quick Blog Reads

Thunderstorms are one of the biggest “plan-breakers” in aviation. They can shut down departures, force reroutes, create severe turbulence well away from the visible rain shaft, and turn a straightforward arrival into holding, diverting, or canceling. That’s where the Convective Outlook (often seen with the header code “AC”) comes in: it’s a strategic forecast that highlights where thunderstorms—especially severe thunderstorms—are most likely over the next 1–3 days. This post

If you’ve ever wished you could “see the forecast” the same way you see radar—layered, zoomable, time-stepped, and altitude-aware—that’s exactly what Graphical Forecasts for Aviation (GFA) is designed to do. GFA is an interactive aviation weather map produced by the National Weather Service’s Aviation Weather Center. It’s intended to give pilots and dispatchers a complete, map-based picture of weather that may impact flight, combining observations, forecasts, and warnings in

If METARs are the steady heartbeat of surface weather reporting, SPECI reports are the adrenaline spikes : unscheduled updates issued when conditions change enough to matter operationally— right now . A SPECI can be the difference between launching on an approach you still have minimums for… or finding out the field just dropped into fog, the ceiling collapsed, or a thunderstorm rolled onto final. Below is a practical look at what SPECIs are, what triggers them, how to read t

In flight training, “emergencies” often come with a script: simulated engine failures, forced landings, maybe a surprise diversion. Emergency descents can feel different—because they’re less about finding a runway and more about managing urgency without losing control. An emergency descent is what you do when staying at your current altitude is the bigger risk than going down quickly. It’s not a maneuver you hope to use, but it’s one you’ll be grateful you practiced if the co

Few things in flight training get a student pilot’s attention like the words: “Your engine just failed.”  Even when you know it’s simulated, your brain instantly shifts gears. The chatter in your head gets louder, your scan speeds up, and suddenly the sky feels a little smaller. That’s exactly why emergency approaches and landings matter. They’re not just a maneuver for a checkride. They’re training for the rare moment when a pilot’s job becomes simple and hard at the same ti

Slow flight has a funny reputation in training. It’s not flashy like steep turns, and it’s not as obviously “useful” as takeoffs and landings. But ask any instructor what maneuver exposes real stick-and-rudder fundamentals—and you’ll hear slow flight near the top of the list. Slow flight is where you learn to fly the airplane on the edge of its comfort zone without stepping over the line. It’s less about the exact number on the airspeed indicator and more about controlling th

Ask most student pilots what they think of when they hear steep turns , and you’ll probably get a sigh, a nervous laugh, or a comment about chasing altitude and airspeed. On the surface, steep turns can feel like a box-checking maneuver—45° or 50° of bank, ±100 feet, ±10 knots, roll out on heading, done. But in flight training, steep turns are far more than an ACS requirement. They’re a proving ground for coordination, situational awareness, and pilot confidence. Study this f

S-turns across a road are the maneuver that makes students say, “I thought  I understood wind.” Because unlike the rectangular course (where corrections change mostly by leg) or turns around a point (where you’re managing a circle), S-turns force you to manage two changing turn radii, two changing groundspeeds, and a constantly shifting wind angle—all while keeping the reference line nailed. When it clicks, it feels elegant: symmetrical, smooth, and controlled. When it doesn’

“Turns around a point” looks simple on paper: pick a point on the ground and fly a circle around it. Then you try it in a real wind and suddenly your “circle” turns into a lopsided egg, your altitude starts wandering, and you realize you’ve been thinking in headings instead of ground track. That’s the whole point of the maneuver. Turns around a point is where you learn to manage wind continuously  while keeping altitude, airspeed, and coordination locked in. It’s one of the b

The rectangular course looks harmless on the syllabus: “Fly a rectangle around a field.” In reality, it’s your first real lesson in flying ground track—and the first time many students realize wind is the boss. If you treat it like drawing a box in the sky, you’ll drift, overshoot, and wonder why your headings “don’t work.” If you treat it like a mini traffic pattern with wind correction and planning, it becomes one of the most useful maneuvers in early training. Here’s how t

