In this edition of V1 Rotate, FLYING contributor Sam Weigel chats with Ed Krause, who has been flying as an expat pilot in Asia for the past 16 years. Krause takes Weigel through the process of being hired at a startup regional airline in China, transitioning to business jets, and more. Learn how the expat pilot market is evolving, what the future may have in store, and ways to make yourself competitive for an overseas job.

The post Riding the Wave as an Expat Pilot in Asia appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Well, that obviously didn’t happen. The pandemic blew up everyone’s plans, and given the obvious jeopardy to my livelihood, the loss of our adventure barely registered. And then, as the world began to open back up, New Zealand stayed locked down longer than most. It wasn’t until Oshkosh 2022, when Dawn and I ran into Matt and Jo McCaughan at the FlyInn booth, that we dusted off our travel plans.

The McCaughans are friendly Kiwi sheep and cattle ranchers hailing from central Otago on the South Island, where they also run FlyInn, billed as “the authentic NZ self fly vacation.” They are also avid cruising sailors, which quickly became our main topic of conversation. Almost as an afterthought, we told them that while we’d be busy building our hangar/apartment for the 2022-23 season, we’d come fly with them in December 2023. Our revived New Zealand adventure would be our 20th wedding anniversary gift to each other.

We flew my airline from Seattle to Auckland on November 15, staying in New Zealand’s largest city for several days. On the 19th, our good friends Brad and Amber Phillips flew in, whereupon we rented a pair of campervans and headed south. The next two weeks would have been a pretty great vacation on their own. We spent six more days on the North Island, visiting the usual “must-dos” like Rotorua, Tongariro National Park, and Wellington as well as many more out-of-the-way locales.

Crossing the Cook Strait on a typically raucous ferry ride following a 40-knot blow, we spent another eight days road tripping through the South Island. We sampled excellent wine in Marlborough, tramped the fantastic coastal trail in Abel Tasman National Park, got rained on all down the wild West Coast, and set up camp in truly epic surroundings at Aoraki/Mount Cook National Park. All throughout, both the landscapes and climate frequently reminded us of the Pacific Northwest, Idaho, and Montana.

• READ MORE: Pilot Mental Health Remains the Last Taboo in Aviation

The roads were scenic and engaging, the locals exceptionally friendly and helpful, the cities few and far in between. This is a country slightly larger than the U.K. but with only 5 million people…and 75 million sheep.

In Christchurch we returned the campers and said goodbye to the Phillips, as their busy life back home precluded them from joining the flying tour—more’s the pity. Dawn and I took an Air New Zealand ATR-72 from Christchurch to Queenstown, New Zealand’s renown adventure tourism hot spot, which is where the FlyInn tour began the next day.

Soon after we landed, Jo McCaughan emailed to say that they were rejiggering the itinerary to go to Milford Sound and Fiordland on day one, thanks to a brief weather window. This made sense. All throughout our travels, the weather had been exceptionally variable, with low ceilings and pouring rain as well as bright sunshine being encountered more days than not. It was clear that flying in New Zealand requires a fair amount of flexibility. Still, from what little I knew of Milford Sound, I got the impression that I was being thrown right into the deep end, sink or swim.

At the airport the next morning, we were joined by Matt McCaughan, longtime FlyInn instructor Nick Taylor, and North Carolinian couple Adam and Lissa Broome, our counterparts for the next eight days. McCaughan and Taylor introduced us to our rides for the week, two 180 hp Cessna 172s, registrations ZK-TRS and ZK-WAX.

For safety purposes FlyInn tends to keep the airplanes together, so we got to know the Broomes over the course of the tour. Notably, Adam circumnavigated the globe with his Beech Bonanza in 2016, making for some very interesting stories.

Dawn and I drew the eye-catching, yellow-and-blue ZK-WAX for the week and started with Matt as instructor. We began with a short hop up to Wanaka, FlyInn’s base of operations, for a coffee and chat. Sufficiently briefed, we departed to the northwest over the serrated, deep-blue ribbon of Lake Wanaka and climbed to circle striking, glacier-draped Mount Aspiring, “The Matterhorn of the South.”

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Beyond its peak, the weather turned significantly cloudier than forecast—no big surprise there. We flew over the top for a bit, found a good hole, dropped into a wide, verdant valley, and followed the glacial, gravel-strewn Pyke River to the appropriately named Big Bay. After making a good inspection pass and landing on the broad, dark-sand beach, we went for a tramp a short way inland, where there’s a hiker’s hut and seasonal fish camp. This is a good week’s hardy walk from the nearest road, and all resupply is done via beach landing.

