Unusual attitude

Any pilot who descends below published minimums on an instrument approach, flies an airplane over its maximum gross weight, or scud runs in less than visual conditions can usually cite examples of CFIs doing exactly the same things and getting away with them.

I remember taking a multi-day mountain flying course in which much of the curriculum was devoted to selecting routes that followed landable terrain; crossing ridges at 45-degree angles; and approaching mountains with sufficient altitude, caution, and lower terrain over which to turn away. Then, at the conclusion of the course, the instructor—a highly experienced mountain flier—went home GPS direct with barely enough altitude to clear the ridgelines. I could scarcely imagine a more perfect illustration of, “Do as I say, not as I do.”

CFIs do a credible job of teaching the skills necessary for their students to pass checkrides, but our real-world actions speak louder than our dry rule recitations. I confess to having unclean hands here, too. I once flew a friend’s airplane to retrieve him and his family from a distant location. When I got there, I filled the fuel tanks in preparation for our long flight home, and then my heart sank when he showed up with more people (and bags) than I had been told were coming. The trip home started out well over the airplane’s published maximum gross weight, and I knew it and flew the trip anyway. If the weight of my shame and regret had been figured into my calculations, the airplane never would have gotten off the ground.

Pilots are expert rationalizers. Cloud separation requirements are less meaningful now that so many airplanes are equipped with ADS-B traffic systems; federal airways cover the majority of both coasts, so legal aerobatic airspace is virtually impossible to find; ferry pilots are typically permitted to fly 10 percent or more above max gross weight at the stroke of a pen; and GPS-based synthetic vision is good enough to keep pilots clear of terrain and obstacles (and even make zero-zero landings) in a pinch.

So, what’s the right answer to the question of proper CFI behavior? Do we strictly observe all regulations at all times? Do we only follow the regulations we agree with? Do we use situational ethics that consider context and intention for all our aeronautical choices? Or do we hide our questionable conduct and, if questioned, deny, deny, deny?

Personally, my north star is WWWD.

Wally Moran is a veteran aviator, instructor, glider pilot, and former airline chief pilot, and he’s a regular participant in roundtable discussions at PilotWorkshops, an online pilot education firm and AOPA Premier Partner. Moran is calm, thoughtful, and experienced, and his well-reasoned method for solving pilot conundrums centers on overall risk mitigation: Think things through, leave yourself an out, and do your best to reduce the inherent risks that are part of flying. That may mean making hard or inconvenient choices such as going out of the way to avoid adverse weather or spending the night at a hotel rather than getting home.

I don’t always agree with Moran, and sometimes his choices strike me as overly conservative. I recently found myself on the opposite side of an argument about the wisdom of flying directly across Lake Michigan in a single-engine airplane. (I was for it. He was against it.) But Moran’s reasoning—that the consequences of a forced ditching so far outweigh the benefits of a direct route—was consistent with his overarching risk-mitigation strategy.

Airline pilots darkly joke that, in evaluating aeronautical decisions, “Start at the NTSB hearing and work backwards.” That’s not a perfect fit for general aviation where pilots have far more leeway to make choices and fewer resources to guide them, but the idea of having your decisions and motivations questioned after the fact, and being judged on their merit, is solid.

When I’m confronted with an ambiguous choice, I ask, What would Wally do?, and hear Wally’s soothing Minnesotan voice in my head. We all have aviators we respect and admire, and we can call upon their decision-making strategies to guide us. I may not always like or even follow the WWWD answer—but I know I need a compelling reason if I choose to ignore it.

Ultimately, no pilot's decisions are infallible. But they should be logically consistent, explainable, and in harmony with the things we teach as instructors. FT