Prioritizing what comes next when we fly is at the core of what it means to master flight. We start to learn that from day one in our flight lessons when the instructor sits mute next to the student and observes what their next action is or is not going to be. They are looking at where the student is going, what their thought process is, is their judgment sound? This can be anything from a simple scan before takeoff for traffic, to keeping an eye on the weather at their destination, and moreover, what to do about it before it drops too low to conduct an approach. Do I divert to my alternate now or do I have enough time to hold and see if the front will pass by the time I arrive? There are decisions to make and there is an order or a prioritization involved in making them. I have seen both sides of the story where some pilots master this and others never will. I suppose that’s par for the course, although I sometimes wonder, is it possible to teach this? Some instructors say it is — yet I tend to believe that the best teacher is often what we call “experience” where the close calls drive the lesson home that if you do have too much idle time on your hands in the cockpit, chances are you could be doing more to decide what your next action(s) should be.

A lot of books have been written by or about great aviators where they recount what their next actions were in the saddle. One that immediately comes to mind, for me, is Dick Rutan, who called his biography The Next Five Minutes. It inspired this article. I recall, that overall, his book’s title referred to both what was next on his plate (in terms of his life, how it unfolded) and what was next in the cockpit. I thought it was a great read and if you’ve ever met him in person, you’ll likely agree that his lectures absolutely command an audience. I have seen him twice, once in person in front of the EAA Aviation Museum’s tribute to Voyager and also with his brother Burt, up on stage at the Theater in the Woods at the annual pilgrimage. Through his book, and seeing him on stage, I was impressed with his focus on what was next, both in his lifetime and with the Voyager aircraft which made it around the world on a single tank of gas!

Some Examples

Books aside, “what’s next?” is a great metaphor to use when teaching flying, particularly when on instruments. When you’re under the hood (or on actual instruments) and focused on the panel conducting your scan, you also have to think ahead enough to prepare for the next phase of flight. It’ll allow you to stay ahead of the airplane. This can be any number of things, like airspace considerations, radio frequencies, engine management, forecasted weather, in-flight planning, etc. Entering a hold is a good example of the training required to do multiple things and think ahead, asking yourself “what’s next ?” and understanding what the big picture is and where you are in the puzzle, right now. Going into the hold you’ll recite the 5 T’s “Time, Turn, Throttle, Twist, Talk” to cover your immediate actions entering it and which type of entry it’ll be — direct, offset, or parallel. Once all that is done, you can next think about getting that update on the weather and/or formulating a time in your head when you should decide about blasting to your alternate before you run out of fuel. The point where you’ve reached “BINGO” fuel is where you’ve laid down in solid terms that it’s time to get out of there and find a better airport. If you aren’t thinking about that, you’ll be caught with your pants down.

Phrases and Flow Patterns

One of the techniques for answering the “what’s next?” question in the cockpit is the use of short phrases and catch words. The phrases are a kind of a song, more of a rhyme, which help you remember what you’re supposed to do. Some pilots make up their own rhymes. I vividly recall one from training on my first jet, the Boeing 757. In a go-around on that airplane, things really happen fast. During my initial course the instructor rammed home the importance of just calling out the actions and reading your PFD (primary flight display) for each change in flight mode that your fingers commanded. My simulator partner and I practiced all night before the ride the next morning, just calling out the commands in a challenge and response way, so that we weren’t behind the airplane. The earlier sessions were a bit sloppy because we hadn’t yet realized their importance. The all-nighter paid off. We’d simulate shoving the thrust levers forward, rotate to a positive climb angle, and simultaneously loudly call out, “Climb thrust, speed, bug up!” We rehearsed the play. These are all recited quickly so the partner doesn’t have time to think and just “do” what the flying pilot commands — and if the autopilot is engaged, they are called out anyway, because “singing the song” takes the thought out of what to do next. It also keeps the other guy in the loop. Memorized flow patterns for lineup, after takeoff, cruise, pre-descent, approach, and landing checks make your hands walk the list so that it’s instinctive after a while and you don’t have to think about it — the checklist acting as the cross check when you’ve finished the flow. This is everywhere in a cockpit and it’s there for a reason, because you don’t have the time to search for your next action, you just have to know it.

Instrument Flying

The same can be said for a transition from VFR to IFR flying and I am not sure if this is taught well enough for the PPL which, to my understanding, is there to get students out of a tough situation when they inadvertently enter cloud. They are given 10 additional hours of training to properly manage flight in a small aircraft equipped with an instrument panel to stay upright. This requires some climbs, turns, descents, and the like to become proficient with the scan. The student however is keenly aware of these “hood” flights, knowing, before the lesson, that this is what the day’s lesson is — much like a student is also given a heads-up to their spin training, etc.

Therefore, the student is mentally prepared for the event. Like the spin, it should be practiced for inadvertent entry, say during a base turn or when a rapid maneuver exceeds the angle of attack of the wing, past the stall, and snaps the aircraft into a spin. One particular accident comes to mind where a licensed pilot a few years ago flew into instrument conditions at night and lost their orientation and crashed. Technically, their previous hours for their PPL should have helped them. They were completing their night cross-country flight(s) (two aircraft were following one another) where one airplane managed to get out of IMC (losing control but recovering) and the other lost control until impact. My take* (see notes below) on the accident is that the transition to instrument flight probably wasn’t practiced enough from VFR to instruments — where you need to be “ready for it”, especially at night, because when you suddenly find yourself in cloud, there is a great startle factor to overcome — to prioritize what your next actions are; namely keep the blue side up and the brown side down until you can calmly figure out what’s next.