We soon departed over the crashing surf and turned out to sea, making our way south around a series of cloud-choked headlands. Matt duly noted St. Anne’s Point straight ahead, and then Dale Point to our left, our cue to turn into the rain-soaked entrance to world-famous Milford Sound. It looked VFR—only just. Matt noted there would likely be sunshine (albeit with a lot of wind) at the head of the fjord. I proceeded in, keeping my right wing hard against the northern wall of the gorge at Matt’s urging—the better to turn around if his promised good weather didn’t materialize. But it did, along with rainbows and a couple dozen waterfalls and steaming tourist cruise boats. It was a truly magnificent sight.

And then came the wind, streaking the head of the fjord with long ribbons of spume and giving our little 172 a good bashing. Unperturbed, Matt kept up his litany of mandatory radio position reports. I was glad he was there since it was challenging enough just flying. I turned up the Cleddau River valley and began my letdown, reversing course at a wide fork in the river to make a modified dogleg final to Runway 29 at Milford Sound Airport (NZMF).

The sea breeze was gusting at 30 knots. My landing was not pretty. It was safe and acceptable, that’s all. A short taxi later, we shut down in the shadow of a dozen tour operators’ Grand Caravans, Airvans, and Kodiaks. With the steep rock walls and silvery cascades of Milford Sound as a majestic background, it would’ve made the world’s best “Learn to Fly!” poster.

As we ate lunch, I reflected on a few things. First, Kiwi pilots appear to be pretty comfortable in marginal VFR (IFR not being very common here). Strong local knowledge of weather and terrain helps mitigate the risk, as does observing a few rules of thumb that closely mirror those that my old-school first CFI taught me as “the right way to scud-run.”

Second, there’s a lot of trust in the engine—though, admittedly, a lot of the valley floors are probably survivable in case of forced landing, with fairly stunted bush and plentiful gravel bars on the rivers.

Thirdly, the high density of world-class scenery coupled with a highly developed tourist industry make much of the New Zealand backcountry far more air-trafficked than comparable sites in the U.S., with accordingly more rigid procedures despite a relative lack of ATC facilities.

This would be a tough place for the uninitiated to go it alone—thus the appeal of an operation like FlyInn.

Departing into the maelstrom once more, we climbed over Milford Sound and ducked into the relative calm of the Arthur River valley. This impossibly scenic, waterfall-laced, glacier-carved hanging valley, traversed by the famed Milford Track, perfectly frames the 2,000-foot cascade at its head, Sutherland Falls, once thought to be the world’s tallest. It pours from what appeared to be a neat rock-walled thimble of a tarn, Lake Quill.

“Want to fly around it?” asked Matt with a wry grin. He knew I’d think this was a crazy idea, and at first glance I did. “There’s more room than it looks,” Matt said. “Just put out 20 degrees of flaps and slow to 65 knots.”

So I did, and it was absolutely spectacular, one of the neatest things I’ve done in an airplane. Once we completed our circuit, we dove out of the thimble and ZK-TRS buzzed in, and as I watched them my perspective suddenly shifted, revealing the epic scale of the landscape we were exploring. The effect was magical.

I’ve described the memorable first two hours of a weeklong tour in New Zealand, and I think everything we saw could fill a year’s worth of columns. I’ll content myself with two, cramming the balance into next month’s contribution. In the meantime, by the time you read this, my special V1 Rotate video episode, “New Zealand By Air,” should be live on FLYING’s website.

We recorded some 500 gigabytes of footage, much of it spectacular, and editing it down to 15 minutes proved to be a real challenge. There are worse problems to have.

This column first appeared in the March 2024/Issue 946 of FLYING’s print edition.

The post Exploring New Zealand’s Grand Islands by Air appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Before COVID-19 and for a bit afterward, there was a real shortage of qualified regional applicants—to the extent that many pilot groups saw raises of 100 percent or more. And there was a great deal of pressure to push new hires through training and onto the line.

I have friends who were simulator instructors and check airmen during that time, and they have stories of struggling applicants being afforded extra training sessions, multiple check ride attempts, and double or even triple the normal amount of initial operating experience (IOE) in an attempt to get them through.

• READ MORE: On the ‘Bax’ Foot: A Lifelong Writer Tackles the Spoken Word

But lately all the regional airlines have plenty of qualified first officers and even more qualified new-hire applicants—it’s qualified captains they are short on. It has become increasingly difficult to receive an interview at 15,00 hours. 

Jonathan Ornstein, Mesa Airlines’ longtime CEO, recently revealed that the company has more than 2,000 apparently qualified applications on file, all competing for a relative handful of new-hire slots. Thus, there’s no real pressure to hold new hires’ hands through training. In fact, the incentive goes the other way. The regionals need first officers who can pass captain upgrade training and IOE as soon as they’re legal to do so. It makes financial sense to winnow any that struggle as soon as possible. Brutal, but understandable.

