I teach students to use a mental conveyor belt to continually bring the most important information to the front of their minds as they fly. It's an example of how you can avoid wasting time with unnecessary extras. My mental conveyor belt has nine items and absolutely no fluff. All pilots should constantly evaluate the first three items: Where am I? Where's the wind? And where do I land if the engine quits?
IFR pilots add the next three items: What's the next altitude? The next heading? The next course or fix?
IFR pilots flying an instrument approach add the final items: What's the decision height or minimum descent altitude? The time inbound? And the initial portion of the missed approach procedure? (Now you know part of the reason why instrument flying is more demanding than visual flying.)
Every person's ability to evaluate information has its limits, and common sense tells us to concentrate on those items that will ensure safety. Certainly, there's a lot of fluff that makes sense, but how much information can you handle on the continually running conveyor belt while you aviate, navigate, and communicate?
You say, "Hey, Ralph, I can do a lot more than that." Maybe you can, but remember, Superman is fiction. Let me provide some insight into the real world of flying.
A good pilot makes best use of his or her free time. Doing this makes it possible to deal with distractions, irregularities, or emergencies without compromising basic flying skills or flight safety. Show me a pilot who is continually busy during a routine flight, with no time to think ahead to the next move or to plan for contingencies, and I'll show you an accident just waiting to happen.
Let's return to the first three issues on the conveyor belt - location, wind, and engine failure. I estimate that 90 percent of the pilots I check violate this basic requirement.
I simulate the first engine failure when we're 2,000 feet or so above ground level. The pilot will maintain a wings-level attitude and spend precious seconds waiting to establish the best glidespeed. Then, while still holding the wings level, he looks around for a satisfactory landing site, turns toward something that looks promising, and attempts an engine restart.
Let's start over. A competent pilot will have a suitable forced-landing area in mind before engine failure occurs and most certainly will know the prevailing wind direction. But let's say that distractions caused the forced-landing question to fall off the conveyor belt. I have experienced this situation.
When engine failure occurs, I immediately select the best glide attitude-I look at a wing tip and set a zero-pitch attitude - and if altitude permits, I roll into a steep bank so that landing-site selection starts directly beneath the airplane. If one exists, I have significantly increased the time available for planning an approach and attempting an engine restart, and I'm in an excellent position to evaluate the site, as compared with looking at one that's farther away.
If I don't find a suitable site, I roll out on a downwind heading and then fine-tune the pitch attitude for the best glidespeed - I'll be close to that speed because my first action was to set the proper attitude. This will dramatically increase my opportunity to find a suitable landing site. These priorities are sacred, because the mandatory objective is to guarantee that everyone walks away uninjured from the airplane. When this objective has been met, then you can consider the fluff such as declaring an emergency over the radio and squawking 7700.