Of course it’s easy to read a report after the fact and come to your own judgment(s). It’s hard to know all the “what if’s” and even harder to train for them if it isn’t in a curriculum. I recently added it to a friend’s training and I think it helped him to get out of a similar dicey situation. Another Class 1 instructor friend of mine also said that he does the same with his students — demonstrating the crossover from nice VFR to in cloud. The experts say that it takes as little as 60 seconds to lose straight-and-level flight. It’s quick but it feels like 10 minutes. The startle factor is evident. You briefly go into shock and it’s difficult to get out of it. One side says to keep going while the other says let’s get the heck out of here! The latter is sound advice. I’d go a step further and suggest that once you are flying visually that you maintain it and not let any seconds slip by. I would add, if your visual contact with the ground isn’t obtained quickly (don’t lose it to begin with!), only then revert to the instruments and change the plan. Make a decision and don’t hop back and forth. Preferably, stay visual. If you do take up the instruments, stay on them at all costs! Get some altitude, which equals time. Know your limits. Have you really practiced this under real conditions? Do you grasp the bigger picture? Do you know what’s next?

The report also does a good job of highlighting the importance of planning for the unplanned and that this happens on the ground, before you step into the airplane. It is often overlooked especially when there’s a time constraint. We often have other things to do in a day and we try to squeeze the flying in there all the same. I often say that a visit to the airport does not have a time stamped on the return ticket and that if there is a schedule to absolutely maintain at all costs — then, guess what, going out there probably shouldn’t be contemplated. That’s another reason why we should all be on airparks where the commute time is zero or there’s at least a sofa in the hangar if you are too tired to head home.

Another similar crash comes to mind from my early days, where, in the late fall, towards sunset, an early model 1960 Cessna 172 with the then newly introduced swept tail, failed to properly spin up its Venturi vacuum system (you know, the airplanes without a vacuum pump and the great big horn sticking outside in the slipstream). I was all set to take off in my homebuilt in a hurry as a dark and ominous fog bank was quickly coming in from the west, across the river and it didn’t look like it was flyable — or at least, if I got off soon enough, I’d still make it home because my flight was in the opposite direction and it was clear where I was going, to the east. I took off to the north and immediately turned right 90 degrees. Shortly thereafter, the Cessna did the same (minus the turn, it entered the fog bank) — except my best guess is that it never ran up its engine for a long period prior to setting its directional gyro with the runway’s heading. Once in the air, the pilot must have been unfamiliar with this airplane’s DG, as it was equipped with a very outdated, horizontal compass card model, requiring you to turn opposite to the indicated numbers on the gyro; deciphering between your current heading and where you wanted to go vs. physically looking at the dial. Once you were accustomed to that type of instrument, it was relatively easy, but if you were used to a vertical compass card, it would be difficult.

The vertical compass card is the best of the three, visually presenting the aircraft in the center of the instrument showing what its course is and what the pilot needs to do to alter it one way or another. Its presentation has been adapted to the primary flight displays of today’s modern aircraft.

All the same, I think the Cessna pilot’s gyro wasn’t properly spun up, so when he entered the fog, the DG wasn’t spinning fast enough to register a turn and he subsequently impacted the ground at 200-plus mph. It was tragic to learn, the next day, that this airplane which departed after I did, dug a huge crater into the surrounding farm land and that it probably could have been prevented if the pilot had just said, “enough is enough”, and gave up the thought of returning home with his newly purchased airplane that day. As it was, I had just narrowly missed the same fog bank and only had a minute or two ahead of this fellow to get out of there. It was only when I put two and two together the next day (when I learned of the accident) that I concluded he wasn’t familiar with that kind of instrument, and he also didn’t give the gyro ample time to spin up prior to take-off. In these aircraft, without sufficient airflow (power, with the brakes on) it won’t come up to speed — and now that I think about it again — he probably wasn’t even in a position to do that either because the grass was wet and there wasn’t any pavement around to prevent the airplane from sliding. Once he did make it into the air, ATC was able to identify him (for a few precious moments), but even with vectors he didn’t manage to recover from the spiral dive that ensued. In fact, the vectors probably only confused him further, adding to an already dire situation.

Summary

Generally, it’s a good idea to ask yourself “what’s next?” all the time. Once it’s a habit, it’ll become second nature. Understanding “what comes next” and having the wherewithal to get yourself out of a tough spot is grasping the “big picture.” Unfortunately, some people never get it. It’s not to say that it can’t be acquired. Like anything, with time and practice you can learn it, but it’s just as hard to pass along as any lesson plan — if not harder.

Notes:

* The Transportation Safety Board published a full report on this accident. It is well worth a read to students and seasoned pilots alike.

John Wyman, EAA 462533, Chapter 266 Montreal, is a passionate aviator. When he isn’t in the saddle at the airline, he can be found out at the airfield doing any number of things. He likes to fly gliders, practice aerobatics, work on airplanes and fix stuff.