We’re thrilled to welcome Capt. Tim Decker as a contributor to IFR Focus. Tim brings an extraordinary depth of experience spanning military, corporate, and airline aviation, combined with a deep passion for mentoring general aviation pilots.
A retired U.S. Air Force pilot, Tim’s military career includes flying iconic aircraft like the U-2 and F-117 Nighthawk. Today, he serves as a Boeing 757 Captain for FedEx, accumulating more than 16,000 total flight hours over his career. But despite his extensive jet time, Tim remains deeply rooted in the general aviation community as a longtime Cirrus SR22 owner, CFI, CFII, and MEI.
Tim specializes in helping owner-pilots transition safely and confidently into high-performance turbine aircraft. He is a Cirrus Vision Jet mentor pilot and instructor, an Epic E1000 factory-trained instructor, and a HondaJet type-rated pilot. His instructional focus bridges the gap between different worlds, taking the rigorous standardization, risk management, and disciplined decision-making found in airline and military cockpits and making them practical for single-pilot Part 91 operations.
Based in Nashville, Tennessee, Tim is dedicated to helping pilots develop true operational mastery in the real-world IFR system. We are proud to feature his unique perspective at IFR Focus, and we know our readers will benefit immensely from his insights in this and future articles.
The Checkride Was the Easy Part: Moving Beyond Certification to Operational Mastery
Passing the checkride proves you can fly the airplane. Operating it safely in the real world is a different challenge altogether.
by Tim Decker
Passing a checkride is a significant accomplishment. Whether it’s an instrument rating, a commercial certificate, a type rating, or an ATP, the successful applicant has demonstrated the knowledge, skill, and judgment required to meet established standards. Most pilots understand that earning a certificate doesn’t mark the end of their development. What often comes as a surprise, however, is how different real-world operations feel from the controlled environment of a practical test or simulator session.
A checkride demonstrates proficiency under evaluation standards. Real-world flying requires pilots to apply those same skills while managing changing weather, passenger expectations, operational pressures, unfamiliar airports, and evolving ATC clearances. This boundary between demonstrated proficiency and operational proficiency is where some of aviation’s most valuable learning occurs.
I was reminded of this recently when a fully qualified pilot who had just completed training in a high-performance turbine aircraft asked me to accompany him on a cross-country flight. The summer weather featured widespread convective activity along the route—nothing unusual for IFR flying, but enough to require some tactical thought.
Before filing, he asked me to review his flight plan, which was routed direct to the destination. Looking at the weather, I saw an area of green and yellow precipitation with an occasional patch of red along his line. There was no lightning, but it was an area that would almost certainly require tactical decision-making in IMC.
I suggested an alternate route via a VOR located approximately 30 degrees off course. It added only a modest amount of distance but kept us completely clear of the weather.
His response was reasonable: “Why don’t we just go direct and ask for deviations if we need them? There’s no lightning showing.” He wasn’t wrong; that plan probably would have worked. But I told him that wasn’t how a professional dispatcher would file the flight for an airline crew.
A dispatcher wouldn’t intentionally launch a flight toward an area where deviations are likely. Instead, they file the route most likely to produce an uneventful flight from the beginning. The goal isn’t simply to complete the flight safely; it is to do so while minimizing workload, reducing uncertainty, preserving options, and enhancing passenger comfort.
The revised route was a perfect example of what good aeronautical decision-making should accomplish. It was safe, legal, and efficient. Several hours later, while cruising comfortably along our weather-free route, the pilot looked toward his original path and simply said, “I’m glad we’re not over there.” The flight was uneventful, and that’s exactly the point. The best decisions prevent problems from developing in the first place.
Beyond the Checkride
The FAA’s training standards do an excellent job evaluating whether a pilot can perform specific tasks, like flying an approach or managing an emergency. These skills form the essential foundation of safe flight. But real-world IFR flying involves the gap that exists between certification and operational proficiency.
Training programs teach pilots how to meet established standards. Real-world flying requires them to apply those skills in dynamic environments where the correct answer is rarely obvious and judgment becomes just as important as aircraft control. The question isn’t just whether you can fly the approach, but whether you can safely manage everything happening around it. Can you recognize a weather threat early? Stay ahead of changing clearances? Identify when your workload is exceeding capacity?
Throughout my career—whether flying military aircraft, corporate jets, airliners, or mentoring owner-pilots—I’ve observed the same pattern: Most mistakes don’t begin with a loss of aircraft control. They begin with a loss of operational control.
Managing Workload, Automation, and Situational Awareness
Many pilots think of workload as something that happens to them, but professional pilots view it as something to be managed or prevented. Consider how things unravel during an IFR flight: a pilot becomes occupied with weather, falls behind the avionics, rushes the approach briefing, misses a radio call, and suddenly finds himself reacting to events instead of anticipating them. The airplane may still be under control, but the operation is no longer being managed.
One of the most effective ways to improve safety is to reduce workload before the flight ever begins, just like our weather-routing decision. Professional pilots constantly look for ways to simplify the operation because they understand that mental capacity is a finite resource.
The same principle applies to automation. Today’s owner-pilot has access to technology—flight directors, synthetic vision, datalink weather, and sophisticated autopilots—that airline crews a generation ago could only dream about. But automation is still just a tool. The challenge isn’t learning how to use it; it’s learning how to manage it.
A pilot transitioning into turbine aircraft once shared a great observation: the most important skill isn’t mastering a specific procedure, but maintaining situational awareness throughout every phase of flight. Success ultimately comes down to consistently answering three questions:
What is the airplane doing?
What is the automation doing?
What should happen next?
In the airline world, we refer to this as Flight Path Management. Pilots who can consistently answer these questions are rarely surprised by the aircraft or the operation.
The Missing Link: Mentorship
Experience and judgment are difficult to teach in a classroom. They develop through exposure. In military aviation, new pilots fly alongside experienced flight leads who help them develop decision-making skills, followed by a detailed debrief.
Civilian airline aviation follows a similar model. A pilot may arrive with 1,500 hours, but they still undergo rigorous simulator training and then enter Initial Operating Experience (IOE), flying alongside a Line Check Airman before being released to fly with a regular Captain. The industry understands that certification does not equal mastery.
Yet, owner-pilots often complete training and immediately begin operating sophisticated aircraft single-pilot in busy airspace and challenging weather with no Captain sitting next to them. As a result, Single-Pilot Resource Management (SRM) becomes one of the most critical skills an owner-pilot can develop.
Interestingly, aviation insurance underwriters have reached the same conclusion. When pilots transition into high-performance aircraft, insurance requirements often include mentor-pilot time and operational restrictions. These are not arbitrary; they are based on decades of actuarial data showing where pilots are most vulnerable. A mentor isn’t there to fly the airplane; they are there to help accelerate the development of judgment by teaching you how experienced pilots think.
Building Your Professional Development Program
Fortunately, owner-pilots don’t have to figure this out alone. Type clubs and type-specific organizations (such as COPA, BPPP, VPO, and CJP) provide access to experienced instructors, standardized operating practices, scenario-based training, and a community willing to share lessons learned.
My recommendation is simple: join them, attend their events, and fly with their instructors. More importantly, build ongoing relationships with mentors you trust. Call them when you’re planning a challenging trip, and consider hiring them periodically to accompany you on real-world flights where learning can occur in your actual operating environment.
Another significant difference between professional aviation and general aviation is the frequency of recurrent training. In the commercial world, proficiency is viewed as perishable. Yet many GA pilots receive little formal training beyond the legal requirement of a Flight Review every two years.
If you are routinely flying family, friends, or business associates through the IFR system, I encourage you to hold yourself to a higher standard. Seek training every six to nine months, use simulators when available, and schedule mentorship flights focused purely on improving operational decision-making.
