Whenever student pilots interact with controllers rather than fellow apprentices in the break room, there’s going to be much less forgiveness when mistakes are made. Learners are expected to absorb rapid-fire instructions, acknowledge everything verbatim, and comply without question–all with limited capacity and familiarity. It’s no wonder errors take place in such a situation.

Some ground-based role-playing is expected to prepare students for Class D operations, subsequently accompanied by actual immersion. Fortunate indeed are the learners who start out flying at a tower-controlled airport, from hour-one, with a CFI at their elbow to run interference until they get it right. Even so, there will be plenty of opportunities for unforeseen out-of-the-ordinary circumstances to come up, leaving them unprepared.

At greater disadvantage is the learner who has matriculated at an uncontrolled field, now tasked with having to enter the world of ATC. Suddenly, strange new terms are emanating from the headset, each one fraught with a paralyzing fear of descending wrath from above if misunderstood. Again, there will invariably be changing situations that require adaptive instructions, containing terms not covered in schooling. 

One contributor to learners’ mistakes is “expectation bias.” Inexperienced pilots expect to hear the usual taxi instructions, such as a simple “cleared for takeoff, left turn approved” when reporting ready to go and a welcoming “cleared to land” as they announce their arrival. It can’t always happen, and an offbeat clearance can be misunderstood or even disregarded in favor of what was expected.

• READ MORE: The Wisdom of Flying Tight Traffic Patterns

It’s also easy to read back instructions and acknowledge with one’s N-number yet not fully register the clearance cerebrally. In the rush to comply, a parroted reply can register wrongly. “Turn right zero-five-zero, maintain at or below two-thousand-five-hundred, contact departure on one-two-five-seven-seven” becomes a left turn to two-five-zero, and the ensuing straightening-out results in a busted altitude restriction. 

The simplest ATC requests sound confusing when you haven’t heard them before. “You’re number three, extend your downwind, I’ll call your base” leaves a learner wondering how to fly the approach. Staying on the downwind course leads to lost altitude unless adequate power is maintained, and they have to stay aware of the fluid traffic situation. The number-one aircraft is probably at the runway by now, and number two is turning final. If you report airplane-two “in sight” with “November such-and-such has the traffic,” you’ll hear “maintain separation with that traffic.” Turn in behind it and keep a matching speed, and you can receive your “cleared to land” as soon as it’s turning off the runway. 

“Make a right 360 for spacing” confuses a learner on a left-downwind expecting a “cleared to land.” Once acknowledged, you should make a crisp medium-bank circle away from the field that brings the plane back onto the downwind after a minute or so, not a wandering creeping orbit covering half the county. 

Tower controllers want to plan for after-landing movement of the airplanes under their control and will bark a “where are you parking?” while the learner is rolling out. Expect this, and have a reply ready like “Mom and Pop’s Aviation” so the controller will know whether you’re exiting left or right, and then be prepared for “exit at Delta Three, contact ground point-nine when clear” or “remain this frequency, taxi via Delta, Echo, Foxtrot.” 

The important rule for student pilots, or anyone struggling to comprehend, is to let the controller know if you don’t understand the instructions. Better to seek clarification than proceed blindly, bollixing up the traffic flow. Some airports’ local procedures are different than what you’re used to at home; if you don’t understand, say so. Never, ever surprise a controller; do what’s expected, and all will be well.

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On April 26, 2022, at approximately 11:12 a.m. ET, while in level VFR flight at 2,000 agl and cruising over the nondescript Ohio landscape, 2,000-hour-plus pilot Marc Epner experienced the unthinkable in his Cirrus SR22, N973SD—a total engine failure.

Cue the sweaty palms.

What makes this event unique is the fact that the Cirrus Airframe Parachute System, affectionately referred to as CAPS, was intentionally, albeit not consciously, not activated as Epner recalls. “The brain told me what to do,” he says. “I knew exactly what to do and reacted accordingly.” This included establishing the best glide speed, picking out a suitable landing area, a restart attempt, sending out a Mayday call on Guard—121.5—and successfully landing the airplane. Elapsed time from engine failure to safe landing: 1 minute, 36 seconds.

