Exploring a shared responsibility
Except, that is, to say that the most difficult part of deciding whether someone is ready to fly an airplane alone is trying to imagine how that person will behave when the instructor is absent from the cockpit. And since a CFI cannot be absent from a cockpit and present in that same cockpit simultaneously, the best he can do while they are still flying together is get the student so busy with flying tasks that he forgets that the instructor is there, at least momentarily. Usually this is a pretty good indication. Duplicating it a few times removes any lingering uncertainty. An intently concentrating pilot does actually forget that someone else is in the airplane--so much so that he may not even hear suggestions and commands coming from the right seat. That's when a flight instructor knows that a student pilot has truly developed a take-charge mentality about his flying, and he won't degenerate into helplessness or resignation if trouble comes. And if the outcomes of the decision making being observed are good, obviously based on clear pilot thinking, it is fair to conclude that the student is ready to go it alone.
Accidents don't have to be tragic, or even serious from a personal-injury standpoint, to be instructional. Fortunately, on the points raised above, most of the accidents that do happen when a soloing student pilot is overtaken by events result in very minor injuries, or none at all. We can hear from the parties involved. Their post-mishap reflections have value because they let other student pilots and their instructors make comparisons and evaluate whether they are at risk for the same kinds of problems.
Just as with the accidents that happen to more experienced pilots, it is said that it usually takes a chain of events to get the ball rolling. Not necessarily a long, complicated chain. The combination of a catalytic event, followed by distraction or confusion, can rob the student pilot of his newly acquired flight skills. A solo flight is dispatched in a very nonthreatening four-knot breeze, but a short time later, the wind is strong and gusting. Complicating matters is a runway closure requiring a crosswind landing in the gusty conditions on the only available runway. An accident results. A student pilot in the traffic pattern of a tower-controlled airport experiences radio-transmitter failure, and loses control of a rushed landing attempted while distracted at the thought of another aircraft on a five-mile final approach.
Or this off-airport landing which occurred near Cleveland, Texas, on August 4, 2004, involving a student pilot in a Cessna 172N who lost his bearings on a solo cross-country flight. According to the National Transportation Safety Board's online accident summary, "The 32-hour student pilot reported on the Pilot/Operator Aircraft Accident Report (NTSB Form 6120.1/2) that after departure on his solo cross-country flight, he received the initial heading of 028 degrees confused with 280 degrees. After arriving at his first checkpoint, he realized he was approximately four miles off course. Upon reaching what he thought was his second checkpoint, he initiated a climb to 3,000 feet mean sea level (msl). During the flight to his next cross-country checkpoint, he realized he wasn't able to locate it. The student pilot stated that he developed an 'overwhelming feeling of being lost,' and eventually 'felt very sick.'
"The student pilot further reported that he thought that he was in the area of Cleveland, Texas, and attempted to look for the airport. After a brief search, he was unable to find the airport and decided he needed to land. After picking a suitable field for landing, he initiated a descent to 'get down as quickly as possible.' While on final approach, he saw a road and thought he would be high enough to clear it. However, the airplane impacted the road, nosed over, and came to rest in an inverted position."
If this were a seminar on pilot training, a lot of hands would be up with suggestions for topics to discuss. Confusing magnetic headings such as 028 degrees and 280 degrees is not uncommon, but there are preventive measures for such things--using a heading bug or just knowing what general direction you'll be flying after departure, for example. Someone might raise the topic of lost procedures. We know he climbed. We don't know what kind of navigation equipment was on board, and there are ways, such as taking your position using radials from two VORs and finding where they intersect on a sectional chart, by which you can establish your position or confirm one that you have determined by other means.
If panic sets in, one of its more treacherous symptoms is the urge, as the student pilot above described, "to get down as quickly as possible." This must be explored and discussed during training so that the impulse can be fought off, and calm restored, in a real case of getting lost.
Such a review might also have helped a student pilot who was landing a Cessna 172P in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, on August 8, 2004. Again, the student's state of mind helped to turn a distraction into an accident. "The student pilot stated that he contacted air traffic control (ATC), and was instructed to enter a right downwind for Runway 4, a 7,501-foot-long, 150-foot-wide, asphalt runway. Shortly thereafter, the airplane's radio stopped working. The student pilot attempted to troubleshoot the problem, and was able to receive, but not transmit. He elected to land on Runway 4, however, he overheard ATC clear another airplane to land, that was on a five-mile final approach. The student pilot stated that he was 'nervous' about the other airplane, turned a very early base leg, and approached 'high and fast.' The airplane contacted the runway hard, and began to bounce. It then departed the right side of the runway. Examination of the airplane, which included a radio check, did not reveal any discrepancies."
Again, the student made a partially successful response to the radio difficulties. This is the kind of problem in an active traffic pattern that would have been taxing for many pilots. Numerous decisions about the approach and how to handle the communications breakdown would have to be made in a very short time. We do not know if the student's troubleshooting of the problem included setting a transponder to 7600, possibly alerting ATC to the radio problem. We do know that when the bouncing started, no go-around was made--consistent with the get-down-fast syndrome, which has as its evil twin another syndrome we might describe as "stay down at all costs."
The official probable cause boiled it all down to: "The student pilot's improper flare and improper recovery from a bounced landing. Factors in this accident were the crosswind condition and the partial failure of the airplane's transceiver, as reported by the pilot." But without other stressors such as the traffic on final, things might well have turned out better.
Sometimes the worry begins with the instructor, not the student. But on August 2, 1997, in Plymouth, Massachusetts, by that time conditions had worsened to the point that even a go-around could not save the day. On that day, a Cessna 152 was substantially damaged after touching down hard at the Plymouth airport. Reported the NTSB: "The pilot said he was on a local solo flight. He left the area for about 20 minutes to practice ground reference maneuvers. On his departure, the wind velocity was about four knots. However, on his return, the reported winds were from 270 degrees at 13 knots, with gusts to 22 knots, so he performed a go-around.
"During his second approach to land on Runway 33, the only open runway, the airplane touched down hard, bounced, veered to the right, and nosed over.
"According to the chief flight instructor, soon after the pilot departed, the winds increased from the southwest. He said that the southwest runway was closed for construction, and he became concerned about several solo flights that had been dispatched earlier, so he called the pilots over the unicom frequency for them to return. By that time, the maximum wind, maximum gusts, and crosswind limitations were above the pilot's capability.
"The pilot had over 33 hours of total flight experience, including 25 hours in make and model. He reported that there was no mechanical malfunction with the airplane or the engine."
It would still have been a tricky approach, but before we submit one this for seminar analysis, it's worth noting that things might have come out better if the 4,350 by 75-foot Runway 24 had been available. Strong winds and closed runways--the stuff that accident chains are made of.
Bottom line: It's completely up to students and their instructors, as it should be, to know when someone is ready to solo. CFIs must be good enough psychologists, through observation, experience, and gut instinct, to know whether a student will stand up to stress once sent off to fly alone. Students need to be honest about their state of mind as they gain flight experience, confiding any fear they have felt, and identifying its causes. That process plus a healthy dose of good tough dual instruction in sufficiently rough-and-tumble flight conditions should do the trick.
Dan Namowitz is an aviation writer and flight instructor. A pilot since 1985 and an instructor since 1990, he resides in Maine.
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