Imagine, when you left your desk last night, that you covered your trusty Royal manual typewriter, and when you arrive at your desk this morning, it's gone. In its place sits a computer with an operating manual on top. Stunned, you ask your boss what this “thing” is doing on your desk. You know what it is, you have heard of PCs, seen pictures in magazines, but you have no idea how to use it—or even how to turn it on. Your boss says, “Don’t worry, I’ll show you how to use this. It will reduce your workload big time.”
My transition to a glass cockpit, and the nested intricacies of a complex flight management system (FMS), was like that. I began with the expectation that the ultimate goal of such technology was to reduce pilot workload. But what we see and what our expectations are may be different than what we ultimately experience.
You must be willing to shift your paradigm from that of perceived capabilities (reduced pilot workload) to an understanding of learning what you don’t know. This requires many hours exploring and experiencing these systems. It is neither cheap nor straightforward. More than two years, many hours in actual IFR, and many approaches later, I am still sometimes surprised by the behavior of these systems. I’m not convinced pilot work has been reduced—only redirected.
My transition was to the Cessna 172SP with a Garmin G1000 glass cockpit. Garmin, using miniaturized electronics and technologies developed for airliners and business jets, has very nicely packaged redundant GPS receivers, powerful radios, capable autopilots, collision avoidance, terrain awareness, and even XM radio with Nexrad weather radar and lightning datalink. Onboard databases are filled with every type of waypoint information imaginable about airports, intersections, VORs, airways, departure/arrival procedures, and instrument approaches. A pilot can even program the airplane’s descent profile. Press the right buttons, I am told, and the autopilot will do all the work except manage the throttle and talk on the radio.
The phrase “transition to glass” understates the magnitude of the task. It is not the “glass” you’re learning, but what lies beneath it: the flight management system, often coupled with a sophisticated autopilot. You need to learn the art of finding the information to complete the tasks you must perform in flight, and get it right the first time. This is not a skill learned quickly and I found, during the transition, that using the autopilot—which has a mind of its own—does not make it any easier.
The transition to glass is an intellectual process. First, you must acknowledge that these systems are overflowing with capability—much of it superfluous and none of it required to maintain control of the airplane, which is always a pilot’s first job. Second, most of this capability is hidden from view, buried in submenus. To get the most utility from these systems, you must learn the correct sequence of knob-turning and button-pushing. In the Cessna 172 with G1000, not only is there more than one way to perform a task, but performing certain tasks differs depending on which display you choose.
The manuals are nearly useless: They were not written by pilots for pilots, but by engineers and developers under the watchful eye of the manufacturer’s attorneys. My friend William Langewiesche, a flight instructor and noted author, said it best. “In principle a pilot with sufficient time and patience can figure it all out in advance, but such pilots are rare.”
So how did I completely transition to glass? One mistake at a time. What worked best for me was scenario-based training (SBT). The industry move to SBT has its greatest value when it comes to integrating the power of glass with the mission.
First, use a simulator. Garmin has a PC-based G1000 simulator that isn’t free, but worth every penny, especially when compared to learning in the airplane. Simulation allows you to get the airplane moving and is a great time to become friends with your autopilot as well. Proficiency on the PC-based simulator will take a bit of time, and it helps if your CFI has experience with it.
Next, pick a scenario. Are you VFR or IFR? If you are new to glass, understand that what lies beneath is an IFR-capable system. From the get-go, these systems were designed to serve the IFR community. But on the simulator, start VFR with a long cross-country. Learn to program pilot preferences. There are many variations of what is displayed on the primary and multifunction displays. What is most important to you should be easy to see without much knob turning.
