One of the benefits of working for the passenger airlines in the U.S.—and some cargo carriers—is the ability to travel as a “nonrevenue passenger,” or “nonrev.” Over my 19 years of working for three airlines, my wife and I have been avid nonrevs and traveled to more than 60 countries on 27 major airlines from five continents. 

Over the years, I have found newcomers to the industry often misunderstand the scope of their travel benefits, their employers frequently put little effort into educating them, and their older coworkers frequently and rather cynically denounce the usefulness of nonrev benefits.

The basic idea of nonrevenue travel is airlines frequently have empty seats, and when they do, employees of that airline, their affiliates, and other airlines (usually in that order) get to use them, “space available” or “standby,” for free or by paying a nominal fee. Airlines try not to have empty seats, sometimes through the use of heavy overbooking—which can backfire— and therein lies the challenge—and the adventure—of nonrevving. When you’re traveling standby, anything can and will happen, and it pays to be flexible, give yourself extra time for travel, and adopt a Zen attitude.

• READ MORE: Choosing the CFI Route

The easiest form of nonrevving is going on your own airline—or, if you work for a regional airline, going on your major airline partner(s). This is because you’ll have a website on which you can check exact flight loads, review the standby list, and “list” yourself with a standby reservation. You’ll also have the highest priority on your own airline, and most give their own employees access to first-class or business-class seats. Travel on your airline is also usually free, except when departing from international destinations, where you’ll be charged a departure tax.

That said, you’re doing yourself a disservice by limiting yourself. There will be routes your airline doesn’t serve or on which other airlines provide more service, and sometimes when your carrier’s flights are booked full, other airlines’ loads are lighter. 

My wife and I have experienced very good luck with the strategy of taking our own airline across the Atlantic to Amsterdam or Paris, or across the Pacific to Tokyo or Seoul, South Korea—often in a first-class seat—and then continuing to our destination on a European or Asian carrier. It is particularly noteworthy that European Union airlines tend not to overbook because of the punitive penalties they incur for involuntary denied boardings, and in more than 20 nonrev segments on EU carriers, we have always got on the flight.

Back in the “bad old days,” travel on other airlines was done via “ID90” paper passes issued by your own airline—often a long and troublesome process. It’s far easier and cheaper these days. Most OAL passes are now ZED, or Zonal Employee Discount, which is a flat fee based on distance, plus taxes. These are as little as $30 and usually less than $150 for even the longest flights. Most airlines now use Electronic ZED, or e-ZED, with passes and refunds issued on a fairly user-friendly website that also lets you check general flight loads and lists you on your desired flight. It’s still smarter to purchase and list OAL passes before the day of travel, but I have walked between various ticket desks at international airports inquiring who has seats open, and once I found a suitable candidate, hopping on the e-ZED website to purchase the pass and list myself.

Most airlines used to have a rather strict dress code for nonrevs. This has relaxed considerably in the states and somewhat overseas but still varies by airline, so check your airline’s pass travel agreements for details. In any case, I’ve always found it pays to dress nicely as a nonrev because you have a better shot at one of those elusive business-class seats.

• READ MORE: How To Prepare for Your First Airline Training Program

When traveling on your own airline, you can usually check in online 24 hours prior to departure. When traveling OAL, you will usually need to check in at the airport—domestically you can often do so at a kiosk, but internationally you often need to check in with an agent. Overseas, some airlines make you wait at the check-in desk until they assign your seat, which can lead to a last-minute rush through customs and security to make your flight. Otherwise, make your way to the gate at your own leisure, park yourself somewhere within audible distance of the gate agent, and wait for them to call your name. Some airlines/airports provide screens  to monitor the standby list and see when you are issued a seat, but even with these the gate agent will often call you to the podium.

At most airlines, the standby list is ordered by seniority among mainline employees, then seniority among affiliated regional airline employees, then parents and retirees, then buddy pass riders, and then OAL employees. Some airlines issue their employees a limited number of “vacation passes” each year that can be used for super-seniority on the standby list.

As a nonrev, you are expected to be unobtrusive, so you really don’t want to be harassing the gate agent with questions about seats available or your place on the standby list. Some will react extremely poorly to any nonrev approaching the podium without being called. That said, they do make mistakes and sometimes become rushed and overlook people at the end of the boarding process, so once the boardings have reduced to a trickle, it pays to stand somewhere you’re very noticeable. When I haven’t been called, they’re printing the final paperwork, and I know there are still seats available, a polite “I’m sorry. I may have missed it. Have you cleared nonrevs already?” yields good results.

