Learning Experiences

Surviving IFR training in Bravo airspace

My home airport, Florida's Orlando Executive, is under Class B airspace. I didn't realize how much this fact would affect my instrument training. I thought it would be an advantage to have several airports nearby for practice approaches. Unfortunately, I was always behind the airplane, because I never had time to set up before having to execute an approach.

Whether it was the airspace or some other learning disability, it took a lot of humility and determination to survive the training. I captured many lessons in a journal -- which I now review religiously before each instrument flight. Here are some excerpts that may help you in a similar training environment -- if, of course, your instructor agrees.

ATIS anxiety

One help was to get over my ATIS anxiety. As a beginner, I spent way too much time trying to capture data from automatic terminal information service broadcasts. In a tight training environment in which the airports are only a few miles apart -- and the information is not all that different -- when I am going to do a low approach in visual conditions, it was worthwhile to learn the other steps before making this demand on myself. Just because it is first on the checklist doesn't mean it has to dominate the learning time.

Now on short practice hops, I just say "ATIS...got Executive" and move on. I pick up the destination information later if I can. The critical ATIS information at the beginning of a practice approach is to know which runway they are using at the intended airport. I found that you could get this tidbit in the opening negotiation with Approach about your intentions. If they don't like your intended runway, they will give you another. If the controller wants to know if I have information Lima, it works to reply, "We have Kilo [or whatever from the takeoff airport]; unable Lima." Usually they read off the wind and altimeter. Worst case, they re-vector me to get Lima, and the pressure is off. If actually landing, it is always possible to request a wind check from the tower on final.

The en route chart

Even without ATIS anxiety numbing the brain, it's hard to maintain situational awareness in an airport-rich environment. The very closeness of things makes their relationship change quickly. So if I didn't hear an expected vector, I would begin to worry about my orientation to the approach. This occupied more brain power, and I would get further behind. My instinct was to verify with Approach ("You're heading me to a left downwind at Sanford, correct?"). However, this was considered bad form in the middle of heavy traffic and tantamount to declaring personal stupidity and instructor failure. Mostly I just hoped to catch a clue as the flight progressed. (Obviously they weren't letting me use the GPS.)

One day an instructor asked why I wasn't using the en route chart to track my location using radial and DME information. "Because we are doing approaches and not en route," I explained weakly. Suddenly the light went on. I was only using approach plates on these practice runs. Since we never left the approach area, I believed that the plates were all I needed. Now I keep the low-level chart on my lap and track my progress on every flight. The key to success -- like so many of these survival lessons -- is to apply information that's immediately available in the cockpit.

The 'handy' checklist

Another cause of getting behind was using a checklist that required more thinking than I had time for in this airplane. I couldn't remember what the C in MICE stood for. Or was I still on M? I tried a lot of homemade checklists and job aids to compensate. The coolest was a strip that fit in the plate holder.

In the end, what worked best was the plate itself and the features of the airplane right under my Foggles. The designers of the plate (and the airplane) would probably tell you this, but I had to learn it the hard way.

The audio panel itself is my checklist. I hardly look at it; I just touch or punch the buttons. If something is not as expected, I glance at the plate to get the needed information and tune in the frequency on the proper instrument.

The intercept request

Communicating with a busy Tracon was also hard to master. I spent a few afternoons parked near Orlando International Airport listening to Approach on a handheld, trying not to look to suspicious. I learned that the sharp pilots spit out the phraseology, while others stink up the airwaves with tongue-tied statements, long-winded explanations, and need for repetition.

A couple of tips got me through this. One was to rehearse before pushing the button. Amazingly, the right words tumble out when I'm not making them up with the microphone on. The second was to realize that "please" is just as good on the radio as in person. You have to translate "please" into "request." I can usually get any entry I need if I'm specific and put "request" in front of it. "Six-One-Seven-One-Delta requests intercept at MARYB." This is so much better than "If you don't mind, I don't want a close-in vector because I tend to zigzag, and I need to come in a couple of miles back toward MARYB so I can stabilize on the localizer." The controllers respond wonderfully to a nice, crisp "request," and it sounds sharp.

A related lesson was that it's OK to "request" anything. There is no need to suffer what they give you if it wrecks your plan. For example, one time my planned entry hinged on flying the 120-degree radial feeder route, and they vectored me off to the side. I said, "Request 120 when able," and sure enough, they did. Similarly, when I mess up an approach, I don't get flustered anymore. I just "request new vectors." Once I got these few tips and some confidence using them, I was able to get out of the tongue-tied crowd -- at least most of the time.

Short responses

I wasted a lot of attention waiting to pounce on radio calls so that I could repeat everything they told me. I learned that I only had to read back two numbers -- heading and altitude. Everything else can be mumbled, fudged, or omitted. Of course, I try to get everything, but in a compact training environment, getting and repeating those two bits of data is the priority. This applies to any vector, clearance, or miss instruction. These are some lessons from my journal. They helped me to survive the high-density IFR training (and now practice) environment. I hope the ideas are helpful to you.

"Learning Experiences" is presented to enhance safety by providing a forum for students and pilots to learn from the experiences of others. It is intended to provoke thought and discussion, acknowledging that actions taken by the authors were not necessarily the best choices under the circumstances. We encourage you to discuss any questions you have about a particular scenario with your flight instructor.

By Tom Kramlinger