The Real Goal
Pilots often pursue the next rating or credential believing it will inherently make them safer. Training and certificates matter, but the real goal is becoming the kind of pilot who consistently prevents problems from developing in the first place.
Whether you’re flying a Skyhawk, a Bonanza, a Cirrus, a turbine aircraft, or an airliner, the fundamentals remain the same: manage your workload, use automation wisely, stay ahead of the airplane, and train more often than the regulations require. A checkride demonstrates proficiency under evaluation standards, but the rest of your aviation career should be spent developing true operational proficiency in the real world.
https://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/18104943/The-Checkride-Was-the-Easy-Part-Moving-Beyond-Certification-to-Operational-Mastery.png10001250Tim Deckerhttps://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/14115136/IFR-Focus-Logo_White_Blue_Web-01.pngTim Decker2026-06-30 08:45:242026-06-29 08:50:38The Checkride Was the Easy Part: Moving Beyond Certification to Operational Mastery
Your navigator can give you a useful vertical path past the MDA to the runway, but that doesn’t mean the approach was designed for you to follow it all the way down.
Let’s say you’re inbound to Sidney Municipal (N23) on a scuddy IFR day in the Catskills. Winds are calm and your arrival direction favors Runway 25, so you load the RNAV (GPS) RWY 25, capture the advisory glidepath (+V), and ride it down until you break out with the runway in sight. Well, “in sight” is legal as you have somewhere just south of 3 statute miles visibility, but it sure is nice to have that glidepath to keep you stabilized and on target. You land, taxi in, and get on with your life.
Now let’s do it again but with your arrival favoring Runway 7. Same airport, same weather, same avionics, and the same desire to use all the tools for a stable, on-target approach. You load the RNAV (GPS) RWY 7, capture the advisory glidepath, and head down. You emerge from the clouds to see, not a runway, but a hillside. You glance down to the glidepath and see you’re dead center—but look back up to realize you’re about to be dead center on that hill.
You pitch and power up hard and pass over the trees about 1.5 NM short of the runway, close enough to worry about leaves in the wheelpants. (Check out our companion Sim Challenge if you want to watch that happen in your home simulator.)
Check out our companion Sim Challenge if you want to watch that happen in your home simulator.
What’s the difference between these two approaches? Both are LNAV only. Both offer advisory glidepaths (a.k.a. “LP+V” or “LNAV+V,” respectively). Your avionics displays the same glidepath cues you get for the LPV at your home airport. Yet one runway lets you get away with treating that cue like the real thing, and the other… doesn’t.
The problem is that a reasonable procedure, a helpful box, and a pilot trained to fly a stabilized approach can still combine to make the wrong move seem right. The essential detail is that neither of these two approaches at Sidney give you protected vertical guidance below the MDA.
Reading Between the Lines
There are clues on the charts. (And, no, it’s not that Runway 25 offers LP minimums. This has nothing to do with minimums.)
Neither procedure guarantees obstacle clearance along the path to the runway once you’re below the MDA. The expectation is that before leaving the MDA, you have the visibility, visual references on the airport, and are in a position from which a normal descent can be made using normal maneuvers required by 14 CFR 91.175 (c). It follows that you can then visually avoid anything poking up between you and the runway.
Runway 25 gives you the usual cues for making that judgment: a published Visual Descent Angle (VDA) of 3.66°, a Visual Descent Point (VDP) 2.6 NM from the threshold, and a PAPI waiting for you to go visual. While that doesn’t turn the LNAV into protected vertical guidance, it does give you references for deciding whether the descent in front of you is “normal.” And that VDA is probably the +V angle used by your GPS navigator. It’s the angle from the FAF at SIBJI to the touchdown zone.
The profile view on the N23 RNAV (GPS) RWY 25 approach plate includes a VDP, VDA/TCH, a published Visual Descent Angle (VDA) of 3.66°, Visual Descent Point (VDP), and a Threshold Crossing Height (TCH). This means the 3° slope must be clear of obstacles.
This is where Sidney’s approaches to Runways 25 and 7 part company. The Runway 7 chart has no such angle, even though the GPS navigator will still offer +V. There’s no VDP or PAPI, either. The chart has not forgotten to give you the normal descent assistance. It is declining to bless any.
The profile view’s lack of a published descent angle and visual descent point, plus the “Visual Segment – Obstacles” note, means not all is as it seems on this approach.
AIM 5-4-5(k)
Obstacles may penetrate the obstacle identification surface below the MDA in the visual segment of an IAP that has a published VDA/TCH. When the VDA/TCH is not authorized due to an obstacle penetration that would require a pilot to deviate from the VDA between MDA and touchdown, the VDA/TCH will be replaced with the note “Visual Segment–Obstacles” in the profile view of the IAP.
AIM 5-4-5 (k) is surprisingly clear on this topic. Even though a VDA might appear on the chart, it doesn’t guarantee obstacle protection below the MDA. That section below the MDA as you descend to the runway is the “visual segment.” The AIM also notes that the presence of a VDA doesn’t change non-precision approach requirements. Put more plainly, an LNAV approach with a glidepath-looking thing displayed on your avionics is still just an LNAV approach. The MDA does not turn into a DA just because the box offers you a vertical path.
The AIM is equally clear that if obstacles in the visual segment would require a pilot to deviate from the vertical path between the MDA and touchdown, the VDA/Threshold Crossing Height (TCH) is not authorized and is replaced with the note “Visual Segment – Obstacles.”
That note is the FAA’s way of suggesting that you probably shouldn’t follow the vertical path below the MDA on that procedure no matter how good the visibility—or at least follow it with extreme suspicion.
The Role of Advisory VNAV
Continuous descent final approaches have been a staple in professional flying for a long time. They have proven safer and easier to manage than the old-fashioned, dive-and-drive method of flying a non-precision approach. This technique manifests in general aviation avionics as the +V advisory glidepaths for non-precision approaches.
On the Garmin G1000 NXi, the Glidepath Indicator is the same magenta diamond symbol for both official vertical guidance and advisory vertical guidance.
Since advisory vertical navigation encourages stabilized approaches to the MDA, AIM 5-4-5(k)(1)(b) notes that navigation data providers are allowed to calculate and provide vertical angles to pilots—even where the FAA does not provide one. However, it reiterates: “Pilots are cautioned that they are responsible for obstacle avoidance in the visual segment regardless of the presence or absence of a VDA/TCH and associated navigation system advisory vertical guidance.”
Unpacking this, what you should take away is that following advisory vertical guidance is optional, but an excellent choice, down to the MDA. There should be no obstacle issues (assuming you cross above any stepdown altitudes on the way down). It’s just below the MDA where trouble may lurk.
Not all visual segment penetrations are equal. Offending obstacles are quite common. The penalty is often just increased visibility requirements, no VDP, or a restriction on using the approach at night. These are the FAA’s way of ensuring you have sufficient opportunity to see the obstacles below the MDA before you hit them. The Runway 25 Approach has some visual penetrations to the 34:1 slope that’s evaluated up from the runway (a 3° glidepath is a 20:1 slope, so the 34:1 is a shallower area beneath it). How can you tell? The Runway 25 Approach has a VDP, which requires a clear 20:1 slope. But it doesn’t have the light grey line (known as the stipple line) connecting the VDP to the runway. That requires a clear 34:1 slope. So the 34:1 slope must have penetrations.
“Visual Segment – Obstacles“ is more serious. AIM 5-4-5 says the note appears when an obstacle penetration would require a pilot to deviate from the VDA between the MDA and touchdown. Something along the centerline pokes into the vertical path that you would follow.