One of the largest regionals has reportedly gone to a “two-and-through” policy. You are given one “freebie”—be that a check ride bust, training event repeat, or even extra preparatory sim session. The second one results in automatic training failure and termination. 

A friend was caught by this policy when his training partner, an older career changer, struggled and was offered “refresher” sessions before two check rides. My friend wanted to help his training partner and served as seat support for both sessions, only to have them counted against his own record, with summary termination the result. He now has an airline training failure as a permanent stain on his Pilot Records Improvement Act (PRIA) file.

This should indicate how seriously you need to treat airline training. You are not particularly needed at the regional airlines now. Training is not a gimme, nobody will hold your hand, and if you do struggle, you cannot expect much sympathy or flexibility. Compared to primary and secondary instruction, most airline training is much less spoon fed—the onus is generally on you to study, show up with the answers, and shine in the sim.

• READ MORE: How Professional Pilots Can Survive Probationary Periods

If you suffer from check ride nerves, best find a way to calm them now. To be a professional pilot is to be a professional check ride taker. I would suggest that before even applying for the regional airlines right now, you should have total confidence in your ability to make it through a fast-paced, unforgiving training program.

That said, anyone can have a bad day. You might have shown up prepared, studied hard, done everything right—and still messed up. Maybe that got you rattled and affected your  performance, especially knowing that your job—your career, even—was on the line. I’ve never trained under that kind of pressure and can’t say for sure I’d handle it well. Perhaps you didn’t, and now you too have an airline training failure in your PRIA file.

What now?

First, you need to know that your life is not over and neither is your career. There are plenty of pilots working with a training failure somewhere in their past. Having this on your record is less concerning than being fired from a job for cause, aircraft accident, or FAA enforcement action, DUI/DWI, or losing your medical. You still have the same flight time and certifications that you had before the failure. I’ve never heard of the FAA suspending or revoking certificates, or even giving a 709 check ride, based on someone failing out of an airline training program. You can still make a living flying airplanes.

• READ MORE: Allure of International Flying Lies Across the Glittering Sea

The course of your career has changed, though. I’d argue that the “training/CFI/regional/major in five years” rocket ship career path was already becoming unrealistic as the pilot shortage wound down, but in any case, that gate is shut now. Its closing was always a possibility in this industry—perhaps even a probability. It slammed shut for every pilot of my generation when the Twin Towers fell on 9/11, and yet, as dark as things seemed for a while, many went on to have wonderful careers. My own career path took turns I never saw coming, and they led to some really interesting experiences and lifelong friends. I wouldn’t go back and change anything, even if I could.

In their current hiring mood, the airlines will likely not take a chance on you while your training failure is fresh. Your mission now is to build a record that puts your failure squarely in the past and shows that it was a one-off event. Take whatever time you need to get your head right, then jump right back into it. Get yourself into a position to pass a check ride as soon as possible.

If you’re going back to flight instructing, add that CFII or MEI rating. If you can land a Part 135 gig, better yet—it will require passing an approved training program and a 135.293 proficiency check, plus potentially a type ride depending on the aircraft. Most corporate gigs also involve a type ride. If nobody is calling just yet, a single-engine sea or glider rating can be added to a commercial certificate fairly cheaply. Just get back on that horse and pass a check ride.

• READ MORE: Financing the Pro Pilot Dream…Without Getting Scammed

I don’t normally advocate job hopping, and it can be a red flag to HR departments. But I will say that following a training program failure, you’ll need to go through two or three full training programs without incident to become competitive for a top-tier job. If you can do that with a single employer, fine. Move up to a different airframe as soon as you can. If you need to switch employers to pass another training program, do so after a decent interval.

No matter where you go, you’ll need to disclose the training failure on each application, and it will likely come up on every interview. Depending on how you handle it, this can become your biggest stumbling block or an unexpected asset. It is so important that you do not play the blame game. Regardless of what actually happened, you need to develop a credible explanation of why you weren’t ready, what you got wrong, what you learned from the experience, and how you are better equipped now to pass a tough training course.

Unfortunately, you’re in a poor position to judge whether your explanation is actually any good. This is where paying an interview prep company can be extremely valuable, especially if you’ve worked your way back to applying for a top-tier position. With some polishing and a solid post-failure history to support it, the tale of how your lowest moment turned you into a better person, and a better pilot, could just be the exact thing that eventually lands you that dream job.

The post After a Training Fail, What Comes Next? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

• READ MORE: Financing the Pro Pilot Dream…Without Getting Scammed

The post How Professional Pilots Can Survive Probationary Periods appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

So I scrapped and schemed and worked a number of odd jobs through my teen years to pay for primary training and then went off to college and amassed an eye-watering level of student loan debt while completing my advanced ratings, all to graduate just after the 9/11 attacks. In retrospect I was fortunate. My seemingly poor timing put me in a very good position when the pilot shortage finally gathered steam, and as expensive as flight training seemed then, it has become even more so. It was also an era of easy borrowing and low interest rates.