When your name is called, collect your boarding pass and board with your assigned group. I will usually introduce myself as a nonrev to the flight attendant at the boarding door, give them my seat number, and tell them to let me know if I can help (believe it or not, I have been called on twice during security situations). When traveling OAL overseas, I often bring chocolates or a small local treat for the crew. This has occasionally yielded an upgrade when there were open seats in business class, and the gate agent didn’t give me one (policy usually prohibits this for OAL nonrevs), but it’s not the sort of thing you should ever ask for. Again, on the airplane you need to be as unobtrusive as possible. Be coy—or just silent—about your nonrev status with paying passengers.

• READ MORE: A Superheated Shortage

What if the gate agent closes the jet bridge door without calling your name? The flight likely went out full, and you’ll have to move on to Plan B, C, or D. But don’t leave the gate until the flight actually pushes back. I’ve got on several flights by sticking around the gate when people senior to me have already left.

Nonrev benefits normally extend to spouses, dependent children, and parents (though parent benefits on OALs vary). Usually you’ll also have a limited number of “buddy passes” to distribute to friends of your choosing. Be very careful who you give these to. Buddy passes are fairly expensive (equivalent to ID90s) and travel at very low priority, and their chances of getting stuck are high. Be sure that not only your buddies but all of your pass riders are familiar with nonrev policies and etiquette. You are responsible for your pass riders, and any misbehavior on their part may result in pass privilege suspension or other discipline for yourself. Also, do not under any circumstances sell or trade buddy passes to strangers. That will absolutely get you fired.

There are plenty of other nuances to nonrevving, but you’ll find the techniques that work for you with time. It’s definitely something that becomes easier and more natural with time. Normal people find it crazy that I’ve twice gone to Thailand and only found out whether I was going around the globe westbound or eastbound five minutes before departure—but for a nonrev, that’s par for the course. Unpredictability and spontaneity just come with the territory.

The post How To See the World for Free and Occasionally Sleep in Airports appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

The pilot shortage continues to evolve, particularly when it comes to recent hiring changes at the regional and cargo airline level. Recently, a regional airline introduced a new wrinkle for its prospective pilots—a legal agreement requiring all new hires  to commit to working for it for at least three years.

• READ MORE: Is the Pilot Shortage Over?

Boeing 737 pilot Sam Weigel goes through the details of this legal agreement from a professional’s perspective—why it’s making a stir in the pilot community, and what it ultimately will mean for future hiring.

• READ MORE: Building Flight Hours When There’s No Appetite for Instruction

The post Regional Airline Contract Boxes In New Pilot Hires appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

In my previous installment of V1 Rotate, I noted some of the reasons that a fledgling professional pilot might choose not to flight instruct, and listed a number of alternate means of time-building. Most of those alternative jobs, however, have their own downsides in terms of pay, safety, being VFR-only, only being available in certain areas, or being tough to break into. 

I noted that the well-connected candidate with geographic flexibility is likely to have the most choice in how they get to 1,000 hours and beyond. The unspoken implication, which I most certainly did not intend, is that awkward homebodies might have to resign themselves to flight instructing after all.

I really dislike the idea, rather widespread in some quarters, that flight instruction is the time-building method of last resort. I need to be careful about how I say this, because as I’ve noted before, there’s a strong tendency in aviation for more experienced pilots to dole out advice to newcomers based on what worked for them 20 years ago—and a related attitude that insists that because one paid their dues in a certain manner, the new kids must do so as well. I try to avoid both fallacies. I do recognize that flight instructing is not for everyone. I know the downsides are real; I lived them, and the memories are still vivid two decades later.

• READ MORE: Building Flight Hours When There’s No Appetite for Instruction

And yet, so much of the “flight instructing sucks” discussion places the job in relation to those that are not necessarily obtainable to the average 300-hour pilot, rather than the more realistic alternatives. And flight instructing does, in fact, have some major upsides. No, instructing isn’t for everyone, but I do think it’s a better option than many of the naysayers realize; you’d be doing yourself a disservice to dismiss it out of hand.

One really major advantage of the CFI route is its availability and universality. There are FBOs, flight schools, academies, and collegiate flight programs in every corner of the country. The vast majority are willing to hire a 300-hour fresh CFI straight out of flight school, which is true of few other flying jobs. This isn’t to say you won’t have to pound the pavement to find the right fit for you, or that you won’t have to establish a relationship and convince them to hire you—but you’ll know where to start looking, and you won’t have to necessarily go far.