While the timing of the event had a positive outcome—10 minutes later and the failure would have occurred over a populated Cleveland, which would likely have necessitated the need to activate the CAPS with unknown results—Epner never doubted the need to declare an emergency to ATC. In fact, it can be said that if you are questioning whether you must declare an emergency, in all likelihood, you should. Once the “startle effect” at the outset of the engine failure subsided, previous scenario training kicked in with laser focus, allowing for Epner’s successful landing. (For more information on the startle effect, see the article “Scrubbing the Flight” in the September 2023 issue of Plane & Pilot)

The same cannot be said of an accident that might have been prevented if an emergency had been declared on September 15, 2017. The noninstrument-rated pilot, his wife, and two children took off from Fort Collins-Loveland Municipal Airport (KFNL), now known as Northern Colorado Regional Airport, en route to Canyonlands Regional Airport (KCNY) in Moab, Utah. They found themselves in instrument meteorological conditions (IMC) at night over mountainous terrain in a Cirrus SR22. The National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) reported that “…the flight was likely operating in [IMC] at the time of the accident, [which] included light to moderate icing conditions. The airplane likely encountered intermittent IMC beginning about 30 minutes after takeoff and continued into an area of solid IMC about three minutes before the accident occurred.”

In this case, the pilot was already on flight following and talking to ATC. He was attempting to circumnavigate mountainous terrain at night in bad weather. He was below the minimum en-route altitude (MEA) for that area and, for whatever reason, did not declare an emergency with ATC. Perhaps he believed he could salvage a bad situation. Maybe he was relying on the advanced technology of the glass panel to protect him. Or maybe he was concerned he would get into trouble after the fact with the FAA. Sadly, we will never really know his reasoning or motivation to forgo a Mayday call. What we do know, according to the NTSB final report, is the aircraft struck terrain with the airframe and engine showing severe fragmentation consistent with a high-energy impact likely caused by the pilot experiencing a loss of control because of spatial disorientation, which resulted in a subsequent descent into terrain with fatal results. 

Pilots are generally an intelligent breed. So why are some pilots reluctant to declare an emergency? Even when they know in the back of their pilot brain that such a declaration can bring valuable resources to the forefront while improving the chance of surviving the crisis, many still refuse to send out that Mayday call.

According to former NTSB senior investigator Greg Feith, there should be no ambiguity in declaring an emergency when a critical in-flight emergency occurs. The long-standing myth that sending out a Mayday call and declaring an emergency will result in copious amounts of paperwork for a pilot is simply untrue. Sure, there may be some documents to complete, but it’s not anything that should prevent a pilot in distress from taking such action.

Feith says the benefit of an emergency declaration—including having a controller one-on-one to assist, clearing the frequency and airspace as required, priority handling, and having another set of eyes available to provide critical information—should outweigh any concern of increased paperwork while increasing the chance of a good outcome.

• READ MORE: ICYMI: More Details Emerge in Piaggio Crash

One of the other common myths and concerns of pilots, according to Feith, is the FAA will use the emergency to impose a fine resulting from conditions that occurred leading up to it. “The FSDO (Flight Standards District Office) is not out to ‘get’ anyone,” Feith says. “While they must enforce the rules, there should be no concern if the pilot has done what the FAR tells them to do, and you have demonstrated good ADM (aeronautical decision making).” This includes proper preflight planning and making appropriate decisions as the emergency unfolds. It is not worth risking lives because of a propagating myth.

And it’s not just the FAA and NTSB that encourage a pilot in distress to ask for help from ATC early in an emergency. Rocky Sparks, a U.S. Air Force controller at Seymour Johnson Air Force Base in Goldsboro, North Carolina, says that while he was working an otherwise normal shift, a Cirrus pilot advised him of an engine failure while at 7,500 feet msl. This quickly set a series of events in motion, including clearing the airspace and providing heading and distance information to the nearest airport (which, in this case, was unattainable). In addition, Sparks notified the appropriate emergency responders of the pending forced landing.