If you, like me, lacked the foresight to be born into wealth and are now trying to finance your dream of becoming a professional pilot, you face greater obstacles than I ever did. Post-COVID inflation has made most things more expensive, and everything in aviation from used aircraft to engine overhauls to insurance has outpaced it. Meanwhile, interest rates have skyrocketed, with prime lending rates above 8 percent for a full year now and most unsecured loans at least 3 percent above that. Few reputable banks are offering noncollege flight training loans these days, and this void has been filled by lenders who can be described as little better than loan sharks. Predatory interest rates of 17 percent or more are common. 

Sadly, many of the flight schools appear to be willing accomplices, prominently advertising “easy” financing “as low as 4.5 percent” or some similarly unrealistic rate. Many of their partner lenders will not reveal actual rates or terms until the student has already been accepted to the training program, with a proposed start date. Every week there are posts on aviation forums by students who have just learned, shortly before starting training, that their proposed $130,000, 15-year loan will end up costing $250,000 or more, with monthly payments above $2,000. Unfortunately, many see little alternative but to sign on the dotted line, justifying the terms with optimistic career earnings projections and the perceived rush to get their ratings “before the pilot shortage is over.” It’s an effective trap for lower-income kids with a dream but not much financial literacy. 

Honestly, had I been put in that position at 18 years old, I probably would have signed on the dotted line myself. I was financially illiterate at that age too. I’ve learned a lot about money since then, though, and about the aviation industry. Let me offer some really sound advice:

• Be very wary of any flight school that requires significant money up front. There are many cases of schools suddenly closing or otherwise absconding with students’ funds or refusing or delaying repayment of the balance after the student has flunked out or quit midway through training. At the very least, they should require no more in your account than is required to complete the next block of training (e.g, private pilot certificate, instrument rating, etc).

• If a flight school’s preferred lender isn’t upfront about rates or terms, be very skeptical. Anyone who requires you to be accepted at the school and have a start date before revealing loan terms is likely springing a debt trap on you.

• A hard truth of aviation is that the majority of those who start primary training quit before earning their private pilot certificate, and the attrition rate for professional programs is similarly high. Not everyone will enjoy flying, and not everyone is cut out for it. You won’t really know if it’s for you until you’re at least through primary training. Don’t make any momentous financial decisions until then.

• Career earnings for a pilot can be high, but also vary quite widely depending on timing, keeping a clean record, maintaining a Class I medical, networking ability, and sometimes just plain dumb luck. Do not base financial decisions on best-case scenarios. And in any case, plan on several early years of earning less than $50,000, perhaps substantially less.

• Do not, under any circumstances, accept any substantial loan at more than 12 percent interest. It will be a millstone around your neck. Unlike most debt, student loans are not dischargeable in personal bankruptcy. Having to repay a crippling amount of high-interest debt early in your career will cause a high level of stress and may well lead to career decisions that prioritize short-term earnings over long-term advancement. 

• There was a period during the pilot shortage when it made some sense to spend more and even accept less than satisfactory loan terms in order to finish training quickly and reach the airlines ASAP. In my opinion, that period is over. Hiring is starting to return to traditional norms, and there’s even a bit of a glut of low-time pilots. It’s difficult to be hired at regional airlines at 1,500 hours right now, for example. 

All of this points to doing your training in a way that minimizes borrowing until interest rates come down. First, get as far into your training as you can while paying cash. If you have a decent job now, pay cash to train toward a private pilot certificate at a local flight school while still working. Make the decision to quit and take on debt only once you have your certificate. If you don’t have a job that will pay for primary training, put major effort into securing aviation scholarships and grants. Most aviation organizations offer them, and you should apply for every single one. Some are relatively small, but the dollars add up, and there’s a multiplicative effect as your name gets out there. In fact, this is a fantastic way to get a head start on networking.

When you reach the point that you simply have to finance your training, shop around. You’ll be surprised to find there’s a fair amount of variance among private student loan lenders—not all are loan sharks. If your intended school is pushing use of a predatory lender, I’d be very skeptical about training there. After all, when the lending is more lucrative than providing the actual training, that makes the training a loss leader—and quality is likely to suffer accordingly.

• READ MORE: 6 Mistakes to Avoid When Looking for Pilot Training Loans

Rates vary significantly based on credit scores and history. If you know that you’ll be applying for loans in the next few years, put a strong effort into increasing your credit history and scores now. Alternatively, you’ll get better rates by having a cosigner with good credit. This doesn’t need to be a parent, but given that they’ll share responsibility for the loan with you, you had best have a good relationship and proven yourself trustworthy to anyone you ask to cosign on a loan.

