What Instruments don’t tell

C.: It seems to us that air is not just an element but also an information field that pilots constantly have to “read.” And this brings us to the concept of “situational awareness”. Could you explain what that means?

B.: It’s mostly about the ability to forecast. For example, if you see an anticyclone on the weather chart, you already know the weather will be good.

I.: It may sound like pure physics, but in reality, it’s much more complex — it involves experience, knowledge, and even intuition. I know pilots with over ten thousand flight hours who can tell just by looking which cloud will cause turbulence and which won’t. Or take “hidden thunderstorms.” We’re flying, and I suggest one route. My colleague says, “No, there’ll be lightning there.” The radar shows nothing — the mountains are blocking the signal. We climb higher — and sure enough, there’s a storm front ahead. I ask, “Arthur, how did you know?” He just shrugs: “I just knew.” That’s experience.

B.: I think that’s knowledge that has turned into intuition — things learned so deeply that you no longer think about them; you just act.

I.: Exactly. There are four stages of a pilot’s professional growth. The first is unconscious incompetence — when you don’t even know what you don’t know. The second is conscious incompetence — when you realize what you can’t do. The third is conscious competence — when you can do something and understand how it works. And the fourth is unconscious competence — when you do everything correctly automatically, without thinking.

But it’s precisely this fourth stage that can be dangerous: if a pilot stops working on themselves, they begin to lose their skill and may gradually slip back into incompetence. And then they have to go through the entire cycle of development all over again.

In general, you always need to stay two steps ahead. A novice often doesn’t even realize what’s happening to the aircraft at any given moment. Especially on the Airbus — its logic of mode transitions is quite complex. You won’t understand it until you see it for yourself. The first time, your situational awareness is zero. The second time, you start to grasp what’s going on. That’s how the knowledge base grows, and over time the pilot becomes ready for any turn of events.

For example, there’s this thing with the fire alarm activation. Truck drivers wouldn’t get it.

B.: What thing?

I.: Sometimes someone decides to smoke in the lavatory, and the smoke detector goes off — it makes exactly the same sound as an engine fire alarm. The aircraft starts screaming: “ding-ding-ding!”, and a warning lights up on the screen.

Imagine: it’s night, just the two of you in the cockpit, hyper-focused — several cups of coffee in, surrounded by darkness. And suddenly — that alarm. If it’s the fifth time during the flight someone’s lit up, you calmly think, “Oh, here we go again…” But for a young pilot, facing that scenario for the first time, you can read a whole range of emotions on their face.

Ed. note: Dear passengers, please don’t smoke in the lavatories. For pilots, your little puff sounds like a fire — with sirens and flashing red lights. Spare their nerves.

C.: When an aircraft descends, from the outside it looks like a smooth glide through the sky — but behind that beauty lies precise geometry. Could you explain in simple terms what a glide path is?

B.: Simply put, a glide path is the approach trajectory — the “corridor” along which an aircraft descends toward the runway. The standard angle today is 3 degrees. In the USSR, it used to be 2.6.

C.: Why did it change?

I.: First, modern aircraft are faster. Second, buildings have gotten taller. Where a 2.6-degree angle was once enough, we now need 3 degrees. Sometimes the angle also depends on the terrain. In Trabzon, for example, the approach from the sea is at 3.5 degrees. I’ve heard there’s even a 5-degree approach somewhere in Europe. That means the vertical descent rate will be around 1,200 feet per minute (Ed. note: 6 meters per second), compared to the usual 800 feet — quite demanding for the pilot.

B.: Yes, similar approaches can be found in Austria too.

C.: So the steeper the angle, the more difficult the landing?

I.: Exactly. At 3.5 degrees, you have to pull the control column almost fully back during the flare. At such airports, the goal isn’t a “soft” landing but a precise one. In Trabzon, there’s no time for a graceful flare — the task is different: to touch down exactly where you should. If you stretch out the flare for too long, you might overshoot the touchdown zone. So as soon as you see the “piano keys” — that’s your cue to land.