For Runway 7, that’s an entire hillside. So “Visual Segment – Obstacles” says more than the visual segment isn’t entirely clear. It’s closer to: “That normal-looking path you want to fly down to the runway isn’t going to work.” But unless you know the nuances of the visual segment, that note may seem to undersell its importance.
The Last Mile
Garmin Service Alert
Advisory vertical guidance provides vertical path information only and does not provide obstacle or terrain clearance assurance in the visual segment of an approach. Although advisory vertical guidance can assist with maintaining a glidepath angle that complies with altitude restrictions, it remains the pilot’s responsibility to fly in strict compliance with the published approach procedure.
This is fundamentally a human-factors problem. The GPS annunciation may say LP+V instead of LPV, and the minima line may say MDA, but when the workload is high … you see how this could go poorly. It’s a textbook setup for a negative learning transfer—in this case, following an LP+V glidepath the same way you would for an LPV approach … right past the MDA. (It’s worth noting that Garmin issued Service Alert 26027 on March 12, 2026 addressing this very issue.)
The practical defense is understanding that the approach provides obstacle protection above MDA. The advisory glidepath helps you fly a stabilized approach to the MDA. From there, you must have the required visual references to continue. The GPS navigator will continue depicting a straight path to the runway, but it’s on you to ensure that path is clear.
The cues you’re looking for are: +V on the navigator (which will always be to an MDA, not DA), no VDA, no VDP, no VGSI, no TCH, and especially, “Visual Segment – Obstacles,” indicating that the visual descent from MDA to the runway may not be straightforward. This may require some adjustments that strain the definition of normal maneuvers.
In those cases, the honest answer at the MDA may be that you just can’t get there from here.
A simulator is the perfect place to practice judgment, timing, and managing workload when the pressure is on. Our Sim Challenges make it easy to get a good workout—at home—using Microsoft Flight Simulator or X-Plane. Along the way, you’ll answer thought-provoking questions and learn from an expert’s real-world insights.
In this month’s challenge, you’ll discover the difference between approved vertical guidance and advisory vertical guidance—and what can happen if you follow advisory vertical guidance below MDA.
IFR flying rarely fails because a pilot doesn’t know the rules—it becomes challenging when those rules are applied in real time, under workload, while managing aircraft control, navigation, and communication simultaneously.
This month’s quiz focuses on the intersection of IFR knowledge and flight deck workload. From abbreviated clearances and departure procedures to in-flight weather requests and urgency communications, each question reflects situations where understanding the regulation is only part of the challenge. The real test is how quickly and accurately you can interpret, respond, and prioritize when ATC adds another layer to an already busy cockpit.
ATC will use the phrase "CLEARED AS FILED" when issuing an abbreviated IFR clearance. This means:
Correct!Wrong!
When departing from an airport not served by a control tower, the issuance of a clearance containing a void time indicates that
Correct!Wrong!
How is your flight plan closed when your destination airport has IFR conditions and there is no control tower on the field?
Correct!Wrong!
Which clearance procedures may be issued by ATC without prior pilot request?
Correct!Wrong!
What is meant when departure control instructs you to 'resume own navigation' after you have been vectored to a Victor airway?
Correct!Wrong!
Pilots on IFR flights seeking ATC in flight weather avoidance assistance should keep in mind that
Correct!Wrong!
What response is expected when ATC issues an IFR clearance to pilots of airborne aircraft?
Correct!Wrong!
An abbreviated departure clearance '...CLEARED AS FILED...' will always contain the name
Correct!Wrong!
Which scenario represents a case where you’d need to use the “Urgency” communication procedure?
Correct!Wrong!
While performing a VFR practice instrument approach, Radar Approach Control assigns an altitude or heading that will cause you to enter the clouds. What action should you take?
One of the great ironies of IFR flying is that once you have the right to fly through the clouds, you take almost every opportunity to stay out of them. It’s simpler, faster, and arguably safer (at least at the GA level) to shortcut full procedures with visual ones. The go-to “instrument approach” for keeping the mail moving is: “Cleared for the visual.”
However, a casual demeanor can be an invitation for catastrophe — or at least a letter of investigation from the authorities. So it’s worth a review of the corner-cases and gotchas hidden in the plain-sight (visual) approach.
First off, conditions must be basically VFR. Weather reporting at the destination isn’t required so long as some reliable source says there’s at least 1000-foot ceilings and three miles visibly. In practice, it often requires more. The pilot can ask for the visual, or ATC can assign it. However, the pilot must have the airport, or the preceding aircraft, in sight.
Key Takeaway:
A visual approach is still an IFR clearance—but once ATC clears you for the visual, you’re responsible for avoiding both traffic and terrain.
There’s trap number one: When you report the preceding aircraft in sight, you are responsible for separation. If you lose track of that aircraft (or the airport), you must tell ATC ASAP. If you’re at an uncontrolled airport, that may mean switching frequencies back and asking ATC if they still see that aircraft on radar.
On those lines, once ATC clears you to contact Tower or the advisory frequency, radar service is automatically terminated. Don’t be fooled because you still have a transponder code. You’re still IFR, but you’ve assumed separation from both aircraft and obstacles. This is true if you ask to switch to advisory early as well. It’s unlikely to be an issue while the sun shines, but when you’re cleared for the visual at night, that’s another story. Sometimes it’s a story of a Southwest 737 that lands at the wrong airport because ATC was no longer watching with the God’s-eye view.
That said, ATC can’t release you unless all traffic conflicts are resolved. Given that there’s no restriction on how you proceed visually to the airport, sometimes you’ll get cleared with a restriction, “Maintain 4000 and contact Tower …” or something similar. Take that as a heads up there’s a potential conflict that needs tying up. At bigger airports (pretty much Class C and above) there are complex letters of agreement on exactly where and how Approach can release visual approaches to Tower to minimize issues. RNAV aircraft can be cleared direct to a published FAF as part of getting cleared for a visual.
Technically, ATC could release two aircraft on visuals to the same uncontrolled airport provided the second one had the first in sight. In practice, that’s the kind of scenario that gives controllers hives. Two aircraft, out of communication, both going for the same airport, yet both IFR with requirements to protect the airspace in case they pop back up needing services again.
Non-Towered Airport Reality
An IFR aircraft cleared for a visual approach to a non-towered airport can block other IFR arrivals until it cancels IFR.
A takeaway for us pilots is that when cleared for a visual to an uncontrolled field, we tie up that airport — and maybe other nearby airports — until we cancel IFR. That may seem bizarre on a CAVU day when the pattern could be full of VFR aircraft, but it’s true. So if you can cancel, do it. If you can’t contact ATC directly, try relaying through that aircraft behind you. And if you’re the aircraft behind waiting for the visual, call to the person in front and see if they’re willing to cancel, or just cancel yourself and proceed VFR.
There’s not much gain in retaining your IFR status if you can cancel and fly VFR. Once you cancel IFR, you must maintain VFR cloud clearances appropriate for the airspace. That’s likely the common 1000 above, 500 below and 2000 feet laterally, potentially all the way to the surface (see sidebar: Over-Eager IFR Cancellation).
The only real gain in staying IFR is if you can’t land. There is no missed approach procedure for a visual. You’re expected to land as soon as practical if you go around, or stay clear of clouds until issued a new clearance. But that should come faster if ATC still has you in the system. And there won’t be any other IFR aircraft in your way.
Another point is that when you’re cleared for a visual to a towered airport, it’ll often be a visual to a specific runway. That’s a clearance, and changing runways requires permission. A visual to an uncontrolled field won’t have a runway assignment, but you’re still bound by the local traffic patterns. If it’s right traffic for Runway 36 and you’re arriving from the west, you’re expected to cross over the field before entering the downwind. It should go without saying that you’ll monitor the CTAF as early as possible and fit yourself into the VFR traffic flow as politely as practical.
