Ready or not, IFR is IFR

The gist of it is that some instrument-rated pilots are willing to file and fly IFR—except when visibility and ceilings get close to published minimums. I get the concept of “personal minimums” and endorse the principle of defining individual and changeable limits based on currency, avionics, and psychological comfort. But the idea of launching into instrument meteorological conditions without being fully prepared to fly an approach to minimums at your destination is a sucker’s bet. Even with today’s impressive safety tools such as in-cockpit weather, there’s no guarantee that the actual conditions will be what you expect them to be. And the stress of flying IFR knowing that you’re unable or unwilling to perform the full range of tasks seems like a questionable strategy.

So, what’s hard IFR anyway? Is it IMC during the cruise phase of flight? Certainly smooth, clear air is enjoyable to fly through. And the ability to fly near the clouds, but not in them, is one of the most sublime aspects of IFR flying. Yet the difficulty factor of keeping the wings level and navigating in IMC during cruise is minor, especially with an autopilot. IMC during cruise doesn’t seem like it should be a showstopper for IFR pilots.

Some IFR pilots treat their tickets as a license to fly “from bad weather to good weather.” Psychologically, it’s a lighter burden knowing that you’re flying toward improving conditions. There’s light at the end of the tunnel. You’re on the way to VMC, and you’re escaping the low clouds behind you. This kind of information makes pilots feel relaxed and happy. But taking off in weather that’s low enough that you’re unwilling or unable to return to your starting point is dubious. If there’s a mechanical or other problem soon after takeoff, how far will you have to go to find weather conditions that meet your personal minimums? Is an immediate return even an option?

Looking back on my last year of IFR flying, I only had to make one honest-to-goodness missed approach—and it came as a near total surprise because the weather at my destination at the time I began the approach was marginal VFR: 5 miles visibility and a ceiling of 1,400 feet. The complication at this mountain airport turned out to be a fog bank that went all the way to the ground at the approach end of the runway, and it was invisible to the automated weather station located nearly a mile away at the center of the airport. I flew the GPS approach in mostly clear air, saw some snow-covered airport hangars 5 miles away, then descended into the fog a mile from the runway threshold and visibility dropped to zero. A missed approach was a reflex, the only option, and yet it was unexpected because all indications had pointed toward an uneventful approach and landing. During the two-hour flight there, ADS-B weather had provided a steady stream of good news with conditions steadily improving from low IMC, to IMC, to marginal VMC. That was an unmistakably positive trend—yet it still resulted in a missed approach at the published decision altitude. Other low-IMC encounters happened where I least expected them.

During an aerial video recording session in the AOPA Sweepstakes Van’s RV–10 a few years ago, I took off from my home airport in misty rain with an 800-foot ceiling. My intention was to make a video showing the details of the Advanced Flight Systems/Avidyne panel during two quick GPS approaches and an ILS approach. My main concern at the start of the flight was that the weather would improve, and I’d miss my chance to record in actual IMC. But moderate to heavy rain moved into the area, visibility dropped, and I ended up making two no-kidding missed approaches on the ILS. I was able to get in on the third approach, but just barely. The flight itself wasn’t particularly stressful. The avionics provided excellent situational awareness, the airplane had full fuel tanks, and other airports in the region had better weather if I needed to divert. The point is that the weather turned out to be far worse than forecast, even though the forecast was just a few minutes old, and it remained that way all day. If I had been counting on the predicted improvement, I’d have been in a jam.

The low-IMC approaches I’ve flown recently have actually been straightforward. Air traffic controllers know the weather’s bad and set you up for long, straight-in final approaches. Low atmospheric pressure makes for unrippled air, and the airplane seems to ride the glideslope as if on rails. But aviation is full of plot twists, and things seldom seem to go exactly as planned. Stack the deck in your favor by arriving at your destination when the temperature and dew point are getting farther apart, not closer together. Take advantage of IFR approaches that include vertical guidance—and these days, that’s just about all of them. And don’t expect when you file IFR that you’ll only put a toe in. Be ready to swim in the deep end of pool, because you just might have to.

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