Chris Horsten, Director, Canadian Light Sport Aircraft Association
Pilots are often known for their egos, but in a more positive light, it could be said that pride of accomplishment and attention to detail drives a pilot’s proficiency. Who wouldn’t want to be considered proficient amongst their peers? The dark side of this is arrogance and complacency, and these are the dire enemies of every pilot.
What’s the difference?
Proficiency and competency are both words that pertain to the application of learned skills, to perform a certain task. However, there is a value difference between the two. So if competency refers to the essential skills required, then proficiency implies a certain mastery of them. Training curriculums and standards use the word “proficient” routinely, and it’s certainly possible that in the training environment some level of short-term proficiency is achieved. However, it would also be fair to say that much of the proficiency will be lost in the weeks following a successful flight test. Studies have shown that there is a significant loss of skill or learning immediately after an intense period of training, which isn’t recovered for a substantially longer period of time. Further reinforcing activities must continue, with corrective input to maintain accuracy.
How to tell which you are
Passing a checkride is a huge confidence booster, but it would be naive to assume you have mastered anything yet. Proficiency is developed over an extended period of time, possibly a lifetime. There simply hasn’t been enough of it to accumulate sufficient experiences to be equipped for every possible scenario. Repetition builds muscle memory and fine-tunes the senses. So at what point can we honestly proclaim proficiency?
In the world of light aircraft, proficiency might be claimed when specific manoeuvres can be executed perfectly every time. In other words, it means that one’s reaction is immediate and correct given the information available, and the execution is successful. You might be super proficient if a second complication is introduced without impacting the end result. But proficiency isn’t only about handling emergencies. Routine flying can be the place where minor errors add up to disaster. But what about decision-making? There have been many instances when a fresh pilot who can ace a forced approach still hasn’t gained enough wisdom to be safe, never mind proficient.
Take for example this relatively new pilot who we’ll call John. John has a high-end, newly built amphibious aircraft in the amateur-built category. It’s equipped with all the options, including an electronic flight instrument system (EFIS), autopilot, dual radios, and more. John’s ambitious plan is to be able to use the plane to get to and from his cottage in less than favourable weather. He’s planning to get an IFR rating, but for now, he plans to fall back on the autopilot and synthetic vision in the EFIS. Since John didn’t build the plane and wasn’t part of the avionics installation, he has little experience operating it. The stage is set for disaster. On his first weekend away, the weather deteriorates close to the destination airport. With the sun still shining at the cottage, John thinks it will clear by the time he arrives. The opposite happens and as he flies along, the haze turns to cloud and he is unable to descend below it. He begins to look at the EFIS for help, but things don’t feel right and he’s sure the plane is descending despite what the instruments tell him. He doesn’t know how to work the autopilot other than to make it fly straight and level, so he cycles it on and off, making heading corrections and then re-engaging it. Fear begins to take over and he doesn’t know what to do. Since he trained at a non-towered airport, he’s too afraid to try calling for help. As he approaches his destination, he suddenly, miraculously, sees the ground. He manages to fly a circuit about 500 ft below circuit height and lands the plane successfully. John has learned a hard lesson and has given himself a good scare. Unfortunately, it’s enough of a scare that his airplane has not flown since. This is an extreme example, but it actually happened. It isn’t until decision-making and technique reach a level of maturity that proficiency can truly be claimed. The school of hard knocks is an effective learning tool, but not always survivable.
So the best answer lies in your flying habits. What does your typical mission look like and is it the same or almost the same every time you fly? When was the last time you practised a forced approach? Do you regularly engage an instructor to hone your skills and identify any bad habits you might have picked up? Have you outgrown your checklist? Some pilots do the same thing every time they fly: a 30-min flight to the coffee shop at a nearby airport, and then home again. If you never add other experiences, can you really ever be considered proficient?
How to get there
Proficiency begins with having the right attitude. Good pilots are always learning and seek out opportunities to build their skills. That might mean investing in an hour or two of instruction every year. Some pilots opt for unusual attitude training and recovery, or aerobatics. Obtaining an ultralight permit does not require much in the way of navigation skills, but learning them might cause you to appreciate fuel management better, improve your map reading skills, or interpret weather reports better. For a pilot who flies an aircraft with more than one seat, weight and balance becomes a chore when you think you know your aircraft’s limits and the numbers don’t seem to ever change. But can you still perform a weight and balance properly without learning the procedure over? Would you recognize a potential problem with density altitude before taxying out onto the runway?
My instructor taught me to consider the worst case and be prepared for it at all times. That means more than just keeping an eye out for the next suitable farm field. There are many stories of pilots who have been taken by surprise, but my instructor taught me to never find myself in that position, and that in fact doing so might even be considered a failure on her part to train me properly. Since I have no idea what scenario might develop, it’s up to me to be able to respond to anything that might happen without panicking or having a plan to manage the situation. A good place to start is simulating any situation that has an emergency checklist in your pilot operating handbook (POH). Knowing those checklists by heart could make the difference.
When I first got my tailwheel checkout, I spent about 7 hr total with the instructor. I was deemed competent, although I knew in my gut that I did not have the confidence to manage anything more than a 2–3 kt crosswind. It wasn’t until I could execute a landing without breathing a sigh of relief on touchdown that I knew I had attained a level of mastery that could be called “proficiency.” That day came on my way to Oshkosh in 2019. I reluctantly enjoyed three days in Port Huron—just 1.5 hours from home—before the weather allowed me to resume my flight. The final leg of that journey culminated in a sunset landing at Oshkosh with 7 kt right down the runway, just in time to beat the AirVenture rush. But it wasn’t the greaser landing that I pulled off in front of hundreds of onlookers that made me feel like I had finally nailed it, it was the absence of terror on my passenger’s face.