The weather wasn’t a surprise. At least, not initially.
Flying home to the Cincinnati area from South Florida on the Friday before Memorial Day weekend, we knew the forecast called for rain and low ceilings. A slow-moving weather system had settled over the Ohio Valley, feeding on Gulf moisture and producing days of steady rain, low clouds, and widespread flooding concerns. Still, nothing about the forecast suggested we wouldn’t make it into our destination. The ceilings were expected to be low, but manageable, and we had planned accordingly.
As we neared Cincinnati, however, it became apparent that conditions were deteriorating faster than expected. The low ceilings and reduced visibility were combining with another factor that complicated the arrival: the wind favored the north runway at our home airport, which offered only an LNAV approach with minimums roughly 760 feet above the ground. We briefed the approach, flew it as planned, and continued toward minimums. No runway.
Time to execute the missed approach. Ironically, the missed approach itself was probably the easiest part of the entire event.
Years of training make the mechanics of a missed approach fairly straightforward. Apply power. Establish the proper pitch attitude. Clean up the airplane. Follow the published procedure. Communicate with ATC. In our case, we had anticipated the possibility of a missed approach and requested alternate missed approach instructions before beginning the approach. Instead of flying the published climbing turn to a fix, ATC cleared us to climb straight ahead to 3,000 feet. That seemingly small change paid big dividends when the runway failed to appear, reducing our workload at a time when we needed to focus on the bigger decisions that were about to follow.
The real challenge began once the airplane was climbing away from the airport. Almost immediately, we found ourselves facing multiple viable options, each with advantages and drawbacks. One possibility was requesting the ILS to the opposite runway. With the lower minimums, there was a strong likelihood we could complete the approach successfully. The tradeoff was accepting a tailwind landing on a wet runway. While legal and likely within aircraft limitations, it didn’t align with our risk assessment.
Another option was proceeding to our filed alternate more than 40 miles to the south, where weather conditions were significantly better. The downside was obvious: it would create substantial inconvenience for our passengers and leave us well outside the Cincinnati area.
A third option was finding another airport closer to our destination that offered better approach options and more favorable conditions.
None of these choices were inherently wrong. In fact, that’s what made the situation challenging. Flight training often presents scenarios with a clear answer. Real-world IFR flying frequently presents several acceptable answers. The challenge isn’t identifying a legal option; it’s determining which option best balances safety, efficiency, workload, and risk. Meanwhile, the clock is running, fuel is being consumed and ATC is expecting decisions. The airplane still needs to be flown. And unlike a simulator scenario, there is no pause button.
We ultimately chose to divert to Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport (CVG). The airport offered precision approaches to every runway, weather conditions that supported a much more predictable outcome, and a location close enough to minimize disruption for our passengers. Even after making that decision, however, the workload continued.
The Four Questions We Asked After the Missed
Can we safely try another approach?
Is our filed alternate still the best option?
Is there a better airport nearby?
Which choice gives us the most predictable outcome?
The goal wasn’t convenience—it was finding the option that reduced uncertainty, lowered workload, and provided the greatest safety margin.
Our flight management system had been programmed for an arrival and approach into our original destination. Now we needed to load and verify a new route, brief a different approach, review runway conditions, coordinate with ATC, and prepare for an airport that had not been part of our original arrival plan.
That experience reinforced an important lesson: when weather systems become dynamic, there may be perfectly acceptable alternatives that weren’t part of your original planning process. Pilots sometimes become anchored to the options they identified before departure. But circumstances change. New information becomes available. A nearby airport that wasn’t initially considered may ultimately become the safest and most practical solution.
After landing at CVG, another decision remained. Do we wait? The weather forecasts suggested conditions might improve later in the day. We could remain with the airplane and see if ceilings lifted enough to reposition to our home airport. Or we could recognize that the weather pattern remained unstable, the winds still favored the less desirable runway, and the following day offered significantly better conditions. Again, multiple acceptable choices and again, no perfect answer.
We elected to wait until the next day.
As it turned out, some aircraft did successfully complete the ILS approach into our original destination that afternoon. That’s an important point. Our decision wasn’t based on the belief that landing there was impossible. It was based on our assessment that a tailwind landing on a wet runway, combined with the prevailing weather conditions, didn’t provide a level of risk we were willing to accept.
Good aeronautical decision-making isn’t about proving what can be done. It’s about determining what should be done.
Looking back, the weather wasn’t particularly severe. The missed approach wasn’t especially difficult. The airplane performed exactly as expected. The challenge was managing several reasonable choices while simultaneously dealing with changing weather, limited time, finite fuel, and increasing workload. That’s why staying ahead of the airplane isn’t simply about approach briefings, checklist discipline, or avionics proficiency. Sometimes it’s about recognizing when the original plan has expired and building a new one before the workload builds faster than your capacity to manage it.
The missed approach was the easy part. What happened during the next five minutes is what really mattered.
https://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/01103256/The-Missed-Approach-Was-the-Easy-Part.png10001250Eric Radtkehttps://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/14115136/IFR-Focus-Logo_White_Blue_Web-01.pngEric Radtke2026-06-02 08:55:122026-06-03 11:37:57The Missed Approach Was the Easy Part
The short answer is that you trust the forecast, but you don’t rely on it alone.
