Flying Life: Come in from the rain

As pilots, we sometimes have a tendency to stand out in the rain. We make ourselves uncomfortable by wasting countless hours worrying over decisions that should be simple. When the weather is not good or something is broken on our aircraft, why do we think twice about still taking the flight—when we know we should just call it off? I’m embarrassed to say that as a new flight instructor, I once found myself debating a takeoff that would exceed aircraft limitations. I had given permission for one of my students to bring his girlfriend along on our next lesson. When they showed up the next day, I knew I had made a mistake. Why hadn’t I asked how much his girlfriend weighed before I told him he could bring her? A quick calculation confirmed that we were over maximum takeoff weight by about 50 pounds.

So what did I do? Simply tell them that we wouldn’t be going? No, because like my silly dog, I had a habit of putting myself in unpleasant situations, spending time deliberating over factors that should have warranted a simple no-go decision. I excused myself and took my weight and balance papers to the back room so I could run them again, perhaps hoping for a different outcome. I have no idea how long I sat there thinking, Will it really make a difference? In the end, I called another flight instructor friend whom I knew to be safety oriented. She told me what I already knew, that I would have to tell my student that we wouldn’t be making the flight after all—that overweight is overweight, even if it’s only by a marginal amount. Looking back now, with the benefit of some wisdom and experience, I wonder what took me so long to come in out of the rain.

Part of the problem is that aviation lends itself to that cowboy culture, where we pride ourselves on pushing boundaries and bravely completing the mission. We’ve all heard hangar tales about pilots taking off extremely overweight or flying between two thunderstorm cells and coming out unscathed. As new pilots, we wonder if there might be a difference between what the book says and the way people actually fly day to day. But given enough time in aviation, you begin to see those stories for what they are: either untrue or examples of reckless decision making. Although it’s now much easier for me to make quick, conservative decisions for my flights, I am always impressed by people who manage to do so when they have very little aviation experience. As an FAA designated pilot examiner, I constantly am impressed by people who clearly see black and white in what could be a gray decision.

For example, I always ask applicants about their personal weather minimums. Sometimes I get a nebulous answer: “Oh, you know, I like a pretty high ceiling and good visibility.” I know right away that I’m speaking to a pilot who is still standing out in the rain. On the other hand, some applicants give hard numbers that they have written down. Those pilots will have no trouble calling off a flight when it exceeds what they have already determined to be personally safe and comfortable.

Another of my applicants discontinued the flight portion of his checkride because the ceiling had fallen below his personal minimums. I told him to call me if the weather improved. “I won’t be calling today,” he said. “Once I make a decision to cancel a flight, I never go back on it.” How many of us have canceled a flight only to constantly check the weather throughout the day, second-guessing ourselves, despite the fact that the TAF shows no reason to expect better weather?

An instrument applicant was explaining how he chooses an alternate airport for his flight plans. He told me he always picks an alternate where he wouldn’t mind spending some time; i.e., friends or family live there, or there’s a great restaurant. That way if weather starts to deteriorate, he won’t try to talk himself into continuing to the original destination.

I love meeting pilots who have successfully managed to make aviation decision-making a little easier for themselves. They’ve learned a lesson that many pilots are still struggling with—that erring on the side of caution is a nice place to be. Instead of sitting in the uncomfortable limbo of indecision, let’s just come on inside where it’s dry and safe. AOPA

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