C.: What is a “piano keys”?

I.: It refers to the touchdown markings — those white rectangular stripes on the runway, like road markings. They indicate exactly where the aircraft should make contact with the runway. If the pilot keeps flaring too long in pursuit of a smooth landing, they’ll “eat up” part of the runway. That means there’s less distance left for braking, and that’s dangerous. In Trabzon, for instance, the runway is short and ends with a drop straight into the sea. If you run out of remaining distance, there’s nowhere to go but into the water. So yes, a smooth landing is nice — but in difficult conditions, precision and safety matter much more.

C.: What’s more difficult for you — takeoff or landing?

B.: Landing, of course. It’s the most challenging phase of flight. Statistically, that’s when most incidents occur. If something goes wrong, we have to go around, make another approach — and keep doing that until we’re safely on the ground.

I.: Yes, from a piloting standpoint, landing is definitely more complex. But sometimes takeoffs come with such strong crosswinds, turbulence, or low visibility that they can easily rival any landing.

C.: If we put instruments aside — how does your perception of the air itself change over the years?

B.: Over time you start noticing details that used to slip by. For example, a drop in pressure always signals that bad weather is coming. When the pressure rises, it means good weather is on the way.

I.: Right, but we don’t feel the pressure — we see it. The standard value is 1013 hectopascals, and every half hour we listen to the weather broadcast: 1012, then 1011, 1010… That tells us pressure is falling — clouds, rain, all that “beauty” is on its way. If it’s rising, it means clear skies ahead.

C.: What parameters do you take into account before and during the flight?

I.: Quite a few — cloud cover, visibility, wind, pressure, temperature. We don’t directly measure air density, but we understand its effect. In winter, the aircraft performs better — the air is denser, more “lift-friendly.” In summer, the air is hotter and thinner, which can cause performance issues.

B.: Exactly. Plus, there are temperature-related limitations. For instance, in hot weather, we reduce engine thrust during takeoff to preserve engine life.

I.: There’s also the issue of brake overheating. On Airbus aircraft operating in hot climates — especially where there are no brake fans installed — you have to carefully monitor brake temperature before takeoff. The limit is 300 degrees.

B.: On our aircraft, when it’s really hot, we don’t retract the landing gear immediately after takeoff.

I.: Ours actually issues a warning — if the brakes overheat, the system may “recommend” extending the landing gear again. That’s because if the temperature exceeds 300 degrees and there’s a hydraulic fluid leak, it could ignite. So the system constantly monitors brake temperature to prevent that.

C.: What causes the brakes to heat up?

B.: Even before takeoff, the aircraft has to taxi to the runway. During taxiing we often need to brake, and that’s when the heating starts.

I.: Borya, what’s the maximum takeoff weight of your aircraft?

B.: About 185 tons.

I.: And for the Airbus A330, it’s around 230 tons. Imagine the force required! The brake system works much like a car’s — you press the pedals, and the pads clamp onto the disc. But here everything is carbon, and the friction is enormous. After landing, brake temperatures can reach 500-600 degrees Celsius. There are also safety fuses: if the temperature rises to 925 degrees, the tire pressure relief system activates. That prevents the tire from exploding, because the internal pressure is extremely high — and if it bursts, the consequences can be fatal.

C.: Are there no cooling systems?

B.: There are, but not on every aircraft. On the A330, for example, brake fans are an optional feature.

I.: Some A320s have them, but the A321 doesn’t. In one of the airlines I used to fly for, none of the aircraft had them — simply because they weren’t needed. But for operations in places like Saudi Arabia or Dubai, they’re absolutely essential!

C.: What causes the brakes to heat up?

B.: Even before takeoff, the aircraft has to taxi to the runway. During taxiing we often need to brake, and that’s when the heating starts.

I.: Borya, what’s the maximum takeoff weight of your aircraft?

B.: About 185 tons.