The longer answer is that IFR planning isn’t about whether forecasts are “right” or “wrong.” It’s about understanding what kind of uncertainty you’re willing to accept, and building your decision around that uncertainty.
Forecasts are not a promise
A forecast is best thought of as a structured guess about a trend, not a precise prediction of timing.
Two common pilot mistakes:
Treating a forecast as a fixed timeline (“it says ceilings improve at 1500Z, so I’ll go at 1530Z”)
Treating a “good enough” forecast as a guarantee of good weather
In reality, IFR weather rarely fails in dramatic, obvious ways. It usually degrades slowly, unevenly, or earlier/later than expected.
Experienced IFR pilots tend to focus less on exact numbers and more on:
Trends: improving or deteriorating over time?
Stability: is the system organized or chaotic?
Margins: how much buffer exists between “legal” and “comfortable”?
Alternatives: what happens if the forecast is wrong?
If your entire plan collapses when one timing element shifts by two hours, the forecast was never the real issue—the margins were.
Where forecasts are most reliable
More reliable:
Widespread stratiform ceilings
Slow-moving high pressure systems
Stable winter weather patterns
Less reliable:
Convective activity
Frontal timing (especially fast-moving systems)
Marginal VFR transitioning conditions
Local terrain-influenced ceilings and vis
The right IFR mindset
The goal is to be wrong safely which means planning for early arrival of bad weather, building in fuel and reroute flexibility, and avoiding tight, single-point timing dependencies. Good IFR planning treats the forecast as a starting point, then builds layers of protection around it so that when it’s wrong (and it often is), the flight still has options.
How much do you trust the forecast?
https://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/04122534/Ask-the-IFR-Expert-How-much-should-I-trust-the-forecast-when-planning-an-IFR-cross-country.png10001250Eric Radtkehttps://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/14115136/IFR-Focus-Logo_White_Blue_Web-01.pngEric Radtke2026-05-27 08:55:522026-05-28 10:32:05Ask the IFR Expert: How much should I trust the forecast?
Instrument flying proficiency comes from regularly exercising your judgment in realistic situations. That’s exactly the goal behind IFR Mastery from PilotWorkshops, now available inside the Sporty’s online course platform and Pilot Training app.
Designed as an ongoing series of scenario-based workshops, IFR Mastery challenges pilots each month with a new real-world IFR flight situation. Instead of passively watching videos, you actively work through weather decisions, approach planning, aircraft limitations, alternates, route choices, and cockpit workload management—just like you would in actual instrument conditions.
Each scenario follows a proven process:
Watch a short briefing video that puts you in the pilot’s seat
Review charts, weather, aircraft data, and IFR procedures
Choose how you would handle the flight
Compare your thinking with other pilots
Learn from an instructor’s detailed explanation
Listen to a roundtable discussion from experienced CFIs
The result is valuable “mental reps” that help sharpen IFR decision-making even when you’re not flying regularly.
One of the strengths of the program is that the instructors don’t always agree. That’s intentional. Real-world IFR flying often involves evaluating risk, considering alternatives, and understanding tradeoffs—not simply finding one textbook answer.
That makes IFR Mastery especially valuable for instrument pilots looking to stay current, improve confidence, and avoid common traps that can catch even experienced aviators.
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Click the scenario link below to see what IFR Mastery is all about (and learn a few tips along the way), or download the Sporty’s Pilot Training app on the iOS App Store for the full experience.
Once you’ve completed a free scenario, be sure to sign up for a 30-day trial of IFR Mastery and continue your learning. You’ll receive a new scenario every month and continued access to the extensive Mastery archives, all for just $24/month. If you’re already a PilotWorkshops subscriber, just download the free Pilot Training app and log in with your existing Mastery account.
https://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/20145450/Keep-your-IFR-skills-sharp-with-real-world-monthly-Mastery-scenarios.png10001250Eric Radtkehttps://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/14115136/IFR-Focus-Logo_White_Blue_Web-01.pngEric Radtke2026-05-22 08:55:262026-05-20 14:55:09Keep your IFR skills sharp with real-world monthly Mastery scenarios
As an aviation writer, I’m always on the prowl for interesting approach charts (so if you have a favorite, drop me a line). One that recently appeared in my email was the ILS or LOC Rwy 27 at Williamsport, Pennsylvania (KIPT). The striking curiosity was plan view note, “RNAV 1-GPS or RADAR AND DME REQUIRED.” The investigation yielded a longer explanation than I expected. Too bad I don’t get paid by the word.
This note says a transition from the enroute environment to the approach requires either an RNAV 1 level GPS navigator or you a combination of both ATC radar and DME on the aircraft. The lowercase “or” separating the two groups of capital letters means you can have either group of capitals. Don’t send an email if you find an example where these capitalization rules are broken. It’s not consistently employed due to evolving standards for this stuff, but that’s what it means.
(Interesting and vaguely related aside: Did you ever wonder why a writing credit for a Hollywood movie was “Written by Jack Jones & Wilma Mead and Bobby French”? It looks like they couldn’t agree on whether to abbreviate or not, but it means Jack and Wilma wrote as a team, while Bobby wrote separately, and probably later. Same idea as the approach note’s uppercase “and” versus the lowercase “or.”)