By declaring the emergency early, the Cirrus pilot had the benefit of a controller to keep everyone informed of the situation as it unfolded, including the aircraft’s trajectory. In this case, the pilot chose to deploy the Cirrus CAPS when a safe landing at an airport or field could not be assured. A safe descent under the canopy ensued and, with the assistance of ATC, ground-based emergency responders arrived within minutes of the disabled aircraft’s touchdown.

But what if the pilot does not decide to declare an emergency when it seems the situation would dictate that one is unfolding? According to Feith, ATC can declare an emergency on the pilot’s behalf. If the controller senses it is life-threatening, it can and will be handled as an emergency.

However, in some cases, there is a gray area, and the controller is waiting for the pilot to confirm the emergency. According to multiple sources, the controller will attempt to determine the extent of a possible emergency by asking the pilot, “What are your intentions?” At that point, it is up to the pilot to state they are declaring an emergency and need assistance. Those magic words will allow full ATC resources to be available to the aircraft in trouble.

An example of where this could have changed the outcome of an accident occurred on January 25, 1990. The commercial airline flight, Avianca 052 from Bogotá, Colombia, to New York, tragically ended when the aircraft ran out of fuel and crashed into a hillside in the village of Cove Neck, New York, on the north shore of Long Island. Eight of the nine crewmembers and 65 of the 149 passengers on board were killed.

The NTSB determined the crash occurred because of the “flight crew failing to properly declare a fuel emergency.” The ambiguity of the pilot stating he was “fuel critical” instead of declaring a fuel emergency resulted in aircraft sequencing that was not prioritized the way it would have been had an emergency been declared. This crash directly resulted in positive changes in how Part 121 carriers manage and report fuel-critical emergencies.

• READ MORE: Alleged Drunk Pilot Runs Plane Out of Gas, Crash-Lands on Highway

With all the resources available to pilots when they are presented with an in-flight emergency, it is incumbent on the entire pilot community to remember that declaring an emergency to improve the chances of a good outcome and surviving the crisis should take precedence over any concerns about doing so. We are all taught to mitigate risk in the cockpit. According to the statistics and experts, declaring an emergency early will reduce risk and improve the odds of living to tell about an in-flight crisis during that next hanger flying session. Sweaty palms optional.

Editor’s Note: This story originally appeared in the November/December 2023 issue of Plane & Pilot magazine. 

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Like any phobia, brain freeze when you push the button for any audience, whether it’s for air traffic control (ATC) or simply announcing your intentions on the common traffic advisory frequency (CTAF), generally occurs because of inexperience and lack of forethought. This especially holds true during the early phase of our flight training. Add a dose of not thinking before speaking, and you have the recipe for an inarticulate foray into bad ATC communication.

So, how do we overcome the struggles and uneasiness and begin speaking like a pro? Like any new language that’s foreign to us, it simply takes practice. Communicating in our airspace has a cadence and vocabulary all its own. We just need to immerse ourselves in this environment, and in time the words that seemed alien to us in the past will become part of our new aviation lexicon.

According to many ATC specialists, the most popular way to familiarize yourself with their language is to listen to live control feeds from your aviation band scanner or a live service such as LiveATC (www.liveatc.com). While it will be helpful to memorize some of the common phrasing, along with the patterns and rhythm that occur in typical scenarios, nothing beats repetitive listening to better understand the ways and means of ATC communication.

The second most common suggestion from ATC professionals and experienced pilots alike, which will help your journey from novice to pro, is to practice what you hear. As you’re sitting in the comfort of your favorite recliner, listening to your live feed, simulate communication by responding to the instructions the controller gives the pilots. Respond as if you are that pilot. You will be amazed at how this simple task will build your confidence and provide a foundation for becoming a pro on the radio. Also, don’t be afraid to simulate the role of the controller. Repeat the commands as if you are controlling the aircraft. By doing this on a regular basis, your understanding of our unique aviation language will become second nature.

