An interface has at least two elements. On one side it's seeing the command system (the brain), while on the other it's seeing the hardware; its job is to translate needs identified by the brain into physical inputs that control the hardware. Most of the time, when flying, we spend time looking at the interface between the hands and the hardware, and we sometimes forget that it's the interface with the brain that really counts. That's where the commands originate. If we don't have control over what we're thinking, we don't have control over what our hands are doing. Sometimes this displays itself as phantom hand movements. These are movements that are unconscious, involuntary, or both, but in any event they are definitely unwanted.
Almost every flight instructor can tell tales of students who, for no apparent reason, would suddenly pull, push, or stomp. When asked, the students almost never know that they had done something for no particular reason. Even those who do remember moving their hands or feet can't say why they did it.
These uncommanded motions generally fall into several categories like the ones listed below:
Habitual movements. The pilot develops a habit of moving his hands and feet, and it is totally unconscious. A common movement is a gentle figure-eight motion with the stick or yoke, as if he is stirring coffee. Another is continually applying gentle pressure to one rudder so the ball is slightly off-center. Others include dragging outside aileron in turns, which is often coupled with inside rudder to keep the turn going; hunting up and down with the nose; etc. As with all habits, these kinds of movement patterns are difficult to break.
Nervous energy. Flying is a high-stress activity. Even if you're a high-time pilot, flying puts your systems into high gear, and this generates a higher-than-normal level of energy--which can result in aberrant hand and foot movements with no cause-and-effect relationship.
Delayed overreaction. Everyone's brain is wired differently, and some seem as if they store up the energy to act then release it all at once: They'll think about it, then think some more; then, when they finally do act, it's sometimes an overreaction that provides much more movement than was actually needed.
Pokes and jabs. This is a form of delayed overreaction: The eyes aren't seeing exactly what's happening, so the brain is getting the information late. By the time the information is processed and a corrective action is signaled to the hands, it's a hair too late. In an apparent effort to catch up, the pilot is abrupt in his actions. An unfortunate byproduct is that after the pilot has enough experience flying that he has caught up with the airplane, he has been poking and jabbing for so long that it feels "right" because he doesn't know any better. It has become another hard-to-break habit.
So, if the foregoing is how not to do it, what is the correct way? In other words, how should our hands be flying the airplane, assuming our brains have actually caught up with it?
The obvious goal is to be a syrupy-smooth pilot who appears to always have the airplane under control. That's often easier said than done. However, if the act of digitally interfacing with the airplane (flying it) is broken down into some basic components, each with its own goal, it can be seen that the only reason we're not all super pilots is because we don't really know what components are required to thrust us into the "above average" category.
On being smooth
We all know a smooth pilot when we fly with one: The airplane seems to flow from position to position. It is as if he has formed a partnership with it, and the two of them are working together to accomplish something magical. So, how do they do that?
The answer includes everything from anticipating the airplane's next move to sensing through the seat of your pants what the airplane is doing the instant it moves. Even so, being a smooth pilot is based on the manner in which corrections are made, when they are made, and how the pilot views control inputs.
These superior pilots see flying differently than the rest of us do. Their brains are working faster, and their visual acuity is much sharper. To them, the airplane is not only moving more slowly, but they are seeing every change, motion, and nuance--most of which are invisible to the rest of us.
Essentially, they mentally slow everything down, including the motion of their own hands, and they have visually enlarged everything as if they are working at the pixel level. Because they detect changes and movement before the rest of us do, they make small changes before something becomes a perceptible mistake.
By making small control inputs, we will seldom make the airplane go through the intended position. The goal is to never have to correct the corrections, and we do that by making our control movements nothing more than changes in control pressures. The final result is a pilot who appears to be unbelievably smooth.
If you are aware of your desire to make small control movements, then you'll be better connected to your hands and feet and won't have random, uncommanded movements.
Timing of corrections
A central ingredient in being smooth is correcting something the instant it's perceived to be wrong. This may also be a contributing factor to seemingly random hand/feet movements.
The "oh-oh" syndrome of being just a bit late making a correction--then rushing to catch up--may be at the root of the jerky movements some pilots habitually make ("Oh-oh!" followed by a yank or push). As a rule, this is the result of several other factors that could be improved:
- Nose attitude awareness
- Airspeed/altitude precision and cross-check
- Not planning ahead
- Spatial orientation to runway and other traffic
Ignoring any of the foregoing can lead to the sudden realization that the airplane isn't where we want it to be, and an abrupt correction quickly follows. The sooner a mistake is noticed and corrected, the smaller and smoother the correction input can be.
Extraneous motions
One of the most common forms of phantom movements is driven by an urge to feel as if you're actually doing something to earn your keep as a pilot. To some, it seems unnatural to let the airplane go undisturbed even if it's happily flying straight ahead of its own accord--and the urge to move something becomes irresistible. By the way, this is especially noticeable when the airplane is over the runway, floating along in its sweet spot in ground effect, ready to land. It's just sitting there, stable as can be; yet some pilots can't fight the urge to pull or push the yoke.
Self-evaluation
It's nearly impossible to see ourselves as others do, which is why getting some flight instruction from time to time is a good idea. That's what flight reviews are all about. However, it's seldom that a flight review is aimed at the kinds of nuances that we've been discussing. The flight review is generally a checkup to see if you're still within safe limits, whereas phantom movements of your hands and feet are irritating and unnecessary, but not dangerous.
A flight review shouldn't be the only time when you get flight instruction. In fact, it might be fun to schedule some flight time and tell the instructor exactly what you want checked. In this case you say, "Make sure that when I'm moving my hands it's actually needed. Look to see if I have any erratic movements of which I'm unaware." Generally, unless you request it, you're not likely to get this kind of input from an instructor.
Many reading this will say, "Hey! None of this applies to me!" And it may not, but go back and read the part that says most of these movements are unconscious. Then ask yourself whether you're absolutely positive none of this fits. That's a tough question to answer, so go book some dual instruction.
Budd Davisson is an aviation writer/photographer and magazine editor who has written approximately 2,200 articles and has flown more than 300 different types of aircraft. A CFI since 1967, he teaches about 30 hours a month in his Pitts S-2A Special. Visit his Web site.
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