Controllers need at least 500 feet cloud clearance above the MVA to vector an aircraft on a visual. There are workarounds. A controller can drive someone on a downwind for a published approach — that’s not a vector for a visual — but know they’ll likely report the field in sight and can hop off on a visual. Remember, if you’re cleared for a published approach, you can’t spontaneously switch to a visual. But you can always report the airport in sight and ask.
Lastly, keep the visual approach clear in your mind from its sister tool, the contact approach. The key difference is that the visual is essentially a way to complete your flight in VFR conditions and with VFR simplicity. The contact approach is akin to Special VFR. The requirements are only one-mile visibility and maintaining clear of clouds. You don’t need the airport in sight, so long as you have reasonable confidence in getting there visually. It can’t be assigned; the pilot must request it.
Personally, I prefer requesting a contact approach rather than a visual when I’m making the request because I get all the flexibility without a requirement for the airport to report VFR conditions.
Well, almost all the flexibility. You can’t ask for a contact approach to an airport that has no published approach procedure. You can do that with a visual. Similarly, you can’t fly part of a published approach to Airport A and then sidestep on a contact approach to Airport B. That’s a common request with a visual.
And well it should be because that’s how the mail keeps moving … so long as the conditions are right.
Watch This Video: “Special VFR vs. Contact Approach.”
Over-Eager IFR Cancellation
You can almost hear the longing in the controller’s voice: “Report IFR cancellation on this frequency or (sigh) on the ground …” If you can safely and legally cancel IFR before landing at an uncontrolled field, it helps everyone in the system. Safe is up to you, and often not an issue. Legal? That can be a gotcha.
Remember that you must be in VFR conditions appropriate for the airspace because you forfeit all IFR privileges when you cancel. That’s easy to forget with runway lights in sight after two hours of droning along in IMC. The classic trap is when the airport has a Class E surface area, so the rule of 2000 feet laterally and 500 below extends all the way to the surface. As much as you might want to cancel IFR in the air so the next aircraft can get in behind you, it’s a violation of 91.155 if you can’t maintain VFR, or the ceiling is less than 1000 AGL. It’s worth noting where those Class E extensions are for approaches, and what happens at towered airports when the tower closes. Some revert to Class E at the surface. Others become Class G.
Cancelling early isn’t a big-time savings to you, especially if there’s radio reception or cell phone coverage on the ground. Call the controlling facility on the number listed in the Chart Supplement to cancel, or via RCO if that’s the local custom. Or even relay your cancellation through the waiting aircraft.
Pilot Survey
https://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/11093638/Practical-IFR-Visual-Approaches.png10001250Jeff Van Westhttps://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/14115136/IFR-Focus-Logo_White_Blue_Web-01.pngJeff Van West2026-06-16 08:55:162026-06-18 11:53:46Practical IFR: Visual Approaches
One of the most valuable lessons I learned as a professional pilot happened during my first few days flying the Saab 340 for a regional airline. It wasn’t during a thunderstorm, an engine failure, or a difficult instrument approach. It happened on a routine flight between Pittsburgh and Columbus, a flight so short that we barely had time to level off before beginning our descent.
As a new first officer, I believed the challenge of IFR flying was controlling the airplane. What I learned that day was that the real challenge is managing workload.
We landed in Columbus, and while the captain completed his post-flight duties, I began working through what I thought were my priorities: obtaining the ATIS, requesting our clearance, and organizing paperwork for the next leg. A few minutes later, I turned around and noticed a cabin full of passengers staring at me.
Confused, I asked the captain when the passengers were going to board.
He looked at me and said, “They already did. We deplaned the previous passengers, unloaded their bags, loaded the new bags, boarded the next passengers, completed the preflight, got the ATIS, received the clearance, and we’re ready to go. We’re just waiting on you.”
I wasn’t overwhelmed because the flight was difficult. I was overwhelmed because I didn’t have a system.
That experience taught me a lesson that has stayed with me throughout my aviation career: most IFR workload management happens long before the airplane leaves the ground.
“I wasn’t overwhelmed because the flight was difficult. I was overwhelmed because I didn’t have a system.”
The Myth of Multitasking
Many pilots believe workload management means handling multiple tasks at once. In reality, effective workload management means reducing the number of decisions you have to make in real time.
When pilots become overloaded, it is rarely because they are physically incapable of performing the tasks. Instead, they become overwhelmed because they are constantly asking themselves:
What do I need to do next?
What am I forgetting?
What’s coming up?
Did I miss something?
Every one of those questions consumes mental bandwidth.
The most effective IFR pilots are not necessarily faster or smarter. They simply have systems that allow them to anticipate rather than react.
The Flight Begins Before the Engine Starts
A large portion of IFR workload can be eliminated before you ever reach the airplane.
Before every flight, ask yourself:
What is the weather doing at departure, destination, and alternate airports?
What NOTAMs actually affect me?
What departure procedure am I likely to receive?
What arrival and approach are most likely based on current conditions?
What are my threats for this flight?
Many pilots review information but fail to organize it.
Reading thirty pages of weather products is not preparation. Distilling those thirty pages into three or four critical takeaways is preparation.
The goal is not to memorize information. The goal is to identify what matters.
When you arrive at the airplane already understanding the operational picture, your workload decreases dramatically because you’re no longer processing information for the first time.
“Reading thirty pages of weather products is not preparation. Distilling those thirty pages into three or four critical takeaways is preparation.”
Stay Ahead of the Airplane
The phrase “stay ahead of the airplane” is one of the most common pieces of advice in aviation. Unfortunately, many pilots hear it without understanding what it actually means.
Staying ahead of the airplane means using periods of low workload to prepare for periods of high workload.
During cruise flight, ask yourself:
What’s the expected arrival?
What approach am I likely to receive?
What frequencies will I need?
What altitudes are critical?
What threats exist on the arrival?
Waiting until approach control issues a clearance before opening the chart is a recipe for stress.
Instead, use cruise time to brief multiple possibilities. If ATC changes your assignment, you’ll already have a framework in place.
The goal is to never be surprised.
Build Consistent Cockpit Flows
One of the biggest differences between experienced and inexperienced pilots is consistency.
New pilots often perform cockpit tasks in a random order based on whatever catches their attention.
Experienced pilots develop repeatable flows.
A consistent flow allows you to move through the cockpit the same way every time, reducing the likelihood of omissions and mistakes.
This applies to:
Preflight inspections
Before-start procedures
Before-takeoff checks
Cruise management
Approach setup
Before-landing checks
Shutdown procedures
Discipline creates efficiency.
When your cockpit organization becomes habitual, your brain is free to focus on decision-making instead of task management.
Prioritize Aviate, Navigate, Communicate
The classic hierarchy remains true because it works.
When workload increases, pilots often become distracted by secondary tasks.
A clearance amendment, a reroute, an equipment issue, or a radio call can quickly draw attention away from aircraft control.
The order never changes:
Aviate
Navigate
Communicate
If the airplane is not under control, nothing else matters.
One of the most important skills a single-pilot IFR operator can develop is the ability to delay nonessential tasks until the airplane is stable.
Not every request requires an immediate response.
Sometimes the safest answer is:
“Stand by.”
Guard Against Task Saturation
Task saturation rarely arrives all at once.
Instead, it develops gradually.
You miss a radio call.
Then you fall behind on programming the GPS.
Then ATC issues a new clearance.
Then weather changes.
Then you’re trying to brief an approach while descending through busy airspace.
The warning signs are usually subtle:
Fixating on one task
Missing radio calls
Falling behind checklists
Losing situational awareness
Feeling rushed
When you recognize these symptoms, stop and reassess.
Slow down.
Prioritize.
Fly the airplane.