For those who own one of the many flight simulator programs, you might consider using a subscription service like PilotEdge, which connects to a network of its controllers, providing authentic ATC simulation while communicating in real-time along with repetitive experience in the system without ever leaving the ground.

As a student pilot, another obstacle we face is the fear of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time on the radio. While you want to make the best decisions by using the right words and phrases for the situation, don’t be so concerned about saying the wrong words that the mere thought of offering a poorly spoken phrase generates critical opprobrium. If you think before you speak, the likelihood of uttering the wrong words will dissipate faster than valley fog in the heat of the sun. In fact, thinking before speaking is probably a trait that can also be applied outside of the cockpit to great benefit.

Remember you are likely to be extremely familiar with landmarks around your home airport. However, those transient pilots transitioning to or landing at your home base may not be acquainted with them. With that in mind, avoid using landmarks in your radio calls to identify your position. For example, you may be inclined to provide your position report as “Cherokee one-two-bravo is over the rock quarry.” Instead, the best practice is to use the distance and direction of flight, such as “Cherokee one-two-bravo is 3 miles southeast heading northwest, landing runway three-zero.”

This paints an exact picture of your location without knowing the location of the rock quarry. This is helpful to everyone, especially the transient pilot with little knowledge of your area. And since we aviate in three dimensions, it’s also a good practice to include your altitude in the transmission. This gives all aircraft in your vicinity a three-dimensional picture of your location.

One of the most important tools we as student pilots possess when communicating with ATC is admitting we are student pilots. While you may be reluctant to do so, in the busy world of ATC, letting a tower know you are a student will give the controller the insight to slow the cadence and provide a reassuring tone and tempo to allow better absorption of the spoken words. Remember to read back any instructions provided by the controller. This will enable you to understand and remember what was said and confirm that what you heard had the correct intent.

Be clear and concise, using standard phraseology. This applies to communication with an ATC facility or on the CTAF at your local, nontowered airport. How can you avoid being that rambling, unprofessional talker on the radio? Avoid the all-too-common mistake of using nonstandard terminology in your communications. For example, the reply “roger” is not meant as an answer to the controller’s yes-or-no question. Instead, “roger” confirms you have received all of the last transmissions—nothing more.

How many of you have heard of the hapless pilot, who reports his position relative to the nontowered airport he is approaching, requesting, “Any traffic in the area, please advise.” This nonstandard phrase serves no useful purpose while taking up valuable bandwidth on the shared CTAF. Remember to say what you mean and mean what you say. Say it clearly with standard phraseology (an excellent reference for standard aviation terminology is the Aeronautical Information Manual), using the least amount of spoken words necessary to convey your intent clearly and concisely.

And for those on the journey with a flight of two or more, wanting to communicate with your other airborne $100 hamburger hunters, remember that for air-to-air communication the FAA strongly suggests you use the frequency of 122.75 MHz. For helicopters, you should utilize 123.025 MHz. While those are the FAA-suggested frequencies, you instead might be guilty of using the “fingers” frequency of 123.45 MHz (if you count that out on your hand, you will notice how that frequency became known as “fingers.”) Although that may be an easy-to-remember frequency for air-to-air comms, it’s utilized and explicitly reserved for commercial aircraft flight testing.

In the grand scheme of things, while necessary, communication should take third place to “aviate and navigate.” Don’t be so consumed by communicating that you forget to do either. However, there have been several accidents documented that could have likely been prevented by simply communicating. Whether that communication contains critical position data and thereby avoids a potential midair collision or conveys a potential emergency developing in the cockpit to ATC professionals on the ground, keying the mic could be your key to continued safe flight. 

