Pilots trained exclusively in the local practice area and/or in the comfortable surroundings of a general aviation flight simulator seldom have the opportunity to engage in the aeronautical decision making (ADM) tasks associated with rapidly changing REAL cross-country weather.

Such may have been the case with a VFR pilot last year as he contemplated a several hour flight in a Piper PA-28-181 from Miles City, Montana to Butte, Montana.  His plan was to meet up with a friend for several days of hunting.  Unfortunately, this was the last flight he would ever make.

The following is an extract from the NTSB accident report:

"After departure, he climbed to about 10,000 feet, and then by use of his cell phone, he contacted the individual in Butte that he was going to go hunting with. The pilot told this individual what altitude he was at, and said that he was above the clouds. He then asked if it was snowing in Butte at that time, and the hunting partner told him that it was not snowing, and that the sky was partly cloudy with areas of blue. The pilot then stated that he hoped to arrive there in about two and one-half hours, and then that was the end of the conversation. About the same time, the pilot used his cell phone to call Butte Aviation at Bert Mooney Airport. He had contacted Butte Aviation earlier in the week to advise them that he would be coming to Butte on that Friday, and that he would need a hangar for one or two nights. During the subject in-flight call, he advised Butte Aviation that he was on his way, and that he would arrive around 1800. There were no other known contacts with the pilot after those two phone calls. He did not contact the FAA Air Route Traffic Control Center for flight-following, nor did he contact Flight Watch for updated weather at Butte."

Along the way the weather began to deteriorate.  According to witnesses located near the accident site, it was already dark, and there were low clouds and snow falling in the area. They estimated that the visibility was about one-half mile.  They said that the aircraft was going in and out of the snow squalls. 

The 1753 surface aviation weather observation (METAR) at Butte showed winds from 090 degrees at three knots, visibility of one-half mile, moderate snow, freezing fog, a ceiling of 800 feet broken, overcast at 1,700 feet, a temperature/dew point spread of -10/-12 degrees Celsius, and a barometric pressure of 29.88 inches of Mercury.  Remember, this was a VFR-only pilot!

Weather Forecasts:  Horoscopes with Numbers!

It is a cold, dark night at your local airport.  You have trees at the departure end of the runway.  The normally seen lights of surrounding homes and streets are obscured by low level fog.

You apply full power, release the brakes and begin racing down the runway.  Reaching rotation speed, you give a gentle tug on the yoke and begin lifting into the moonless sky.

Your thoughts shift immediately to the tall trees at the departure end of the runway.  You tug harder on the yoke, not quite certain what your margin of clearance will be.  You glance down to your instrument panel.   Which of the six flying instruments should be receiving your primary attention?

Sure . . . it's the airspeed indicator! 

Surprisingly, the airspeed indicator is NOT the instrument many pilots look to.  Instead, some focus on the attitude indicator or the vertical speed indicator (VSI), looking specifically for pitch information.  While helpful, pitch tells us very little about our relationship to the approaching trees.  We could be pitched up 30 or 40 degrees and be on the brink of stall.

Others might look to the altimeter.  After all, we know the altitude of the tops of the trees.   Unfortunately, the altimeter does not give us position information relative to those troublesome trees.

The heading indicator provides lateral guidance, but not vertical information.  Likewise, the turn coordinator provides no vertical guidance.

One of the most important yet least understood aspect of the instrument landing system are the approach lighting systems in use in today's airports.  They range from a couple of inoperative runway lights at your homedrome to a full-up ALSF-2 at KORD.  

Knowing what to expect lighting-wise when slipping down through the clag to just 200' above the runway surface can make a big difference in the outcome of your approach.

I recall one very dark, snowy night coming into the Buffalo/Niagara International Airport (KBUF).  The approach in use was the ILS Runway 5.   The reported weather was an indefinite ceiling, RVR 1,800 feet (1/4 mile).  Winds were out of the east at 8 knots.  It was a nasty night in every respect.

