Even when it’s not required by regulation, I almost always file an alternate airport when planning IFR flights—especially for cross-country trips. Why? Because weather isn’t the only thing that can throw a wrench in your plan. Runway closures, fuel availability, equipment outages, and unforecast changes can all make your destination unavailable. Having an alternate—and thinking through the options ahead of time—is just smart IFR flying.
So when is an alternate actually required?
14 CFR 91.169 spells it out, and many pilots remember it with the “1-2-3 rule”:
If, from 1 hour before to 1 hour after your estimated time of arrival at your destination, the forecast weather is at least a 2,000-foot ceiling and 3 statute miles visibility, you are not required to file an alternate airport.
That means both the ceiling and visibility must meet those minimums within that two-hour window. If either drops below those thresholds—even briefly—you’ll need to file an alternate.
And don’t forget: the destination must also have at least one instrument approach procedure available. If it doesn’t, you must file an alternate regardless of the forecast.
While this may seem straightforward, real-world conditions are rarely perfect. Forecasts aren’t guarantees, and last-minute changes can catch you off guard. That’s why I treat the alternate not just as a regulatory requirement, but as part of my personal minimums.
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https://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/23134050/ifr-alternate-requirements.png10001250IFR Focus Teamhttps://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/14115136/IFR-Focus-Logo_White_Blue_Web-01.pngIFR Focus Team2025-08-01 08:55:322025-07-23 13:41:18Ask the IFR Expert: When is an IFR Alternate Required?
We’re excited to welcome Elaine Kauh as a regular contributor to IFR Focus. Elaine brings a rare combination of instructional depth, real-world flying experience, and writing talent to our community of instrument pilots.
A professional pilot, Master Instructor, and FAA Safety Team Lead Representative, Elaine has spent years helping pilots sharpen their skills in the IFR system—with a particular focus on emergency procedures and advanced avionics. She teaches in a variety of aircraft, from the Cirrus SR22 to classic taildraggers, and brings that same hands-on experience to her writing and speaking.
You may recognize Elaine from her past contributions to IFR Magazine, or from her expert guidance as part of PilotWorkshops’ IFR Mastery series. She’s also a familiar face at regional safety seminars and appeared on Sporty’s Pilot’s Discretion podcast, where she shared valuable lessons on both instrument flying and taildragger instruction.
With a background in journalism and a passion for thoughtful instruction, Elaine has a unique ability to make complex IFR topics practical and approachable. We’re proud to feature her work at IFR Focus, and we look forward to the insights she’ll share with our readers in the months ahead.
The Art of Briefing the Approach
by Elaine Kauh
There’s a lot to keep track of when nearing the initial approach fix or that last vector-to-final. Along with all those numbers for altitudes and courses to fly the procedure, you have things to do to the airplane—like adding flaps and adjusting power. It’s all part of what makes the approach a high-workload phase, so anything to help you get ready before it gets busy is a good idea. And that means being ready for anything. Enter the approach briefing.
Along with callouts for some phases of flight (another great discussion), this is another standardization aid that we can borrow from professional flight crews. If you learned to do this during your instrument training, that’s great. Many of us did not, and verbally briefing elements of the approach isn’t a hard requirement for the rating. I learned the concept from an airline pilot while providing an IPC in a flight school rental. He took that practice into his single-pilot piston flying, and I took it out into my own flying and instructing. This has become a bit more common as training toward careers has ramped up, but there are plenty of us who haven’t seen this practiced in recurrent training and everyday flying.
Why bother? Approach briefings embed key elements and other good-to-knows into your brain before it gets too busy to look stuff up. Monitoring those needles at the Final Approach Fix and heading down the glidepath is no time to be wondering, What’s the DA again? You could fly everything perfectly then neglect one item, like the runway length, or the circling MDA, or that NOTAM for the higher DA due to lighting outages. Briefings prevent such gaps. Here’s a template, which can go on a printed card or an EFB-loaded document.
The main elements:
Approach title and airport, like “RNAV 27, KBYW, Byway Field.” Seems obvious, but this is a confirmation that you’ve got the right stuff programmed in the navigator and pulled up the same one on the tablet. Errors can and do happen here.
Weather. Are the ceiling and visibility legal for the IAP, or matching your personal minimums? If so, continue. If not, time for that plan B (to be followed with a new briefing).
Expected approach fixes/waypoints, crossing/transition altitudes, the inbound course and FAF, then ending elements like lights, a visual checkpoint, or anything you will look for. Again, you’re confirming expectations and preventing errors like programming the wrong IAF or altitude.
Minimums. Which line is yours? You should already know the aircraft category and DA or MDA—just double-check.
Runway and landing. “Runway 27 is 5,500 feet. I’ll land with 20 degrees of flaps and correct for the left crosswind. Land by the second taxiway and turn right at the third. Land no later than the runway intersection halfway down.” Have that maximum distance or furthest stopping point briefed here. That’s in case of unknowingly flying too far down the runway, which—if left unbriefed—can have a bad outcome. If briefed, there’s no doubt whether it’s safe to continue.
