it may in the future, because the ACS really hasn’t even taken hold yet. There’s also no FAA guidance on how to handle risk management by the average pilot. Many instructors don’t even know how to teach it. Over time, pilots will be trained in how to perform practical risk management, but until that happens, there’s really nothing in the ACS that’s going to swing the needle.”

Wright says there are practical methods to teach flight near areas of deteriorating weather, such as on a cross-country. After the student has been taught how to mine the most important jewels of a good weather briefing, he suggests a training exercise: telling the student the destination weather has dropped to 1,000 and 3 to see how—or if—they decide a change to their flight might be needed. Once airborne, he suggests a weather diversion telling them the cloud bases along the way are now at 2,000 feet. “Then tell them the ceiling will continue dropping 100 feet each minute to see how they handle it. Train them to start early to get on the ground safely, or they’ll keep getting closer and closer to the IMC weather.”

Kern offered an important assessment of the critical decision gates mentioned earlier. “There are no returns when pilots make these decisions,” like continuing toward deteriorating weather. “The problem is, they don’t realize these are life-or-death decisions, but we need to stop talking about this topic like we’re all nerds. Never take off on any flight when you don’t have an acceptable alternate in mind. Never penetrate a cloud. Don’t be that guy who thinks, ‘I need to get to my daughter’s soccer game’ or ‘I promised the owner I’d have his airplane back tonight.’ This will kill you.” Pinning down one pilot segment, Kern says professionals such as dentists, doctors and business icons too often think “because they’re the best in the world at one thing that it will automatically make them good at flying. Aviation is different. I think the ego piece of this is huge for these natural risk-takers. As that poster says, ‘Aviation is very unforgiving of any carelessness or neglect.’” Kern spoke to one last important tactic all pilots should consider when bad unforecast weather appears ahead: “Since an airplane will almost always outrun the weather, you just need to run from it. But you’ve got to have a place to run, and you’ve got to have a place to land.”

After a brush with flying in IMC weather when he and Martha should have remained VFR, John King said: “We learned just how stupid a pair of allegedly bright people can be when they want to reach their destination. We also learned that the two of us were the biggest risk factor in the airplane.”

Don’t Become a Statistic

Tips to inoculate yourself against VFR-into-IMC flight

• If you do enter IMC weather, don’t panic—breathe.
• Demand more than just three hours of instrument instruction from your CFI during private pilot training.
• Trust the airplane’s instruments, not your senses.
• Always have an alternate airport in mind, even on a local flight.
• Ask your instructor to demonstrate flight in ­low-VFR conditions, such as 1,000-foot ceilings and 3-mile ­visibility.
• When that voice in your head says the route ahead doesn’t look good, turn around while you still can.
• Learn to use the airplane’s autopilot.
• Set personal weather minimums and refuse to violate them—no matter what.
• Understand why better-than-forecast weather is a blessing and less-than-forecast weather is a warning.
• Continually assess your flight conditions and your alternates while airborne.
• Train your passengers and yourself not to push to reach any destination.
• Call for help on 121.5 (only if you’re able to maintain control of the airplane—fly the airplane first).

This story appeared in the January-February 2021 issue of Flying Magazine

The post VFR Into IMC Accident Prevention appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Inadvertent VFR flight into IMC weather and the resulting fatal accidents are not simply a problem for aircraft pilots, but also for those flying helicopters. In a news release, the US Helicopter Safety Team (USHST) said, “Between 2000 to 2019 in the US, there were 130 fatal accidents directly linked to the issue of spatial disorientation. These accidents occurred regardless of pilot experience and they cut across all industries, including emergency medical services, law enforcement, tour operations, utility flights, corporate flying and personal/private flights.”