Buffalo's Runway 5 is equipped with a medium intensity approach lighting system with runway alignment indicator lights.   Well inside the FAF (final approach fix), I was counting down the last several hundred feet before reaching the DH (decision height).  There was no sign of anything out the window other than the hypnotic array of snow racing by in my landing light.

Reaching the DH and still no sign of the runway, runway environment, or approach light lighting system, I pitched up, pressed the throttle, prop, and mixture controls to the wall and flew the missed approach.

"Say intentions," said the tower controller.

"Hmmm . . ." I muttered into the microphone.  "I've got a request."

"Say request," replied the controller.

"Would it be possible for you turn the ILS on for Runway 23? "

With each change in season comes a change in outside temperature.  The most insidious temperature change comes as we transition from the warm summer months to the cool autumn, then to sub-freezing winter.

For us IFR pilots, this means dealing with sub-freezing clouds and the distinct possibility of airframe icing. 

What if our airplanes are not certified for flight into known icing conditions?  The simple answer is, "Don't go there."  For those of us residing around the Great Lakes, where low, sub-freezing clouds shroud the earth from November through March, it could mean an end to winter flying. 

Simple enough, but let's get real.  IFR operations in non known-ice certified airplanes do NOT come to a stop here in the north during the winter months!  So are rules being broken?  What gives?

What gives?

I recently asked the same question of the FAA's Northeast Office of Regional Council.  I got my answer . . . in writing.  You might be surprised by what I learned.   Let's just say that we could be plowing new fields of policy, practice, and enforcement here!

Sometimes we pilots need encouragement from our fellow aviators.  Or maybe it's just a "guy" thing.  Either way, a small group of not-so-quiet birdmen recently began meeting periodically here Buffalo, NY to address and solve the ponderous aeronautical issues of the day.  Our first meeting took place earlier this past week at the Buffalo Chop House.

You can do the same thing in your communities as well.

Below (left to right) is Dan Maloney, Bob Miller, Hank Stockwell, Louie Nalbone, Mark Croce, Mark Weissman, and Keith Harlock.  Note Mark Croce's R-44 helicopter sitting atop of the Buck'n Buffalo Saloon.  He landed it there BEFORE the party began!

The fellowship of active pilots has been a long tradition since the earliest days of aviation.  And it is a great way to share experiences, learn lessons, and to give and receive candid advice and counsel regarding our (mis)adventures!

As the seasons change from summer to autumn then into winter, one thing is for certain . . . . the days get shorter and the likelihood of night flying increases.

For those of us in large urban areas, the transition from day to night flying is a non-issue.  The bright lights of the city and surrounding suburbs provide clear-cut ground reference.  This is NOT the case in the rural outlying areas as one low time, VFR only pilot recently discovered. 

Unfortunately, the lesson he learned was a fatal one.

Last New Year's Eve at 1930 mountain standard time, a 41 year old VFR-only pilot took off from Durango, CO in a rented 1961 C-182.  His planned destination was Scottsdale, AZ. 

Flight conditions

The reported conditions along his route of flight were VFR.  The moon was waxing crescent with one percent of its visible disk illuminated.

A quick reference to what the investigators found when arriving on the scene suggests a classic CFIT (controlled flight into terrain) type accident rather than a stall/spin.  See below:

The only facts we have is that the airplane crashed.  Why it crashed is pure speculation.  The relatively flat trajectory of the impact track points to a level flight attitude when the first impact occurred.

Night flying factors to consider

Night flying is no different from day flying with a couple of important exceptions.  Unless one is instrument rated AND current, the VFR pilot still requires some form of terrain illumination.  Either the lights of the city below or moonbeams from above.  Occasionally, on a very clear night, the celestial array of stars can help to determine up from down.

It was apparent that these exceptions were NOT present on this fateful night.

Assuming sufficient ambient light to distinguish between up and down, the night flyer requires sufficient altitude to clear rising terrain, mountain peaks, or other possible obstacles along his planned route of flight.