Missed approach. For example: “Disconnect. Full power. Pitch for 90. Flaps to 20. Positive rate, gear up. Flaps up. Climb to 1,500, then climbing left turn to 3,000 to MISSD and hold.” Remember that the “missed” is two operations in one: the go-around, which concerns the aircraft, and the missed approach, which is the procedure that governs the flight path. Going missed is also high-workload. Add a startle—like overshooting your landing spot or a vehicle entering the runway—and your brain will depend on deploying those next steps as briefed.
Try It Out: Let’s fly to Ainsworth Regional in Nebraska and do an approach briefing. You’re in a Piper Arrow arriving from the northeast, and the region’s drying out after a cold front passed, leaving low ceilings and a northwest wind in its wake. After copying the AWOS and relaying intentions to Center, the briefing is the next item on your descent or pre-approach checklist:
“Expecting the RNAV 35, ANW, Ainsworth. 31 is closed. Weather is 300–3, winds 300 at 15 knots.” (Notice I abridged the wording to be brief—yes, pun intended.)
“I am cleared direct to DUWAT initial fix and 5,100. Awaiting approach clearance. DUWAT, right turn at FUGLE. Inbound course 353. 4,200 feet to COLSI, final fix and glidepath intercept. One mile from COLSI, 10 degrees flaps, 100 MPH. Category B for winds. Fly to LPV minimums, 2,789–½. VDP one mile from 35.”
“Runway is 6,824 feet, medium approach lights with RAIL, PAPI on the left. Left crosswind. If I see the runway before minimums, go to second flaps. Final speed 95.”
“Missed: TOGA, power, pitch for 85; positive rate, gear up. At 95, flaps up. Climb runway heading to 5,000 direct EVANE and hold. Parallel entry, right turns.”
The most-asked question I get when discussing the best ways to use briefings: “That’s a lot to say—shouldn’t I be flying the plane?” Sure, and the briefing need not be in one chunk. This one takes about 60 seconds. You can customize it to fit your flying minimums, your aircraft, and the conditions of the day. Keys to success include covering each step when it fits best and committing to memory what you can (results may vary). Presumably, you reviewed the weather, desired approach, landing considerations, and NOTAMs before the flight, so it can be a quick review on descent. I use the pencil tool on my EFB to mark changes or reminders right there on the charts. Once you’ve confirmed these, you can start in on the IAP details—a lot of numbers that are more easily forgotten if you haven’t looked at them for a while. You can easily brief those several miles out from an approach clearance, which is a good “deadline” to call the briefing complete and continue with your checklists.
If expecting a visual approach, briefings are just as useful because you still want a game plan for this highly variable operation. Say Ainsworth is now 5,000 and 5 and you’re cleared for the visual. Brief the plan and perhaps program into your GPS the descent to traffic pattern altitude by one mile from the pattern entry (here, 3,500 feet). Landing checklist, fly overhead, enter left downwind for 35, recite the go-around.
There are a lot of options for easing into this practice. Start with briefing some essentials next time you’re out doing practice approaches flying VFR: Read the fixes and what to push, dial, and target for course and altitudes as you near each one—including the missed approach. Just by adding the item Approach Briefing to your descent or approach checklists, you can make that busy time smoother, easier, and with set boundaries. That means safer, which always makes flying approaches more enjoyable.
https://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/21110215/art-of-briefing-the-approach.png10001250Elaine Kauhhttps://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/14115136/IFR-Focus-Logo_White_Blue_Web-01.pngElaine Kauh2025-07-29 08:55:062025-07-23 12:27:15The Art of Briefing the Approach
The localizer is a critical component of every Instrument Landing System (ILS) approach, providing the lateral guidance that brings the airplane to the runway. While most pilots are familiar with the basics of flying a localizer, precise tracking takes practice—and the back course variant can be tricky.
Before you dive in, let’s review some essential concepts to sharpen your understanding.
What is a Localizer?
Think of the localizer as an electronic extension of the runway centerline. It provides lateral (left/right) guidance for an ILS approach. The localizer signal is transmitted from an antenna typically located 1,000 feet beyond the far end of the runway, operating on one of 40 reserved frequencies between 108.1 and 111.95 MHz.
The signal is far more precise than a VOR—about four times more sensitive. Full-scale CDI deflection on a localizer typically represents only 5 degrees, which translates to about 350 feet from centerline at the runway threshold. The sensitivity of this guidance makes precise heading control a must.
The localizer antenna is typically located 1,000 feet beyond the far end of the runway.
How to Fly the Localizer
Flying the localizer is all about small, smooth corrections and disciplined heading control:
Outside the outer marker (typically 4–7 miles out): Limit heading corrections to 5° or less.
Inside the outer marker: Limit corrections to 2° or less. Use gentle rudder inputs for very fine adjustments.
