Seeing a CommuteAir Embraer EMB–145 sitting in the crushable concrete at the end of the runway in Roanoke, Virginia, last September was alarming enough, but hearing later that the first officer twice called for a go-around was downright shocking.
We have a go-around problem in aviation. We’re not only bad at knowing when to go around, but we’re also generally terrible at executing them. From highly trained airline crews to the newest general aviation pilot, we are bad at what is fundamentally an easy and uncomplicated maneuver. After all, we’re doing nothing other than transitioning from a descent to a climb. But the how, when, and why seem to confuse pilots enough that even the professionals among us end up with the airplane’s gear embarrassingly sunk into the engineered material arresting system (EMAS).
The decision to go around should be easy. What could be wrong with flying for another five minutes and a nice trip around the pattern? After being high on approach and crossing the threshold high, the first officer on the CommuteAir flight called for a go-around, and then did it again when the airplane was halfway down the runway. The captain inexplicably ignored the first officer’s prompts, a gross crew resource management failure, and touched down too far down the runway to stop, even with full reverser and maximum braking.
Airline crews have time pressures, but in general aviation a little bit more flying is usually a good thing. So why don’t we decide to go around more often? GA pilots have an average of 21 accidents during go-arounds each year, four of which are fatal.
A key part of the accident chain theory says that breaking the chain is progressively more difficult the farther along the links we are. This is why giving yourself a Plan B early is more effective than trying to fight your way out of a bad situation. In the case of this RJ overrun, the links began after a long-delayed departure due to mechanical issues. Airline pilots may not have the ability to opt out and break the chain quite that early, but we have that option in GA. Even if you have a wonderful flight but a poor approach, every additional foot above the ground you decide to discontinue the approach gives you more options and a smoother, safer go-around.
Why most of us decide to wait so long to initiate a go-around is a psychological problem I’m unqualified to answer. Pilots are generally mission-oriented, and a go-around could be seen as admitting failure or an acknowledgement of poor airmanship. Often in training, we are taught to “save” approaches, and we’re given the techniques to do so. This is normalization of deviance, where poor technique is regularly negatively reinforced with successful landings, which certainly doesn’t help our thinking. While it may be tedious, we’d all be better served executing missed approaches if we didn’t meet stabilized approach criteria by a certain altitude—something like airspeed plus or minus 5 knots, within one light on the PAPI, and properly configured by 500 feet above the ground. (See “You Know It When You See It,” p. 96, for a more thorough discussion of stabilized approaches.) Many commercial operations use criteria like this.
Let’s say you’ve made the good decision to go around. Now you need to properly execute the maneuver. Here, too, we all need some remedial training. According to the AOPA Air Safety Institute, takeoff, climb, and go-around comprised the phase of flight with the most fatal loss-of-control accidents during flight training in the period between 2000 and 2019.
The first step is to slow down. Ask a flight instructor and they’re likely to tell you that the biggest mistake pilots make when executing a go-around is that they rush. Many pilots immediately begin throwing power, flaps, and gear without much thought or a plan. I’d argue the go-around should be a slow, deliberate maneuver similar to leveling out at cruise, because that’s basically what we’re doing.
If you are flying at a public-use airport, you probably have a long time before terrain becomes an issue. That means you can worry about climbing later. Runway safety areas call for thousands of feet of clear or gently sloping terrain on the approach path to most runways. Even if you decide to go around halfway down the runway, you are already at least a few feet above the ground at flying speed. You have time to transition the aircraft into a climb attitude.
Therefore, the first thing you should do is simply stop descending. Add enough power to stop the descent and gently level the flight attitude. After you are stabilized, slowly add full power and begin a shallow climb. Now, after stabilizing again, begin your configuration changes. Retract only a portion of the flaps first. Take your time, glance at the indicator, and be sure that you haven’t dumped all the flaps at once. That’s a very unstable position that requires superior skill to overcome.
Once again, after you are stabilized, continue a more standard climb at VY and continue any configuration changes. In most retractable-gear aircraft, the sequence is flaps up one notch, gear up, and then flaps up. In a fixed-gear aircraft, it’s usually one notch of flaps at a time. You’ve probably practiced this with stall recoveries. In a Cessna 172, a good technique is to retract one notch of flaps first, then a second when at VY, then the last when at a safe altitude. Be ready to make unusual control inputs to achieve the attitude you want. A 172 with a lot of nose-up trim may even require that you push with full power. It’s one reason to go slowly and deliberately. If you were to slam in the power in the landing configuration and not be ready to push on the yoke, the airplane could easily enter a power-on stall. Slow and deliberate attitude and configuration changes avoid that.
Whatever the timing and method of configuration changes, do them slowly and only after you have stabilized in a shallow climb. It’s important to remember that, assuming conditions allow it, this is a visual maneuver. Verify your level and then climb attitudes by looking outside. Look inside only while doing configuration changes.
Although we’d love every go-around to be at a sleepy airport with no one around, there are often outside pressures. Do your best to ignore them, at least initially. Stop the descent and initiate a slow climb first. Only after you’ve retrimmed and taken out that first notch of flaps should you sidestep the runway for traffic, worry about ATC calls, and so on.
For being nothing more than leveling off and climbing again, go-arounds are surprisingly risky segments of the flight. Work to create stabilized approach criteria, practice the maneuver often, and slow that anxious response.