The student pilot had his hands full as he struggled to keep the trainer pointed down the runway in a brisk crosswind. “Follow me through on this,” he implored his instructor. This was the same student who, a few minutes earlier, had poked good-natured fun at the instructor for coming on the controls a little too soon—in the student’s opinion—to soften a bouncy landing.
Sometimes we want a little help. Sometimes we don’t.
There’s a pact between a student pilot and a flight instructor. The instructor commits to provide a safe environment in which the student can learn, and to provide worthwhile lessons. The student commits to make a full effort to learn, and to be a participating partner in the safe conduct of each flight.
There are shared risks, but responsibilities are mostly assumed by the instructor—as they should be. It is the CFI’s experience that keeps dual instructional flights safe while the student practices, occasionally making mistakes. It is the CFI’s judgment that keeps student solo flights safe, because that judgment includes an evaluation of the student’s ability to handle challenges that might arise.
When something does go wrong on a training flight, a causal factor often tacked onto the particulars is a judgment of whether the instructor’s decision to intercede was timely. “Delayed remedial action,” as it often appears in accident summaries, carries the ring of a verdict rendered in hindsight. It’s safe to state that most aviators can think back to a time in their training when a learning moment was only a split second away from becoming a mishap, prevented only by a skilled instructor.
CFIs walk that fine line every flight. The good ones know that an instructor who never lets a student get anywhere close to getting into trouble is lowering risk at the expense of the student’s learning. They also understand that the lack of confidence that such overprotectiveness signals may end up being the greater danger in the long run.
It’s doctrine that one way to improve the learning experience and boost safety on dual flights is to have a well-planned routine for a positive transfer of control. Getting used to the verbal and sight cues for taking and yielding control for the demonstration and practice of maneuvers is a familiar element of flight training.
What about when trouble arises? In an instant, calm is replaced by chaos. That’s a likely time for communications in the cockpit to break down, or for a student to freeze up or become so fixated on difficulties that he or she loses all awareness of the other cockpit occupant.
On October 17, 2010, a student pilot, in the rear seat, and an instructor were flying an experimental light sport weight-shift control airplane in Rising Fawn, Georgia, when things went wrong on takeoff. “According to the CFI, the aircraft lifted off the runway and began to drift to the left toward an airport windsock. He told the student pilot that he was assuming control and attempted to correct the flight path and climb, but the student pilot remained frozen on the controls,” said the National Transportation Safety Board. “The aircraft pitched up rapidly, stalled, and impacted the ground left wing first.”
The report added that “the student pilot stated that he remained on the controls during the entire accident sequence and he was not aware that the CFI was attempting to assume control of the aircraft.” The NTSB assigned as the probable accident cause “the student pilot’s failure to relinquish control of the weight-shift control aircraft to the certified flight instructor, which resulted in an inadvertent stall.”
A weight-shift airplane experiencing a bounced landing gave a pilot undergoing instruction the opportunity to execute a real-world go-around in Grasonville, Maryland, on October 10, 2010. But an error committed during the abort could not be corrected in time.
“According to the certificated flight instructor, he was giving instruction to another pilot who was not rated in special light sport weight-shift airplanes. During touchdown, the airplane bounced and the CFI instructed the pilot undergoing instruction (PUI) to perform a go-around. The PUI pushed the control bar and the airplane stalled.” The airplane rolled to the left “and the left wing tip contacted the ground, resulting in the airplane tumbling in a cartwheel-type movement,” reported the NTSB. The two pilots were not injured.
“The CFI stated that the PUI was seated in the rear seat and therefore had more leverage than his controls,” the report said. The NTSB found the probable causes of the accident to be “the pilot’s improper recovery from a bounced landing and the certificated flight instructor’s inadequate remedial action, which resulted in an aerodynamic stall during a go-around.”
Sometimes when trouble develops on a training flight, there isn’t time for traditional announcements that control has been taken back, but an accident on October 23, 2010, in Cambridge, Maryland, in a Piper PA-28R-200 refutes the notion that actions speak louder than words.
“According to the certificated flight instructor, the purpose of the flight was for him to give instruction to the commercial pilot, who was working toward his flight instructor certificate. At the destination airport, the CFI demonstrated a power-off 180-degree approach to landing. The commercial pilot successfully demonstrated four of the same approaches and began the fifth approach. During the landing, the commercial pilot misjudged the landing flare, which resulted in a firm touchdown. The CFI attempted to maneuver the airplane in a nose-high configuration, but was unable to apply enough back-pressure to prevent a firm touchdown, due to the force being applied by the commercial pilot.”
After touchdown, the instructor performed a go-around and flew the Piper back to the home airport where examination “revealed substantial damage to the outboard and inboard ribs” of the airplane. The NTSB determined the probable causes of the accident as “the commercial pilot’s inadequate flare
during landing and the certificated flight instructor’s delayed remedial action, which resulted in a hard landing.”
If reflecting on these cases and others like them moves you to examine your own reactions to tense moments during “dual” flights, they will have produced some unexpected good.
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