The Federal Reserve is expected to start lowering interest rates next summer. As long as your lender does not tack on substantial origination fees, you may well be better off taking multiple smaller loans throughout your training, versus one big loan at the start. And while variable rate loans can be a gamble, I think they’re a decent bet now, so long as yours is adjusted monthly or quarterly and is tied to a fair index (the former standard, London Interbank Offered Rate [LIBOR], has been discontinued, and Secured Overnight Financing Rate [SOFR] is the best replacement). 

Finally, the best interest rates going these days in the U.S. are for federal direct subsidized and unsubsidized Loans. For the 2023-24 school year, they’re set at 5.5 percent for undergraduate students and 7.05 percent for graduate/professional students. The catch is these loans can only be used at nationally accredited institutions, which largely limits you to college flight programs (both four-year and two-year). With pilot supply and recruiting returning to normalcy, however, I think that college programs will become attractive again.

Even if the major airlines do not reinstate their long-standing degree requirements, a degree will always be preferred and may well make the critical difference as the hiring process becomes more competitive.

The post Financing the Pro Pilot Dream…Without Getting Scammed appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

• WATCH MORE: V1 Rotate: Flying Yourself Into Mexico’s Baja Peninsula

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As an FAA-certificated pilot, you are allowed to fly aircraft within the U.S., as well as N-registered aircraft in any ICAO member state (193 countries comprising the vast majority of the world). Beyond our shores and U.S.-registered aircraft, though, piloting requires converting your FAA certificate(s) to their foreign equivalent(s). There are a few reasons one might be interested in doing this. 

The first, and most common, is foreign citizens returning to their native country after completing flight training in the U.S. because of the lower cost of flying here. There are now several schools in the U.S. that offer direct European Union Aviation Safety Agency (EASA) pilot licensure, but the more common route is to earn one’s FAA certificates here and then go through the conversion process back home.

The second scenario involves U.S. citizens converting their commercial or ATP certificate with the intention of working overseas as an expat (or emigrating), or as a hedge in case of a downturn in the U.S. economy, airline industry, or political situation. This was quite common in the “lost decade” after 9/11, when thousands of furloughed or career-stagnated U.S. pilots sought opportunities overseas at the same time that many foreign operators were facing an acute pilot shortage. Right now the U.S. is well ahead of most of the world in both pilot compensation and hiring, but this could change, and in any case a scenery shift will always appeal to some. Unless you are a dual citizen or otherwise have a right to work in a foreign state, however, obtaining a work visa may prove harder than converting your certificates.

The last scenario involves a U.S.-certificated pilot who spends a lot of time overseas, or is taking a lengthy vacation, and wishes to fly locally registered aircraft for pleasure. This usually involves issuing only a PPL (depending on the country) and perhaps an instrument rating.

Every country’s aviation authority sets its own requirements and process for converting pilot licenses, except in cases where multiple countries have combined their authorities into a single agency, as in the case of EASA (which covers the entire European Union, plus Norway, Iceland, Switzerland, and Lichtenstein). It helps that ICAO has coordinated three standard levels of licensure that are recognized by all member states: private (PPL), commercial (CPL), and airline transport (ATPL). A fourth ICAO license, multi-pilot (MPL), is not recognized by the U.S. or Canada. Instrument and multiengine ratings are well standardized and usually convertible, though maintaining currency and recency of experience can differ greatly. However, the FAA’s non-ICAO-standard certificates, such as recreational or light sport, usually cannot be converted. 

Almost all conversions require obtaining a medical certificate issued by the converting authority. If not yet in-country, this might involve a special visit with associated time and expense. Medical certification standards vary, as do the guidelines for waivers and special issuances. In some cases, your current FAA medical can be used for a limited time frame, after which you must obtain a local medical of the appropriate class.

The simplest license conversions typically involve countries with similar regulatory structures, often neighbors. New Zealand and Australian licenses are easily interchangeable with a simple form. Converting a U.S. certificate to a Canadian one is a fairly simple process involving a 10-to-15-hour online class. The U.K.’s Civil Aviation Authority (CAA) resumed responsibility for licensure after Brexit, and its licenses were interchangeable with EASA until last year. They are still virtually identical and easily convertible. Some Middle East countries and others with a high percentage of expat airline pilots (notably excepting India and China) accept FAA, EASA, and U.K.-CAA ATPLs with a minimum of fuss.