Avoid overcorrecting—S-turns across the centerline waste time and add risk during an already busy phase of flight.
Maintaining an exact heading—even in calm air—can be deceptively difficult. Practicing heading discipline during en route legs can pay big dividends when you’re inside the FAF with low visibility ahead.
The Back Course Twist
Some localizers also transmit a signal in the opposite direction, known as the back course. These approaches are less common but still appear in certain parts of the country.
Flying the back course adds complexity due to reverse sensing—where your CDI needle deflects opposite to the aircraft’s actual position. That means:
When using a traditional CDI, you must fly away from the needle to stay on course.
Set the OBS to the approach course as a visual reminder, even though it won’t center the needle like a VOR.
Disregard the glide slope—it’s false information on a back course.
If using an HSI, set it to the front course of the localizer to eliminate reverse sensing and fly toward the needle as normal.
Mastering back course approaches is an exercise in situational awareness and instrumentation discipline. Pilots who don’t understand reverse sensing can easily find themselves drifting further from the intended path while chasing a misleading CDI.
Flying the back course adds complexity due to reverse sensing—where your CDI needle deflects opposite to the aircraft’s actual position.
Try It Yourself: Interactive Localizer and Back Course Simulators
To help visualize these concepts, we’ve created two interactive simulators that let you drag the aircraft left or right on either a standard localizer or a localizer back course and watch how the CDI responds.
Localizer Instrument Approach Simulator
Back Course Instrument Approach Simulator
Whether you’re new to instrument flying or teaching the next generation of IFR pilots, understanding how to track a localizer—and its more confusing sibling, the back course—is essential. A few minutes with these tools will make the signals click in a way that no textbook can.
https://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/25103304/mastering-localizer-and-back-course-1.png10001250Eric Radtkehttps://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/14115136/IFR-Focus-Logo_White_Blue_Web-01.pngEric Radtke2025-07-25 08:55:062025-07-25 10:33:12Mastering the Localizer (and Back Course)
Editor’s Note: We all brief the missed. We all practice it on checkrides. But when it actually happens—in real weather, close to minimums—the missed approach can feel less like a standard maneuver and more like a surprise emergency.
Despite the of precision WAAS approaches, real-time weather, and dependable automation, the missed approach hasn’t gone away—it’s just become rarer and, for many pilots, more difficult. In that way, it’s a maneuver that tests not just your stick and rudder skills, but your mindset. This article, based on a real-world go-around, shares six rules that can help you stay sharp and stay safe when the unexpected happens.
I recently flew one of the rarest maneuvers in aviation: a real missed approach in instrument conditions. While we all practice them during initial instrument training and (hopefully) as a part of regular proficiency flights, actual missed approaches are pretty rare. The combination of widely available WAAS approaches and in-flight weather tools means that we usually have a pretty good idea we will get in before starting an approach.
Not so on this day. The weather wasn’t terrible, but a low cloud layer sparked by isolated rain showers made it tricky. The METAR was fluctuating from just above minimums to just below minimums, so we decided to take a shot. Unfortunately, at the missed approach point there were no lights so the power came up and we diverted to our alternate.
Simple, right? Not so much.
While I was intellectually prepared for a missed approach, I really wasn’t emotionally prepared (spring-loaded, as my instrument instructor might have said). I hadn’t done this for real in years. So when it came time to execute this seemingly simple maneuver, I ended up getting behind the airplane just a bit. I was coping, not flying. You might call it the three stages of the missed approach mindset: shock at having to go around, a feeling of being overwhelmed by all the tasks that needed to be completed, and finally a temptation to try it again. None of these are good.
To combat that mindset, here are a few rules I made for myself:
Use the autopilot. While you should be able to hand fly an approach down to minimums, that doesn’t mean you have to do it every time. When it’s really low, I think it’s much safer to let the autopilot fly. That makes you management, not labor, so you can keep the big picture in mind and be ready to react. It’s hard to be spring-loaded to go around if you’re task-saturated and busy keeping the wings level.
Plan ahead – and don’t change your mind. Cruise flight is a good time to make a plan for your approach and potential missed approach procedure. Think through exactly what the approach sequence will look like: what power settings will you use, what descent rate will you use, what are you looking for at DA/MDA and what is the first thing you’ll do if you go missed? Talk it through before you get busy and commit to this plan.
Don’t cheat – don’t even hesitate. Easier said than done, but it’s critical to stay disciplined here. On my missed approach, we saw glimpses of the ground right as we started the missed approach. But this was a sucker hole – we could see down, but not ahead to the runway. Don’t dive for a hole, don’t “go down another 50 feet,” and don’t drive on passed the MAP in the hopes that something miraculous will happen. Stick to the plan. There is no gray area here and no negotiation: land the airplane because you see the runway environment at minimums or go around.