Power-off stalls are where a lot of pilots get their first “approach-to-landing reality check.” The goal isn’t to scare you or prove the airplane is dangerous. The goal is to teach you what happens when you combine low airspeed, high drag, and increasing angle of attack—exactly the ingredients that show up when you overshoot final, get slow in the flare, or try to stretch a glide. Done correctly, power-off stalls are controlled, predictable, and incredibly valuable. Done poor

Power-on stalls are one of the first times a student pilot realizes the airplane doesn’t “fall out of the sky” so much as it runs out of airflow . Done correctly, they’re controlled, predictable, and hugely confidence-building. Done sloppily, they become a pitch-and-yaw wrestling match that teaches the wrong lessons. This post is about performing power-on stalls the way flight training intends: safe, coordinated, repeatable—and useful. Study this full length lesson (video, po

Ask a new student what they’re practicing today and you’ll eventually hear: “Just straight and level. ”Ask an instructor what they’re really  evaluating and you’ll hear: “Everything.” Straight and level flight is where your aircraft handling habits show up in high definition—scan, trim discipline, coordination, wind awareness, workload management, and whether you fly the airplane  or chase the instruments . If you can make straight-and-level look boring, every other maneuver

A go-around isn’t an admission of failure—it’s a decision to keep options. When pilots get in trouble on landing, it’s rarely because they couldn’t  go around. It’s because they didn’t, or they waited until the maneuver became messy, rushed, and low-altitude. A solid go-around is one of the highest-value skills you can practice: it turns a bad approach into a normal climb, resets the situation, and buys you time to think. This post covers why go-arounds happen, how to execute

A normal takeoff is one of the most routine maneuvers in aviation—and that’s exactly why it deserves respect. When it’s done well, it looks boring: smooth power application, straight tracking, calm rotation, stable climb. When it’s rushed or sloppy, it can stack small errors fast (directional control, configuration, airspeed, obstacle clearance, engine issues). This is a pilot-focused, general “how-to” for a normal takeoff in typical light GA airplanes (think trainers and com

The traffic pattern is where “basic” flying turns into real  flying. You’re close to the ground, often mixing speeds and experience levels, talking (or not talking) to other airplanes, and making decisions quickly. A clean, predictable pattern is one of the best ways to reduce risk—and one of the clearest signs of a disciplined pilot. This pilot-focused guide covers the legs of the traffic pattern, the best ways to enter, and how to exit cleanly and safely at both towered and

You’re taxiing out, ready to go, and suddenly your radio goes silent. Or you’re in the pattern and realize you can hear ATC, but they can’t hear you. Or your headset dies at exactly the wrong time. This is where ATC light gun signals stop being a trivia question and become a real-world tool. They’re simple, standardized, and effective— if you actually remember what they mean  and know how to respond. This pilot-focused guide covers what the signals are, what they mean in the

The run-up area is where good flights get set up—and where preventable problems get caught while they’re still cheap, quiet, and easy to fix. The before takeoff check (often blended with run-up and “takeoff briefing” items) isn’t about being ritualistic. It’s about confirming the airplane is configured, the engine is healthy, the flight controls are correct, and you  are ready to roll. Done well, it reduces workload at the exact moment workload is about to spike. Below is a p

Most pilots think of wind correction as something you do on takeoff and landing. But a surprising number of hangar rash stories, blown centerlines, and “why is this thing trying to turn?” moments start on the ground. Taxiing is where the wind gets sneaky: you’re slow, close to obstacles, often distracted by checklists/clearances, and the airplane’s control surfaces are still very much alive  in the airflow. Done right, wind correction during taxi is simple, mechanical, and be

For most GA pilots, engine start  feels routine—until it isn’t. A surprising number of close calls, ramp injuries, prop strikes, and runaway-airplane incidents happen in the first couple minutes of the day, when attention is split between checklists, radios, passengers, and “just getting it going.” This post is a pilot-focused look at safe engine starting habits, plus two special cases that deserve extra respect: external power starts and hand propping. As always: follow your

