By Robert N. Rossier, EAA 472091
This story first appeared in the February 2020 issue of EAA Sport Aviation.
Communication plays a vital role in aviation safety, so it’s no surprise that we focus on communication throughout our aviation careers and training. We learn the proper phraseology and terminology to communicate effectively and efficiently with air traffic control and other aircraft. After a while, communication becomes second nature as we anticipate radio calls, clearances, and other instructions. However, even with the standard phraseology and terminology, we can easily find ourselves in a situation where poor communication paints us into an ugly corner.
We’ve all experienced situations where pilots misreport their position. A pilot reports 5 miles east of the field when they were really 5 miles west (heading east). We scan the sky in an effort to see the conflicting traffic, only to have them pop out the blue in an entirely unexpected location. Other forms of confusion cause pilots to report erroneously, creating confusion in the pattern. Sometimes the miscommunication is just an annoyance, but all too often it creates a serious hazard.
A few years ago, I was flying in a Piper Archer back to my home airport with another pilot on board. Conditions were IFR with a 600-foot ceiling and good visibility below. ATC provided vectors for the localizer approach, and everything was looking fine as we intercepted the final approach course for the LOC 07 approach. With the needles centered and prelanding check complete, it seemed like everything was fine. That’s when ATC asked me to “report established” on the approach. I thought that was strange but also knew that radar coverage was sketchy at lower altitudes, so I wasn’t too concerned. Maybe we had disappeared from the controller’s radar screen, and this was simply an attempt to check in on us. I reported that we were established. In short order, ATC called again to see if I was established, and again I replied with the affirmative. I figured it was either a new controller or my earlier transmission had been stepped on.
Two minutes later, we broke out of the overcast and, to my amazement, we were easily a quarter-mile north of the final approach course. A glance at the localizer needle showed we were dead on course — with no flags to indicate the instrument wasn’t operating correctly. Fortunately, there were no obstacles close by, and I easily maneuvered to the runway for a safe landing. That’s when it struck me why the controller was asking if I was established. Obviously, my navigation receiver was having issues and I had been off course, but the poor communication could have ended up in a fatal situation. The controller could have told me something like, “I show you north of course,” and I, just as clearly, could have asked what was up when I received the odd request. But I had made some assumptions that normalized in my mind the miscommunication that was occurring.
It isn’t just miscommunication with ATC that can foul us up. Several years ago, I was instructing a pilot in a light twin when miscommunication put us in a dicey situation. The aircraft was known for easily accumulating carb ice. This particular day was prime for such conditions. After completing a series of training maneuvers involving simulated engine failures, I was looking out my side window and saw that the right engine was slowing to a stop. Noting that one of the engines was about to quit, I told the pilot, “Looks like we’re losing one.” At the same time, he was peeking out the side of his Foggles and saw that the left engine (referred to as “number one”) was coming to a stop and agreed with my assessment. Of course, we were each referring to different engines, and were both surprised to find ourselves flying in a twin-engine glider a moment later. Fortunately, we had plenty of altitude to perform a restart, but it was disconcerting for a minute as we eyeballed an off-airport landing area and performed the restart procedure.
Had I been more precise with my communication, we might have resolved the problem before losing both engines. I should have said we were “losing the right engine” rather than “losing one” (which, strictly speaking, implied losing the left engine), at which time the pilot would have realized the even greater significance of seeing the left engine winding down to a stop.
Instructors sometimes withhold communication from students intentionally to provide a more vivid learning experience. Most of the time, this works pretty well, but we should never underestimate the power of distraction. One time we were practicing instrument procedures and the student had missed an item on the checklist — switching the fuel selector to the fullest tank. I wanted to see if the student would correct the mistake and made a mental note to recheck the selector position before crossing the final approach fix. Before that happened, business started picking up for ATC, which meant I was busy looking for other traffic and listening for calls while checking on the student’s progress preparing for the upcoming approach. Distracted by the traffic and communications, I completely missed the recheck of the fuel selector.
We were well inside the final approach fix when the engine suddenly sputtered and coughed. The student, immediately aware of the mistake, cursed and muttered under her breath as she reset the fuel selector. Sometimes it can take up to 30 seconds for a restart, which isn’t that long. You can hold your breath for 30 seconds. But 30 seconds can seem like an eternity at low altitude. The engine surged as the fuel reached the cylinders, and we climbed out on a missed approach.
Another mistake we make is anticipating an instruction or clearance that we commonly receive, such as taxi instructions or a clearance for a commonly flown route of flight. We become so accustomed to the routine that we only half listen and don’t really hear. That’s when our flight can go off the rails.
One way we avoid communication problems is to read back or repeat what we thought we heard to ensure the proper message was received. While that generally works well for things like clearances and ATC instructions, it won’t cure all our communication ills. Nobel Prize winner George Bernard Shaw once said, “The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place.” In aviation, it just might be the most dangerous problem in communication. Even when we hear someone, or they hear us, there is no guarantee that the intended message was sent or received. However, if we focus on what we say and what we hear, read back clearances, and do what we can to be explicit, we have a much better chance of avoiding the mayhem than can come with miscommunication.
Robert N. Rossier, EAA 472091, has been flying for more than 30 years and has worked as a flight instructor, commercial pilot, chief pilot, and FAA flight check airman. For more from Robert, read his Stick and Rudder column every month in EAA Sport Aviation.