To get the educational benefit of frightening weather experiences without the danger, instructors and students can read the accounts of other pilots' encounters with weather reported to NASA's Aviation Safety Reporting System (ASRS). The Battelle Memorial Institute, which operates the ASRS program for NASA, makes this easy to do by posting reports, divided into categories including "in-flight weather encounters," on the World Wide Web.
NASA's Aviation Safety Reporting System is a program designed to improve the safety of the skies by giving pilots the opportunity to confess their mistakes and inadvertent violations of federal aviation regulations without fear of bringing FAA enforcement action upon themselves. Reports maybe submitted for just about anything from continued VFR flight into instrument meteorological conditions to airspace violations to near misses.
The reports, which protect the identity of the pilots concerned, may not be used to prosecute the pilots unless they involve criminal offenses or accidents not covered by the program. The information collected in this way is then used to identify problem areas and address them with improved education, training, and regulation.
These reports are generally better aids for discussions about the types of mistakes that pilots make than National Transportation Safety Board reports because they are always from pilots who survive. The pilots tell in their own words what happened, often in prose that packs an emotional punch for anyone who can imagine being in the airplane as the flight unravels.
Most of the ASRS in-flight weather encounter reports filed by general aviation pilots tell of running into instrument meteorological conditions on VFR flights. These pilots often were armed only with the basic instrument training required to earn a private certificate.
A typical example is the story of a pilot who wanted to move his Cessna 150 from the field he used in the summer to his winter airport in western New York. Here's his story in his own words: "I blundered off into the skies with lower ceilings ahead. Five minutes into the flight, I looked at the compass and said to myself that [turning] 180 degrees from this [heading] is my out. Well, let me share the angst, terror, etc. I hit the wall of clouds, and all of a sudden [I] could not see the ground.
"I was only five miles from my destination, and thought - thought - thought that I could just follow the road into my home strip. This was the biggest mistake of my life. For about five to eight minutes, I was totally disoriented and struggled to keep the plane right-side up.
"I said to myself that this is it! After four to five minutes of total instrument meteorological conditions, I finally got somewhat of a grip. I fire-walled the throttle and climbed back up to 2,400 feet above the ground and prayed.
"I also headed in the direction that was my escape. I totally relied on the attitude indicator for help. For those of you who haven't been there, let me tell you now that what you have learned about flying in instrument conditions is all true. Thoughts of how my attitude indicator sometimes decides to tumble zoomed through my head.
"A break in the clouds granted me visual reference for a moment. Then more clouds, light, and a break about four miles back to home. I could see where my home base should be. Just when I could almost see home, the ceiling enveloped me again and I descended to 2,000 feet. Then home base appeared right where it was supposed to be."
After landing and tying down the Cessna, the pilot "said a prayer to my God that I was still alive. I do not write this as an adventure/thriller but to help others not to make my mistake. I could easily have been on the National Transportation Safety Board list of accidents that we read. I truly thought that I could end my life in muck. It is not funny or heroic by any means. I was stupid.
"I could go on and on about what happened to me but you all get the point. Do not scud run or fly into instrument meteorological conditions. Period. I hope my ordeal helps others. If all else fails, remember what you were taught. It saved my life."
Pilots in training hear a lot about the 180-degree turn to safety. That is, if you run into poor visibility, turn around and go back the way you came. This is a good idea, but a turn back under these conditions isn't going to be as simple as it sounds when you talk about it from the security and comfort of the ground. For one thing, you aren't likely to suddenly go from three or more miles to near-zero visibility. Instead, conditions will gradually grow worse and worse along with your doubts about the intelligence of making the flight.
Chances are that by the time you do decide to turn back, the 180-degree turn isn't going to immediately improve things. A report from a pilot who made a one-eighty over Ohio describes what it can be like.
"I was flying at 600 to 800 feet above ground level, beneath ceilings of 1,000 to 1,500 feet when [I] entered the cloud. I suppressed a nearly irresistible desire to fly lower and get underneath. (Clearly wrong - for all I knew this wasn't a cloud, but fog extending to the ground.) [I] executed a standard-rate turn for one minute, noted that my heading was 180 degrees opposite the previous heading, and exercised patience while two or three unending minutes went by before returning to marginal visual meteorological conditions."
As with many such incidents, this pilot wrote that one of the contributing factors was a desire to get home the following day, the familiar "get-there-itis." He also cited fatigue from having flown all day and previous experience flying in marginal conditions with no trouble, which gave him "an inappropriate level of optimism given the situation."
This pilot suggests that training on how to handle flying into clouds should stress that it's likely to happen near the ground - "a scenario I had never considered. The desire to descend below the cloud was almost overwhelming." Without some previous training on flying by reference to instruments, this desire "would likely have been irresistible."
Another pilot's troubles began when the engine of his Cessna 152 was rough during the runup after a fuel stop. As three mechanics were examining the engine and replacing spark plugs, the weather began deteriorating as a front moved into the area. Still, the pilot elected to depart after the engine was running smoothly, even though he didn't have an instrument rating.
After flying over a cloud deck that turned out to be solid, the pilot contacted air traffic control. The approach controller told him he'd have to declare an emergency to receive help, which he did.