Every flight is a little negotiation with physics. The airplane will happily do its part— if  we’ve done ours. And before checklists, radios, and runup rituals, the most important habit you can build is a deliberate preflight walk-around. Not because it’s tradition. Because it’s how you catch the small, dumb, preventable problems that turn into big, expensive, or dangerous ones once you’re rolling. This post is for pilots who want a practical, “what actually matters” mindset:

Every multi-engine pilot has heard the line: “Twins are safer because you have two engines.” And every experienced multi instructor eventually adds the punchline: “Lose one engine and you don’t lose half your performance—you can lose most of it.” That sounds dramatic until you see it in the airplane: same runway, same weight, same day… and suddenly the climb rate that felt effortless becomes a slow struggle—or a steady descent. Let’s talk about why that happens, what “power l

Multi-engine airplanes give you options—right up until they don’t. If you’ve done enough multi training, you’ve heard some version of: “An engine failure on takeoff is survivable… if you have the performance and runway to match your decision.” That’s what accelerate-go and accelerate-stop are really about. They’re not airline-only concepts. They’re the numbers that answer: If an engine quits at the worst possible moment, can I continue and fly away? If an engine quits at the

If you’ve flown a twin with an engine “failed” (real or simulated), you’ve felt it: the nose wants to yaw the airplane wants to roll the ball refuses to behave your feet are suddenly doing cardio Then an instructor says, “Set zero sideslip,” and—almost magically—the airplane stops feeling like it’s trying to wrestle you. Zero sideslip is one of the most useful concepts in multi-engine flying because it’s the difference between: fighting the airplane (and bleeding performance)

Multi-engine airplanes have a reputation for “more capability,” and often that’s true—especially when you compare climb performance, cruise, and useful load to many singles. But when you start planning real flights—mountain routes, hot days, high weights, IFR alternates, icing layers—you’ll run into a set of numbers that matter just as much as V-speeds: Ceilings. And in twins, ceilings aren’t just about “how high can I go?” They’re also about: How high can I go on one engine?

Every multi-engine pilot learns a few numbers that feel heavier than the rest. Vmc is one of them. Vmc isn’t a “performance” speed like Vyse (blue line). It’s not “best angle” or “best rate.” It’s not even about climbing. Vmc is about control. Specifically: the minimum airspeed at which you can maintain directional control after an engine failure— under a set of worst-case conditions . That’s why Vmc is often described as the twin’s “red line with teeth.” Not because it’s alw

If you’ve done any multi training in a conventional twin, you’ve heard the phrase: “Identify the critical engine.” And if you’ve ever tried to explain why  to someone who hasn’t taken multi yet, you’ve probably started drawing arrows, got halfway through “descending blade,” and watched their eyes glaze over. Here’s a clean way to teach (and remember) it: PAST. P-factor Accelerated slipstream Spiraling slipstream Torque These four asymmetric effects help you determine which en

If you’ve ever sat in a multi ground school, you’ve heard it: “The left engine is critical.” Then someone points at a Seminole and says: “Not on that one.” Welcome to the difference between a conventional (same-rotation) twin and a counter-rotating twin. The distinction isn’t marketing trivia—it changes how the airplane behaves with an engine out, how much rudder you need, and what “bad day” looks like near Vmc. Let’s break it down in pilot language. Study this full length le

Multi-engine training has a funny moment: you spend weeks becoming a smooth, competent two-engine pilot… and then the instructor says, “Cool. Now let’s pretend one of them died.” That’s where V-speeds go from trivia to survival tools. Three in particular show up in every multi syllabus and every oral: Vsse — safe single-engine speed Vxse — best angle  of climb single-engine (a.k.a. “best angle  of not-descending”) Vyse — best rate  of climb single-engine (blue line) Let’s unp

MOSAIC (Modernization of Special Airworthiness Certification) is the FAA’s biggest overhaul of the light-sport / sport pilot ecosystem since it launched in 2004. The headline isn’t just “bigger LSAs.” The real shift is that MOSAIC separates: how certain aircraft are certificated, and what sport pilots are allowed to operate. That separation is what makes the whole system more flexible going forward—and it’s why you’ll hear more conversations about “sport pilot operating limit

If you’ve been a CFI for a while, you’ve probably lived through at least one confusing conversation that starts with: “Wait… do CFIs still expire ?” Here’s the practical, pilot-focused truth: your flight instructor certificate isn’t the same “expires on X date” problem it used to be, but your ability to exercise CFI privileges can absolutely lapse if you don’t meet the recent experience requirements on time. When you lapse, you can’t instruct until you’re back in compliance.