The VFR pilot's best friend in this regard is his sectional.  The large numbers printed inside each sector box (crossing lines of latitude and longitude) depict the minimum safe altitudes for that sector.  Remember, however, these provide barely 199 feet clearance over the tallest point in that sector, at most. 

Instrument pilots, of course, are familiar with low altitude enroute charts that depict OROCAs (Off-Route Obstruction Clearance Altitudes) which provide 1,000' clearance in non-mountainous areas and 2,000' in mountainous areas.

Additional night flying factors

The runway closure NOTAM was included in the FSS specialist's briefing.  The runway closure was also included on the ATIS recording.  As if those were not enough, two 10' high "Xs" were mounted at each end of the runway. 

Earlier this week, despite these three forms of runway closure announcements, the chief flight instructor from one of the Western New York area flight schools, with a student on board, requested takeoff clearance from this closed runway.   The tower controller promptly and sternly informed this PA-28 pilot/flight instructor that Runway 32 was closed!

How much more information can we give pilots???

Fortunately, a heads-up controller was quick to point this errant CFI and his student to the correct runway and thereby possibly prevent another nasty wrong runway tragedy.  Imagine, had this been a non-towered field like Dunkirk, NY (KDKK) with intersecting runways (one of which is under reconstruction), the outcome could have been tragic! 

This troubling event begs the question, "Just how many different ways do we pilots need to have information drilled into our heads?"

When we CFIs, particularly those who supervise other flight instructors, cannot manage to obtain NOTAMs and/or obtain a FSS briefing before commencing a flight, it is little wonder why many of our students and the rest of the flying community do not comply with FAR 91.103! 

Whenever conducting an instrument proficiency check (IPC), I ask the candidate one basic question before climbing into the cockpit.  "Tell me, George, how do you brief the instrument approach plate."

George's answer to that question gives me a good indication of how that ensuing IPC will go!  In most cases, George says something like this.  "Let's see, Bob, ahh, first I'd check the radio frequencies, then ah, maybe I'd look at the minimum altitudes, and then I'd, ahh, review the missed approach procedure."

And so it goes as George randomly searches for important information from the plate, not really having any specific briefing plan.  The likelihood that George will get himself behind on the approach is extremely high.  The likelihood that George will perform well on the IPC is extremely low!

Have a systematic plan for briefing the approach plan!

Proficient instrument pilots have a number of effective ways of briefing an instrument approach plate.  One of the most common is to make use the briefing strip printed at the top of the plate (see below).

This relatively new enhancement to both the NACO and Jeppessen instrument approach plates places most of the critical information in one convenient place.  Unfortunately, it leaves out the critical FAF and DH/MDA altitudes.  And it offers little in the way of providing critical position awareness information to the pilot.

Try the "A-P-P-R-O-A-C-H" Mnemonic

In summary, the instrument approach plate is chock full of important information.  Whatever method we choose to capture this information in our heads and to properly set up the airplane for the approach must be effective.

The smoke has barely cleared on Comair's tragic Flight 5191 in Lexington, KY, thus it is inappropriate to draw final conclusions regarding probable cause.  However, the simple fact that an incorrect runway was selected for takeoff reminds us of how vulnerable we pilots are to simple oversight.

Whether caused by fatigue, distraction, poor visibility conditions, confusing signage, unclear ATC instructions, or simple brain lapse, one fact remains.  Flying airplanes leaves little room for error.  And when error occurs, people often die.

How can we prevent piloting errors or oversights?

There are lots of ways in place to prevent pilot errors.  Better initial and recurrent training, properly developed operating procedures, strict supervisory oversight, and better engineered pilot warning systems.   Human factors improvements include the use of two pilot crews and reduced pilot fatigue through better crew scheduling.

One technique used almost universally in air carrier operations to reduce pilot error is the use of paper, electronic, and flow checklists.