I.: And for the Airbus A330, it’s around 230 tons. Imagine the force required! The brake system works much like a car’s — you press the pedals, and the pads clamp onto the disc. But here everything is carbon, and the friction is enormous. After landing, brake temperatures can reach 500-600 degrees Celsius. There are also safety fuses: if the temperature rises to 925 degrees, the tire pressure relief system activates. That prevents the tire from exploding, because the internal pressure is extremely high — and if it bursts, the consequences can be fatal.

C.: Are there no cooling systems?

B.: There are, but not on every aircraft. On the A330, for example, brake fans are an optional feature.

I.: Some A320s have them, but the A321 doesn’t. In one of the airlines I used to fly for, none of the aircraft had them — simply because they weren’t needed. But for operations in places like Saudi Arabia or Dubai, they’re absolutely essential!

C.: How does a crosswind affect takeoff roll?

I.: Let me explain with an example. The aircraft begins its takeoff roll, and the wind is coming from the right. Because of the weathercock effect, the nose starts turning into the wind. To keep the aircraft aligned with the runway, we apply an opposing force — use the rudder. By pressing the left pedal, the rudder turns the aircraft back, keeping it running straight down the centerline.

C.: And which instrument readings are the most critical for you?

I.: First and foremost — the indicated airspeed, then altitude and vertical speed. All of that appears on the Primary Flight Display, the main screen in front of the pilot that shows the key flight parameters.

B.: If we put it in traditional terms, there’s what’s called the “six pack” — the six essential flight instruments. They include airspeed, the artificial horizon (showing the aircraft’s attitude), altimeter, heading indicator, turn coordinator, and the vertical speed indicator, which shows the rate of climb or descent.

C.: How much do you rely on navigation systems? Is it possible to fully trust automation when there’s zero visibility?

I.: Yes, modern systems make that possible. For instance, during a Category III approach — known as CAT III — the aircraft can land even in zero visibility. In this mode, the Instrument Landing System (ILS) guides the airplane along the localizer and glideslope all the way to the runway. It’s the highest level of automation.

B.: But it’s important to understand that we still monitor every parameter of the approach. The responsibility always remains with the pilots, and often such automatic landings can actually be more demanding than landing the aircraft manually.

C.: Does it ever happen that your intuition warns you before the instruments do?

B. (smiles): Of course. It’s when you literally feel a sink with your body before the instruments even react. You just sense that the aircraft is starting to “fall through.”

I.: In that case, you gently pull the sidestick toward yourself to bring the aircraft back onto the glide path. That’s something no simulator can truly replicate: first, you feel it physically, and only then see it on the instruments. But even with a sink, it’s usually something you can anticipate. What’s really unexpected, though, are lightning strikes. I haven’t personally experienced one, but some of my colleagues have flown through areas of strong electrical activity.

B.: Yes, it’s beautiful but sudden. Once in China, during an approach, a bright blue flash appeared right in front of the nose.

I.: Sometimes plasma even builds up on the cockpit windshield. You know those toys where little lightning bolts appear when you bring your finger close? It looks about the same. But it’s just a visual effect — it can’t disable the systems.

C.: Have you ever encountered anything unusual?

I.: Yes, once — a temperature inversion in Astana. Normally, the temperature drops with altitude, but that time it actually increased. On the ground it was — 30°C, and on the glide path it was —15°C. I didn’t even know that could happen. Since then, I always check the temperature — if I see an anomaly, I brace for turbulence, because that time it shook us really hard.

C.: And where does this ability to sense the invisible come from?

I.: From experience. Theory is important, but it doesn’t work without practice. Once you’ve felt something, you recognize it instantly the next time.

B.: Yes, once you’ve flown through a thunderstorm, you’ll never go in there again.

I.: A good pilot always “flies ahead of the aircraft.” We’re constantly predicting two steps ahead.

C.: What role does interaction with the other pilot play during a flight? Do differences in perception ever occur?

B.: They do. For example, there’s the illusion of a false bank. I’ve been experiencing that quite often lately.

