Blog Elements : IFR Focus

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Approach Lighting Systems: Scenarios for Instrument Pilots

February 27, 2026/by Eric Radtke

You’ve probably seen runway approach lights at larger airports many times during your training and when flying at night. These systems take on additional importance when flying IFR since they provide the basic means to transition from instrument to visual flight for landing. If an approach lighting system is available for a runway, the symbology will be displayed in both the small airport diagram in line with the runway, and in the briefing strip towards the top of the instrument approach chart.

IFR Decision-Making Under Pressure: When “Go” Becomes the Wrong Answer

February 24, 2026/by James Onieal

We often talk about IFR decision-making and go/no-go calls in comfortable environments, classrooms, safety seminars, or sitting in an FBO with a cup of coffee. In those settings, the decisions are clean. Detached. The weather is hypothetical. The passengers are imaginary. There is no fatigue, no operational pressure, no schedule waiting in the background. From that distance, the “right” answer is usually obvious.

Approach Lighting Systems: Scenarios for Instrument Pilots

February 27, 2026/by Eric Radtke

IFR Decision-Making Under Pressure: When “Go” Becomes the Wrong Answer

February 24, 2026/by James Onieal

Full Sized Blog Element (Big Preview Pic)

Approach Lighting Systems: Scenarios for Instrument Pilots

February 27, 2026/by Eric Radtke

If an approach lighting system is available for a runway, the symbology will be displayed in both the small airport diagram in line with the runway, and in the briefing strip towards the top of the instrument approach chart. You can then refer to the legend in the digital terminal procedures supplement to determine the specifics of the lighting system.

Approach light systems are a configuration of signal lights starting at the landing threshold and extending into the approach area, at a distance of 2,400 to 3,000 feet for precision instrument runways, and 1,400 to 1,500 feet for non-precision instrument runways. Some systems include sequenced flashing lights which appear to the pilot as a ball of light traveling towards the runway at high speed—nicknamed the rabbit.

Approach light systems deserve special attention twice during each flight. First is during your preflight preparation, when you can determine which system you’ll see for a particular runway. Here’s the ILS Runway 29R approach at Torrance, California. Notice the A-5 found in the briefing strip on the approach chart.

Now look in the supplement to find that A-5 represents a medium intensity approach lighting system, or M-A-L-S-R, with runway alignment indicator lights. The inverted dark coloring of the A5 symbol means the approach lights are pilot-controlled.

Approach lighting systems are critical during low ceiling and low visibility conditions when you must decide whether to continue to land or execute a missed approach. If when reaching the minimum descent altitude or decision altitude on the approach and you have the approach lights in sight, you are permitted to descend to 100 feet above the touchdown zone elevation published for the runway. When reaching 100 feet above the touchdown zone, you then must have the runway environment in sight (as specified in § 91.175) and verify the flight visibility is above the published minimums to continue the descent to landing.

If a NOTAM indicates part of the lighting system is out of service, refer to the inoperative components table to make adjustments to the landing minimums. Make it a point to check your destination against the inoperative components table each time you fly IFR to see if the airport has any lighting systems affected.

Remember, these approach lighting systems are an important part of your IFR training. When you arrive at an unfamiliar airport with reduced visibility, let your preflight preparation and knowledge of the various systems lead to quick orientation to the runway.

Now let’s take a look at the approach lighting systems you are likely to encounter and see what they may look like in a variety of weather conditions.

Approach Light Systems Simulator

Approach Lighting Systems Scenarios

IFR Decision-Making Under Pressure: When “Go” Becomes the Wrong Answer

February 24, 2026/by James Onieal

We often talk about IFR decision-making sitting in the hangar with a cup of coffee—in those settings, the decisions are clean.

But real-world decision-making rarely happens in calm, theoretical conditions. It happens when people are tired. When the trip is almost over. When passengers need to get somewhere. When the week has already been long and everyone is thinking about home.

Real-world decision-making rarely happens in calm, theoretical conditions. It happens when people are tired. When the trip is almost over. When passengers need to get somewhere..

That is where the true test of IFR judgment begins.

Several years ago, I was flying a King Air on the last day of a four-day trip. We had been flying eight-hour days. My copilot and I were both looking at only a day and a half off before returning Monday to start another demanding week of work, more inspections, more travel, more time away. We still had expense reports to complete, laundry to do, planning to finalize. Like most professional crews at the end of a trip, we were mentally already halfway home.

That Friday morning, we were departing Ohio for Ann Arbor, Michigan, to complete one final inspection before finishing the week in western Michigan. During preflight at the FBO, we noticed a PIREP from an MD-11 departing Detroit, about ten miles east of our destination, reporting severe icing on departure. That caught my attention. Ten minutes later, another report came in from a CRJ-700 in roughly the same area, reporting light to moderate icing.

We called dispatch. We reviewed the weather products. The icing forecast showed light to moderate conditions, nothing outside what a properly equipped King Air should handle. Traffic was departing Detroit continuously. No other aircraft reported severe icing, and nothing in the data suggested severe icing should be anywhere along or near our route. After discussing it, we decided to go.

On paper, it was a reasonable decision.

We departed on an IFR flight plan and headed north. South of Toledo, the first trace of ice appeared. It began as light accumulation, manageable, expected. Then it increased to moderate.