• READ MORE: Is the Pilot Shortage Over?

More to the point, you most likely won’t have to wait long to get hired and start building flight time. The sooner you get in the game and start grinding, the better. Aviation employers love job candidates with a continuous work history and a steady progression of flight time, while a lack of currency—or a history of lapses—is a red flag. A bird in the hand is definitely better than two in the bush here. If you can start instructing in two weeks, this is vastly preferable to taking three or four months off looking for a “better” alternative.

The universality of the job also lends itself to portability. Once you are instructing actively, you’ll tend to have more options. Not getting many hours during the winter in North Dakota? Make some calls to sunny Florida. School not maintaining their airplanes well or delaying that raise they promised? Dust off the resumé. A mercenary attitude can help stave off some of the downsides of the job. This isn’t necessarily true of some of the other entry-level positions like diver-driving or banner towing, where there are far fewer operators in any given area and most hiring takes place before the high season.

I won’t lie, being a CFI can be hard at times, with long hours, inadequate pay, indifferent aircraft, a high level of dependency on weather, and the occasional frightening close call. These seem to be common themes among entry-level jobs. It’s just the price of admission. The better schools minimize some negatives (low pay, poor maintenance), and others change as you gain experience and are assigned more advanced students (weather cancellations, nature of the close calls).

The instructing itself, on the other hand, can be incredibly rewarding. If you love flying and are good at it, there’s absolutely nothing better in aviation than passing on that love and those skills to another human, seeing their eyes light up when they “get it.” I enjoyed flying with the majority of my students and kept in contact with some of them for years afterward.

• READ MORE: Networking Strategies That Will Get You Noticed by the Airlines

Many new commercial pilots doubt whether they have the ability or the patience to teach. So did I. The actual teaching is really not that difficult, the FAA’s emphasis on Fundamentals of Instruction notwithstanding. You’re not teaching high-schoolers trigonometry here. You’re basically just a knowledgeable enthusiast explaining something you enjoy to someone who’s motivated to learn and letting them flail around a bit, mostly learning from their own mistakes, keeping things from going too far, and giving them the occasional pointer.

Instructing requires a reasonable base of knowledge, some humility, some empathy and patience, basic communication skills, and a little familiarity with human nature. Those are pretty much the requirements for everything you’ll do in aviation, by the way. When I think back to the crappy instructors I’ve known over the years—and I’ve met a few—lack of teaching ability was never the problem. It was always a large ego that got defensive about gaps in their skills or knowledge—or else they simply didn’t want to be there, considered instructing beneath them, and were indifferent about helping their students succeed.

I often hear the charge that flight instructing is excruciatingly boring. This one really flabbergasts me. Flight instructing was many things to me, but boring was never one of them. Mind you, the rare near-death experiences certainly kept me on my toes, but besides that, I had a wide variety of students from private to ATP, each one had different strengths and weaknesses, and I varied my lesson plans daily according to their recent triumphs and stumbles and to accommodate the vagaries of weather. I took my students to a wide variety of airports to give them the broadest possible experience, and often our destination was determined by what sort of grub we were in the mood for. If you find flight instruction boring, you’re doing it wrong—and jet flying may render you downright catatonic!

If, knowing all this, you still prefer a job where you’re the one manipulating the controls at least half the time, I can’t fault you that. I still enjoy the physical act of flying and get to partake every other leg. But regardless of the path you choose, I’d highly suggest you at least get your CFI certificate. You’ll learn a ton, and you never know when it will come in handy.

The post Choosing the CFI Route appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

“Two years ago, 1,500 hours and a pulse was enough to get you an interview at the regional airline of your choice,” recalls V1 Rotate’s Sam Weigel, who flies a Boeing 737 for his day job. As hiring begins to slow at regional airlines and cargo carriers, Weigel asks—is the pilot shortage over?

• READ MORE: Building Flight Hours When There’s No Appetite for Instruction

The post Is the Pilot Shortage Over? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

It was the spring of 2001, and after years of being foretold, the pilot shortage had finally arrived. 

The major airlines’ hiring was in full swing, smaller upstarts like Southwest and JetBlue were rapidly expanding, and the regional airlines’ competitive minimums had fallen well below 1,000 hours. There were rumblings about slowing business-travel bookings for that summer and beyond, but this did little to darken the sunny outlook. Flight schools everywhere were jam-packed.