The willingness to pause and reorganize often prevents minor workload issues from becoming serious problems.
Flight Deck Discipline Creates Capacity
Ultimately, flight deck discipline is not about perfection.
It is about creating mental capacity.
Every organized checklist, every standardized flow, every pre-briefed approach, and every moment spent preparing ahead of time frees up cognitive resources for the unexpected.
IFR flying is not difficult because airplanes are hard to fly.
It is difficult because information arrives continuously, often faster than we can process it.
The pilots who excel in IFR environments are not the ones who work the hardest in the moment. They are the ones who have already done the work before the moment arrives.
“The pilots who excel in IFR environments are not the ones who work the hardest in the moment. They are the ones who have already done the work before the moment arrives.”
The biggest lesson from that short flight between Pittsburgh and Columbus wasn’t about flying a Saab 340. It was about understanding that professional pilots don’t simply react to events as they happen.
They anticipate.
They prepare.
They stay ahead of the airplane.
And because of that, the airplane never seems nearly as fast.
https://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/09215110/Managing-IFR-Workload-and-Flight-Deck-Discipline-Staying-Ahead-of-the-Airplane.png10001250James Oniealhttps://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/14115136/IFR-Focus-Logo_White_Blue_Web-01.pngJames Onieal2026-06-12 08:55:472026-06-10 14:25:45Managing IFR Workload and Flight Deck Discipline: Staying Ahead of the Airplane
The Checkride Was the Easy Part: Moving Beyond Certification to Operational Mastery
/by Tim DeckerEditor’s Note: Welcoming Tim Decker to IFR Focus
IFR Focus welcomes Capt. Tim Decker
We’re thrilled to welcome Capt. Tim Decker as a contributor to IFR Focus. Tim brings an extraordinary depth of experience spanning military, corporate, and airline aviation, combined with a deep passion for mentoring general aviation pilots.
A retired U.S. Air Force pilot, Tim’s military career includes flying iconic aircraft like the U-2 and F-117 Nighthawk. Today, he serves as a Boeing 757 Captain for FedEx, accumulating more than 16,000 total flight hours over his career. But despite his extensive jet time, Tim remains deeply rooted in the general aviation community as a longtime Cirrus SR22 owner, CFI, CFII, and MEI.
Tim specializes in helping owner-pilots transition safely and confidently into high-performance turbine aircraft. He is a Cirrus Vision Jet mentor pilot and instructor, an Epic E1000 factory-trained instructor, and a HondaJet type-rated pilot. His instructional focus bridges the gap between different worlds, taking the rigorous standardization, risk management, and disciplined decision-making found in airline and military cockpits and making them practical for single-pilot Part 91 operations.
Based in Nashville, Tennessee, Tim is dedicated to helping pilots develop true operational mastery in the real-world IFR system. We are proud to feature his unique perspective at IFR Focus, and we know our readers will benefit immensely from his insights in this and future articles.
The Checkride Was the Easy Part: Moving Beyond Certification to Operational Mastery
Passing the checkride proves you can fly the airplane. Operating it safely in the real world is a different challenge altogether.
by Tim Decker
Passing a checkride is a significant accomplishment. Whether it’s an instrument rating, a commercial certificate, a type rating, or an ATP, the successful applicant has demonstrated the knowledge, skill, and judgment required to meet established standards. Most pilots understand that earning a certificate doesn’t mark the end of their development. What often comes as a surprise, however, is how different real-world operations feel from the controlled environment of a practical test or simulator session.
A checkride demonstrates proficiency under evaluation standards. Real-world flying requires pilots to apply those same skills while managing changing weather, passenger expectations, operational pressures, unfamiliar airports, and evolving ATC clearances. This boundary between demonstrated proficiency and operational proficiency is where some of aviation’s most valuable learning occurs.
I was reminded of this recently when a fully qualified pilot who had just completed training in a high-performance turbine aircraft asked me to accompany him on a cross-country flight. The summer weather featured widespread convective activity along the route—nothing unusual for IFR flying, but enough to require some tactical thought.
Before filing, he asked me to review his flight plan, which was routed direct to the destination. Looking at the weather, I saw an area of green and yellow precipitation with an occasional patch of red along his line. There was no lightning, but it was an area that would almost certainly require tactical decision-making in IMC.
I suggested an alternate route via a VOR located approximately 30 degrees off course. It added only a modest amount of distance but kept us completely clear of the weather.
His response was reasonable: “Why don’t we just go direct and ask for deviations if we need them? There’s no lightning showing.” He wasn’t wrong; that plan probably would have worked. But I told him that wasn’t how a professional dispatcher would file the flight for an airline crew.
A dispatcher wouldn’t intentionally launch a flight toward an area where deviations are likely. Instead, they file the route most likely to produce an uneventful flight from the beginning. The goal isn’t simply to complete the flight safely; it is to do so while minimizing workload, reducing uncertainty, preserving options, and enhancing passenger comfort.
The revised route was a perfect example of what good aeronautical decision-making should accomplish. It was safe, legal, and efficient. Several hours later, while cruising comfortably along our weather-free route, the pilot looked toward his original path and simply said, “I’m glad we’re not over there.” The flight was uneventful, and that’s exactly the point. The best decisions prevent problems from developing in the first place.
Beyond the Checkride
The FAA’s training standards do an excellent job evaluating whether a pilot can perform specific tasks, like flying an approach or managing an emergency. These skills form the essential foundation of safe flight. But real-world IFR flying involves the gap that exists between certification and operational proficiency.
Training programs teach pilots how to meet established standards. Real-world flying requires them to apply those skills in dynamic environments where the correct answer is rarely obvious and judgment becomes just as important as aircraft control. The question isn’t just whether you can fly the approach, but whether you can safely manage everything happening around it. Can you recognize a weather threat early? Stay ahead of changing clearances? Identify when your workload is exceeding capacity?
Throughout my career—whether flying military aircraft, corporate jets, airliners, or mentoring owner-pilots—I’ve observed the same pattern: Most mistakes don’t begin with a loss of aircraft control. They begin with a loss of operational control.
Managing Workload, Automation, and Situational Awareness
One of the most effective ways to improve safety is to reduce workload before the flight ever begins, just like our weather-routing decision. Professional pilots constantly look for ways to simplify the operation because they understand that mental capacity is a finite resource.
The same principle applies to automation. Today’s owner-pilot has access to technology—flight directors, synthetic vision, datalink weather, and sophisticated autopilots—that airline crews a generation ago could only dream about. But automation is still just a tool. The challenge isn’t learning how to use it; it’s learning how to manage it.
A pilot transitioning into turbine aircraft once shared a great observation: the most important skill isn’t mastering a specific procedure, but maintaining situational awareness throughout every phase of flight. Success ultimately comes down to consistently answering three questions:
What is the airplane doing?
What is the automation doing?
What should happen next?
In the airline world, we refer to this as Flight Path Management. Pilots who can consistently answer these questions are rarely surprised by the aircraft or the operation.
The Missing Link: Mentorship
Experience and judgment are difficult to teach in a classroom. They develop through exposure. In military aviation, new pilots fly alongside experienced flight leads who help them develop decision-making skills, followed by a detailed debrief.
Civilian airline aviation follows a similar model. A pilot may arrive with 1,500 hours, but they still undergo rigorous simulator training and then enter Initial Operating Experience (IOE), flying alongside a Line Check Airman before being released to fly with a regular Captain. The industry understands that certification does not equal mastery.
Yet, owner-pilots often complete training and immediately begin operating sophisticated aircraft single-pilot in busy airspace and challenging weather with no Captain sitting next to them. As a result, Single-Pilot Resource Management (SRM) becomes one of the most critical skills an owner-pilot can develop.