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Most countries, however, present the potential convert with significant hurdles and no small amount of bureaucracy, particularly for CPL and ATPL. These can include a logbook review, submitting police records and undergoing a background check, undergoing mandatory ground and/or flight training, sitting for various exams, and passing a check ride or flight review. Even for my humble New Zealand short-term PPL validation, I had to log ground and flight instruction in weather and mountain flying from a NZ instructor and then complete a flight review. It’s worth noting that NZ, like many countries, uses a type-rating system even for piston singles. My BFR took place in a Cessna 172, and I am type rated in the “C172” only. To fly any other type, I would need to seek training from an appropriately rated NZ instructor. Similarly, to fly at night I would need to obtain a night rating. 

The most common target for converting FAA certificates is undoubtedly EASA. Converting a PPL in the EU is a reasonably simple proposition, an instrument rating or CPL somewhat less so, and an ATPL least of all. The Europeans—and really, most aviation authorities worldwide—place a much greater emphasis on knowledge testing than the FAA. ATPL conversion candidates must sit for 14 separate exams, testing knowledge of aerodynamics, weather, systems, regulations, air traffic procedures, and so forth. In addition, there are many ground and flight training requirements, capped off by a check ride. It’s a lengthy, expensive, and cumbersome process, yet thousands of European professional pilots (and a few Americans) have gone this route. 

Ultimately, flying is flying the world over, and the differences from country to country are relatively minor in the scheme of things. Compared to the difficulty of learning to fly and earning your FAA certificates in the first place, exporting them for use overseas is usually a pretty reasonable process and an enlightening one that gives a sneak peek into how various aviation authorities go about their business.

The post A Primer on Pilot Certificate Conversions appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Personally, all my initial international experience was at the airlines, and it wasn’t until I owned my Piper Pacer from 2014-16 that I flew a light aircraft to the Bahamas and Mexico. I wish I had known how easy it is. I would have done it years earlier. With a little planning and legwork, even fairly new private pilots can safely make cross-country flights to International destinations. The Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association (AOPA) maintains an excellent comprehensive database of what’s required for each country—Canada, Bahamas, and Mexico. 

That said, here is a summation of the requirements as they exist at this time.

Aircraft Requirements

The first thing you need is an airplane that can be taken internationally. It’s obviously easier to simply own an aircraft (with the permanent registration certificate in your name—not a temporary one), but there are also quite a few rental aircraft that are permitted to be taken across borders. If your FBO/flight school doesn’t allow it, look around. Many Florida FBOs authorize Bahamas flying for their aircraft, as do several places in the Phoenix, San Diego, and Los Angeles areas for Mexico. If you take a rental aircraft, make sure you get a notarized letter of authorization confirming that you have permission to take the aircraft out of the country. 

Canada and the Bahamas welcome experimental aircraft, but Mexico recently banned them. Mexico also requires a 406 MHz ELT. You should have a Mode C transponder, though you don’t need ADS-B in Canada or the Bahamas (Mexico’s ADS-B mandate mirrors the United States’).

The U.S. removed the need for aircraft to have a radio station license some years ago, but the requirement remains in place in the Bahamas and Mexico, and U.S. law technically requires it when flying outside borders. It is quite easy to obtain one via FCC Form 605.

If crossing an air defense identification zone (ADIZ) for Bahamas or Mexico, your aircraft should have 12-inch N-numbers. Temporary N-numbers, such as those applied using painter’s tape, are acceptable (Duct tape is a little too permanent and may take paint off). 

Your aircraft will need a U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) user fee decal to reenter the U.S. It costs $35 per calendar year and can be obtained at the CBP DTOPS website. 

Avgas is limited in Mexico, the Bahamas, and northern Canada. Pay close attention to your aircraft’s range, call ahead to verify 100LL availability, and carry extra (sealed and secured) jerrycans as necessary. All three countries have a good deal of remote terrain that makes good survival gear a necessity and satellite communication (Garmin Inreach, SPOT, etc.) a very good idea. The Bahamas requires life vests. Better yet, rent a life raft from one of the several Florida FBOs that offer them at reasonable weekly rates. 

Pilot and Passenger Requirements

You should have at least a private pilot certificate and a valid third-class or greater medical certificate to fly to Mexico or Canada. The Bahamas accepts both light sport pilot certificates and BasicMed certification. 

You’ll need an FCC-restricted radiotelephone operator’s permit to fly internationally. It’s a one-time license with no expiration, and the process to obtain it is fairly easy and very similar to the aircraft radio station license.

You and all passengers should hold a valid passport with at least six months remaining before expiration. Make sure your passengers have their passports with them.

Leaving the U.S.

U.S. CBP requires pilots exiting the country to file an eAPIS manifest with the names and information of all crew and passengers aboard at least 60 minutes before departure. You’ll do this on the eAPIS website.

You’ll need to file an ICAO-format IFR or VFR flight plan, which is a bit different than the domestic format. If crossing an ADIZ VFR, you’ll file a DVFR flight plan and put your expected crossing time in the remarks. 