Approach lights matter. I once knew the difference between REIL, MALSR and all the rest of the approach lighting systems, but I long ago forgot the particulars. These may seem like academic nuances, but on a low approach, briefing the approach lighting system and knowing what to expect can make a big difference. In my case, the runway only had the two REILs, which are not nearly as visible as a full “rabbit.”
Climb and maintain control; the rest can wait. When you decide to execute the missed approach, it’s time to climb – now. Don’t mess with the GPS and don’t look at the approach chart. The essential first step is to add power and climb out quickly, while keeping the airplane under control. If you’ve briefed your approach (and your missed approach), you already know what to do. ATC can wait, your passengers can wait and even your avionics can wait until you’ve started climbing and are stabilized.
No second approaches. It’s so tempting to come back around for another try, especially if you saw one of those sucker holes at minimums. Don’t do it. The accident record shows that second approaches often end badly, because the temptation to cheat is very strong. Unless you did something badly wrong on the first approach, don’t even give yourself the opportunity to mess up on round two.
Although we don’t usually think of it that way, the missed approach is really a maximum performance maneuver. In the span of about 60 seconds – and at very low altitude – you are forced to climb at Vy, change the aircraft configuration, reprogram the GPS and talk on the radio. All this while maintaining control in the clouds. The key is to make your decisions long before you ever start the approach, so a missed approach is an automatic reaction. MDA is no time to be making decisions; it’s a time for executing what you’ve already planned.
And as always, fly the freakin’ airplane!
https://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/25103421/why-missed-approaches-feel-so-hard-1.png10001250John Zimmermanhttps://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/14115136/IFR-Focus-Logo_White_Blue_Web-01.pngJohn Zimmerman2025-07-22 09:00:562025-07-25 10:34:28Why Real-World Missed Approaches Feel So Hard
Welcome to the latest edition of the Instrument Maneuver Spotlight series. Here we’ll highlight the various maneuvers you’ll practice during your instrument training and be expected to demonstrate during your checkride.
Unlike precision approaches that offer vertical guidance, nonprecision approaches require the pilot to manage descent rates and timing without the aid of a glide slope. This maneuver demands strong situational awareness, precise altitude control, and effective use of available navigation equipment—all essential skills for IFR proficiency.
Each maneuver is part of Sporty’s Instrument Rating Course and includes a narrated video animation, along with step-by-step instructions that include performance standards and common errors. Study them while on the ground or print them for quick reference in the airplane.
It’s a dark and stormy night. You’re instrument current and proficient. Your bird is well equipped. But you’re concerned because the reported ceilings have been going up and down on both sides of the published minimums.
To which I say, “Who cares?”
Seeing Is What Matters
Put yourself on the approach and descending. You will either break out to see something, or you won’t. It’s binary; one or the other. If you see nothing before the prescribed moment arrives, you commence the missed approach. Simple.
If you see something … well, now you must judge.
And there’s the key. It’s visibility that controls whether we can land or not. While on paper that’s a number we have or don’t, it’s not so simple in real life. We must make a rapid judgment call—sometimes based on a glance—as to whether we’re getting enough visual information to call the flight visibility half a mile. Or three-quarters of a mile, or two miles, or whatever.
That’s why I want to know what I expect to see when that moment arrives. Am I expecting the approach lights with a green threshold and not much more? Am I expecting half a runway visible, but 20 degrees left of my nose?
I think it’s our training where we don foggles, fly down to an altitude, and then go missed that gets us so focused on altitude. In real IFR, what we need to be focused on is distance: When we get down to X, how far should we be able to look and see Y?
This kind of thinking also allows for a certain consistency. Fly the approach to DA/MDA, period. Somewhere along the way, visibility should get high enough that we can continue past DA/MDA for landing. we note the visibility coming into view—and continue on the approach until it’s operationally beneficial to think “landing.” When vis is really low, that’s probably about 50 feet AGL.
When I read NTSB reports, the instrument approach crashes seem to fall into two categories: grossly botched at altitudes well above the +500 or even +1000 people set as personal minimums, or unknown flying into the trees or approach lights at the very end of the approach. Ceilings weren’t the issue on the first ones, but visibility is a likely culprit on the latter. I think we do ourselves a disservice assuming these are “duck unders” where pilot descended too low. I’ll wager an overpriced 4-pack of craft beer the majority were continuing past DA or MDA into questionable visibility that wasn’t IMC … but wasn’t sufficient to safely find pavement. This phenomenon might get worse rather than better given the prevalence of following an advisory glidepath on LNAV-only approaches. It’s super tempting to continue past MDA with just enough visibility to convince yourself you can find the runway, but not quite enough visibility to make it a sure thing.
That’s why I’ll happily try an approach where the AWOS is calling a bit below minimums for DA or MDA, so long as the visibility is good beneath. It’s also why I won’t bother with an approach with visibilities too low for likely completion, even if the ceilings are several hundred feet above the published minimum. Not sure you agree with this thinking? Here’s a challenge for you: Fly a given approach both ways in a simulator with decent visuals. Make it something other than an ILS or LPV with 200-foot and 1/2-mile mins for clarity. See which one you feel more confident about.