Paper and electronic checklists are self-evident.  Whether on cards or paper or scrolled down on a multi-function display, these checklists provide a "challenge and check" listing of tasks that must be accomplished before commencing each phase of flight.  These checklists query the pilot or crew regarding a particular task.  The crew, in turn, confirms that the required task was completed.

The Flow Checklist

The flow checklist exercises a different part of the pilot's brain than the traditional paper or electronic checklist.  Rather than challenge and check, the flow checklist addresses our need to bring order out of chaos.  Does something look out of place?

Here is how the flow check works during the pre-flight stage of flight.  You have completed all of the required paper or electronic checklist items.  Just before taxiing to the active runway for departure, you take one last LOOK at your cockpit. 

With the forefinger of your right hand (or left hand if you are flying from the right seat), you begin pointing at the left side wall of the cockpit looking for any anomalies or things out of place.  From there, you slowly move your hand across and down the cockpit, again looking for anything unusual. 

Your finger flows up to the magnetic compass one more time to check its alignment with the heading indicator.  Your eyes move down to the fuel selector valve, then over and up the right side of the cockpit panel and wall.

Satisfied that everything is in order, you take the active runway.  The paper and/or electronic checklists are properly stowed.  As you line up on the runway center line, you perform the final flow check.  This final flow begins with the runway to insure that no obstacles are in your path, a final check of your engine instruments, and a confirmation that your heading indicator reflects your intended runway heading.

Some pilots like to use the phrase "Lights (lights on), Camera (x-ponder on and squawking altitude, runway aligned), and Action (throttle up, engine instruments in the green, airspeed alive).

Your flow check continues throughout the departure roll.  You call "airspeed alive," "rotation speed," "gear up," "flaps up," and "climb cruise speed."

Redundancy is the Key

The flow checklist is simply a visual review of the cockpit to ensure that that everything LOOKS in place.  Try the flow check the next time you fly.  It could prevent a tragedy!

How many of us have been taken out to the practice area and instructed to slow the airplane to its slowest possible airspeed? 

Sure, all of us.  It's required on the private pilot practical test standards (PTS).

But how many of us understood the reasons for this exercise?  Was it to experience the challenges of maneuvering the airplane at minimum controllable airspeed? 

Answer:  Yes, in part.  But the most important lesson learned in slow flight operations is the principle of reverse command.  As we slowed the airplane, we reached an airspeed where MORE power was required to achieve LESS airspeed.  Conversely, when attempting to INCREASE airspeed, we observed that a DECREASE in power was required.

This region of reversed command is encountered whenever the flight speed is below the speed for maximum endurance. 

You are cruising along at 3,500 feet on a beautiful autumn morning.  The ground fog over your departure airport lifted in time for you to make the fly-in breakfast in the next county.  Suddenly, your faithful engine begins to show signs of laboring.  Your RPM slowly declines, then marked roughness sets in.

What's going on?  Carburetor ice?  You bet!

With the change of seasons from summer to winter, the risk of carburetor ice begins to increase dramatically. 

As you can see from chart (left), the risk of carburetor icing increases when the outside temperature drops below 70d F and the relative humidity climbs above 80%.

Hmmm . . . how can ice form in the carburetor with temperature of 70d F or more?

We can blame this curious icing phenomenon on the unique design of the carburetor.  Air coming into the carburetor compresses as it passes through the carburetor throat.

The air then expands as it comes out the other side.  This produces a low pressure area that is required to draw (suck) up fuel from the carburetor bowl.  The faster the airflow, the lower the pressure.  The lower the pressure, the greater the fuel flow.

An unfortunate side effect of this process is the marked reduction in air temperature as it expands inside the carburetor.  This is the principle employed in the design of room air conditioners.   This temperature drop can be as much as 60 to 70d F.  Therefore, at an outside air temperature of 100d F, a temperature drop of 70 F results in an air temperature in the carburetor of 30d F.