Interestingly, aviation insurance underwriters have reached the same conclusion. When pilots transition into high-performance aircraft, insurance requirements often include mentor-pilot time and operational restrictions. These are not arbitrary; they are based on decades of actuarial data showing where pilots are most vulnerable. A mentor isn’t there to fly the airplane; they are there to help accelerate the development of judgment by teaching you how experienced pilots think.
Building Your Professional Development Program
Fortunately, owner-pilots don’t have to figure this out alone. Type clubs and type-specific organizations (such as COPA, BPPP, VPO, and CJP) provide access to experienced instructors, standardized operating practices, scenario-based training, and a community willing to share lessons learned.
My recommendation is simple: join them, attend their events, and fly with their instructors. More importantly, build ongoing relationships with mentors you trust. Call them when you’re planning a challenging trip, and consider hiring them periodically to accompany you on real-world flights where learning can occur in your actual operating environment.
Another significant difference between professional aviation and general aviation is the frequency of recurrent training. In the commercial world, proficiency is viewed as perishable. Yet many GA pilots receive little formal training beyond the legal requirement of a Flight Review every two years.
If you are routinely flying family, friends, or business associates through the IFR system, I encourage you to hold yourself to a higher standard. Seek training every six to nine months, use simulators when available, and schedule mentorship flights focused purely on improving operational decision-making.
The Real Goal
Pilots often pursue the next rating or credential believing it will inherently make them safer. Training and certificates matter, but the real goal is becoming the kind of pilot who consistently prevents problems from developing in the first place.
Whether you’re flying a Skyhawk, a Bonanza, a Cirrus, a turbine aircraft, or an airliner, the fundamentals remain the same: manage your workload, use automation wisely, stay ahead of the airplane, and train more often than the regulations require. A checkride demonstrates proficiency under evaluation standards, but the rest of your aviation career should be spent developing true operational proficiency in the real world.
What Lies Beneath the MDA
/by Lee SmithYour navigator can give you a useful vertical path past the MDA to the runway, but that doesn’t mean the approach was designed for you to follow it all the way down.
Let’s say you’re inbound to Sidney Municipal (N23) on a scuddy IFR day in the Catskills. Winds are calm and your arrival direction favors Runway 25, so you load the RNAV (GPS) RWY 25, capture the advisory glidepath (+V), and ride it down until you break out with the runway in sight. Well, “in sight” is legal as you have somewhere just south of 3 statute miles visibility, but it sure is nice to have that glidepath to keep you stabilized and on target. You land, taxi in, and get on with your life.
Now let’s do it again but with your arrival favoring Runway 7. Same airport, same weather, same avionics, and the same desire to use all the tools for a stable, on-target approach. You load the RNAV (GPS) RWY 7, capture the advisory glidepath, and head down. You emerge from the clouds to see, not a runway, but a hillside. You glance down to the glidepath and see you’re dead center—but look back up to realize you’re about to be dead center on that hill.
You pitch and power up hard and pass over the trees about 1.5 NM short of the runway, close enough to worry about leaves in the wheelpants. (Check out our companion Sim Challenge if you want to watch that happen in your home simulator.)
Check out our companion Sim Challenge if you want to watch that happen in your home simulator.
What’s the difference between these two approaches? Both are LNAV only. Both offer advisory glidepaths (a.k.a. “LP+V” or “LNAV+V,” respectively). Your avionics displays the same glidepath cues you get for the LPV at your home airport. Yet one runway lets you get away with treating that cue like the real thing, and the other… doesn’t.
The problem is that a reasonable procedure, a helpful box, and a pilot trained to fly a stabilized approach can still combine to make the wrong move seem right. The essential detail is that neither of these two approaches at Sidney give you protected vertical guidance below the MDA.
Reading Between the Lines
There are clues on the charts. (And, no, it’s not that Runway 25 offers LP minimums. This has nothing to do with minimums.)
Neither procedure guarantees obstacle clearance along the path to the runway once you’re below the MDA. The expectation is that before leaving the MDA, you have the visibility, visual references on the airport, and are in a position from which a normal descent can be made using normal maneuvers required by 14 CFR 91.175 (c). It follows that you can then visually avoid anything poking up between you and the runway.
Runway 25 gives you the usual cues for making that judgment: a published Visual Descent Angle (VDA) of 3.66°, a Visual Descent Point (VDP) 2.6 NM from the threshold, and a PAPI waiting for you to go visual. While that doesn’t turn the LNAV into protected vertical guidance, it does give you references for deciding whether the descent in front of you is “normal.” And that VDA is probably the +V angle used by your GPS navigator. It’s the angle from the FAF at SIBJI to the touchdown zone.
The profile view on the N23 RNAV (GPS) RWY 25 approach plate includes a VDP, VDA/TCH, a published Visual Descent Angle (VDA) of 3.66°, Visual Descent Point (VDP), and a Threshold Crossing Height (TCH). This means the 3° slope must be clear of obstacles.
This is where Sidney’s approaches to Runways 25 and 7 part company. The Runway 7 chart has no such angle, even though the GPS navigator will still offer +V. There’s no VDP or PAPI, either. The chart has not forgotten to give you the normal descent assistance. It is declining to bless any.
The profile view’s lack of a published descent angle and visual descent point, plus the “Visual Segment – Obstacles” note, means not all is as it seems on this approach.
AIM 5-4-5(k)
Obstacles may penetrate the obstacle identification surface below the MDA in the visual segment of an IAP that has a published VDA/TCH. When the VDA/TCH is not authorized due to an obstacle penetration that would require a pilot to deviate from the VDA between MDA and touchdown, the VDA/TCH will be replaced with the note “Visual Segment–Obstacles” in the profile view of the IAP.
AIM 5-4-5 (k) is surprisingly clear on this topic. Even though a VDA might appear on the chart, it doesn’t guarantee obstacle protection below the MDA. That section below the MDA as you descend to the runway is the “visual segment.” The AIM also notes that the presence of a VDA doesn’t change non-precision approach requirements. Put more plainly, an LNAV approach with a glidepath-looking thing displayed on your avionics is still just an LNAV approach. The MDA does not turn into a DA just because the box offers you a vertical path.
The AIM is equally clear that if obstacles in the visual segment would require a pilot to deviate from the vertical path between the MDA and touchdown, the VDA/Threshold Crossing Height (TCH) is not authorized and is replaced with the note “Visual Segment – Obstacles.”
That note is the FAA’s way of suggesting that you probably shouldn’t follow the vertical path below the MDA on that procedure no matter how good the visibility—or at least follow it with extreme suspicion.
The Role of Advisory VNAV
Continuous descent final approaches have been a staple in professional flying for a long time. They have proven safer and easier to manage than the old-fashioned, dive-and-drive method of flying a non-precision approach. This technique manifests in general aviation avionics as the +V advisory glidepaths for non-precision approaches.
On the Garmin G1000 NXi, the Glidepath Indicator is the same magenta diamond symbol for both official vertical guidance and advisory vertical guidance.
Since advisory vertical navigation encourages stabilized approaches to the MDA, AIM 5-4-5(k)(1)(b) notes that navigation data providers are allowed to calculate and provide vertical angles to pilots—even where the FAA does not provide one. However, it reiterates: “Pilots are cautioned that they are responsible for obstacle avoidance in the visual segment regardless of the presence or absence of a VDA/TCH and associated navigation system advisory vertical guidance.”
Unpacking this, what you should take away is that following advisory vertical guidance is optional, but an excellent choice, down to the MDA. There should be no obstacle issues (assuming you cross above any stepdown altitudes on the way down). It’s just below the MDA where trouble may lurk.