And yet, my own options appeared to be surprisingly limited. As a 20-year-old college student with fresh commercial and CFI tickets, there were few flying jobs available, and that first step from 300 to 1,000 hours looked like a formidable one. 

Flight instructing appeared to offer the best chances of employment, and unlike many of my peers, I thought I would enjoy instructing and didn’t mind going that route. But even there, in the middle of an instructor shortage, flight schools were rather cool to the overtures of a newbie CFI they didn’t know. My first inquiries into summer instructing jobs went nowhere.

Finishing up an internship with Trans World Airlines, I got a hot tip from a regional pilot at my crashpad about a busy flight school in the Los Angeles area. They didn’t pay much, but their instructors flew a ton, and they were known to hire low-time CFIs. 

My first email and phone call to the flight school manager garnered a noncommittal response. Undeterred, I jumpseated to LAX the next weekend and navigated LA’s abysmal public transit to Brackett Field (KPOC). The surprised manager offered me the job, pending completion of my certificated flight instructor-instrument (CFII) and certificated multi-engine instructor (MEI) ratings. I finished them in one week and went on to fly 400 hours in three months. This first experience proved crucial in jump starting my career—particularly considering the events of that September and the following years of aviation turmoil.

Twenty-two years later, so much in the industry has changed, and yet some things stay the same. 

CFI Reality

Today, despite a historic pilot shortage that puts the mini-shortage of the late ‘90s to shame, it is still remarkably difficult to land that first flying job—which, with the advent of the 1,500-hour rule, is more critical than ever. Aviation forums are full of newbies lamenting their inability to find a time-building gig. Another frequent topic, closely related, concerns many low-timers’ hesitancy to resign themselves to flight instruction. “Isn’t there a better way?” they ask.

I want to be clear here. There is a strong tendency in aviation for experienced pilots to dole out advice to newcomers based on their own career of 20 or 30 years past, and there’s also a common attitude of “I endured this, therefore you should endure it too.” Just because flight instruction worked out for me, and just because I mostly enjoyed it and was fairly good at it, does not mean it is the right path for everyone.

There are some very valid reasons not to want to instruct. It is hard work, carried out in basic aircraft of middling performance and sometimes varying states of maintenance in a noisy, cramped, and sometimes hot and turbulent environment. It is one of the more genuinely dangerous sectors of aviation, as detailed in this V1 Rotate episode. You don’t get to manipulate the controls that often. You have to be constantly alert, because students like to find novel and clever ways to kill you. This vigilance is hard to maintain if you feel like you’re stuck in a rut, teaching the same lessons over and over. 

Not everyone is cut out to be an instructor. It requires organizational ability, good communication skills, steady nerves, and the patience of Job. The hours can be quite long and the pay, while somewhat improved since my day, is still nothing to write home about unless you can carve out a niche for yourself as an independent instructor. Depending on your area and what type of students you have, your income may be highly weather-dependent.

But the reality is that most of these things apply to every position that is realistically available to the 250-hour freshly minted commercial pilot. Basically, no matter what you do, your first flying job is likely to be hard, uncomfortable, and possibly dangerous work. It will probably involve unsexy aircraft, and it’s probably not going to pay a lot relative to the small fortune you’ve invested in training.

This is a bit tough for today’s new pilots to swallow, because they’ve heard so much about the unprecedented pilot shortage that has been raging for six or seven years and all the opportunities it has afforded. The hard truth, however, is that the shortage is unevenly distributed, and at present, there is no shortage of 250-hour pilots. In fact, at the moment there’s not even a shortage of 1,500-hour pilots! 

Unless and until this changes, which I find unlikely given the current elevated volume of training, you will likely have to hustle for your first flying job, and your life just might suck for a year or two.