Take advantage of the power of the system. Direct-to navigation is great but, with all due respect, you will figure that out in 10 seconds. Moreover, direct-to navigation can put you in harm’s way. Consider that direct-to can fly you right into a mountain on a night flight from Sacramento, California, to Reno, Nevada. Or, from Frederick, Maryland, to Virginia Beach, Virginia, direct-to can fly you right over restricted airspace in Washington, D.C. Put in a flight plan that uses Victor airways. Make sure there are doglegs that change heading, requiring altitude changes. If you are using an autopilot, learn to use the Vertical Speed, Flight Level Control, and Vertical NAV functions with Along Track Offset to program altitude changes and the start of your descent.
Engine management pages deserve a review. Although not as interactive as FMS functions, your CFI can explain the basics of fuel management, engine systems, and leaning. Weather is still an issue on long trips, so learn to use and understand the weather functions. Beside Nexrad, there are menus full of weather products that can do everything from draw surface maps on the MFD to bringing up METARs at stations along your route.
Finally, just about everything you need to know about your destination airport is a knob turn away, including frequencies, airport diagram, runways information, lighting, and approaches. Play with these pages so you will feel comfortable in the airplane. Having done that, take it to the airplane and let the learning begin.
If you are instrument-rated. IFR pilots should become proficient and current before delving into the glass procedures. Procedures associated with departure and destinations are brought into play by pressing the PROC button and it is a 100-percent IFR button. If you are new to GPS approaches, there are many good sources that explain the new terminology—WAAS precision and accuracy, LNAV, LNAV/VNAV, LPV, and traps associated with procedures in the GPS-capable world.
Pay special attention to the differences between loading and activating approaches. The nuances are many and varied. Make your simulator pay for itself by developing a system using procedures that you know will work every time. Your friends may tell you they know a better way. Your CFII may say you’re adding unnecessary steps. Experts will have their own opinions. Regardless, if you know it will work every time and you trust it, take it to the airplane.
To get there, you must run through all the various loading scenarios and approach clearances you can think of. Again, once you’re comfortable with the simulator, get a CFII to work with you, giving clearances and vectors to all the destinations you are likely to travel to. Simulators do a reasonable job of demonstrating what the ‘glass’ looks like when there are failures. Try to get as much fumbling around done on the simulator as possible so you don’t have to fumble around once airborne.
Once you are flying, start in visual conditions and skip the hood. It is more beneficial to see what is happening and relate it to the IFR environment than enjoying the PFD through a view-limiting device. Your lesson is not attitude instrument flying but integrating the capabilities of a glass cockpit to your IFR skill set.
transition to glass. Is my transition complete? I’ve shifted paradigms, put in the time, had my epiphanies, and reached a level of proficiency that breeds confidence. I’m comfortable, yet wary, using the systems in IFR. Having said that, I’ve seen enough to know I have not seen it all.
First, I’ve come to terms with the logic applied to using these systems, and it is not the logic of pilots. Many selectable approaches are labeled “Not Approved for GPS.” That is a scary label in an airplane in which much of the data displayed relies on GPS. This label fails to clearly state its purpose, which is that the approach uses some other form of electronic guidance—and it is the pilot’s job to make sure navigation sources switch at the appropriate time. How does that logic reduce workload for the pilot? I have flown with students fresh from Cessna’s training who did not understand the system behavior associated with this important warning.
Second, the software is upgraded periodically. This is not my PC, cell phone, or even my car. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with manufacturers messing with what I know works. Third, my duty as an instructor is to coherently explain how to use these systems. I will always be learning how to do that well.
Finally, almost none of this makes any difference at all in VFR, and I wish that the industry would put less emphasis there for primary students. Indeed, my observation is this: Many pilots trained in glass from the first lesson are not more adept with these amazing onboard systems. In fact, I would call them co-dependent. Getting them to put their finger on the map and look out the window is not a trivial task. They have missed the point, which is to enjoy the view; glass cockpit not required.
My transition is a work in progress, and these days the work feels more like playing with a new toy than transitioning. Like bonding with your new computer, you embrace the challenge of learning the modern cockpit and remember nostalgically, if only now and then, your trusty Royal.
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