I.: In such cases, the cockpit windshield can create an angled perspective: one pilot may feel the plane is banking right, the other — left, even though it’s actually flying straight. Another illusion can happen because of runway heat haze — when hot air rises above the ground, it creates a mirage effect, and you can’t clearly see where the runway ends. I saw this recently in Dushanbe. You know, the aviation community today emphasizes how critical communication skills are. You must be able to “read” your colleague: if you notice something’s off, don’t be afraid to ask if everything’s okay — and, if needed, take over. Openness between pilots in the cockpit is extremely important.

In 2013, there was a tragic incident. A senior captain was asked to fly on a Saturday with a young co-pilot. He was clearly displeased and spent the entire flight criticizing and lecturing him. After about two hours, the young pilot completely shut down. Then, due to poor visibility, they were denied landing clearance. The instructor argued with the dispatcher, became very agitated, and — according to the investigation — suffered a stroke at around 200 meters altitude. He died in flight. The co-pilot, terrified after being humiliated the entire time, froze and failed to act. The aircraft drifted off the safe trajectory — and crashed.

B.: Yes, aircraft technology today is extremely reliable, but the human factor remains the most vulnerable one.

C.: Let’s talk about what scares passengers the most — turbulence. What types of it do you distinguish?

I.: There are several. The simplest one is thermal turbulence — it occurs when the ground heats up, warm air rises, and the aircraft starts shaking. Then there’s jet-stream turbulence — at higher altitudes, where powerful air currents collide. And, of course, the most well-known type is the one caused by cumulonimbus clouds.

B.: Yes, those clouds — we call them Cb, short for cumulonimbus — bring the most serious surprises. Inside them, enormous masses of water move vertically, creating powerful updrafts, downdrafts, and electrical discharges.

I.: Imagine this: tens of tons of water moving up and down inside a cloud, energy redistributing, the charge building up — and suddenly, lightning. That charge has to go somewhere — either into the ground or, sometimes, into the airplane. That’s why we always try to avoid such clouds.

And then there’s clear air turbulence. You’re flying smoothly at 10 kilometers, not a single cloud around. Once, I was having lunch — a Greek salad and a cup of olive oil on the table. First a light shake, then calm again. And suddenly, the cup flips in the air, oil splashes over the documents, the autopilot disconnects. A few seconds later — silence. No one understood what had just happened.

Boris, tell us something else.

B.: You’re so good at this.

I.: (turning to the interviewer) He’s wild, you know — out there in his trucks. Boris, at least talk to a person for once. You only ever talk to the boxes you haul.

C.: Do you perceive the air as a living environment at all?

B.: Honestly? No. For us, it’s a working environment. But there’s beauty up there, of course. The northern lights, the “shadow of the Earth” — when the sunset is behind you, the clouds turn purple, and ahead it’s already night. And thunderstorms seen from afar — that’s a mesmerizing sight.

C.: Have you ever had any funny incidents during flights?

B.: You know, passengers regularly mistake the cockpit door for the restroom. We see it on the camera — it’s hilarious every time. Do they really think we’re sitting in a little side room?

I.: I sometimes ran into celebrities waiting in line for the restroom. We’d exchange a few words — it was unexpectedly pleasant.

C.: It’s well known that aviation has its own culture — habits, small rituals, superstitions. Do you have any personal traditions before or after a flight?

B.: I don’t, though many of my colleagues are quite superstitious.

I.: I do! For example, I never fly wearing new clothes until they’ve “flown” with me unworn. We never use the word “last.” And yes, I always pat the airplane before and after the flight.

C.: If you could take anyone into the cockpit with you, who would you invite?

I.: We’re not allowed to take anyone without authorization, so I don’t even imagine it.

B.: Hypothetically, I’d take my parents and my fiancée.

C.: Finally, I’d like to ask — after thousands of kilometers in the air, what does “home” mean to you?

I.: Home is where you can fall asleep peacefully.

B.: It may sound simple, but for me — it’s the place where you’re loved and awaited.