The ILS or Loc Rwy 27 at KIPT is hybrid of two approaches. It’s a conventional ILS with the terminal arrival area (TAA) from the RNAV (GPS) Rwy 27 approach grafted on. To transition from enroute to the localizer: Enter one of the three sectors at or above 4300 feet, fly to the initial approach fix for that sector (ZEKNO, JIBGO, or HULRO), intercept the localizer and cross JIBGO, and descend to cross the final approach fix of ZUMEY at or above 3700 feet. There’s no course reversal charted because there’s no direction from which a procedure turn is required, or for that matter, allowed.
Don’t let the “RNAV 1” part trip you up. For our purposes in GPS-driven GA, this means any terminal certified GPS, which must be accurate to within one mile a minimum of 95 percent of the time.
If you have an approach-certified GPS, you’ve got at least RNAV 0.3, which is more than three times an accurate. With that navigator, using the TAA to an ILS is as simple as loading the ILS approach because the waypoints for the TAA will be included.
If you had no GPS, you could get vectors onto the localizer. This removes the need for the TAA. However, you’d still need to identify JIBGO to know when a descent to 3700 was allowed.
Apparently, ATC has limited ability to help you out with this, or it would say “RADAR” over the JIBGO fix in the profile and plan views. Without that, you’d need DME—or at least RNAV 1 GPS, but then you could go direct to JIBGO in the first place. ATC could probably tell you that you were inside JIBGO however, so you could descend with that information. JIBGO to ZUMEV is 6 miles.
A similar situation exists on the missed, where you climb to 980, then make a climbing right turn to intercept MIP R-314 to ZIMEL, which is itself an intersection. With an approach GPS, you simply unsuspend navigation, switch back to GPS guidance and fly to ZIMEL. With a terminal GPS, you can still create a direct-to ZIMEL on a course of 314. This may not be an identical track to flying the VOR radial, but it’s close enough and any difference diminishes rapidly as you approach ZIMEL.
With an approach-certified WAAS GPS, you’d probably skip the ILS entirely and fly the RNAV approach. There’s a pound sign for the DA of 777, which requires a cross-reference. You’ll see a higher-than-standard required climb gradient in the textual missed approach instructions, and that the inoperative table doesn’t apply in the notes. The latter is because the visibility requirement is already 3/4 miles, so you don’t need to add more if the approach lights are out of service.
The Matching Game
Speaking of cross-reference, check out all the inverse (white on black) characters on this plate. Some are simple, others require finding the associated information elsewhere.
At the top of the chart, the inverse A5 by the lights in the briefing strip means this MALSR is at least partially pilot controlled. Likewise, the inverse L by the tower/CTAF frequency means there are at least partially pilot-controlled lights (PCL) when the tower is closed. How do you know the tower will close? That’s what the star after the “Williamsport Tower” in the briefing strip means.
Many folks stop there but don’t be one of them. Down in the airport diagram in the lower left, you’ll see the same inverse L saying it’s the runway end identifier lights (REIL) for Runway 9… Runway 9, high-intensity runway lights for Runways 9-27, and medium intensity runway lights for Runways 12-30. If you want details about these lights, you’ll have to look in the Chart Supplement.
The inverse T and A indicate non-standard takeoff and alternate-filing minimums, respectively. This time, you’ll reference the TPP to see that all departures from all runways demand higher than standard climb gradients and textual departure procedure to follow. These aren’t required for Part 91 flights, but it’s a life-extending practice to comply. Alternately, you could follow the visual climb over airport (VCOA) instructions of climbing in visual conditions to 2800 over the airport before proceeding on course in any direction climbing at least the standard 200 feet per nm.
The non-standard alternate minimums are another lookup, which reveals you’d better have an approach GPS if the tower will be closed, and the forecast weather better be essentially VFR. This is for filing Williamsport as an alternate, not flying there. See the sidebar below for clarification.
Back on the approach chart, the inverse snowflake under the T and A means cold-weather corrections apply to this airport. This requires referencing a document many pilots don’t know exists: Cold Temperature Restricted Airports. You can find it FAA’s terminal procedures page if you scroll to the bottom. Or you can subscribe to the digital document in ForeFlight. Look in there, and you’ll see the correction only applies to the final approach segment—which is pretty important. But only if it’s below 13°C, which is not that likely. If you need to make the correction, the same cold temp doc will show you the calculation. Or your EFB might have the chops to do it for you.
One more inverse letters and we’re done. The inverse D in the airport diagram means there’s runway declared distance information available takeoff and landing distances in the Chart Supplement (you’re call whether the D is for “declared” or “distance”). These are the TORA, TODA, ASDA, LDA that sounds like a battle cry, but actually stands for takeoff runway available, takeoff distance available, accelerate-stop distance available, and landing distance available.
Speaking of circling, note that circling south of Runway 9 and southwest of 30 is NA at night. Circling to land on Runway 12-30 is also NA at night. These prohibitions are usually because of close in obstacles obstacle you’re expected to avoid visually. If you’re wondering what those obstacles might be, you can find a list after any takeoff minimums and obstacle departure procedures. This might take some time. Williamsport has one of the longest lists of low, close-in obstacles I’ve ever seen.
Maybe the FAA survey folk were getting paid by the word.
