Mastering the Localizer (and Back Course)

July 25, 2025/by Eric Radtke

The localizer is a critical component of every Instrument Landing System (ILS) approach, providing the lateral guidance that brings the airplane to the runway. While most pilots are familiar with the basics of flying a localizer, precise tracking takes practice—and the back course variant can be tricky.

Before you dive in, let’s review some essential concepts to sharpen your understanding.

What is a Localizer?

Think of the localizer as an electronic extension of the runway centerline. It provides lateral (left/right) guidance for an ILS approach. The localizer signal is transmitted from an antenna typically located 1,000 feet beyond the far end of the runway, operating on one of 40 reserved frequencies between 108.1 and 111.95 MHz.

The signal is far more precise than a VOR—about four times more sensitive. Full-scale CDI deflection on a localizer typically represents only 5 degrees, which translates to about 350 feet from centerline at the runway threshold. The sensitivity of this guidance makes precise heading control a must.

The localizer antenna is typically located 1,000 feet beyond the far end of the runway.

How to Fly the Localizer

Flying the localizer is all about small, smooth corrections and disciplined heading control:

Outside the outer marker (typically 4–7 miles out): Limit heading corrections to 5° or less.
Inside the outer marker: Limit corrections to 2° or less. Use gentle rudder inputs for very fine adjustments.
Avoid overcorrecting—S-turns across the centerline waste time and add risk during an already busy phase of flight.

Maintaining an exact heading—even in calm air—can be deceptively difficult. Practicing heading discipline during en route legs can pay big dividends when you’re inside the FAF with low visibility ahead.

The Back Course Twist

Some localizers also transmit a signal in the opposite direction, known as the back course. These approaches are less common but still appear in certain parts of the country.

Flying the back course adds complexity due to reverse sensing—where your CDI needle deflects opposite to the aircraft’s actual position. That means:

When using a traditional CDI, you must fly away from the needle to stay on course.
Set the OBS to the approach course as a visual reminder, even though it won’t center the needle like a VOR.
Disregard the glide slope—it’s false information on a back course.
If using an HSI, set it to the front course of the localizer to eliminate reverse sensing and fly toward the needle as normal.

Mastering back course approaches is an exercise in situational awareness and instrumentation discipline. Pilots who don’t understand reverse sensing can easily find themselves drifting further from the intended path while chasing a misleading CDI.

Flying the back course adds complexity due to reverse sensing—where your CDI needle deflects opposite to the aircraft’s actual position.

Try It Yourself: Interactive Localizer and Back Course Simulators

To help visualize these concepts, we’ve created two interactive simulators that let you drag the aircraft left or right on either a standard localizer or a localizer back course and watch how the CDI responds.

Localizer Instrument Approach Simulator

Back Course Instrument Approach Simulator

Whether you’re new to instrument flying or teaching the next generation of IFR pilots, understanding how to track a localizer—and its more confusing sibling, the back course—is essential. A few minutes with these tools will make the signals click in a way that no textbook can.

Why Real-World Missed Approaches Feel So Hard

July 22, 2025/by John Zimmerman

Editor’s Note: We all brief the missed. We all practice it on checkrides. But when it actually happens—in real weather, close to minimums—the missed approach can feel less like a standard maneuver and more like a surprise emergency.

Despite the of precision WAAS approaches, real-time weather, and dependable automation, the missed approach hasn’t gone away—it’s just become rarer and, for many pilots, more difficult. In that way, it’s a maneuver that tests not just your stick and rudder skills, but your mindset. This article, based on a real-world go-around, shares six rules that can help you stay sharp and stay safe when the unexpected happens.

I recently flew one of the rarest maneuvers in aviation: a real missed approach in instrument conditions. While we all practice them during initial instrument training and (hopefully) as a part of regular proficiency flights, actual missed approaches are pretty rare. The combination of widely available WAAS approaches and in-flight weather tools means that we usually have a pretty good idea we will get in before starting an approach.

missed approach

Not so on this day. The weather wasn’t terrible, but a low cloud layer sparked by isolated rain showers made it tricky. The METAR was fluctuating from just above minimums to just below minimums, so we decided to take a shot. Unfortunately, at the missed approach point there were no lights so the power came up and we diverted to our alternate.

Simple, right? Not so much.