Entry-Level Alternatives

That said, your entry-level alternatives to flight instructing are essentially as follows, roughly ordered from easiest to hardest to break into:

• Buying flight time (perhaps via aircraft ownership): There are a surprising number of people doing this as they race to 1,500 hours. I think they may be surprised when they get there. I would be loathe to hire an airline pilot who had never proven the ability to hold down an aviation job. This is, by far, the most expensive option —but probably also the most enjoyable, particularly if someone else is footing the bill.
• Flying skydivers:  This can yield a lot of flight time at busy drop zones (DZs), especially in good weather on the weekends. It may involve turbine aircraft such as Caravans or Twin Otters. Good stick and rudder flying but zero instrument experience, which may be off-putting to future potential employers. Smaller DZs may fly only Cessna 182s or 206s, and some have legendarily sketchy maintenance.
• Ferry flying: Good cross-country experience, getting to fly a wide variety of aircraft. Low barrier to entry; essentially, anyone can hang out their shingle as a ferry pilot (and many do). Initially unlikely to get enough time to be a full-time job unless hired by a well-established ferry operation.
• Towing advertising banners: This is primarily over tourist destinations in high season, notably the Florida beaches from November through April (some operations move north for the summer season). Hones stick and rudder skills, but strictly VFR with the same resumé implications as diver driving. Largely Piper Super Cubs and the like, and the tailwheel experience is a big plus.
• Traffic watch, fire spotting, pipeline patrol, fish spotting, aerial survey: these classic time-building jobs have all been partially replaced by unmanned aircraft systems (UAS), and I expect that trend will continue, but there are still some gigs out there. Fairly boring flying that involves long stints at cruise, but likely to build flight time fairly quickly.
• Aerial application (cropdusting): One of few time-building opportunities in many rural areas of the country. It can be tough to break into as today’s agricultural aircraft are fairly complicated and expensive, and this is a tough job to do well without experience. Demanding, relatively dangerous flying, and constant exposure to toxic chemicals carries long-term health implications.
• Part 135 SIC: Acting as PIC under FAR 135 requires 1,200 hours for IFR operations and 500 hours for VFR-only (common in Alaska and backcountry areas). However, many Part 135 operators use copilots where required by the aircraft type certificate, by their ops specs, or by their insurance carrier. This is high-quality time, often under IFR, that is attractive to future employers. You may be able to upgrade to PIC once you meet the time requirement.
• Private SIC: There is a growing segment of private owners that are required by insurance to operate with two crew, even in single-pilot aircraft, which can lead to opportunities for low-time pilots. These gigs traditionally pay little and offer spotty flight time, and in some cases, you may need to get a type rating (which has become incredibly expensive). But entry as a 250-hour pilot is absolutely possible, if you know the right people.
• Business Jet SIC: Once unthinkable as an entry-level gig, today’s regional pilot pay has robbed corporate flight departments of enough applicants that average SIC-hire times have fallen considerably. I’ve heard of multiple pilots getting hired into bizjets with minimal time in the last year, but it’s still far from the norm.

What all these jobs have in common is that they are all less prevalent than flight instructing positions, some are confined to particular areas of the country, and many of these jobs—particularly in twin-engine and turbine equipment—are extremely dependent on who you know, especially as a low-timer. This is one reason that I place so much emphasis on networking early in your career.

If you, for whatever reason, have decided that flight instructing is not for you, then you need to really up your networking game, and you also need to have a high degree of geographic flexibility. If you’re not able to move or you haven’t networked extensively, I’d suggest you give flight instruction a second look. I’ve listed a lot of the negatives above, but there are some pretty great positives, too.  

The post Building Flight Hours When There’s No Appetite for Instruction appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Unlike many other professions, commuters to an airline or fractional pilot job make their trip by air, which allows for a degree of complexity along with the flexibility in where you can live. Sam Weigel walks you through the commutes of his career along with thoughts on how to choose if this is right for you.

The post Commuting to the Line appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

One of the major milestones of an aviation career is passing your first Part 121 training program. Whether at a regional or national airline, cargo carrier, or major, it is likely to be unlike anything you’ve done before. 

For those from a civilian background, Part 121 training will be much more structured and proscribed than Part 61 or even Part 141 certification courses, while also being longer and more in-depth than previous aircraft checkouts. For military aviators, you’ll find airline training to be highly compressed compared to what you’re used to, with lower expectations regarding systems knowledge but a much faster pace of learning. Going from a civilian CFI or even military instructor pilot (IP) to airline training is a big jump, one made more stressful by the knowledge of how important passing your first Part 121 program is to your career. Failure at this stage would make it difficult to get hired elsewhere.

Thus far in my career, I’ve had the pleasure of preparing for, undertaking, and passing five different initial qualification (IQ) courses at three different airlines: Bombardier DHC-8 (Q400), Embraer 170/190, McDonnell-Douglas MD88/MD90, Boeing B757/767, and Boeing B737. I went through three of these programs as a new hire, one as a transitioning first officer, and one as a captain upgrade. Three were under the airline’s Advanced Qualification Program (AQP), and two were under old-school Part 121. Between these five programs, I’ve developed a pretty good system of preparing for airline training in ways that have set me up for success; each program has been easier than the last. These preparation tips are what I’d like to share with you today.