Watch This Video:
GPS VLOC Auto Switch and Autoslew
The Missing MSA
Approach charts like these are a boon to the designated examiner pushing the bounds of a candidate’s knowledge on an instrument checkride: “What’s the minimum safe altitude (MSA) for this approach?” Search as you may, you won’t find the familiar circle with its 25-mile ring of safety on this chart. That’s because its equivalent is staring you in the face: The TAA extends out 30 miles from each reference fix with a safe altitude to fly. A published MSA would be superfluous.
https://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/11115056/Practical-IFR-Mix-and-Match.png10001250Jeff Van Westhttps://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/14115136/IFR-Focus-Logo_White_Blue_Web-01.pngJeff Van West2026-05-19 08:55:342026-05-21 12:49:52Practical IFR: Mix and Match
IFR cross-country planning pulls together a lot of moving parts—altitudes, airways, terrain, weather requirements, and a careful reading of the regulations and charts that tie it all together. Whether you’re planning a short hop under a busy terminal area or a longer enroute segment over unfamiliar terrain, the decisions you make before departure often matter as much as anything you do in the air.
This quiz focuses on the kinds of scenarios pilots regularly study in FAA knowledge training and testing environments, where chart interpretation and regulatory knowledge intersect. You’ll see questions on minimum altitudes, route structure, alternate requirements, and enroute planning details that sometimes hide in plain sight. Some are straightforward, others require a closer look at how the rules apply in context. See how well you can translate the charts and regulations into sound IFR planning decisions.
(Refer to the figure.) When eastbound on V86 between Whitehall and Livingston, the minimum altitude that you should cross BZN is
Correct!Wrong!
You are flying an off-airways IFR flight over nonmountainous terrain. What is the rule regarding altitude and course to be maintained if no applicable minimum is prescribed?
Correct!Wrong!
(Refer to the figure) What is the MOCA between the HERRM intersection and the MANCA intersection on V187?
Correct!Wrong!
When an alternate airport is required, what are the weather minimums that must be forecast at the ETA for an alternate airport that has a precision approach procedure?
Correct!Wrong!
(Refer to the figure) For planning purposes, what is the highest useable altitude for an IFR flight on V16 from BGS VORTAC to ABI VORTAC?
If you’ve ever been glad to be on the ground after fleeing dark clouds and heavy rain, you know just how unpredictable storms can be. They can pop out of a clear sky and grow quickly, forcing you to head in an unexpected direction—often further from both the destination and alternate. While it shouldn’t be a big deal to divert for weather, get-there-itis and other pressures can become dangerous distractions. One way of reducing stress while safely avoiding storms is to take a different approach to alternates.
Safe Havens Filing an IFR alternate is often a check-the-box routine, and we do a good job of exceeding the weather requirements in 14 CFR §91.169. But filed alternates are often near the destination. We tend to mentally lock that into the mission, leaving us unprepared for big changes. Since you can divert anywhere you like once in flight, it’s better to view IFR alternates for what they are: for you, a backup near the destination when it works. For ATC, lost-comm procedures—knowing where you’ll go if you can’t reach the destination. That’s why the filed alternate isn’t normally apparent to controllers. Your weather alternates, then, are personal backups based on conditions rather than convenience. I call them “safe havens.”
“If you decide you’re OK with the idea of landing far from the destination, you have the mindset it takes to manage the risks of unpredictable hazards like thunderstorms.”
We wise up to this concept pretty quickly in the Midwest, where unforecasted thunderstorms are common in the spring and summer. I’ve learned to assume they’ll develop with any signs of instability and plan accordingly—not just with a couple of alternates along the way, but a safe haven that is often well past the destination or along a different route. The plan includes having the fuel to get there. If that’s not practical, the result is a delay or no-go. A beautiful weekend in April was a good example. The day started out clear across three states, with the weather maps and a few TAFs showing a slight chance of thunderstorms. Yet I canceled a cross-country to northern Wisconsin because I was worried about getting back for an evening commitment. It was hard to believe, but a few hours later severe storms developed and spread well past the “chance of” areas. If I really had to make the trip, I would have planned an overnight at the destination—or at a safe haven. If the weather was still good and I made it home the same day, great.
IFR Refresher: Fuel Requirements (14 CFR §91.167)
Fly to destination
Then to alternate
Then 45 minutes reserve
Reality check: That may not be enough when weather forces multiple deviations.
More is Better Again, most of us exceed the regs in planning, and it’s common to have a personal minimum of one hour of fuel reserves. But there’s a big catch in the requirements under §91.167. It calls for enough fuel to “complete the flight to the first airport of intended landing…fly from that airport to the alternate airport” and have 45 minutes of cruise-flight reserve. Fuel to land, depart again, and fly to the alternate can require more fuel than you think, especially if you also account for weather diversions. It’s better to avoid tight fuel margins when planning alternates or safe havens—land for fuel where the weather’s great, not where you hit your maximum fuel range. Diverting is already high workload—would you rather make a leisurely stop with a visual approach, or press on into challenging weather and a possible missed approach with minimum fuel? I know some pilots who have no problem simply turning back for home if that’s their safe haven. They’ll plan a fix along the route as a fuel-status or continue/divert point if there’s potential for storms.