While I was intellectually prepared for a missed approach, I really wasn’t emotionally prepared (spring-loaded, as my instrument instructor might have said). I hadn’t done this for real in years. So when it came time to execute this seemingly simple maneuver, I ended up getting behind the airplane just a bit. I was coping, not flying. You might call it the three stages of the missed approach mindset: shock at having to go around, a feeling of being overwhelmed by all the tasks that needed to be completed, and finally a temptation to try it again. None of these are good.

To combat that mindset, here are a few rules I made for myself:

Use the autopilot. While you should be able to hand fly an approach down to minimums, that doesn’t mean you have to do it every time. When it’s really low, I think it’s much safer to let the autopilot fly. That makes you management, not labor, so you can keep the big picture in mind and be ready to react. It’s hard to be spring-loaded to go around if you’re task-saturated and busy keeping the wings level.
Plan ahead – and don’t change your mind. Cruise flight is a good time to make a plan for your approach and potential missed approach procedure. Think through exactly what the approach sequence will look like: what power settings will you use, what descent rate will you use, what are you looking for at DA/MDA and what is the first thing you’ll do if you go missed? Talk it through before you get busy and commit to this plan.
Don’t cheat – don’t even hesitate. Easier said than done, but it’s critical to stay disciplined here. On my missed approach, we saw glimpses of the ground right as we started the missed approach. But this was a sucker hole – we could see down, but not ahead to the runway. Don’t dive for a hole, don’t “go down another 50 feet,” and don’t drive on passed the MAP in the hopes that something miraculous will happen. Stick to the plan. There is no gray area here and no negotiation: land the airplane because you see the runway environment at minimums or go around.
Approach lights matter. I once knew the difference between REIL, MALSR and all the rest of the approach lighting systems, but I long ago forgot the particulars. These may seem like academic nuances, but on a low approach, briefing the approach lighting system and knowing what to expect can make a big difference. In my case, the runway only had the two REILs, which are not nearly as visible as a full “rabbit.”
Climb and maintain control; the rest can wait. When you decide to execute the missed approach, it’s time to climb – now. Don’t mess with the GPS and don’t look at the approach chart. The essential first step is to add power and climb out quickly, while keeping the airplane under control. If you’ve briefed your approach (and your missed approach), you already know what to do. ATC can wait, your passengers can wait and even your avionics can wait until you’ve started climbing and are stabilized.
No second approaches. It’s so tempting to come back around for another try, especially if you saw one of those sucker holes at minimums. Don’t do it. The accident record shows that second approaches often end badly, because the temptation to cheat is very strong. Unless you did something badly wrong on the first approach, don’t even give yourself the opportunity to mess up on round two.

Although we don’t usually think of it that way, the missed approach is really a maximum performance maneuver. In the span of about 60 seconds – and at very low altitude – you are forced to climb at Vy, change the aircraft configuration, reprogram the GPS and talk on the radio. All this while maintaining control in the clouds. The key is to make your decisions long before you ever start the approach, so a missed approach is an automatic reaction. MDA is no time to be making decisions; it’s a time for executing what you’ve already planned.

And as always, fly the freakin’ airplane!

Instrument Maneuver Spotlight: Non-precision Approach

July 18, 2025/by Eric Radtke

Welcome to the latest edition of the Instrument Maneuver Spotlight series. Here we’ll highlight the various maneuvers you’ll practice during your instrument training and be expected to demonstrate during your checkride.

Unlike precision approaches that offer vertical guidance, nonprecision approaches require the pilot to manage descent rates and timing without the aid of a glide slope. This maneuver demands strong situational awareness, precise altitude control, and effective use of available navigation equipment—all essential skills for IFR proficiency.

Each maneuver is part of Sporty’s Instrument Rating Course and includes a narrated video animation, along with step-by-step instructions that include performance standards and common errors. Study them while on the ground or print them for quick reference in the airplane.

The flight maneuver is from Sporty’s Instrument Rating Course.

Practical IFR: Does Your Approach Use the Wrong Minimums?

July 15, 2025/by Jeff Van West

It’s a dark and stormy night. You’re instrument current and proficient. Your bird is well equipped. But you’re concerned because the reported ceilings have been going up and down on both sides of the published minimums.

To which I say, “Who cares?”