“For decades, studies, articles, research papers, and discussions have been published theorizing why accidents related to degraded visual environments consistently occur and it has been hard to find clear answers that can slow or stop these tragic accidents,” explained Nick Mayhew, industry co-chair of the USHST. “In part, the accidents stem from failed planning, lack of understanding, or poor decision-making. All pilots have the option to turn down a flight before launch, turn around, proceed to an alternate, or land in a safe place if the weather deteriorates below company or personal minimums, yet we continue to see these types of accidents.”

In response to these accidents, the USHST has developed a new Recommended Practices document focusing on “Spatial Disorientation Induced by a Degraded Visual Environment” and offering training and decision-making solutions. We are proposing a shift in the way we discuss, train and react to deteriorating or unplanned weather conditions,” added Mayhew.

The Recommended Practices document focuses on avoidance of IIMC, as well as preflight planning that includes enroute decision processes, in-aircraft training that simulates a lack of visibility and training of recovery techniques and committing to instruments. This USHST Recommended Practice document was created to provide an initial framework for future comprehensive training packages aimed at reducing helicopter accidents stemming from spatial disorientation. It is one of several significant safety initiatives developed by the USHST to reduce the number of fatal accidents. The blueprint comes at a time when the industry has marked a little more than a year since the fatal VFR-into-IMC accident that took the lives of nine people in California, including Kobe Bryant.

The post US Helicopter Safety Team Issues Blueprint to Prevent VFR Into IMC and Spatial Disorientation appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Continued VFR into IMC is the scourge of general ­aviation. Year after year, it is a leading cause of fatal accidents—almost four times deadlier than encounters with thunderstorms and icing combined. If anything, these numbers underestimate the problem, since many “­successful” VFR-into-IMC flights never show up in the National Transportation Safety Board statistics, but instead only in the lucky pilots’ nightmares.

Safety advocates have been focused on this problem for more than 60 years, including a well-known study from the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association and the University of Illinois that determined the average VFR pilot had “178 seconds to live” upon entering instrument meteorological conditions. Since then, there have been changes in training, technology and ­regulations. And yet such accidents persist. Why?

Risk Factors

There is no easy solution, but a good place to start is the way we talk about preventing VFR into IMC, which hasn’t changed in decades. A surprising amount of academic research has been done on the subject, and yet most new pilots never hear about the four common risk factors:

• Passengers are present far more often on accident flights than on nonaccident flights. They can exert pressure on the pilot, either explicitly or implicitly, to complete the mission.
• Night makes VFR challenging even in good weather. Incredibly, almost one-third of VFR-into-IMC ­accidents happen at night, even though very little night ­flying goes on in general aviation.
• Mountains are also overrepresented in accident reports. Terrain can both create its own weather and limit safe alternatives.
• Longer flights also seem to be more susceptible to weather accidents. On a 100 nm flight, it’s generally harder to get trapped by weather.

One other potential risk factor is a high-performance airplane, because things happen a lot faster at 170 knots in a Cirrus than at 80 knots in an Aeronca. The increasing popularity of faster airplanes may be offsetting some of the safety gains from new technology.

These risk factors are not reasons to cancel a flight by themselves, but they are reasons to be ­conservative. Learning to manage these issues should be part of every student pilot syllabus and every flight review. An ­occasional mention of the PAVE checklist (Pilot, Airplane, ­enVironment, External pressures) doesn’t cut it.

Preflight Briefings

Next comes the way we teach preflight planning. Again, the focus is usually on the wrong things: either ­obtaining a standard briefing, where “VFR flight not recommended” has become the boy crying wolf, or on decoding metars, which has been solved by apps. A better approach to planning a flight is to start with the big picture, considering where the lows and fronts are, then looking at graphical products like model output statistics forecast maps, 3D terrain views of the route and multiple radar images. Metars come into play only at the end, almost as confirmation of what you already know. This is where it pays to be a weather geek.

The mental skills matter much more than the robotic procedures. In particular, pilots must practice being ruthlessly realistic—evaluating the weather first, and only then deciding whether to fly. If we decide to fly and then go shopping for evidence to confirm our preferred plan, we fall into the trap of motivated reasoning and can invite disaster.