Of course, it’s not practical to analyze dozens of airports in five states in case you need one. So safe havens can be as easy as bookmarking an area with airports well away from weather hazards. During a multi-day trip back to the Midwest from Florida in an SR22, the convective potential prompted me to make an early fuel stop in Georgia to top off after just two hours in the air. An hour later, fast-growing storms moving east had already forced me to fly well away from the route and even back south before I could bypass the weather and head north again. In the meantime, I flew west for well over an hour to find a safe place to land, but I had the fuel and then some. And, if you like that glide ring on your EFB map, notice that it completely encircles your aircraft. Picture fuel-reserve rings around that and you have 360 degrees’ worth of options. Like the airline safety briefing, “the closest emergency exit may be behind you.”
The closest emergency exit may be behind you.
Maximize Minimums It’s also easy to be fooled by an airport reporting 10 miles visibility and clear skies, especially during surprise diversions. There could still be a storm cell developing 50 miles away. That’s all the more reason to stay in VMC when possible to be able to spot buildups in the distance. Be sure to use ATC resources and pilot reports to inquire about weather approaching an alternate, not just the alternate itself. I once stopped a mere 20 miles from home due to thunderstorms and heavy rain. It was so nice and clear at my present position that it was tempting to press on, but that would have meant entering IMC with no way to see the approaching line of weather. An airport I was familiar with was only a few miles off the left wing, so I decided to wait it out there. Safe inside, I inquired about a hangar for the night and texted a friend to get a ride back. Meanwhile, I watched the weather radar as a line of heavy rain passed over the destination, followed by clear skies. The timing turned out great, so I canceled the car ride and launched for the short flight home VFR.
Other tips:
Treat each flight as unique, even routes you fly often, and consider different alternates.
Adjust your personal limits and plan shorter legs when weather conditions are uncertain or include potential convective activity. Have a healthy skepticism of airport forecasts.
Preflight and fly with the same mindset—look at the big picture while planning for what might be ahead. Don’t wait until the pressure to find an airport is high due to dwindling fuel or proximity to weather. High winds and turbulence can occur well before the rain in a thunderstorm arrives.
We now have the best tools yet to build flexibility into each flight plan. Just add a plan to manage weather risks—especially those that turn up unexpectedly. Whether you call them alternates or safe havens, be OK with changing routes and airports to allow for flying a normal approach and landing well within your skill set. If you decide you’re OK with the idea of landing far from the destination, you have the mindset it takes to manage the risks of unpredictable hazards like thunderstorms.
https://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/04103624/A-New-Take-on-Alternates.png10001250Elaine Kauhhttps://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/14115136/IFR-Focus-Logo_White_Blue_Web-01.pngElaine Kauh2026-05-12 08:55:452026-05-14 14:26:21A New Take on Alternates
The Missed Approach Was the Easy Part
/by Eric RadtkeThe weather wasn’t a surprise. At least, not initially.
As we neared Cincinnati, however, it became apparent that conditions were deteriorating faster than expected. The low ceilings and reduced visibility were combining with another factor that complicated the arrival: the wind favored the north runway at our home airport, which offered only an LNAV approach with minimums roughly 760 feet above the ground. We briefed the approach, flew it as planned, and continued toward minimums. No runway.
Time to execute the missed approach. Ironically, the missed approach itself was probably the easiest part of the entire event.
Years of training make the mechanics of a missed approach fairly straightforward. Apply power. Establish the proper pitch attitude. Clean up the airplane. Follow the published procedure. Communicate with ATC. In our case, we had anticipated the possibility of a missed approach and requested alternate missed approach instructions before beginning the approach. Instead of flying the published climbing turn to a fix, ATC cleared us to climb straight ahead to 3,000 feet. That seemingly small change paid big dividends when the runway failed to appear, reducing our workload at a time when we needed to focus on the bigger decisions that were about to follow.
The real challenge began once the airplane was climbing away from the airport. Almost immediately, we found ourselves facing multiple viable options, each with advantages and drawbacks. One possibility was requesting the ILS to the opposite runway. With the lower minimums, there was a strong likelihood we could complete the approach successfully. The tradeoff was accepting a tailwind landing on a wet runway. While legal and likely within aircraft limitations, it didn’t align with our risk assessment.
Another option was proceeding to our filed alternate more than 40 miles to the south, where weather conditions were significantly better. The downside was obvious: it would create substantial inconvenience for our passengers and leave us well outside the Cincinnati area.
A third option was finding another airport closer to our destination that offered better approach options and more favorable conditions.
None of these choices were inherently wrong. In fact, that’s what made the situation challenging. Flight training often presents scenarios with a clear answer. Real-world IFR flying frequently presents several acceptable answers. The challenge isn’t identifying a legal option; it’s determining which option best balances safety, efficiency, workload, and risk. Meanwhile, the clock is running, fuel is being consumed and ATC is expecting decisions. The airplane still needs to be flown. And unlike a simulator scenario, there is no pause button.
We ultimately chose to divert to Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport (CVG). The airport offered precision approaches to every runway, weather conditions that supported a much more predictable outcome, and a location close enough to minimize disruption for our passengers. Even after making that decision, however, the workload continued.
The Four Questions We Asked After the Missed
The goal wasn’t convenience—it was finding the option that reduced uncertainty, lowered workload, and provided the greatest safety margin.
Our flight management system had been programmed for an arrival and approach into our original destination. Now we needed to load and verify a new route, brief a different approach, review runway conditions, coordinate with ATC, and prepare for an airport that had not been part of our original arrival plan.