Not all visual segment penetrations are equal. Offending obstacles are quite common. The penalty is often just increased visibility requirements, no VDP, or a restriction on using the approach at night. These are the FAA’s way of ensuring you have sufficient opportunity to see the obstacles below the MDA before you hit them. The Runway 25 Approach has some visual penetrations to the 34:1 slope that’s evaluated up from the runway (a 3° glidepath is a 20:1 slope, so the 34:1 is a shallower area beneath it). How can you tell? The Runway 25 Approach has a VDP, which requires a clear 20:1 slope. But it doesn’t have the light grey line (known as the stipple line) connecting the VDP to the runway. That requires a clear 34:1 slope. So the 34:1 slope must have penetrations.
“Visual Segment – Obstacles“ is more serious. AIM 5-4-5 says the note appears when an obstacle penetration would require a pilot to deviate from the VDA between the MDA and touchdown. Something along the centerline pokes into the vertical path that you would follow.
For Runway 7, that’s an entire hillside. So “Visual Segment – Obstacles” says more than the visual segment isn’t entirely clear. It’s closer to: “That normal-looking path you want to fly down to the runway isn’t going to work.” But unless you know the nuances of the visual segment, that note may seem to undersell its importance.
The Last Mile
Garmin Service Alert
Advisory vertical guidance provides vertical path information only and does not provide obstacle or terrain clearance assurance in the visual segment of an approach. Although advisory vertical guidance can assist with maintaining a glidepath angle that complies with altitude restrictions, it remains the pilot’s responsibility to fly in strict compliance with the published approach procedure.
Read the full service alert »
This is fundamentally a human-factors problem. The GPS annunciation may say LP+V instead of LPV, and the minima line may say MDA, but when the workload is high … you see how this could go poorly. It’s a textbook setup for a negative learning transfer—in this case, following an LP+V glidepath the same way you would for an LPV approach … right past the MDA. (It’s worth noting that Garmin issued Service Alert 26027 on March 12, 2026 addressing this very issue.)
The practical defense is understanding that the approach provides obstacle protection above MDA. The advisory glidepath helps you fly a stabilized approach to the MDA. From there, you must have the required visual references to continue. The GPS navigator will continue depicting a straight path to the runway, but it’s on you to ensure that path is clear.
The cues you’re looking for are: +V on the navigator (which will always be to an MDA, not DA), no VDA, no VDP, no VGSI, no TCH, and especially, “Visual Segment – Obstacles,” indicating that the visual descent from MDA to the runway may not be straightforward. This may require some adjustments that strain the definition of normal maneuvers.
In those cases, the honest answer at the MDA may be that you just can’t get there from here.
Continue Reading
For a deeper dive into the complexities surrounding advisory vertical guidance, read The Advisory Vertical Guidance Catch-22.
Sim Challenge: Trusting the Wrong Glidepath
/by Lee SmithA simulator is the perfect place to practice judgment, timing, and managing workload when the pressure is on. Our Sim Challenges make it easy to get a good workout—at home—using Microsoft Flight Simulator or X-Plane. Along the way, you’ll answer thought-provoking questions and learn from an expert’s real-world insights.
In this month’s challenge, you’ll discover the difference between approved vertical guidance and advisory vertical guidance—and what can happen if you follow advisory vertical guidance below MDA.
Take the challenge!
Quiz: IFR Procedures & Workload Management
/by IFR Focus TeamIFR flying rarely fails because a pilot doesn’t know the rules—it becomes challenging when those rules are applied in real time, under workload, while managing aircraft control, navigation, and communication simultaneously.
This month’s quiz focuses on the intersection of IFR knowledge and flight deck workload. From abbreviated clearances and departure procedures to in-flight weather requests and urgency communications, each question reflects situations where understanding the regulation is only part of the challenge. The real test is how quickly and accurately you can interpret, respond, and prioritize when ATC adds another layer to an already busy cockpit.
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Practical IFR: Visual Approaches
/by Jeff Van WestOne of the great ironies of IFR flying is that once you have the right to fly through the clouds, you take almost every opportunity to stay out of them. It’s simpler, faster, and arguably safer (at least at the GA level) to shortcut full procedures with visual ones. The go-to “instrument approach” for keeping the mail moving is: “Cleared for the visual.”
However, a casual demeanor can be an invitation for catastrophe — or at least a letter of investigation from the authorities. So it’s worth a review of the corner-cases and gotchas hidden in the plain-sight (visual) approach.
First off, conditions must be basically VFR. Weather reporting at the destination isn’t required so long as some reliable source says there’s at least 1000-foot ceilings and three miles visibly. In practice, it often requires more. The pilot can ask for the visual, or ATC can assign it. However, the pilot must have the airport, or the preceding aircraft, in sight.
Key Takeaway:
A visual approach is still an IFR clearance—but once ATC clears you for the visual, you’re responsible for avoiding both traffic and terrain.
There’s trap number one: When you report the preceding aircraft in sight, you are responsible for separation. If you lose track of that aircraft (or the airport), you must tell ATC ASAP. If you’re at an uncontrolled airport, that may mean switching frequencies back and asking ATC if they still see that aircraft on radar.
On those lines, once ATC clears you to contact Tower or the advisory frequency, radar service is automatically terminated. Don’t be fooled because you still have a transponder code. You’re still IFR, but you’ve assumed separation from both aircraft and obstacles. This is true if you ask to switch to advisory early as well. It’s unlikely to be an issue while the sun shines, but when you’re cleared for the visual at night, that’s another story. Sometimes it’s a story of a Southwest 737 that lands at the wrong airport because ATC was no longer watching with the God’s-eye view.
That said, ATC can’t release you unless all traffic conflicts are resolved. Given that there’s no restriction on how you proceed visually to the airport, sometimes you’ll get cleared with a restriction, “Maintain 4000 and contact Tower …” or something similar. Take that as a heads up there’s a potential conflict that needs tying up. At bigger airports (pretty much Class C and above) there are complex letters of agreement on exactly where and how Approach can release visual approaches to Tower to minimize issues. RNAV aircraft can be cleared direct to a published FAF as part of getting cleared for a visual.
Technically, ATC could release two aircraft on visuals to the same uncontrolled airport provided the second one had the first in sight. In practice, that’s the kind of scenario that gives controllers hives. Two aircraft, out of communication, both going for the same airport, yet both IFR with requirements to protect the airspace in case they pop back up needing services again.
Non-Towered Airport Reality
An IFR aircraft cleared for a visual approach to a non-towered airport can block other IFR arrivals until it cancels IFR.
A takeaway for us pilots is that when cleared for a visual to an uncontrolled field, we tie up that airport — and maybe other nearby airports — until we cancel IFR. That may seem bizarre on a CAVU day when the pattern could be full of VFR aircraft, but it’s true. So if you can cancel, do it. If you can’t contact ATC directly, try relaying through that aircraft behind you. And if you’re the aircraft behind waiting for the visual, call to the person in front and see if they’re willing to cancel, or just cancel yourself and proceed VFR.
There’s not much gain in retaining your IFR status if you can cancel and fly VFR. Once you cancel IFR, you must maintain VFR cloud clearances appropriate for the airspace. That’s likely the common 1000 above, 500 below and 2000 feet laterally, potentially all the way to the surface (see sidebar: Over-Eager IFR Cancellation).
The only real gain in staying IFR is if you can’t land. There is no missed approach procedure for a visual. You’re expected to land as soon as practical if you go around, or stay clear of clouds until issued a new clearance. But that should come faster if ATC still has you in the system. And there won’t be any other IFR aircraft in your way.
Another point is that when you’re cleared for a visual to a towered airport, it’ll often be a visual to a specific runway. That’s a clearance, and changing runways requires permission. A visual to an uncontrolled field won’t have a runway assignment, but you’re still bound by the local traffic patterns. If it’s right traffic for Runway 36 and you’re arriving from the west, you’re expected to cross over the field before entering the downwind. It should go without saying that you’ll monitor the CTAF as early as possible and fit yourself into the VFR traffic flow as politely as practical.
