Transitioning up

The biggest overall challenge for a new hire is the training. Whether it is in the classroom, the simulator, or on a procedures trainer in between, the training is intense and very structured. Military pilots might be used to this, but it’s still a different environment, if for no other reason than some of the verbiage, lingo, and new-to-them regulations.

Academically, a lot of introductory segments have to be learned. FAR Part 121 has some significant differences from Part 91, and each airline has its own set of operations specifications, which are sets of rules crafted by the FAA to cover everything from determining an alternate airport to figuring out which approach is legal under what circumstances. The first time through this stuff feels like you’re using a pogo stick in a mine field.

A typical airliner has 12 to 15 different systems that need to be learned. Mundane ones such as the lights or water are pretty simple and don’t garner much time and attention. Others, such as the electric or hydraulic systems, can take a full day or more of lecture to introduce, let alone learn, and they can be very complex. The electrical system on the Embraer EMB-120 Brasilia is relatively straightforward until something called “auto-transfer” occurred, which was mind-bogglingly confusing for most of the time I flew it. The propeller on that airplane wasn’t much easier—to this day, the term “metered oil” drains the blood from my face.

In addition to the basics of each system is the requirement to learn various limitations and memory item procedures associated with each one while also understanding how certain systems interact with one another. On almost any turbine airplane, the fire extinguishing system can be used to affect the electric, hydraulic, pneumatic, and fuel systems simultaneously. Some interactions between systems won’t truly make sense until you see the various scenarios in the simulator. Others still won’t make sense until something pops up on the flight line that was discussed in a classroom while you were sneaking away for a quick bathroom break.

At my first regional airline, I did quite a bit of work in the simulator on my days off working with new-hire pilots. The biggest obstacle I saw was self-inflicted, and that was the lack of preparation for callouts and flows. Frequently, the checklist is used as just that: It checks to make sure that nothing was missed. As opposed to the alternative of “read and do,” a flow pattern is used. A flow is a memorized, logically designed series of steps used to accomplish something in an airplane. In the GA world, you might use a flow in a 172 to deal with a simulated engine failure, starting at the fuel selector, working up to the mixture, throttle, and carburetor heat, and then over to the ignition. In an airliner, we use flows as a preview for most checklists, and some might have as many as a dozen individual steps. However, they follow a pattern and have an easy-to-see logic. Some flows are designed to leave a bit of leeway for individual preferences or for multiple different scenarios, with the end goal being that no items are missed. Some are much more exact.

Callouts are similar. They are scripted and exact. The language is chosen for specific reasons, the most important of which is to avoid any ambiguity or misunderstanding. Unlike flows, callouts are expected to be the same across the board. It is the callouts that allow two pilots who have never met to get in an airplane and be comfortable flying together.

If you’re a current, active instrument pilot, the biggest challenge in transitioning to a new airplane is usually in coping with the speed differences, and possibly with some of the instrument displays that may be new or different to you. Back in the day, the change also involved learning to go from an analog display to a digital (glass) one, but now that so many airplanes have at least a partial glass panel, this is less of a roadblock. However, for pilots who have taken some time away from flying, getting back into the flow of a scan or of instrument flying can be a challenge. In fact, an instructor can usually tell right away if the pilot just needs to knock a bit of rust off or is going to truly struggle.

In my experience, a competent IFR pilot reaches a point where the basic procedures of flying by instrument and using the radio becomes well enough ingrained that, even after a long break, the proficiency can come back pretty quickly. That level of required experience will vary from pilot to pilot, and it will depend on how they built their overall flight time, but when you reach a certain point, it’s like a certain hard-wiring in your brain has occurred.

As a bit of an extreme example, I had a customer come to me in his senior years wanting to get back into flying. He had in the past flown quite a bit, including some IFR flying for business, but it had been close to 20 years since he had been at the controls of an airplane. I never would have known—he flew it like he had never missed a day. I’ve seen the same thing as pilots take long breaks from airline flying and then come back years later, in an airplane they have never flown before. After one or two sim sessions, they’re flying like they’d never missed a beat. In fact, for most of these pilots I’ve seen the learning curve is in learning GPS and RNAV technology, which comes pretty quickly.

If you talk to any pilot who has flown for multiple airlines, they will inevitably tell you that subsequent training is always easier, because a) they know what to expect, and b) the general structure of procedures varies little from company to company, even if the airplane is different. The FARs don’t change, and most companies’ internal rules are almost the same.

Understanding ops specs, memorizing calls and flows, and having true IFR proficiency and currency will go a long way toward making the transition easier. For those coming back after a layoff, a review of the same will bust the cobwebs and help reacclimate to the flying environment.