That experience reinforced an important lesson: when weather systems become dynamic, there may be perfectly acceptable alternatives that weren’t part of your original planning process. Pilots sometimes become anchored to the options they identified before departure. But circumstances change. New information becomes available. A nearby airport that wasn’t initially considered may ultimately become the safest and most practical solution.
After landing at CVG, another decision remained. Do we wait? The weather forecasts suggested conditions might improve later in the day. We could remain with the airplane and see if ceilings lifted enough to reposition to our home airport. Or we could recognize that the weather pattern remained unstable, the winds still favored the less desirable runway, and the following day offered significantly better conditions. Again, multiple acceptable choices and again, no perfect answer.
We elected to wait until the next day.
As it turned out, some aircraft did successfully complete the ILS approach into our original destination that afternoon. That’s an important point. Our decision wasn’t based on the belief that landing there was impossible. It was based on our assessment that a tailwind landing on a wet runway, combined with the prevailing weather conditions, didn’t provide a level of risk we were willing to accept.
Good aeronautical decision-making isn’t about proving what can be done. It’s about determining what should be done.
Looking back, the weather wasn’t particularly severe. The missed approach wasn’t especially difficult. The airplane performed exactly as expected. The challenge was managing several reasonable choices while simultaneously dealing with changing weather, limited time, finite fuel, and increasing workload. That’s why staying ahead of the airplane isn’t simply about approach briefings, checklist discipline, or avionics proficiency. Sometimes it’s about recognizing when the original plan has expired and building a new one before the workload builds faster than your capacity to manage it.
The missed approach was the easy part. What happened during the next five minutes is what really mattered.
Ask the IFR Expert: How much should I trust the forecast?
/by Eric RadtkeThe short answer is that you trust the forecast, but you don’t rely on it alone.
The longer answer is that IFR planning isn’t about whether forecasts are “right” or “wrong.” It’s about understanding what kind of uncertainty you’re willing to accept, and building your decision around that uncertainty.
Forecasts are not a promise
A forecast is best thought of as a structured guess about a trend, not a precise prediction of timing.
Two common pilot mistakes:
In reality, IFR weather rarely fails in dramatic, obvious ways. It usually degrades slowly, unevenly, or earlier/later than expected.
Experienced IFR pilots tend to focus less on exact numbers and more on:
If your entire plan collapses when one timing element shifts by two hours, the forecast was never the real issue—the margins were.
Where forecasts are most reliable
More reliable:
Less reliable:
The right IFR mindset
The goal is to be wrong safely which means planning for early arrival of bad weather, building in fuel and reroute flexibility, and avoiding tight, single-point timing dependencies. Good IFR planning treats the forecast as a starting point, then builds layers of protection around it so that when it’s wrong (and it often is), the flight still has options.
How much do you trust the forecast?
Keep your IFR skills sharp with real-world monthly Mastery scenarios
/by Eric RadtkeDesigned as an ongoing series of scenario-based workshops, IFR Mastery challenges pilots each month with a new real-world IFR flight situation. Instead of passively watching videos, you actively work through weather decisions, approach planning, aircraft limitations, alternates, route choices, and cockpit workload management—just like you would in actual instrument conditions.
Each scenario follows a proven process:
The result is valuable “mental reps” that help sharpen IFR decision-making even when you’re not flying regularly.
That makes IFR Mastery especially valuable for instrument pilots looking to stay current, improve confidence, and avoid common traps that can catch even experienced aviators.
And now, for the first time, the entire experience is available directly through the Sporty’s online course platform and Pilot Training app on iPhone/iPad—making it easier than ever to train whenever you have a few spare minutes.
Whether you fly hard IFR every week or only occasionally file in the system, consistent practice matters. IFR Mastery offers a convenient and engaging way to keep your instrument thinking sharp all year long.
How to Try It for Free
Click the scenario link below to see what IFR Mastery is all about (and learn a few tips along the way), or download the Sporty’s Pilot Training app on the iOS App Store for the full experience.
The glidepath disappears while flying an RNAV LPV approach. Will you continue flying the approach to LNAV mins?
Once you’ve completed a free scenario, be sure to sign up for a 30-day trial of IFR Mastery and continue your learning. You’ll receive a new scenario every month and continued access to the extensive Mastery archives, all for just $24/month. If you’re already a PilotWorkshops subscriber, just download the free Pilot Training app and log in with your existing Mastery account.
Practical IFR: Mix and Match
/by Jeff Van WestAs an aviation writer, I’m always on the prowl for interesting approach charts (so if you have a favorite, drop me a line). One that recently appeared in my email was the ILS or LOC Rwy 27 at Williamsport, Pennsylvania (KIPT). The striking curiosity was plan view note, “RNAV 1-GPS or RADAR AND DME REQUIRED.” The investigation yielded a longer explanation than I expected. Too bad I don’t get paid by the word.
This note says a transition from the enroute environment to the approach requires either an RNAV 1 level GPS navigator or you a combination of both ATC radar and DME on the aircraft. The lowercase “or” separating the two groups of capital letters means you can have either group of capitals. Don’t send an email if you find an example where these capitalization rules are broken. It’s not consistently employed due to evolving standards for this stuff, but that’s what it means.