Commercial operations usually work the same way; visibility rules.
Sure, there’s value in noting the ceiling versus MDA/DA to see if there’s even a chance, but if it’s close, go for it. While I don’t particularly buy in to personal minimums at all, if I was setting a personal minimum for approaches, it would be by visibility, not ceiling.
Maybe you don’t really worry about visibility at the end of an approach? If you can see some runway, you just land? Your call, but that really is in violation. And while I will admit to knowing it’s possible to find the runway and land in RVR 800, I only do so knowing the statue of limitations is up on that knowledge. And I swear the flight visibility was higher. Really.
But now I’m (luckily) older and (thankfully) wiser. Today, visibility is what matters.
Watch This Video
Lower Your Personal Minimums
Canadians See It Differently
Fly in that country north of the border and this discussion changes in regulation, if not in practice. In Canada, prior to the FAF, visibility is controlling for both commercial operators and GA. The details are complicated, but roughly, commercial operators need 50 to 75 percent of the published visibility minimums to commence the approach. GA operators need at least RVR 1200 or 1/4 mile visibility. (Again, I’m being broad-brush here.)
Once past the FAF, however, the published visibilities on Canadian approach plates, “are advisory only. … They are not limiting and are intended to be used by pilots only to judge the probability of a successful landing.” In Canada, if you reach DA/MDA, can see the runway environment at all, and decide there’s enough visual information to land successfully, you can go for it.
However, I agree completely with my friend and Canadian pilot David Gagliardi when he says, “Why on earth would you continue any approach when the visibility is less than a quarter mile? The chances of you successfully completing it are basically zero; the chances of dying are not zero.”
ForeFlight Question of the Month
https://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/25103421/why-missed-approaches-feel-so-hard-1.png10001250Jeff Van Westhttps://media.ifrfocus.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/14115136/IFR-Focus-Logo_White_Blue_Web-01.pngJeff Van West2025-07-15 09:00:412025-07-25 10:36:37Practical IFR: Does Your Approach Use the Wrong Minimums?
Ask the IFR Expert: When is an IFR Alternate Required?
/by IFR Focus TeamEven when it’s not required by regulation, I almost always file an alternate airport when planning IFR flights—especially for cross-country trips. Why? Because weather isn’t the only thing that can throw a wrench in your plan. Runway closures, fuel availability, equipment outages, and unforecast changes can all make your destination unavailable. Having an alternate—and thinking through the options ahead of time—is just smart IFR flying.
So when is an alternate actually required?
14 CFR 91.169 spells it out, and many pilots remember it with the “1-2-3 rule”:
That means both the ceiling and visibility must meet those minimums within that two-hour window. If either drops below those thresholds—even briefly—you’ll need to file an alternate.
And don’t forget: the destination must also have at least one instrument approach procedure available. If it doesn’t, you must file an alternate regardless of the forecast.
While this may seem straightforward, real-world conditions are rarely perfect. Forecasts aren’t guarantees, and last-minute changes can catch you off guard. That’s why I treat the alternate not just as a regulatory requirement, but as part of my personal minimums.
Take Our Survey
The Art of Briefing the Approach
/by Elaine KauhEditor’s Note: Welcoming Elaine Kauh to IFR Focus
We’re excited to welcome Elaine Kauh as a regular contributor to IFR Focus. Elaine brings a rare combination of instructional depth, real-world flying experience, and writing talent to our community of instrument pilots.
A professional pilot, Master Instructor, and FAA Safety Team Lead Representative, Elaine has spent years helping pilots sharpen their skills in the IFR system—with a particular focus on emergency procedures and advanced avionics. She teaches in a variety of aircraft, from the Cirrus SR22 to classic taildraggers, and brings that same hands-on experience to her writing and speaking.
You may recognize Elaine from her past contributions to IFR Magazine, or from her expert guidance as part of PilotWorkshops’ IFR Mastery series. She’s also a familiar face at regional safety seminars and appeared on Sporty’s Pilot’s Discretion podcast, where she shared valuable lessons on both instrument flying and taildragger instruction.
With a background in journalism and a passion for thoughtful instruction, Elaine has a unique ability to make complex IFR topics practical and approachable. We’re proud to feature her work at IFR Focus, and we look forward to the insights she’ll share with our readers in the months ahead.
The Art of Briefing the Approach
by Elaine Kauh
There’s a lot to keep track of when nearing the initial approach fix or that last vector-to-final. Along with all those numbers for altitudes and courses to fly the procedure, you have things to do to the airplane—like adding flaps and adjusting power. It’s all part of what makes the approach a high-workload phase, so anything to help you get ready before it gets busy is a good idea. And that means being ready for anything. Enter the approach briefing.