The Right Words Matter

Here are three powerful words and phrases pilots can use that could positively impact comprehending instructions from ATC or, ultimately, the successful outcome of a flight:

Say Again:

If you did not fully comprehend the instructions from the controller, simply ask them to “Say again,” which is the standard terminology for requesting someone to repeat the instructions.

Unable:

If a controller asks you to do something challenging to accomplish safely, simply say “Unable.” Remember you are the pilot in command and can refuse an instruction that puts you or your aircraft in danger. While controllers are rightfully revered, they may not be familiar with the performance of your particular airplane and may request something that simply is not doable in a safe manner.

An excellent example of this might be a request to maintain too high of an airspeed for your final approach. Or perhaps a rate of descent that is outside of the performance envelope of your airplane (or your capabilities). Stating you are “unable” provides the controller with the knowledge that their request is not within the performance parameters of your aircraft or personal capabilities. Or, even more importantly, it may be a case of the controller instructing the pilot to turn to a specific heading that, unbeknownst to the controller, will put your VFR aircraft smack-dab in the middle of a cloud.

Stand By:

Have you ever had someone speak to you just at the moment you were about to sneeze? Goodbye, sneeze. They ruined the moment. The same ill timing can occur when a controller makes a request or provides you with an instruction. Maybe you are aviating, navigating, or doing some other task requiring total concentration. Simply reply, “Stand by.” This tells the controller you heard them but are unable to respond to their request immediately. You can return the reply within a reasonable period and ask them to “say again.”

Editor’s Note: This story originally appeared in the August 2023 issue of Plane & Pilot magazine.

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In recent years, the problem has been exacerbated. It used to be that pilots and controllers communicated in a fairly simple fashion, resorting to plain language when it suited. I recall attempting to affect an airline captain’s “Ah’, roger” drawl after obtaining my commercial certificate 60-odd years ago. Maybe I threw in a “Wilco” once in a while, signifying “will comply.” Instructions and requests were traded in a relatively clear manner.

We called ground control with an “On the ramp, ready to taxi” and got a terse “Taxi to one-eight.” If we wanted help finding our way, we could ask, otherwise, it was expected that we knew where the runway was and would call the tower for takeoff in due course. The frequency remained relatively uncongested. 

But pilots botched up from time to time, blundering into blind-alley taxiways or heading across an active runway. So taxi instructions gradually got more complex and wordy, first with a mandate to read back all “hold short” instructions and then with specific designations for a full-route clearance, all to be repeated verbatim. 

“Taxi to one-eight” became “Taxi to Runway 18 via Juliet, Alpha, and Romeo, hold short of Runway 31, confirm you have information Delta.” We soon learned we could get away with parroting “Taxi 18, Juliet/Alpha/Romeo, hold short 31, we have Delta.” 

Back in the beginning, we simply acknowledged receipt of a clearance by replying with our N-number, clipped to the last three ciphers if the tower had so stated it, just enough to assure that the right airplane heard the word from above. In all cases, the conversation was being recorded, and confirmation was important in the event of an investigation.

At this point, the controller’s manual requires controllers to state so many more advisory reminders, much of which we dutifully repeat back, that the frequency is filled with rapid-fire, nearly unintelligible verbiage, filed away in our mental cavities but not truly listened to. But, duty must be done.

The danger is that habitual repetition leads to hearing what we expect to hear, not what was truly said. 

“Cleared for the visual, report three mile left base for Runway 31,” becomes “Cleared to land, 31” in our mind, even though we read back the visual and report instructions. Or, as in the case of the Hawker crew at Houston recently, “Line up and wait” was interpreted as “Cleared for takeoff,” leading them to clip the tail of a cross-landing Citation. The old pre-ICAO “Position and hold” instruction was much more declarative, in my humble opinion.

My associates and I are now given to speaking slower, at the risk of overstaying our welcome on frequency, in hopes that ATC will reciprocate in intelligible delivery. Even so, well-meaning imposition of advisories and southern-exposure protections burden controllers with so much “New Speak” that we long for the days of shorter communication.

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