Ask any pilot what a flight instructor does  and you’ll get the obvious answers: teaches landings, explains weather, keeps you from doing something spicy in the pattern. But the deeper truth is this: A CFI is one of the only people in aviation whose signature can unlock new privileges—solo, checkrides, ratings, flight reviews— without  issuing any certificate themselves. That power is real, and it comes with equally real boundaries. If you’re a student pilot, a rusty private

In flight training, critiques are where the learning sticks . The maneuver might happen in the practice area, but the real improvement happens when the student understands what happened, why it happened, and what to do next time—without getting defensive or discouraged. A good critique is more than “you were high on final” or “watch your altitude.” It’s structured feedback that builds: awareness (what did I do?) understanding (why did it happen?) action (what will I change ne

As a flight instructor, you don’t just teach content —you teach performance under workload . That means your choice of training delivery method matters just as much as the lesson plan itself. Some methods are great for building knowledge fast (airspace, regs, weather theory). Others are built for cockpit skill (landings, stalls, emergency flows). And some are best for the stuff that separates “can fly the airplane” from “can manage the flight”: ADM, risk management, and syste

Most flight instructors don’t struggle with what  to teach. We’ve got ACS tasks, lesson plans, maneuvers, tolerances, and endless gouge on how to brief a stall. Where CFIs really earn their money is in how  they teach—how they sequence, motivate, reinforce, and make learning stick when the cockpit gets loud, bumpy, and busy. That’s exactly what REEPIR is for. In the Fundamentals of Instruction, REEPIR summarizes six “laws of learning” that show up in every lesson you fly: Rea

Every flight instructor has seen it: a learner who should  be nailing steep turns is suddenly behind the airplane, tense on the controls, missing radio calls, and forgetting basic steps they had down last week. It’s tempting to treat that as a “study harder” or “chair-fly more” problem. But FOI quietly reminds us: learning isn’t just about content delivery . It’s about the conditions  inside the learner—mental, physical, emotional, and environmental. That’s where Maslow’s Hie

If you’re a commercial pilot (or training to be one), the most dangerous misunderstanding around “getting paid to fly” isn’t about your certificate. It’s about what kind of carriage your flight becomes the moment you start offering it to others. In FAA-speak, the big three concepts are: Common carriage (the classic “air taxi/charter” problem) Private carriage (often called “contract carriage” in casual pilot talk) Holding out (the trigger that turns “some flying” into “common

Getting your commercial pilot certificate is the moment everyone assumes you can finally “get paid to fly.” True… and also not that simple. In FAA land, “Can I get paid?” is really two separate questions: Are you  allowed to accept compensation as a pilot? (certificate privileges) Is the operation  allowed to carry people/property for compensation? (Part 119/121/135, exceptions, “holding out,” etc.) If you keep those two buckets straight, you’ll avoid the fastest way for a ne

Earning a Commercial Pilot Certificate is a major milestone in a pilot’s career. It’s the point where flying transitions from a passion or hobby into a professional skill set. But with that step comes new responsibilities, stricter standards, and important limitations that every commercial pilot must understand. This guide breaks down eligibility requirements, privileges, and limitations of a commercial pilot certificate under FAA regulations (14 CFR Part 61)—with practical c

Every instrument approach eventually funnels you into the same moment: you’re at DA (Decision Altitude) on a precision/vertical guidance approach or at MDA (Minimum Descent Altitude) on a non precision approach, and you need to decide whether you’re allowed—and able—to continue. This isn’t a “feel” decision. There are specific criteria you must meet to go below DA/MDA, and knowing them cold makes you faster, calmer, and safer at minimums. Study this full length lesson (video,

