The second advantage of flying IFR and being in radar and communications contact with ATC is that you can fly into or through special-use and complex terminal airspace without having to ask for any additional clearances. For example, you don't need to request a clearance to enter Class C or B airspace because your IFR clearance covers it. An added bonus is that controllers will vector you around any active military operating or restricted areas, and prohibited areas, as well as busy jet airport arrival and departure paths.
But it's not all sweetness and light. Flying IFR in VFR conditions has its drawbacks, especially when your destination is in a busy terminal area. Here you might find that an IFR flight plan is a burden. Two flights within two days brought the point home to me.
The first was a Saturday trip to St. Petersburg-Clearwater International Airport (PIE), a Class D airport that lies underneath Tampa Bay Class B airspace. The area is chock-a-block with airports, so I decided to file and fly IFR. Mostly I was interested in traffic separation, but I also knew that flying IFR would be a lot less work than having to contact several individual airport control towers to transit their airspace on my way to PIE. Finally, I figured it would be easier to get into busy PIE as an IFR arrival rather than a pop-up VFR.
Things didn't quite work out as planned.
As I approached the PIE terminal area from the south-southeast, the Tampa approach controller began to vector me more to the west. Watching the airport slip farther and farther off to my east, I grew impatient and queried the controller about when I might expect a turn back toward the airport. "Five miles," he answered - somewhat curtly, I thought.
When I thought about it later, I realized that the controller was vectoring me away from Class D airspace at Albert Whited Airport to the south of PIE. My route should have taken me through Whited airspace, but the approach controller said he didn't have time to call the Whited controller to coordinate my transition. It was easier for him to simply vector me around it to the west. I would have been better off if I'd canceled IFR south of Tampa Bay and negotiated my own path up to PIE.
Two days later I flew to Orlando International Airport (MCO) to attend a meeting of Central Florida-area air traffic controllers and their customers - meaning us pilots. It was a gorgeous morning with a bright yellow sun, baby blue sky, and at least 20 miles visibility. I filed IFR, for the same reasons I had on Saturday's flight to PIE. The flight went smoothly until I was within 10 miles of MCO. Then - guess what - the Orlando approach controller assigned me a heading that had me flying away from the airport. I was pointing northwest; the airport was northeast.
Eventually I got a turn back to the airport that amounted to a close-in right base leg. As I drew near, the controller turned me south to parallel Runway 18R, the arrival runway. A minute later he gave me a 240-degree turn to the right, and cleared me to land behind a Citation jet. It was obvious he'd positioned me close to the arrival end of the runway so he could dump me onto final when an opening appeared, which it did behind the Citation.
I didn't hear anyone else getting such a circuitous route to the final approach course. It would have been easy to assume that approach controllers at big airports take a dim view of slow, light airplanes in their airspace, and treat them the same as they would a mosquito in the radar room - shoo the little buggers away.
I took advantage of the meeting to quiz several controllers about my experiences at PIE and MCO, and learned that I probably could have solved the vicious-vectoring problem if I had simply canceled IFR. Here's why.
The ATC system exists principally to separate traffic - to keep airplanes from colliding with each other. In general, an approach controller must maintain at least three miles horizontal and 1,000 feet vertical separation between two IFR aircraft. (The minimum IFR separation standard for a center controller is five miles horizontal and 1,000 feet vertical spacing between IFR aircraft.) When I entered approach control airspace as an IFR target, the controllers had to apply IFR separation standards.
That requirement doesn't necessarily lead to the kind of vectoring I received. However, I was the slowest guy on their scopes - at least 50 percent slower than most of the other arriving traffic. To work me into that fast-track flow, they had to vector me around until they could find a big enough hole in the traffic picture to fit me in without busting separation standards. That's tough duty for a controller.
If I had canceled IFR within 5 to 10 miles of the airport, I would have given myself and the controller more flexibility and more options to get me to the runway as quickly as possible. If I cancel IFR, the controller is freed from restrictive horizontal and vertical separation standards, and can exercise more creative routing and altitude selection to work me into the airport. It makes it easier for the controller, and for me.
The bonus is there is no loss of ATC service. Even though I'm a VFR target, I'm squawking and talking to the controller, who is issuing traffic advisories.
The moral of the story is to be flexible when working with ATC. If you're instrument rated and always opt to file IFR for cross-country trips, be prepared to switch to Plan B - canceling IFR (provided visual meteorological conditions exist, of course) and finishing up the last few miles VFR. That tactic won't always remove the obstacles to direct-to-the-airport routing if, for example, terrain or traffic dictate otherwise. But more often than not you'll be doing yourself and the controller a favor.
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