Understanding the experience factor
He had just earned an instrument rating, and he was about to depart on a trip in which he was guaranteed to encounter weather. He'd be flying in the clouds and would have to make an instrument approach, possibly to minimums, at his destination airport. Someone asked if he was nervous about making his first real in-the-soup solo flight, especially in so-called "hard" IFR conditions.
"I just got my rating," he said. "I'm as sharp as I'll ever be."
His answer struck me as part common sense, part bravado. Yes, a pilot should be razor-sharp on procedures just after completing long, intensive training and passing a rigorous checkride. It stands to reason that we should be at the peak of our skills immediately upon receiving a new certificate or rating.
Just like my friend with the fresh instrument rating in his pocket, a newly minted private pilot should be able to tackle a stiff crosswind, unexpected deterioration of weather en route, or a last-second go-around with confidence and ease. After all, the new private pilot has just emerged from months, possibly even years, of training that culminated in a thorough practical test covering all possible scenarios that might come up on a short hop or a long cross-country, right?
Not exactly. Sure, the training has been long, intense, and thorough, and after completing the checkride the new private pilot now possesses the coveted FAA credential. It says that he or she is authorized to and capable of performing all of the skills taught during training and examined on the checkride. But, is that really the case? Are we as sharp as we'll ever be immediately after the checkride?
Again, an argument can be made that the proper answer to the question is yes. As private pilots the only time we will even come close to replicating the training regimen we undergo as a primary student pilot is when studying and training for an instrument rating. After that, we're not likely to ever again spend as many hours with an instructor, and so much time practicing, to develop and master new skills. That's the common-sense part of my friend's outlook.
That said, the claim that a pilot is at his or her sharpest right out of training ignores a vital component in a pilot's toolbox. That component--experience--is the glue that binds all of our training, skills, and knowledge, and enables us to perform at our peak, no matter what comes along. Without experience, skills are not really skills; they are procedures that we've learned to follow.
That's why, when my friend made his brash declaration about flying off into weather, my bravado meter pegged. Though I admired his confidence, I questioned his logic. He may have been able to perform all of the procedures required of an IFR flight in weather, but he had no experience to put it all in context.
The same is true of the new private pilot who is about to take three friends on a 90-minute cross-country to a beach town where they plan to spend the weekend. His preflight planning includes some weight-and-balance calculations, and based on his estimates he asks his friends to bring minimal baggage.
Not surprisingly, when they arrive at the airport two are lugging oversize suitcases that will push the total payload above the maximum allowable. To keep the loaded airplane at or below maximum gross weight, the pilot must ask the passengers to leave some of their gear behind. It's an embarrassing request to have to make, but short of defueling there is no other option. The weekend is off to a bad start.
Once under way, the pilot asks air traffic control for radar advisories, as he typically did during his cross-country training and solo practice. He knows that having a controller monitor his blip on the radar screen is a tremendous supplement to his own see-and-avoid collision-avoidance protection, and he figures it's also cheap insurance for remaining clear of the numerous military operating areas along his route. So, he is confused and more than a little chagrined when the controller responds to his request with a terse, "Unable. Too busy."
Sure, controllers provide radar advisories to VFR traffic on a workload-available basis, but he'd never been denied service before, and he isn't sure how to handle it. Now he's on his own for collision avoidance and circumnavigating special-use airspace. Like engine oil temperature on a hot summer day, the anxiety level in the cockpit rises.
Fortunately, the flight passes without further incident, and approaching the destination field the pilot is feeling more confident. He had studied the airport information the day before and, based on the weather briefing, he assumed he would be landing on the 5,000-foot-long primary runway. However, his requests to unicom for airport advisories are met with silence, despite numerous tries. The lack of response from unicom is another first for the pilot.
He does the correct thing by overflying the airport above pattern altitude to check a wind sock to determine wind direction and the landing runway. As he suspected, the wind is straight down the primary runway--but then he notices an airplane sitting at an odd angle a third of the way down the runway, surrounded by people. Suddenly the unicom frequency crackles with the news that an airplane is temporarily blocking the primary runway, and all traffic must use the secondary crosswind runway.
That runway is short and narrow, and today there is indeed a stiff crosswind. Our intrepid pilot has to make two nervous approaches before bouncing onto the runway for good. It has been a long, stressful day.
Our pilot obviously is current since he just completed his primary training. The fact that he passed the checkride, and was even complimented by the examiner, means he should be proficient as well. He thought he was comfortable, too, but he lacked that one critical ingredient--experience--to complete his preparation for real-world flying, where things don't always go as planned.
With experience he would have known that when planning a cross-country trip with four adults in a light four-seater, it's best to wait to fuel the airplane until you know exactly how much passenger and baggage weight you'll have aboard. He would have anticipated having to navigate and look for traffic without a helping hand from ATC. He would have been prepared for a last-minute change in plans at the destination field.
Think you are totally on top of things as a pilot? If you are current, proficient, and comfortable in the cockpit, you just may be the sharpest tool in the shed. Or, you may be like my friend who was as good at bravado as he was at the basics of instrument flying. If, however, you leaven all of the good stuff you learn in training with some hard-earned experience, you are free to call yourself the ace of the base.
Mark Twombly is a writer and editor who has been flying since 1968. He is a commercial pilot with instrument and multiengine ratings and co-owner of a Piper Aztec.