Circling off an instrument approach is one of those IFR skills that looks simple on paper (“break out, maneuver visually, land”) and feels very different when you’re actually doing it: low altitude, tight margins, changing winds, rising terrain/obstacles, and a runway that can disappear behind rain shafts or night haze faster than you’d expect. Done correctly, circling is a controlled, briefed, stabilized visual maneuver inside protected airspace. Done poorly, it turns into i

You’ll see visibility everywhere in instrument flying: on METARs, ATIS, approach plates, tower reports, and RVR readouts. But the key phrase in the regs isn’t “reported visibility.” It’s flight visibility—and that distinction matters when you’re trying to decide whether you can continue below minimums and actually land. Here’s the pilot-focused breakdown. Study this full length lesson (video, podcast, flashcards, and quiz) here: Full Length Lesson > Flight visibility: the vie

Every instrument approach eventually asks you the same question: Can I keep going, or do I go missed? The chart answers that with minimums—but how  those minimums work depends on whether you’re flying to a DA (Decision Altitude) or an MDA (Minimum Descent Altitude). DA and MDA aren’t just different numbers on an approach plate. They drive different descent techniques, different cockpit flows, and different ways pilots get into trouble. Study this full length lesson (video, po

On every instrument approach plate, there’s a tiny line of text that has a big say in how your approach should be flown: aircraft approach category. Approach categories aren’t about how “big” your airplane is. They’re about how fast you’re expected to be at the threshold—and that speed drives everything from minimums to circling protected airspace to how much room you have to maneuver if you’re not lined up perfectly. If you’ve ever wondered why one category gets significantl

Every instrument pilot has had this moment: you break out a little high, a little fast, runway in sight… and you feel that quiet pressure to “make it work.” That’s exactly why the VDP—Visual Descent Point—exists. It’s not just chart trivia. It’s a practical decision tool that helps you avoid the classic IFR-to-VFR trap: forcing a descent below MDA with no stable path. If you fly non precision approaches (even “non precision-style” RNAVs), understanding the VDP will make your

If you’ve spent any time flying IFR, you’ve probably glanced at the MSA circle on an instrument approach chart and thought, “Cool—this is my safe altitude.”  That’s… mostly  the right instinct, but MSAs have some important nuances that can bite you if you treat them like a get-out-of-jail-free card. Let’s break down Minimum Sector Altitudes (MSAs) the way they actually show up in real-world IFR flying—especially when you’re heads-down, busy, and trying to stay ahead of the ai

Two clearances that can feel “almost VFR” while you’re still on an IFR flight plan are the visual approach and the contact approach. Both can save time and simplify the arrival—but they shift responsibilities around in ways that matter a lot when ceilings are low, visibility is marginal, or the terrain/obstacle picture is unforgiving. Here’s the pilot-focused breakdown: what each clearance really means, what changes (and what doesn’t) in the IFR environment, and how to keep y

Most instrument approaches you fly are procedure-based : you track a published course and descend using published altitudes. PAR, ASR, and no-gyro approaches are different. They’re radar approaches where ATC actively helps (or outright “talks you down”) using radar surveillance—often used when navigation equipment is degraded, weather is marginal, or you’re operating at facilities that still support ground-controlled approaches. Here’s how they differ from a pilot’s perspecti

RNAV (GPS) approaches are the everyday IFR workhorse now—available at thousands of airports, usually straightforward to load, and often your best option when an ILS isn’t available. But within RNAV approaches, the LNAV minima line is the one pilots most often misunderstand, because it can look “modern” while still behaving like a classic non precision approach. This post is a pilot-focused guide to LNAV: what it is, how to brief it, how to fly it smoothly, and the common trap

Even with RNAV everywhere, VOR approaches are still worth knowing. They show up as backup procedures, they’re common in training and checkrides, and they force you to fly a “real” non precision approach: you manage lateral tracking, descent planning, timing, wind correction, and situational awareness without a glidepath spoon-feeding you the profile. Here’s a pilot-focused breakdown of what VOR approaches are, how to fly them well, and the common traps. Study this full length