In a turboprop, moderate icing is not subtle. Windshield heat on. Prop heat on. Boots cycling. You start monitoring how often you need to inflate the boots. You check representative surfaces, windshield wipers, antennas, unprotected edges. You listen for ice shedding off the propeller blades and striking the fuselage. That sound is unmistakable.

At first, the airplane was handling it well. Airspeed steady. Boots shedding ice. No abnormal indications.

My copilot spoke up.

“Hey, the ice is picking up. What do you think about heading west?”

I assessed the instruments and outside cues. Everything appeared under control. “I think we’re okay,” I replied. “It’s moderate, but the airplane’s handling it fine.”

A few minutes later, he asked again. “We could just head west and pick this up Monday.”

Again, I declined. The systems were working. The airspeed was holding. Nothing was technically wrong.

And that’s where the trap was.

Over the next minute or two, the sound changed. Instead of light ice tapping the fuselage, we heard heavier chunks striking the cabin. The accumulation rate increased. Ice was building faster between boot cycles. The cues were subtle at first, then unmistakable.

I finally turned to him and said, “Let’s tell ATC we’re heading west.”

At almost the exact moment I said it, we entered severe icing.

The change was immediate and violent. Ice broke off windshield wipers and struck the windscreen with force. Larger pieces slung off the propellers and slammed into the fuselage. We inflated the boots, cleared the wings, only to look back seconds later and see them coated again as if we had never cycled them.

We advanced to full power. All anti-ice systems on high. We requested an immediate climb and turn.

Initially, we had about 700 feet per minute of climb. Then 500. Then 300. The airspeed began to bleed off, not just from the climb, but from the sheer drag accumulating on the aircraft. In severe icing, performance degradation happens quickly. What looks manageable can become untenable in moments.

We were still at 8,000–9,000 feet, with altitude to work with. If the climb failed, we were prepared to descend. But the margin was shrinking.

Then, about 60 seconds later, we broke out of the icing completely, into clear, solid VFR.

The relief was immediate.

The relief was immediate as we broke out into clear, solid VFR.

Looking back at the airplane, nearly every unprotected surface carried half an inch to three-quarters of an inch of ice. Anywhere there wasn’t a boot or heat, ice remained thick and stubborn.

We canceled the inspection and diverted west. Once on the ground, we pulled the airplane into the hangar and debriefed.

That debrief was the most important part of the day.

The airplane had performed exactly as designed. The systems worked. The training held. But the real issue wasn’t aircraft capability.

It was decision-making under pressure.

In the FBO, the go/no-go discussion was analytical and rational. But once airborne, on the last day of a long week, with work to finish and home waiting, I allowed external pressure to influence my internal risk tolerance.

The first time my copilot suggested diverting, the airplane was still within limits. It was manageable. But it was trending worse. And that trend mattered.

The question wasn’t, “Can the airplane handle this right now?”

The question should have been, “Why are we choosing to continue into worsening conditions when we don’t have to?”

That is the difference between legal and wise.

The real lesson from that day was simple: when you feel pressure to complete a task, that is precisely when you need to examine your decision more critically. Fatigue, schedule pressure, passenger expectations, and the desire to finish what you started can all subtly push a pilot to accept more risk than necessary.

We often ask, “Can we make it?”

A better question is, “What happens if we don’t?”

In our case, the consequence of turning west earlier would have been minor. We would have rescheduled the inspection for Monday. The inconvenience was administrative, not operationally critical.

But by pressing on, we exposed ourselves to a risk environment that escalated faster than anticipated.

IFR decision-making is dynamic. It requires continuous reassessment. A safe “go” at 8:00 a.m. may become a poor decision at 8:30 a.m. Trends matter. Pilot reports matter. Crew input matters.

Most importantly, speaking up matters.

My copilot saw the trend before I was willing to acknowledge it. Good CRM means listening, not just hearing.

That flight reinforced a principle I carry forward on every trip: if the consequence of delaying or canceling is inconvenience rather than catastrophe, choose inconvenience.

Airplanes can handle a lot. Pilots can handle a lot. But no schedule is worth trading away margin.

In the classroom, go/no-go decisions are clean and detached. In the real world, they are wrapped in fatigue, expectation, and subtle pressure.

That is why the discipline to say “no”, especially when you technically could say “yes”, is one of the most important skills an instrument pilot can develop.

Because sometimes the most professional decision you can make is the one that gets you home a day later.

Half Sized Blog Element (Single Author Style)

Half Sized Blog Element (Multi Author Style)

Approach Lighting Systems: Scenarios for Instrument Pilots

IFR Decision-Making Under Pressure: When “Go” Becomes the Wrong Answer

Approach Lighting Systems: Scenarios for Instrument Pilots

IFR Decision-Making Under Pressure: When “Go” Becomes the Wrong Answer

Full Sized Blog Element (Big Preview Pic)

Approach Lighting Systems: Scenarios for Instrument Pilots

Approach Light Systems Simulator

Approach Lighting Systems Scenarios

IFR Decision-Making Under Pressure: When “Go” Becomes the Wrong Answer

Real-world decision-making rarely happens in calm, theoretical conditions. It happens when people are tired. When the trip is almost over. When passengers need to get somewhere..

In the classroom, go/no-go decisions are clean and detached. In the real world, they are wrapped in fatigue, expectation, and subtle pressure.

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