Seeing Is What Matters

Put yourself on the approach and descending. You will either break out to see something, or you won’t. It’s binary; one or the other. If you see nothing before the prescribed moment arrives, you commence the missed approach. Simple.

If you see something … well, now you must judge.

And there’s the key. It’s visibility that controls whether we can land or not. While on paper that’s a number we have or don’t, it’s not so simple in real life. We must make a rapid judgment call—sometimes based on a glance—as to whether we’re getting enough visual information to call the flight visibility half a mile. Or three-quarters of a mile, or two miles, or whatever.

That’s why I want to know what I expect to see when that moment arrives. Am I expecting the approach lights with a green threshold and not much more? Am I expecting half a runway visible, but 20 degrees left of my nose?

I think it’s our training where we don foggles, fly down to an altitude, and then go missed that gets us so focused on altitude. In real IFR, what we need to be focused on is distance: When we get down to X, how far should we be able to look and see Y?

This kind of thinking also allows for a certain consistency. Fly the approach to DA/MDA, period. Somewhere along the way, visibility should get high enough that we can continue past DA/MDA for landing. we note the visibility coming into view—and continue on the approach until it’s operationally beneficial to think “landing.” When vis is really low, that’s probably about 50 feet AGL.

When I read NTSB reports, the instrument approach crashes seem to fall into two categories: grossly botched at altitudes well above the +500 or even +1000 people set as personal minimums, or unknown flying into the trees or approach lights at the very end of the approach. Ceilings weren’t the issue on the first ones, but visibility is a likely culprit on the latter. I think we do ourselves a disservice assuming these are “duck unders” where pilot descended too low. I’ll wager an overpriced 4-pack of craft beer the majority were continuing past DA or MDA into questionable visibility that wasn’t IMC … but wasn’t sufficient to safely find pavement. This phenomenon might get worse rather than better given the prevalence of following an advisory glidepath on LNAV-only approaches. It’s super tempting to continue past MDA with just enough visibility to convince yourself you can find the runway, but not quite enough visibility to make it a sure thing.

That’s why I’ll happily try an approach where the AWOS is calling a bit below minimums for DA or MDA, so long as the visibility is good beneath. It’s also why I won’t bother with an approach with visibilities too low for likely completion, even if the ceilings are several hundred feet above the published minimum. Not sure you agree with this thinking? Here’s a challenge for you: Fly a given approach both ways in a simulator with decent visuals. Make it something other than an ILS or LPV with 200-foot and 1/2-mile mins for clarity. See which one you feel more confident about.

Commercial operations usually work the same way; visibility rules.

Sure, there’s value in noting the ceiling versus MDA/DA to see if there’s even a chance, but if it’s close, go for it. While I don’t particularly buy in to personal minimums at all, if I was setting a personal minimum for approaches, it would be by visibility, not ceiling.

Maybe you don’t really worry about visibility at the end of an approach? If you can see some runway, you just land? Your call, but that really is in violation. And while I will admit to knowing it’s possible to find the runway and land in RVR 800, I only do so knowing the statue of limitations is up on that knowledge. And I swear the flight visibility was higher. Really.

But now I’m (luckily) older and (thankfully) wiser. Today, visibility is what matters.

Watch This Video

Lower Your Personal Minimums

Canadians See It Differently

chart

Fly in that country north of the border and this discussion changes in regulation, if not in practice. In Canada, prior to the FAF, visibility is controlling for both commercial operators and GA. The details are complicated, but roughly, commercial operators need 50 to 75 percent of the published visibility minimums to commence the approach. GA operators need at least RVR 1200 or 1/4 mile visibility. (Again, I’m being broad-brush here.)

Once past the FAF, however, the published visibilities on Canadian approach plates, “are advisory only. … They are not limiting and are intended to be used by pilots only to judge the probability of a successful landing.” In Canada, if you reach DA/MDA, can see the runway environment at all, and decide there’s enough visual information to land successfully, you can go for it.

However, I agree completely with my friend and Canadian pilot David Gagliardi when he says, “Why on earth would you continue any approach when the visibility is less than a quarter mile? The chances of you successfully completing it are basically zero; the chances of dying are not zero.”