Along with callouts for some phases of flight (another great discussion), this is another standardization aid that we can borrow from professional flight crews. If you learned to do this during your instrument training, that’s great. Many of us did not, and verbally briefing elements of the approach isn’t a hard requirement for the rating. I learned the concept from an airline pilot while providing an IPC in a flight school rental. He took that practice into his single-pilot piston flying, and I took it out into my own flying and instructing. This has become a bit more common as training toward careers has ramped up, but there are plenty of us who haven’t seen this practiced in recurrent training and everyday flying.
Why bother? Approach briefings embed key elements and other good-to-knows into your brain before it gets too busy to look stuff up. Monitoring those needles at the Final Approach Fix and heading down the glidepath is no time to be wondering, What’s the DA again? You could fly everything perfectly then neglect one item, like the runway length, or the circling MDA, or that NOTAM for the higher DA due to lighting outages. Briefings prevent such gaps. Here’s a template, which can go on a printed card or an EFB-loaded document.
The main elements:
Approach title and airport, like “RNAV 27, KBYW, Byway Field.” Seems obvious, but this is a confirmation that you’ve got the right stuff programmed in the navigator and pulled up the same one on the tablet. Errors can and do happen here.
Weather. Are the ceiling and visibility legal for the IAP, or matching your personal minimums? If so, continue. If not, time for that plan B (to be followed with a new briefing).
Expected approach fixes/waypoints, crossing/transition altitudes, the inbound course and FAF, then ending elements like lights, a visual checkpoint, or anything you will look for. Again, you’re confirming expectations and preventing errors like programming the wrong IAF or altitude.
Minimums. Which line is yours? You should already know the aircraft category and DA or MDA—just double-check.
Runway and landing. “Runway 27 is 5,500 feet. I’ll land with 20 degrees of flaps and correct for the left crosswind. Land by the second taxiway and turn right at the third. Land no later than the runway intersection halfway down.” Have that maximum distance or furthest stopping point briefed here. That’s in case of unknowingly flying too far down the runway, which—if left unbriefed—can have a bad outcome. If briefed, there’s no doubt whether it’s safe to continue.
Missed approach. For example: “Disconnect. Full power. Pitch for 90. Flaps to 20. Positive rate, gear up. Flaps up. Climb to 1,500, then climbing left turn to 3,000 to MISSD and hold.” Remember that the “missed” is two operations in one: the go-around, which concerns the aircraft, and the missed approach, which is the procedure that governs the flight path. Going missed is also high-workload. Add a startle—like overshooting your landing spot or a vehicle entering the runway—and your brain will depend on deploying those next steps as briefed.
“Expecting the RNAV 35, ANW, Ainsworth. 31 is closed. Weather is 300–3, winds 300 at 15 knots.” (Notice I abridged the wording to be brief—yes, pun intended.)
“I am cleared direct to DUWAT initial fix and 5,100. Awaiting approach clearance. DUWAT, right turn at FUGLE. Inbound course 353. 4,200 feet to COLSI, final fix and glidepath intercept. One mile from COLSI, 10 degrees flaps, 100 MPH. Category B for winds. Fly to LPV minimums, 2,789–½. VDP one mile from 35.”
“Runway is 6,824 feet, medium approach lights with RAIL, PAPI on the left. Left crosswind. If I see the runway before minimums, go to second flaps. Final speed 95.”
“Missed: TOGA, power, pitch for 85; positive rate, gear up. At 95, flaps up. Climb runway heading to 5,000 direct EVANE and hold. Parallel entry, right turns.”
The most-asked question I get when discussing the best ways to use briefings: “That’s a lot to say—shouldn’t I be flying the plane?” Sure, and the briefing need not be in one chunk. This one takes about 60 seconds. You can customize it to fit your flying minimums, your aircraft, and the conditions of the day. Keys to success include covering each step when it fits best and committing to memory what you can (results may vary). Presumably, you reviewed the weather, desired approach, landing considerations, and NOTAMs before the flight, so it can be a quick review on descent. I use the pencil tool on my EFB to mark changes or reminders right there on the charts. Once you’ve confirmed these, you can start in on the IAP details—a lot of numbers that are more easily forgotten if you haven’t looked at them for a while. You can easily brief those several miles out from an approach clearance, which is a good “deadline” to call the briefing complete and continue with your checklists.
If expecting a visual approach, briefings are just as useful because you still want a game plan for this highly variable operation. Say Ainsworth is now 5,000 and 5 and you’re cleared for the visual. Brief the plan and perhaps program into your GPS the descent to traffic pattern altitude by one mile from the pattern entry (here, 3,500 feet). Landing checklist, fly overhead, enter left downwind for 35, recite the go-around.
There are a lot of options for easing into this practice. Start with briefing some essentials next time you’re out doing practice approaches flying VFR: Read the fixes and what to push, dial, and target for course and altitudes as you near each one—including the missed approach. Just by adding the item Approach Briefing to your descent or approach checklists, you can make that busy time smoother, easier, and with set boundaries. That means safer, which always makes flying approaches more enjoyable.