If VFR, activate your flight plan after departure, then call the appropriate air traffic control facility and obtain VFR flight following. A discrete transponder code is required for crossing the border, whether entering an ADIZ or not. Before the border, ATC will hand you off to the foreign controlling facility. 

Entering Mexico

In addition to U.S. CBP eAPIS, you must file a Mexican APIS manifest 24 hours before departure and again one hour before departure. There are a couple third-party pay websites/apps to do this, or you can do it by emailing an excel spreadsheet—see instructions here and spreadsheet here.

You will land at an airport of entry and park in the designated international arrivals box. A military or customs official may approach and inspect the aircraft. If they don’t within a few minutes, it’s OK to get out and enter the operations building. The process varies by airport, but in general, you will file an arrival report with Despacho (which closes your flight plan), and then bring it to several different officials to complete various steps and get the arrival report stamped in turn. These include completing a declaration with customs, getting passports stamped and completing FMM forms (passengers only) with immigration, and obtaining an entry permit from the Comandancia. The cost for single-entry and multiple-entry permits is the same, so if possible, get the latter. 

Once you’ve completed all formalities and have the requisite stamps, you’ll file and open your onward domestic flight plan with Despacho. This works quite differently from the U.S.: It only tells the authorities where you intend to fly and has no search and rescue implications. It lasts until the next airport with a Commandancia (generally, those with a control tower), covers all intermediate airports, and can be open for many days until you close it at the next Despacho. 

Entering the Bahamas

Freeport, Marsh Harbor, Bimini, and Great Harbour Cay are preferred airports of entry, as Nassau is busy and expensive. Call the appropriate customs office before departure to give your ETA and confirm office hours. Prior to landing, close your flight plan with Nassau Radio on 124.2 or 128.0. 

Upon arrival you’ll complete immigration procedures and fill out an inbound aircraft declaration and C7A Bahamas cruising permit ($50), which allows you to move about the Bahamas as desired. Bahamian customs officials tend to be pretty friendly and helpful. Flight plans are not required within the Bahamas, though they can be filed, opened, and closed with Nassau Radio as in the U.S.. VFR flight following is available from Miami Center, though radar coverage is spotty at lower altitudes in the outer islands. 

Entering Canada

You must make your first landing at a Canadian airport of entry. Between two and 48 hours before entry, call CANPASS at 1-888-226-7277 and provide advance notification of arrival. If there is no customs official present when you land, call CANPASS again. It may clear you to enter or (rarely) have you wait for a customs inspector to arrive. 

Returning to the U.S.

Once again, you must file an eAPIS manifest with CBP at least one hour prior to departure—and if leaving Mexico, you must also file an APIS manifest with Mexican immigration at 24 hours and one hour prior to departure. Additionally, you must call the CBP office at your intended airport of entry to make advance notification of arrival at least one hour (and no more than 23 hours) before your expected arrival time

File an IFR, VFR (Canada) or DVFR (Bahamas, Mexico) ICAO flight plan, with ADIZ crossing time (if applicable) in the remarks section. If VFR, a Mexican flight plan will not get passed on to U.S. Flight Service, so contact FSS directly and activate once within radio range of the U.S. border. 

You need to be on a discrete transponder code when crossing the border. If returning from the Bahamas, contact Miami Center for flight following. From Mexico, the U.S. FSS that activates your flight plan should be able to provide a transponder code. From Canada, getting radar service from the appropriate air traffic control facility will yield a transponder code and a smooth handoff to U.S. ATC. 

After landing at an airport of entry, park in CBP’s designated yellow parking box and do not leave the airplane until cleared to do so. The customs and immigration process is usually quick and painless. Once you’re cleared, move the airplane quickly so others can use the CBP parking box. And be sure to close your flight plan if VFR.

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This is a very welcome development that will do wonders to increase the diversity of our pilot corps, as well as help tear down lingering barriers between our pilot and flight attendant groups, an unfortunate aspect of our company culture. Management apparently agrees: Several years ago they created two accelerated hiring paths to the flight deck for our flight attendants, which has stirred immense interest among our cabin crew. The early participants are now at the qualification level where I’ll be flying with them soon, and I’m really looking forward to it. 

When I encounter anyone who is interested in flying professionally, flight attendant or not, I often suggest that they first go get their private pilot certificate before making any big commitments. Flying, and especially at the professional level, isn’t for everyone. Not everyone will enjoy it, and not everyone is cut out for it. Too many people discover this only after quitting their job and putting a lot of money and time into professional flight training. In my opinion, the time to discover whether a flying career is right for you is during primary training. My airline apparently agrees because it made a private pilot certificate a prerequisite for our basic flight-attendant-to-flight-deck hiring path (the advanced path requires a commercial certificate).