With temperatures inside the carburetor now below freezing and moisture-laden humid air passing through, the likelihood of carburetor ice, as depicted in the drawing (right) can be quite high.

The Solution

As every primary pilot is taught, the solution is the application of carburetor heat.  By pulling the carb heat handle, hot air derived from a special sleeve around the exhaust manifold is drawn into the carburetor.

The good news is that this hot air prevents or melts ice inside the carburetor.   Two pieces of bad news also result.  First, this hot air is unfiltered, thereby allowing surrounding dust and debris to enter the carburetor and, eventually, the engine.

The other piece of bad news is that this hot air is less dense than the cooler ambient air coming through induction system.  As such, it contains fewer molecules of oxygen to mix with the fuel, thus less power is produced.   This is why we observe an RPM reduction whenever applying carb heat.

So remember, as we enter the autumn and winter months, keep a close eye on what is happening in your carburetor!

You've just departed the factory with your brand new dream-come-true airplane.  You will soon be the alpha-dog at your home airport. 

Reaching 500 feet, you punch on the autopilot for your four hour cruise home.  The autopilot guides you effortlessly to your 15,000 foot cruise altitude, then levels you off for the flight home.

On the descent to your home field, you listen to the AWOS.  Hmmmm, it sounds like an instrument approach will be required.  No problem.  Simply punch in the desired approach, brief the plate, then sit back as your C-MAX systems loads and displays the approach plate into your glass panel multi-function display.  You see a depiction of your airplane as it intercepts the final approach course.

A hand flying challenge

You listen to the AWOS again and note that a circling approach will be required because of a change in wind direction. 

Suddenly, you come to grips with the fact that your autopilot cannot fly a circling approach!   This one will be entirely up to you . . . to fly by hand.

Not only will you be flying this one by hand, you'll be doing it at night at one-half the pattern altitude in weather suitable only for ducks. 

As you descend to the published circling approach minimums, the runway barely comes into view.  You break right for the left downwind to the opposite runway.   A 36 knot tailwind sends you racing along the downwind leg just 500' above the hostile-looking terrain below.

Reaching the base leg, you crank in a 30 degree bank angle and pitch up to reduce what appears to be a blistering ground speed (caused by the tailwind).   Failing to notice that your indicated airspeed is barely above stall, you apply aggressive left rudder to bring the nose around to the runway heading.  Your bank reaches 60 degrees as clouds suddenly obscure your view of the runway. 

"Dang, I've got to go missed," you say to yourself.  As with all missed approaches, you pitch up, mash the throttle while you are still in a steep bank.  The sudden surge of power, coupled with your left rudder inputs cause a serious yaw to the left.  Your load factor doubles in the steep bank which, in turn, increases your stall speed.

Still just 500 feet above the ground, you enter a power-on (departure) stall while severely yawed to the left.  The airplane gives a shudder as the nose suddenly drops and the left wing drops out from under you.    And the rest is history.

Where were those basic airmanship skills?

Hey . . . . this is a glass cockpit aircraft equipped with a flawless autopilot and the best glass panel ever created.  This baby will fly you right to the runway surface in the darkest, dimmest weather ever created!

Yeah, right!  If you believe that, don't even think about performing circling approaches at minimums.  Just beware, however, by refusing circling approaches, your IFR bag of tricks is diminished.

Solution

Circling approaches are the undisputed riskiest of all IFR procedures.  By definition, they are bad weather maneuvers performed very low to the ground.  During the day, circling approaches are a handful;  at night, they border upon reckless maneuvers performed under the guise of legitimacy.  It is little wonder why Part 121 operators (airlines) and Part 135 operators (commercial/air taxi) place severe restrictions upon their use.

Fortunately, there is a preventive solution for every aviation eventuality.  The solution here, as for all flight maneuvers, is quality instruction reinforced by recurrent training and frequent practice.  Get out and practice circling maneuvers with a safety pilot. 

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