Mastering the Localizer (and Back Course)
/by Eric RadtkeThe localizer is a critical component of every Instrument Landing System (ILS) approach, providing the lateral guidance that brings the airplane to the runway. While most pilots are familiar with the basics of flying a localizer, precise tracking takes practice—and the back course variant can be tricky.
Before you dive in, let’s review some essential concepts to sharpen your understanding.
What is a Localizer?
Think of the localizer as an electronic extension of the runway centerline. It provides lateral (left/right) guidance for an ILS approach. The localizer signal is transmitted from an antenna typically located 1,000 feet beyond the far end of the runway, operating on one of 40 reserved frequencies between 108.1 and 111.95 MHz.
The signal is far more precise than a VOR—about four times more sensitive. Full-scale CDI deflection on a localizer typically represents only 5 degrees, which translates to about 350 feet from centerline at the runway threshold. The sensitivity of this guidance makes precise heading control a must.
The localizer antenna is typically located 1,000 feet beyond the far end of the runway.
How to Fly the Localizer
Flying the localizer is all about small, smooth corrections and disciplined heading control:
Maintaining an exact heading—even in calm air—can be deceptively difficult. Practicing heading discipline during en route legs can pay big dividends when you’re inside the FAF with low visibility ahead.
The Back Course Twist
Some localizers also transmit a signal in the opposite direction, known as the back course. These approaches are less common but still appear in certain parts of the country.
Flying the back course adds complexity due to reverse sensing—where your CDI needle deflects opposite to the aircraft’s actual position. That means:
Mastering back course approaches is an exercise in situational awareness and instrumentation discipline. Pilots who don’t understand reverse sensing can easily find themselves drifting further from the intended path while chasing a misleading CDI.
Flying the back course adds complexity due to reverse sensing—where your CDI needle deflects opposite to the aircraft’s actual position.
Try It Yourself: Interactive Localizer and Back Course Simulators
To help visualize these concepts, we’ve created two interactive simulators that let you drag the aircraft left or right on either a standard localizer or a localizer back course and watch how the CDI responds.
Localizer Instrument Approach Simulator
Back Course Instrument Approach Simulator
Whether you’re new to instrument flying or teaching the next generation of IFR pilots, understanding how to track a localizer—and its more confusing sibling, the back course—is essential. A few minutes with these tools will make the signals click in a way that no textbook can.
Why Real-World Missed Approaches Feel So Hard
/by John ZimmermanEditor’s Note: We all brief the missed. We all practice it on checkrides. But when it actually happens—in real weather, close to minimums—the missed approach can feel less like a standard maneuver and more like a surprise emergency.
Despite the of precision WAAS approaches, real-time weather, and dependable automation, the missed approach hasn’t gone away—it’s just become rarer and, for many pilots, more difficult. In that way, it’s a maneuver that tests not just your stick and rudder skills, but your mindset. This article, based on a real-world go-around, shares six rules that can help you stay sharp and stay safe when the unexpected happens.
I recently flew one of the rarest maneuvers in aviation: a real missed approach in instrument conditions. While we all practice them during initial instrument training and (hopefully) as a part of regular proficiency flights, actual missed approaches are pretty rare. The combination of widely available WAAS approaches and in-flight weather tools means that we usually have a pretty good idea we will get in before starting an approach.
Not so on this day. The weather wasn’t terrible, but a low cloud layer sparked by isolated rain showers made it tricky. The METAR was fluctuating from just above minimums to just below minimums, so we decided to take a shot. Unfortunately, at the missed approach point there were no lights so the power came up and we diverted to our alternate.
Simple, right? Not so much.
While I was intellectually prepared for a missed approach, I really wasn’t emotionally prepared (spring-loaded, as my instrument instructor might have said). I hadn’t done this for real in years. So when it came time to execute this seemingly simple maneuver, I ended up getting behind the airplane just a bit. I was coping, not flying. You might call it the three stages of the missed approach mindset: shock at having to go around, a feeling of being overwhelmed by all the tasks that needed to be completed, and finally a temptation to try it again. None of these are good.
To combat that mindset, here are a few rules I made for myself:
Although we don’t usually think of it that way, the missed approach is really a maximum performance maneuver. In the span of about 60 seconds – and at very low altitude – you are forced to climb at Vy, change the aircraft configuration, reprogram the GPS and talk on the radio. All this while maintaining control in the clouds. The key is to make your decisions long before you ever start the approach, so a missed approach is an automatic reaction. MDA is no time to be making decisions; it’s a time for executing what you’ve already planned.
And as always, fly the freakin’ airplane!
Instrument Maneuver Spotlight: Non-precision Approach
/by Eric RadtkeWelcome to the latest edition of the Instrument Maneuver Spotlight series. Here we’ll highlight the various maneuvers you’ll practice during your instrument training and be expected to demonstrate during your checkride.