(Interesting and vaguely related aside: Did you ever wonder why a writing credit for a Hollywood movie was “Written by Jack Jones & Wilma Mead and Bobby French”? It looks like they couldn’t agree on whether to abbreviate or not, but it means Jack and Wilma wrote as a team, while Bobby wrote separately, and probably later. Same idea as the approach note’s uppercase “and” versus the lowercase “or.”)
Don’t let the “RNAV 1” part trip you up. For our purposes in GPS-driven GA, this means any terminal certified GPS, which must be accurate to within one mile a minimum of 95 percent of the time.
If you have an approach-certified GPS, you’ve got at least RNAV 0.3, which is more than three times an accurate. With that navigator, using the TAA to an ILS is as simple as loading the ILS approach because the waypoints for the TAA will be included.
If you had no GPS, you could get vectors onto the localizer. This removes the need for the TAA. However, you’d still need to identify JIBGO to know when a descent to 3700 was allowed.
Apparently, ATC has limited ability to help you out with this, or it would say “RADAR” over the JIBGO fix in the profile and plan views. Without that, you’d need DME—or at least RNAV 1 GPS, but then you could go direct to JIBGO in the first place. ATC could probably tell you that you were inside JIBGO however, so you could descend with that information. JIBGO to ZUMEV is 6 miles.
A similar situation exists on the missed, where you climb to 980, then make a climbing right turn to intercept MIP R-314 to ZIMEL, which is itself an intersection. With an approach GPS, you simply unsuspend navigation, switch back to GPS guidance and fly to ZIMEL. With a terminal GPS, you can still create a direct-to ZIMEL on a course of 314. This may not be an identical track to flying the VOR radial, but it’s close enough and any difference diminishes rapidly as you approach ZIMEL.
With an approach-certified WAAS GPS, you’d probably skip the ILS entirely and fly the RNAV approach. There’s a pound sign for the DA of 777, which requires a cross-reference. You’ll see a higher-than-standard required climb gradient in the textual missed approach instructions, and that the inoperative table doesn’t apply in the notes. The latter is because the visibility requirement is already 3/4 miles, so you don’t need to add more if the approach lights are out of service.
The Matching Game
Speaking of cross-reference, check out all the inverse (white on black) characters on this plate. Some are simple, others require finding the associated information elsewhere.
At the top of the chart, the inverse A5 by the lights in the briefing strip means this MALSR is at least partially pilot controlled. Likewise, the inverse L by the tower/CTAF frequency means there are at least partially pilot-controlled lights (PCL) when the tower is closed. How do you know the tower will close? That’s what the star after the “Williamsport Tower” in the briefing strip means.
Many folks stop there but don’t be one of them. Down in the airport diagram in the lower left, you’ll see the same inverse L saying it’s the runway end identifier lights (REIL) for Runway 9… Runway 9, high-intensity runway lights for Runways 9-27, and medium intensity runway lights for Runways 12-30. If you want details about these lights, you’ll have to look in the Chart Supplement.
The inverse T and A indicate non-standard takeoff and alternate-filing minimums, respectively. This time, you’ll reference the TPP to see that all departures from all runways demand higher than standard climb gradients and textual departure procedure to follow. These aren’t required for Part 91 flights, but it’s a life-extending practice to comply. Alternately, you could follow the visual climb over airport (VCOA) instructions of climbing in visual conditions to 2800 over the airport before proceeding on course in any direction climbing at least the standard 200 feet per nm.
The non-standard alternate minimums are another lookup, which reveals you’d better have an approach GPS if the tower will be closed, and the forecast weather better be essentially VFR. This is for filing Williamsport as an alternate, not flying there. See the sidebar below for clarification.
One more inverse letters and we’re done. The inverse D in the airport diagram means there’s runway declared distance information available takeoff and landing distances in the Chart Supplement (you’re call whether the D is for “declared” or “distance”). These are the TORA, TODA, ASDA, LDA that sounds like a battle cry, but actually stands for takeoff runway available, takeoff distance available, accelerate-stop distance available, and landing distance available.
FlightTrainingCentral.com
Speaking of circling, note that circling south of Runway 9 and southwest of 30 is NA at night. Circling to land on Runway 12-30 is also NA at night. These prohibitions are usually because of close in obstacles obstacle you’re expected to avoid visually. If you’re wondering what those obstacles might be, you can find a list after any takeoff minimums and obstacle departure procedures. This might take some time. Williamsport has one of the longest lists of low, close-in obstacles I’ve ever seen.
Maybe the FAA survey folk were getting paid by the word.
Watch This Video:
GPS VLOC Auto Switch and Autoslew
The Missing MSA
Approach charts like these are a boon to the designated examiner pushing the bounds of a candidate’s knowledge on an instrument checkride: “What’s the minimum safe altitude (MSA) for this approach?” Search as you may, you won’t find the familiar circle with its 25-mile ring of safety on this chart. That’s because its equivalent is staring you in the face: The TAA extends out 30 miles from each reference fix with a safe altitude to fly. A published MSA would be superfluous.
Quiz: IFR Cross-Country Planning
/by IFR Focus TeamIFR cross-country planning pulls together a lot of moving parts—altitudes, airways, terrain, weather requirements, and a careful reading of the regulations and charts that tie it all together. Whether you’re planning a short hop under a busy terminal area or a longer enroute segment over unfamiliar terrain, the decisions you make before departure often matter as much as anything you do in the air.