ForeFlight Question of the Month

Quiz: IFR Approach Chart Symbols

July 11, 2025/by Chris Clarke

Understanding a terminal procedures publication is key to completing a successful flight under instrument flight rules. How well can you interpret all the codes and symbols on an IFR approach chart?

The art of instrument approaches – 7 tips for proficient flying

July 8, 2025/by John Zimmerman

Instrument training is demanding, but at its most basic the goal is quite simple: keep the wings level and the needles crossed. Do that a few times with an examiner and you can pass the checkride. But if your goal is to use your instrument rating for real (and do it safely), there’s a lot more to consider.

As usual, it’s the little things that count, and many of them aren’t found in the FAA textbooks. Do them all and instrument flying becomes a safe, smooth and downright graceful experience – more art than science. Do none of them and you still might find the runway, but the safety margins will be awfully thin.

Here are seven of my favorite tips for better IFR approaches.

You found the runway – but the work isn’t over.

1. Be comfortable at the final approach fix or go missed. Descending from the final approach fix towards the runway is a critical time in the life of an instrument pilot, since you are deliberately flying low to the ground without any visual references. Before you cross that fix and start the descent, take a deep breath and be absolutely certain that all is well. Are the avionics set up just right? Do you know your MDA or DH? Are the needles reasonably steady? Do you feel like you’re in control of the situation? If the answer is no to any of these questions, execute the missed approach and get things squared away before trying it again. It’s far easier and safer to go around at 3000 ft. than 300 ft.

2. Have a heading hypothesis and test it – don’t chase needles. When you’re flying an instrument approach, ultimately the goal is to keep the needles crossed, but the polished instrument pilot doesn’t blindly chase the gauges. Instead, they will start the approach with a hypothesis in mind: “given the strong wind from the west, I’m going to start with a 15 degree wind correction to the right of the 190 inbound course.” They will fly that heading and see what the result is, then adjust their hypothesis given the new evidence. Too much of a correction? Try cutting that angle in half. This approach is subtly different compared to the needle chaser, but it’s supremely important when the weather really stinks. Fly a heading you think will work, and observe the trend – you’ll learn a lot.

3. Make small heading changes with rudder only. Inside the final approach fix, most heading corrections are small (see above). If you’re only taking out 5 degrees of crab angle, try a little rudder pressure instead of rolling into a bank, then rolling out. Most airplanes respond quite well to this trick, it’s more stable, and it will prevent you from over-controlling. This is especially true as you get close to the runway on an ILS or LPV, where a one dot correction is tiny.

4. Know your profiles. This goes right along with the advice about having a heading in mind before you start the approach: don’t chase airspeed and sink rate. Instead, you should know the profile ahead of time (power setting, flaps/gear configuration, sink rate, and airspeed) for both a non-precision approach and a precision approach. Start with that known profile, then adjust as needed. Strong headwind today? Add an inch of manifold pressure or 100 RPM. But don’t be a throttle jockey.

MDA or DH? Make sure you know before you start down.

5. Brief every approach – even if it’s to yourself. 400 ft. AGL is no place to be reading an approach plate. Take the time in cruise to read over the chart and memorize (or at least highlight) important numbers: minimums, missed approach procedure, and minimum safe altitude. This is especially true for WAAS approaches, where the type of minimum (precision approach with a DA or non-precision with an MDA) is critically important. If you have a co-pilot or passenger, talk this through with your right seater. If not, brief yourself out loud.

6. When you break out, do nothing for a second. After a well-executed approach, there’s no better feeling than seeing the runway lights emerge from the gray. But many pilots get so excited at the sight that they duck under the glide path and get perilously close to trees or other obstacles. It’s a hard reaction to fight, so the best advice is to do nothing for just a second. If you flew a good approach, your airplane should be on glide path and on speed – so why mess with it?

7. Practice missed approaches – after using the autopilot. Lots of pilots practice flying missed approaches, but most often this is after a hand flown approach. A more realistic scenario is one where the autopilot flies the approach but you have to take the controls at minimums when you start the missed approach (many autopilots won’t fly a coupled go around). Do you know how your autopilot reacts? Do you know what it feels like to punch off the autopilot and start hand flying at low level? It’s worth practicing.

There are dozens of other “little tips” that go into a perfect instrument flight, from a thoughtful weather briefing to smooth level-offs. But it’s the approach where things matter most. Any other tips you would add?