Unlike precision approaches that offer vertical guidance, nonprecision approaches require the pilot to manage descent rates and timing without the aid of a glide slope. This maneuver demands strong situational awareness, precise altitude control, and effective use of available navigation equipment—all essential skills for IFR proficiency.
Each maneuver is part of Sporty’s Instrument Rating Course and includes a narrated video animation, along with step-by-step instructions that include performance standards and common errors. Study them while on the ground or print them for quick reference in the airplane.
The flight maneuver is from Sporty’s Instrument Rating Course.
Practical IFR: Does Your Approach Use the Wrong Minimums?
/by Jeff Van WestIt’s a dark and stormy night. You’re instrument current and proficient. Your bird is well equipped. But you’re concerned because the reported ceilings have been going up and down on both sides of the published minimums.
To which I say, “Who cares?”
Seeing Is What Matters
Put yourself on the approach and descending. You will either break out to see something, or you won’t. It’s binary; one or the other. If you see nothing before the prescribed moment arrives, you commence the missed approach. Simple.
If you see something … well, now you must judge.
And there’s the key. It’s visibility that controls whether we can land or not. While on paper that’s a number we have or don’t, it’s not so simple in real life. We must make a rapid judgment call—sometimes based on a glance—as to whether we’re getting enough visual information to call the flight visibility half a mile. Or three-quarters of a mile, or two miles, or whatever.
That’s why I want to know what I expect to see when that moment arrives. Am I expecting the approach lights with a green threshold and not much more? Am I expecting half a runway visible, but 20 degrees left of my nose?
I think it’s our training where we don foggles, fly down to an altitude, and then go missed that gets us so focused on altitude. In real IFR, what we need to be focused on is distance: When we get down to X, how far should we be able to look and see Y?
This kind of thinking also allows for a certain consistency. Fly the approach to DA/MDA, period. Somewhere along the way, visibility should get high enough that we can continue past DA/MDA for landing. we note the visibility coming into view—and continue on the approach until it’s operationally beneficial to think “landing.” When vis is really low, that’s probably about 50 feet AGL.
When I read NTSB reports, the instrument approach crashes seem to fall into two categories: grossly botched at altitudes well above the +500 or even +1000 people set as personal minimums, or unknown flying into the trees or approach lights at the very end of the approach. Ceilings weren’t the issue on the first ones, but visibility is a likely culprit on the latter. I think we do ourselves a disservice assuming these are “duck unders” where pilot descended too low. I’ll wager an overpriced 4-pack of craft beer the majority were continuing past DA or MDA into questionable visibility that wasn’t IMC … but wasn’t sufficient to safely find pavement. This phenomenon might get worse rather than better given the prevalence of following an advisory glidepath on LNAV-only approaches. It’s super tempting to continue past MDA with just enough visibility to convince yourself you can find the runway, but not quite enough visibility to make it a sure thing.
That’s why I’ll happily try an approach where the AWOS is calling a bit below minimums for DA or MDA, so long as the visibility is good beneath. It’s also why I won’t bother with an approach with visibilities too low for likely completion, even if the ceilings are several hundred feet above the published minimum. Not sure you agree with this thinking? Here’s a challenge for you: Fly a given approach both ways in a simulator with decent visuals. Make it something other than an ILS or LPV with 200-foot and 1/2-mile mins for clarity. See which one you feel more confident about.
Commercial operations usually work the same way; visibility rules.
Sure, there’s value in noting the ceiling versus MDA/DA to see if there’s even a chance, but if it’s close, go for it. While I don’t particularly buy in to personal minimums at all, if I was setting a personal minimum for approaches, it would be by visibility, not ceiling.
Maybe you don’t really worry about visibility at the end of an approach? If you can see some runway, you just land? Your call, but that really is in violation. And while I will admit to knowing it’s possible to find the runway and land in RVR 800, I only do so knowing the statue of limitations is up on that knowledge. And I swear the flight visibility was higher. Really.
But now I’m (luckily) older and (thankfully) wiser. Today, visibility is what matters.
Watch This Video
Lower Your Personal Minimums
Canadians See It Differently
Fly in that country north of the border and this discussion changes in regulation, if not in practice. In Canada, prior to the FAF, visibility is controlling for both commercial operators and GA. The details are complicated, but roughly, commercial operators need 50 to 75 percent of the published visibility minimums to commence the approach. GA operators need at least RVR 1200 or 1/4 mile visibility. (Again, I’m being broad-brush here.)
Once past the FAF, however, the published visibilities on Canadian approach plates, “are advisory only. … They are not limiting and are intended to be used by pilots only to judge the probability of a successful landing.” In Canada, if you reach DA/MDA, can see the runway environment at all, and decide there’s enough visual information to land successfully, you can go for it.
However, I agree completely with my friend and Canadian pilot David Gagliardi when he says, “Why on earth would you continue any approach when the visibility is less than a quarter mile? The chances of you successfully completing it are basically zero; the chances of dying are not zero.”
ForeFlight Question of the Month