A friend and I had just picked up a new Cessna 172 at the factory and had begun the ferry flight to Los Angeles. Bob was flying the first leg, Wichita to Amarillo. The forecast indicated that most of our route would be affected by a warm front with low ceilings and visibility. At the worst, we were to expect no less than minimum VFR conditions. This was of no great concern because the en route terrain was griddle-flat.
The worst visibility occurred as we approached the Oklahoma panhandle. We could see barely a mile, and we noticed that the barns and silos were getting larger, too large for comfort. We recognized that our flight profile was becoming dangerous when we passed abeam and below the top of a not-so-tall television transmission tower. The undulating ceiling seemed to vary between 300 and 500 feet agl, and the visibility was barely a mile, if that.
We skimmed over Gage, Oklahoma, and found the airport a minute or two later. There was no tower at Gage, so we slid in without anyone noticing how foolish we had been to arrive in such horrendous conditions.
After parking the aircraft, Bob and I stared at one another as we took stock of what we had done. There we were, two qualified instrument pilots who had taken unjustifiable risks to remain in visual conditions at a time when extrication from hazard was instantly available. All we had to do was add power, climb into the overcast, squawk 7700 on the transponder, and contact Kansas City Center for a clearance to the nearest suitable airport. Our problem would have been resolved instantly and in relative safety. (Airframe icing was not a threat, and there were no indications of embedded thunderstorms.)
Would this have resulted in a mountain of paperwork? Probably not. A pilot who exercises emergency authority to resolve legitimate distress is seldom asked for a written explanation unless his actions cause other ramifications.
In the years following our scud-running flight over Kansas and Oklahoma, I have noticed that a significant percentage of the fatal accidents resulting from VFR flight into instrument meteorological conditions involve instrument-rated pilots. Bob and I are not the only ones who have violated good judgment by attempting to remain visual during such poor weather. If instrument pilots—who presumably know better—allow themselves to be squeezed between cloud and ground, it is less difficult to understand why those without instrument skills often do the same.
Both groups of pilots occasionally demonstrate a mindset that allows them to focus on the continuation of a flight without considering and then opting for a safer alternative. A similar mindset affects pilots during other phases of flight. This explains why, for example, we tend to continue with a takeoff or landing during which conditions develop that call for either an abort or a go-around.
Those who study such things refer to this mindset as a predisposition to continue when changing conditions dictate otherwise. They say that the most effective way to eliminate such a mindset is to consider an alternate plan of action before engaging in an activity. Such anticipation spring-loads a pilot to reverse his course of action with greater ease and efficiency.
Professional multiengine pilots, for example, are trained to consider while taxiing onto the runway the possibility of an engine failure during the takeoff roll. In this way, an engine failure, should it occur, is less of a surprise, and pilots are better able to cope with the problem.
Pilots executing an approach to landing (VFR or IFR) should ask themselves before initiating the approach, "Am I as prepared to go around as I am to continue?" The simple act of thinking about an alternate course of action often is all that is necessary to eliminate the destructive mindset that causes us to continue with the original plan as if wearing blinders.
Similarly, a pilot entering an area of low ceiling and/or visibility should remind himself that the most effective safety tool in his survival kit is the 180-degree turn.
Although those with instrument ratings and experience have the added option to escape scud running by climbing, those without instrument ratings do not, which raises an interesting point. Prior to obtaining his private pilot certificate, a student must receive a minimal amount of exposure to the world of instrument flight. He is even required to demonstrate some of this learned skill during his subsequent practical exam.
This, however, is typically the end of such training. He has learned a modicum of instrument maneuvering, but he is never again asked to maintain, improve, or demonstrate his proficiency. One can only wonder: What is the point of such initial training if it is allowed to atrophy?
This is why I typically require private pilots without instrument ratings to don a hood and practice flying on the gauges during a significant portion of the flight reviews that I conduct. Training that I would like to see developed would allow an instructor to reduce outside visibility to determine how quickly a pilot would either reverse course or how effectively he could transition his reference to instruments. Virtual-reality training, I think, will allow a CFI to someday do just that.
Visit the author's Web site ( www.barryschiff.com).
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