This quiz focuses on the kinds of scenarios pilots regularly study in FAA knowledge training and testing environments, where chart interpretation and regulatory knowledge intersect. You’ll see questions on minimum altitudes, route structure, alternate requirements, and enroute planning details that sometimes hide in plain sight. Some are straightforward, others require a closer look at how the rules apply in context. See how well you can translate the charts and regulations into sound IFR planning decisions.
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A New Take on Alternates
/by Elaine KauhIf you’ve ever been glad to be on the ground after fleeing dark clouds and heavy rain, you know just how unpredictable storms can be. They can pop out of a clear sky and grow quickly, forcing you to head in an unexpected direction—often further from both the destination and alternate. While it shouldn’t be a big deal to divert for weather, get-there-itis and other pressures can become dangerous distractions. One way of reducing stress while safely avoiding storms is to take a different approach to alternates.
Safe Havens
Filing an IFR alternate is often a check-the-box routine, and we do a good job of exceeding the weather requirements in 14 CFR §91.169. But filed alternates are often near the destination. We tend to mentally lock that into the mission, leaving us unprepared for big changes. Since you can divert anywhere you like once in flight, it’s better to view IFR alternates for what they are: for you, a backup near the destination when it works. For ATC, lost-comm procedures—knowing where you’ll go if you can’t reach the destination. That’s why the filed alternate isn’t normally apparent to controllers. Your weather alternates, then, are personal backups based on conditions rather than convenience. I call them “safe havens.”
We wise up to this concept pretty quickly in the Midwest, where unforecasted thunderstorms are common in the spring and summer. I’ve learned to assume they’ll develop with any signs of instability and plan accordingly—not just with a couple of alternates along the way, but a safe haven that is often well past the destination or along a different route. The plan includes having the fuel to get there. If that’s not practical, the result is a delay or no-go. A beautiful weekend in April was a good example. The day started out clear across three states, with the weather maps and a few TAFs showing a slight chance of thunderstorms. Yet I canceled a cross-country to northern Wisconsin because I was worried about getting back for an evening commitment. It was hard to believe, but a few hours later severe storms developed and spread well past the “chance of” areas. If I really had to make the trip, I would have planned an overnight at the destination—or at a safe haven. If the weather was still good and I made it home the same day, great.
IFR Refresher: Fuel Requirements (14 CFR §91.167)
Reality check: That may not be enough when weather forces multiple deviations.
More is Better
Again, most of us exceed the regs in planning, and it’s common to have a personal minimum of one hour of fuel reserves. But there’s a big catch in the requirements under §91.167. It calls for enough fuel to “complete the flight to the first airport of intended landing…fly from that airport to the alternate airport” and have 45 minutes of cruise-flight reserve. Fuel to land, depart again, and fly to the alternate can require more fuel than you think, especially if you also account for weather diversions. It’s better to avoid tight fuel margins when planning alternates or safe havens—land for fuel where the weather’s great, not where you hit your maximum fuel range. Diverting is already high workload—would you rather make a leisurely stop with a visual approach, or press on into challenging weather and a possible missed approach with minimum fuel? I know some pilots who have no problem simply turning back for home if that’s their safe haven. They’ll plan a fix along the route as a fuel-status or continue/divert point if there’s potential for storms.
Of course, it’s not practical to analyze dozens of airports in five states in case you need one. So safe havens can be as easy as bookmarking an area with airports well away from weather hazards. During a multi-day trip back to the Midwest from Florida in an SR22, the convective potential prompted me to make an early fuel stop in Georgia to top off after just two hours in the air. An hour later, fast-growing storms moving east had already forced me to fly well away from the route and even back south before I could bypass the weather and head north again. In the meantime, I flew west for well over an hour to find a safe place to land, but I had the fuel and then some. And, if you like that glide ring on your EFB map, notice that it completely encircles your aircraft. Picture fuel-reserve rings around that and you have 360 degrees’ worth of options. Like the airline safety briefing, “the closest emergency exit may be behind you.”
The closest emergency exit may be behind you.
Maximize Minimums
It’s also easy to be fooled by an airport reporting 10 miles visibility and clear skies, especially during surprise diversions. There could still be a storm cell developing 50 miles away. That’s all the more reason to stay in VMC when possible to be able to spot buildups in the distance. Be sure to use ATC resources and pilot reports to inquire about weather approaching an alternate, not just the alternate itself. I once stopped a mere 20 miles from home due to thunderstorms and heavy rain. It was so nice and clear at my present position that it was tempting to press on, but that would have meant entering IMC with no way to see the approaching line of weather. An airport I was familiar with was only a few miles off the left wing, so I decided to wait it out there. Safe inside, I inquired about a hangar for the night and texted a friend to get a ride back. Meanwhile, I watched the weather radar as a line of heavy rain passed over the destination, followed by clear skies. The timing turned out great, so I canceled the car ride and launched for the short flight home VFR.
Other tips:
We now have the best tools yet to build flexibility into each flight plan. Just add a plan to manage weather risks—especially those that turn up unexpectedly. Whether you call them alternates or safe havens, be OK with changing routes and airports to allow for flying a normal approach and landing well within your skill set. If you decide you’re OK with the idea of landing far from the destination, you have the mindset it takes to manage the risks of unpredictable hazards like thunderstorms.