Read More: The Freedom and Flexibility of Flying VFR

Inflight Skills

Once in the air, some timeless rules apply, but some new technology also changes the game. The timeless rules start with the commitment to take what Mother Nature gives you. No matter what the forecast says, the view out the front window is what counts. In particular, visibility usually trumps ceiling; 10 miles of visibility under a 2,000-foot ceiling is pretty good VFR, while 3 miles in rain under a ­5,000-foot ceiling is pretty bad.

Another good habit is to always fly with “circuit breakers” in mind. Some pilots use a two-strike rule: If you descend or slow down twice, it’s time for Plan B. Other pilots use a hard deck: If you are forced below a predetermined minimum safe altitude, you must land immediately or turn around. Waiting on the ground for an hour or two often has a dramatic impact on weather conditions.

Technology can also help, specifically datalink weather. With proper training, an ADS-B or SiriusXM ­satellite-radio receiver can make VFR into IMC much less likely, partly because the focus is on graphical weather products instead of coded text or scratchy hazardous inflight weather advisory service broadcasts. Perhaps the most essential weather-flying rule is to always have an out, and that’s where datalink weather can help most of all. Because you know what’s going on beyond that next cloud, you can maintain situational awareness and avoid flying into a trap.

Another technological option that deserves more attention is weather cameras. These are used extensively in Alaska and offer a live picture of weather that a metar can’t match. Is there any reason they wouldn’t work in mountain passes and remote ­airports in the Lower 48?

Recovery

So much for avoiding IMC. What if you do stumble into the clouds? Often the conversation stops at prevention, awkwardly avoiding what to do if you mess up. The good news is that a typical pilot has far more tools today than in the 1950s when that AOPA report came out: an attitude indicator (maybe with synthetic vision), GPS position, terrain alerts, datalink weather and an autopilot. That equipment can show where better weather is, where terrain and obstacles are and which way is up. Even an iPad with an ADS-B receiver can be a tremendous asset in such a scenario, if you know what to do with it.

Affordable autopilots may be even better. The AOPA study ­advocated the now ubiquitous 180-degree turn, but the best U-turn is not flown on the turn coordinator—it’s flown by the autopilot. The latest ­models even include automatic overbank ­protection and one touch “level” buttons, which are ideal for VFR pilots. However, this new technology might require some changes to time-­honored procedures. For example, in helicopter air ambulance operations, the recovery for inadvertent IMC is to engage the autopilot, climb to a ­minimum safe altitude and confess to ATC. Maybe Cessna pilots with a Garmin autopilot should do the same.

It All Comes Back to Training

As that example suggests, none of these technological advances means much without proper training and procedures. The last real innovation here was to require some simulated instrument time before the private pilot checkride, but this went into effect decades ago. The next change shouldn’t require a new regulation: Student pilots should be exposed to marginal VFR conditions during cross-country flights. Seeing what that looks like and learning how to make decisions in flight, with the help of datalink weather, is far more important than filling out nav logs or picking visual checkpoints. So is learning how to use an autopilot.

Adding a requirement for VFR pilots to do some type of recurrent instrument training during flight reviews is another good idea. If it’s important enough to be required during primary training, it’s important enough to review every year or two. Just remember that simulated IMC might mean flying on autopilot.

The long-term challenge is to change our mindset about training, from one focused on checkrides to one focused on continuous improvement. There’s plenty of learning to be done between the private certificate and the instrument rating, but formal training programs rarely reflect that. A good pilot should understand the difference between learning how to fly and learning how to travel cross-country by airplane, and find a flight instructor who can help.

Truly “solving” VFR into IMC may be impossible, but that’s what many pilots once said about controlled flight into terrain accidents, and those have all but disappeared. The lesson is that new technology, when combined with good training, can reduce accidents.

The post Why Can’t We Solve VFR Into IMC? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.