Similarly, I often suggest that those who are interested in taking primary flight lessons first go on a discovery flight, or introductory flight lesson, to make sure it’s right for them. Or better yet,  go on several discovery flights with multiple flight schools and instructors to gauge which is right for them. Most FBOs and flight schools offer 30-minute introductory lessons at a somewhat discounted rate, sometimes via a Groupon coupon. This has traditionally been intended to give the prospective learner a somewhat rosy picture of what piloting a small airplane is like, a quick hit of the good stuff to ‘get ‘’em hooked’ with none of the messy side effects. I have always thought, however, that students, instructors, and schools are better served by giving prospective aviators a realistic look at what learning to fly is like—and that they should treat the experience as an extended interview of a prospective instructor and flight school.

There is no standard format for a discovery flight. Every school, and in many cases each instructor, does it differently. Some conduct a preflight briefing; others do not. Some walk the student slowly through the preflight inspection; other instructors do it quickly themselves and get the student in the air ASAP. Some give the student significant instruction; others barely let the student touch the controls. Sometimes it varies based on the time available or by just how deeply a particular discovery flight (and perhaps instructor fee) has been discounted. When I was instructing, I knew a few CFIs who openly talked about discovery flights being a rare chance to manipulate the controls themselves for almost an entire flight. Based on recent conversations with discovery flight recipients, this still seems to be a common mindset. That’s a pity.

• READ MORE: That First Flight

I’m no longer an active flight instructor, but I make a regular point of taking nonpilots flying in my Stinson 108.  Whenever they show the slightest interest in learning to fly, I conduct their flight in the same fashion as the introductory flight lesson I was afforded at age 13, and the way I tried to perform discovery flights when I was an active CFI. This includes a ground briefing to explain what we’ll be doing, what they should watch out for, and what they can expect to learn and accomplish. Then I’ll spend a good 15 minutes talking them through the preflight inspection, getting their hands on fuel sumps, brake calipers, the oil dipstick, and cowling fasteners. Finally, we go flying for 30 to 60 minutes. I have them follow me on the controls during takeoff, then I level off and trim out and get right into the business of teaching the basics of aircraft control. This includes coordinated turns, which can be tricky in my Stinson, but everyone seems to get it after a few minutes. I fly a circular course, so we can get back home quickly if the student starts looking green. Every 10 minutes or so, I take the controls to show a scenic point of interest, giving the student a short break in concentration and an example to emulate. Our loop always ends over bustling Lake Union, for a spectacular view of downtown Seattle with the majestic backdrop of Mount Rainier.

I understand this is an idealized introductory flight lesson, one given at my leisure during ample free time, and not necessarily always realistic given the demands of instructor and training fleet scheduling. Not to mention the economic considerations of offering a discovery flight cheap enough to attract casual punters. For this reason, if you’re a prospective student, I would avoid those cheap, advertised 20-to-30-minute discovery flights, which are likely to involve little instruction and  insight into your prospective school or instructor. Instead, I would request a two-hour block of instructor time with a full 45 minutes of flight time. This will give you the opportunity to make a thorough evaluation.

When you show up 15 minutes before your scheduled start time, how is the atmosphere of the place? Harried and chaotic or organized and calm? Does somebody greet you promptly and appear to know what you’re there for? Your instructor may well be finishing a lesson with another student. How do they handle the transition? Is there a quiet briefing area, and do you notice other instructors briefing their students before their flights? Does your instructor explain what you’re going to do without resorting to jargon you don’t know? When you go out to the airplane, does your instructor seem rushed? Do they teach you the preflight or at least talk through what they’re looking at? Is the airplane beat up with apparently inoperative equipment?

While the instructor is taxiing out and taking off, do they explain what they’re doing? After takeoff, how soon do they give you control, and how do they handle the transition to active instruction? Rest assured, your aircraft control will be pretty rough at first, possibly enough to make most pilots squirm with unease. How does your instructor react? This is an excellent chance to gauge their patience. Are they paying attention to what you’re doing and how you’re doing it? Are they adjusting their instruction when you don’t understand something? Do they seem in a hurry to take the controls or to return to base? After the flight, do they give you a debriefing and a chance to ask questions? I’d suggest a frank discussion about the instructor’s experience, their students’ check ride pass rate, their career goals going forward, and the chances of them sticking around the flight school during your planned time frame for primary training.

Let’s say you do three of these introductory lessons at three flight schools with three instructors. At the end, you should have about 2.3 hours logged (which certainly counts towards PPL requirements), be getting pretty good at basic aircraft control, and have a good idea of the differences between flight schools and instructors. Hopefully, you’ve found one that you mesh with well. When you consider the considerable cost of ineffective instruction or having to switch schools or instructors midstream, I’d say these 2.3 hours of discovery flights should be money well spent.

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