Controllers need at least 500 feet cloud clearance above the MVA to vector an aircraft on a visual. There are workarounds. A controller can drive someone on a downwind for a published approach — that’s not a vector for a visual — but know they’ll likely report the field in sight and can hop off on a visual. Remember, if you’re cleared for a published approach, you can’t spontaneously switch to a visual. But you can always report the airport in sight and ask.
Lastly, keep the visual approach clear in your mind from its sister tool, the contact approach. The key difference is that the visual is essentially a way to complete your flight in VFR conditions and with VFR simplicity. The contact approach is akin to Special VFR. The requirements are only one-mile visibility and maintaining clear of clouds. You don’t need the airport in sight, so long as you have reasonable confidence in getting there visually. It can’t be assigned; the pilot must request it.
Personally, I prefer requesting a contact approach rather than a visual when I’m making the request because I get all the flexibility without a requirement for the airport to report VFR conditions.
Well, almost all the flexibility. You can’t ask for a contact approach to an airport that has no published approach procedure. You can do that with a visual. Similarly, you can’t fly part of a published approach to Airport A and then sidestep on a contact approach to Airport B. That’s a common request with a visual.
And well it should be because that’s how the mail keeps moving … so long as the conditions are right.
Watch This Video: “Special VFR vs. Contact Approach.”
Over-Eager IFR Cancellation
You can almost hear the longing in the controller’s voice: “Report IFR cancellation on this frequency or (sigh) on the ground …” If you can safely and legally cancel IFR before landing at an uncontrolled field, it helps everyone in the system. Safe is up to you, and often not an issue. Legal? That can be a gotcha.
Remember that you must be in VFR conditions appropriate for the airspace because you forfeit all IFR privileges when you cancel. That’s easy to forget with runway lights in sight after two hours of droning along in IMC. The classic trap is when the airport has a Class E surface area, so the rule of 2000 feet laterally and 500 below extends all the way to the surface. As much as you might want to cancel IFR in the air so the next aircraft can get in behind you, it’s a violation of 91.155 if you can’t maintain VFR, or the ceiling is less than 1000 AGL. It’s worth noting where those Class E extensions are for approaches, and what happens at towered airports when the tower closes. Some revert to Class E at the surface. Others become Class G.
Cancelling early isn’t a big-time savings to you, especially if there’s radio reception or cell phone coverage on the ground. Call the controlling facility on the number listed in the Chart Supplement to cancel, or via RCO if that’s the local custom. Or even relay your cancellation through the waiting aircraft.
Pilot Survey
Managing IFR Workload and Flight Deck Discipline: Staying Ahead of the Airplane
/by James OniealAs a new first officer, I believed the challenge of IFR flying was controlling the airplane. What I learned that day was that the real challenge is managing workload.
We landed in Columbus, and while the captain completed his post-flight duties, I began working through what I thought were my priorities: obtaining the ATIS, requesting our clearance, and organizing paperwork for the next leg. A few minutes later, I turned around and noticed a cabin full of passengers staring at me.
Confused, I asked the captain when the passengers were going to board.
He looked at me and said, “They already did. We deplaned the previous passengers, unloaded their bags, loaded the new bags, boarded the next passengers, completed the preflight, got the ATIS, received the clearance, and we’re ready to go. We’re just waiting on you.”
I wasn’t overwhelmed because the flight was difficult. I was overwhelmed because I didn’t have a system.
That experience taught me a lesson that has stayed with me throughout my aviation career: most IFR workload management happens long before the airplane leaves the ground.
“I wasn’t overwhelmed because the flight was difficult. I was overwhelmed because I didn’t have a system.”
The Myth of Multitasking
Many pilots believe workload management means handling multiple tasks at once. In reality, effective workload management means reducing the number of decisions you have to make in real time.
When pilots become overloaded, it is rarely because they are physically incapable of performing the tasks. Instead, they become overwhelmed because they are constantly asking themselves:
Every one of those questions consumes mental bandwidth.
The most effective IFR pilots are not necessarily faster or smarter. They simply have systems that allow them to anticipate rather than react.
The Flight Begins Before the Engine Starts
A large portion of IFR workload can be eliminated before you ever reach the airplane.
Before every flight, ask yourself:
Many pilots review information but fail to organize it.
Reading thirty pages of weather products is not preparation. Distilling those thirty pages into three or four critical takeaways is preparation.
The goal is not to memorize information. The goal is to identify what matters.
When you arrive at the airplane already understanding the operational picture, your workload decreases dramatically because you’re no longer processing information for the first time.
“Reading thirty pages of weather products is not preparation. Distilling those thirty pages into three or four critical takeaways is preparation.”
Stay Ahead of the Airplane
The phrase “stay ahead of the airplane” is one of the most common pieces of advice in aviation. Unfortunately, many pilots hear it without understanding what it actually means.
Staying ahead of the airplane means using periods of low workload to prepare for periods of high workload.
During cruise flight, ask yourself:
Waiting until approach control issues a clearance before opening the chart is a recipe for stress.
Instead, use cruise time to brief multiple possibilities. If ATC changes your assignment, you’ll already have a framework in place.
The goal is to never be surprised.
Build Consistent Cockpit Flows
One of the biggest differences between experienced and inexperienced pilots is consistency.
New pilots often perform cockpit tasks in a random order based on whatever catches their attention.
Experienced pilots develop repeatable flows.
A consistent flow allows you to move through the cockpit the same way every time, reducing the likelihood of omissions and mistakes.
This applies to:
Discipline creates efficiency.
When your cockpit organization becomes habitual, your brain is free to focus on decision-making instead of task management.
Prioritize Aviate, Navigate, Communicate
The classic hierarchy remains true because it works.
When workload increases, pilots often become distracted by secondary tasks.
A clearance amendment, a reroute, an equipment issue, or a radio call can quickly draw attention away from aircraft control.
The order never changes:
If the airplane is not under control, nothing else matters.
One of the most important skills a single-pilot IFR operator can develop is the ability to delay nonessential tasks until the airplane is stable.
Not every request requires an immediate response.
Sometimes the safest answer is:
“Stand by.”
Guard Against Task Saturation
Task saturation rarely arrives all at once.
Instead, it develops gradually.
You miss a radio call.
Then you fall behind on programming the GPS.
Then ATC issues a new clearance.
Then weather changes.
Then you’re trying to brief an approach while descending through busy airspace.
The warning signs are usually subtle:
When you recognize these symptoms, stop and reassess.
Slow down.
Prioritize.
Fly the airplane.
The willingness to pause and reorganize often prevents minor workload issues from becoming serious problems.
Flight Deck Discipline Creates Capacity
Ultimately, flight deck discipline is not about perfection.
It is about creating mental capacity.
Every organized checklist, every standardized flow, every pre-briefed approach, and every moment spent preparing ahead of time frees up cognitive resources for the unexpected.
IFR flying is not difficult because airplanes are hard to fly.
It is difficult because information arrives continuously, often faster than we can process it.
The pilots who excel in IFR environments are not the ones who work the hardest in the moment. They are the ones who have already done the work before the moment arrives.
“The pilots who excel in IFR environments are not the ones who work the hardest in the moment. They are the ones who have already done the work before the moment arrives.”
The biggest lesson from that short flight between Pittsburgh and Columbus wasn’t about flying a Saab 340. It was about understanding that professional pilots don’t simply react to events as they happen.
They anticipate.
They prepare.
They stay ahead of the airplane.
And because of that, the airplane never seems nearly as fast.