Learning to fly is daunting in many ways. From a sheer academic standpoint, there are thousands of factors that influence your ability to operate an aircraft safely. You have to be proficient in meteorology, navigation, communications, and complex aircraft systems. You need co-ordination and skill to manage the controls, and the ability to prioritize and solve difficult problems efficiently in the air. It is an endeavor that demands an ongoing study of the world around you, the mechanical and physical realities of flight, and your own limitations and capabilities as a pilot. With so much to learn, it’s easy to imagine how the concept of managing fear as a pilot is often overlooked. Even in the “human factors” portion of ground school, the topic is barely discussed. Yet for many aspiring pilots, learning how to overcome fear and nervousness is a crucial component to success.
Flying is an activity where you are constantly operating and testing yourself in a life-threatening environment. The revelation often happens the first time you fly alone. I remember my first solo, starting my crosswind turn at 500ft and very soberly noting the empty space in the right seat next to me, and an airy, exposed feeling all around. I thought, “wow, my life is completely in my hands… don’t mess this up!”. It’s terrifying, it’s exhilarating, it’s absolute responsibility, but it’s also absolute freedom. I reaffirmed myself with some healthy encouragement, “You know what you’re doing, you’ve trained for this – you’ve got this.”
Like most trainees, I managed to get back on the ground in one piece. My instructors had done their due diligence, and they knew I was ready. I may not have had the confidence in myself, but I had the skills – and they knew it, even if I didn’t. It was one of many experiences in my life that taught me just because it’s scary, doesn’t mean it’s beyond your control. Fear is a healthy pre-requisite to preparation. It’s a motivator that forces you to become a better version of yourself. It can be a superpower to those who harness it’s energy in a positive way. It’s crippling to those who don’t.
The year I started flying twins (a Piper Seneca II), the small municipal airport I was training out of had a very unfortunate year. In the spring, one of the flight training schools on the field experienced a fatal accident that killed two highly experienced instructors in a Tecnam P2006T, a light over-wing twin used for multi-engine training. With the investigation still ongoing, in the fall of the same year, one of my flight instructors (and a good friend) took off in a Seneca II from Runway 17 with a student in the left seat. The aircraft slowed abnormally in the climb. It was only 70 seconds later, and less than a mile from the airport, that the plane abruptly rolled to the left, entered a steep dive, and impacted near vertically into a farmers field. Both my friend and his student were killed. With the aircraft burnt and destroyed, the investigation was understandably inconclusive – but losing 4 pilots in a few months was a tragic and thought provoking start to flying twins. Many student-pilots were left contemplating whether or not flying was inherently dangerous, or something they really needed to do. I mean, there are plenty of jobs out there that pay more, and you don’t have to risk your life in the process.
This story is not meant to intimidate. As all aviators and adventurers know, the challenges of an endeavour are proportionate to it’s rewards. Learning how to overcome all of the physical and mental obstacles to flight leads every pilot down an enlightening path of education, appreciation, and understanding – not just for the task at hand, but for the world around them, and more importantly, for themselves. I became grateful for the lessons I learned through others’ accidents – to me, other pilots paid the ultimate price so that we could learn how to fly safer. And the rewards of flight truly are great. You get to see the world from an all-encompassing perspective. You get to study and test personal and physical limits. You get to witness the awe-inspiring, seemingly impossible beauty and fragility of our planet. You really get to learn who you are, where you are, and the mettle you’re made of.
After some serious contemplation, I concluded that yes, this was something I wanted to do. After all, how many flights are conducted successfully around the world every day? How many pilots live long full happy lives without incident? Sure, there will be mistakes, but with enough training and education, you can make them small. Aim small, miss small. Driving a vehicle on the highway is an equally perilous, and unintuitive mechanical skill that people have to learn, yet with enough training and repetition, it becomes second nature. And besides, there are risks to NOT taking risks too… as much as we hate to acknowledge it, we’re all going to die one day. The clock is ticking to do the things we love to do.
The fear of failing drove me to get better – and this is the moral I wish to share. Fear should not be a limiting factor, it should supercharge your development. You attack the things you fear, the problems you face, the things that intimidate you - and in the process, you’re forced to learn and to grow. You re-frame fear as a force to motivate you to action. For pilots, that means study, and that means practice. If you find you are afraid of something – whether it’s flying into challenging weather for the first time IFR, taking up your first passenger, flying into complex airspace or a confusing airport – that’s your cue to get to work! On the ground, you can visualize every aspect of an upcoming flight. You can “armchair fly” as one of my FlightSafety instructors called it. Envision the moments that intimidate you, and determine what your actions will be in advance. Then mime them out in an imaginary cockpit, or write them down over and over until you feel ready. The fear will slowly be replaced with confidence and readiness.
You don’t want to be a nervous pilot in the air. I’m sure we’ve all been there, flying along, getting too busy and maybe even falling “behind the airplane” – it’s not a good feeling, and it can distract your focus and cause you to rush or make mistakes you wouldn’t normally make. That should be noted as a sign of under-preparation, or perhaps a need for a little more experience or practice. But in the air, you’ve got to manage it. So take deep calming breaths, remind yourself to follow your procedures, and learn to see fear and nervousness as a positive force, a physical response that makes you hyper-aware and able to take control of difficult situations. This is a trick I’ve used a lot flying, but also public speaking, playing music in front of crowds, and all throughout life. Nerves are part of the “fight or flight” response. For you, it might be an elevated heart rate, shaky hands, a racing mind, or a faster respiratory rate. These are all responses that charge your body for action. You can harness that energy in a positive way – and for pilots, it can actually become a strength.
As per the tired cliché, I don’t think it’s beneficial to aim to "live fearlessly", but rather, it's better to live with fear. I think fear is healthy part of the learning process, and a call to action. For aspiring pilots, or indeed anyone facing life’s challenges, I’d say take a moment to consider what your fear is trying to teach you. Maybe you need to reassess the reasons why you’re doing something, or how you’re doing it, or perhaps your level of commitment to a particular endeavor. Like Mr. Miyagi’s wise advice to “the Karate Kid” – people who walk down the middle of the road get squished – best to pick a side and walk it. Whatever your pursuits, hopefully your fear can help serve as a worthy guide.
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