"I was well advised and directed as to when to make heading changes to land at Dayton," the pilot wrote. "I break through and land on Runway 6L, runway lights ablaze, and the welcoming committee consisting of a firetruck and airport police car."
The report doesn't say whether the Federal Aviation Administration took any action against the pilot. But, even if he was punished for his poor judgment in taking off into deteriorating weather, contacting the approach controller for vectors to the airport was the only sensible action in his case.
This incident led the pilot to begin instrument training. "Considering the numerous times I've been unable to start or continue a VFR flight and the cost of rental cars, motels, and tie-down fees, as well as the inconvenience and wasted time, the IFR rating should have been attained years ago."
In another report, a flight instructor describes flying into low visibility while conducting a VFR primary instruction flight. The automated terminal information system (ATIS) had reported five miles of visibility at Boeing Field near Seattle. "However," the pilot wrote, "from six miles to the south, the field was not yet visible. The field is in a valley and was obscured by what appeared to be mist. Visibility toward the field appeared to be around three miles" when the instructor was cleared to land.
"As I proceeded toward the runway, which I still could not see, visibility deteriorated to about two miles in blowing snow. I was already at pattern altitude, I followed a highway that I knew from experience would lead me directly to the runway. It did, and I was easily able to land without incident." But soon after landing, this pilot heard a special weather observation on the ATIS. Visibility was down to two miles in snow; that is, he had landed under instrument conditions without a clearance.
The instructor cited three factors that went into the decision to continue the approach. First, the handheld microphone had fallen to the floor and he hesitated to lean down to pick it up while flying in poor visibility. Second, he knew that a Boeing jet was approaching the runway behind him, and he thought that doing a 180-degree turn would have been dangerous. Finally, he was worried about time. "My student had told me that she needed to be on the ground (at a certain time) and time was running short," he wrote. "As a fairly new flight instructor with a fairly new student, I did not want to appear that I was unsure of what to do. (However, in previous situations this had not been a problem for me.)"
The instructor concluded, "My decision to continue VFR in Class D airspace toward a runway I could not see was clearly an error. I knew I was making a decision, and I knew that it was probably the wrong one. Somewhat incredibly, in the heat of the moment, I did not immediately think of what the right decision might be, so I blundered forward. I should have executed a 180-degree turn upon entering IMC [instrument meteorological conditions], since I knew that VFR conditions existed behind me, and I did not know how bad the visibility was in front of me."
The student left quickly after the flight for her appointment. "Before our lesson the next day, however," the instructor wrote, "I gave her a lengthy and candid evaluation of the errors in judgment I had made, and we had a very productive discussion of human factors and aviation decision making in general."
Human factors - concerns about issues other than having a safe flight - helped to lead a student into trouble on a solo cross-country flight in California. The initial weather briefing for a flight from McClellan to Fresno and then on to Watsonville was for clear skies and visibility of 25 miles. While discussing the flight with his instructor, "Neither one of us thought to discuss diverting for weather because we didn't see any need. The day was gorgeous, and the forecast called for nothing but great flying weather."
The updated weather briefing in Fresno for the flight to Watsonville included "mountain obscuration," but otherwise good weather. The student "was a little concerned about the weather because I knew I had to fly over mountains to get to Watsonville. However, the conditions were within the VFR minimums, so I didn't feel the need to call my instructor for advice. I decided to press on, thinking that I could check things out when I got there."
About 30 minutes after taking off from Fresno, "things started to go downhill. I noticed that I was heading straight for a cloud layer that seemed to be right above the mountains before Watsonville." The pilot climbed and continued toward Watsonville, even after clouds began blocking the view of the ground. "I made the decision to continue on rather than to turn back because I thought the cloud layer would break up after I crossed the mountains. Then I could land uneventfully in Watsonville. I couldn't have been more wrong."
The pilot contacted air traffic control and accepted an instrument clearance to Watsonville without telling the controller that he wasn't instrument rated
"I really wanted to complete this mission to Watsonville. I was desperately trying to obtain my private pilot's license since the last day to update my application was three days away. I felt trapped. If I turned back at this point, I thought I would have to redo the mission. I didn't have time for that. The weather had been against me for the past month. I knew that the IFR clearance could get me through the clouds and into Watsonville. I wasn't thinking about the risks at this point."
After being vectored to where he should begin an instrument approach for the Watsonville airport and then going astray, the pilot "made the decision to seek help and admitted that I was only a student pilot who shouldn't be on this type of approach. I could tell the controller was upset, but she didn't panic." With the controller's help, the pilot continued to Marina Airport to make a safe landing.
"I wish I could go back and change what I did," the pilot concluded. "I made some really, really poor decisions that could have cost me my life. I learned a valuable lesson the hard way. This event will remain with me for the rest of my life. I can only hope it doesn't ruin my chance at a future flying career."
Obtaining ASRS Reports
Aviation Safety Reporting System report forms are available on the World Wide (http://asrs.arc.nasa.gov/forms.htm). On this page you can select from among several forms. Reporting forms also are published in most commercially available reprints of the federal aviation regulations and Aeronautical Information Manual or they may be obtained from AOPA Online (www.aopa.org/members/files/safety/asrs_plt.pdf).