Clear Your Schedule, Clear Your Mind

When you’re first hired at an airline, there’s a lot out of your control, and your inclination will rightly be to take the first class that is offered and get that coveted seniority number. That said, I would highly suggest that you build a buffer of a few weeks between your current flying job and your class date. For civilians, this might mean a missed paycheck at a moment when you’re unlikely to be flush with cash. It’s tempting to work up to the last possible minute. I’d suggest you consider the extra time off an investment in setting yourself up for success. Most military aviators have terminal or separation leave to bridge the gap; if you can, I’d suggest using it to build yourself a buffer.

The reason for this is that almost all airline training programs today require a certain amount of self-study beforehand, usually including a mandatory computer-based training (CBT) course. You can certainly complete this while working at your current job, but retention is likely to be shaky, and you’re less likely to study more than the required minimum. Transitioning to a new transport category type—and especially an entirely new type of flying—requires a total and conscious “brain dump” of your current aircraft. This is difficult to do while still flying it.

Get ‘The Gouge’

“Gouge” is military slang meaning the body of unofficial knowledge that one needs to pass a training program, start a new job, or fit in at a new posting. It implies a peeling away of unnecessary errata, telling you only what you really need to know. Gouge is often passed between new and old squadron mates and also extends to a transition to civilian flying. There is gouge about applying to airlines, acing interviews, and even passing training programs.

Over time in the civilian world, “the gouge” has become increasingly standardized and even officially adopted. For example, there are third-party training guides commercially available for all the most popular aircraft types (for the Boeing 737 alone, there are at least four, and I have two of them). The airlines have been increasingly accepting of “the gouge” and, in many cases, make it freely available to students. Every fleet at my airline, for example, publishes a Learning Objectives Document (LOD) with every systems question one might be reasonably expected to know, a Student Guide that finely details every lesson and checking event, various PowerPoint tutorials, FMS and auto-flight training software, and E-Brief videos that powerfully demonstrate every single maneuver you will do in training. All these are extraneous to the officially required manuals and CBT. They are resources of which the savvy student will avail themselves, and the sooner the better. It behooves you to make a good contact in the fleet you’re headed to—line pilot, check airman, or sim instructor, in ascending order of preference—and get “the gouge,” official and unofficial, in addition to the required manuals and training materials, well before you show up for class.

Study Early, Study Often

Once you’re actually in training, you will be drinking from a firehose. It will take enough effort to keep up; what you really don’t want to do is fall behind. The better prepared you are beforehand, the easier it will be to keep your head above water.

The very first thing I would start studying are the flow patterns for your fleet. Knowing your flows cold—even before you understand the systems that each flow covers—will make your early training go far, far smoother. Get a set of physical cockpit posters, tape them up wherever you are doing most of your studying, and practice your flows often. Once you move to your training hotel, bring the posters and put them up in your room.

The next things I work into my study are limitations and memory items. This is rote memorization, and you must learn it verbatim, so you can start studying these before you have much understanding of the aircraft. These items lend themselves to flash cards. I have created a thick deck of 3×5 index cards for every aircraft I’ve trained on. You can study these alone or use a non-pilot friend or family member. I use my wife to quiz me over dinner, in the car, and at the bar, and have always had limitations and memory items down cold at least two weeks prior to training.

If this is your first Part 121 operation, I would memorize everything in the flight operations manual (FOM) that relates to flight planning, dispatch, op specs (especially!), dangerous goods, and Part 117 crew flight and duty limitations and rest requirements. These all lend themselves well to rote memorization and flash card quizzing, and are important to get down sooner rather than later as airline programs vary widely in how much effort they put into teaching these items during ‘indoc.’ My airline, for example, includes a single hour of classroom training on op specs. For those unfamiliar with them, this barely scratches the surface.

Only then do I start learning aircraft systems. The company-provided/required CBT is a good starting point. I jot down notes and questions while going through it, particularly noting any items I got wrong on the CBT quizzes. After completing each system, I read the corresponding chapter of the aircraft systems manual, answering my questions and making further notes. Then I refer to the LOD, and then to my commercial study guide, noting any points of emphasis. Finally, I prepare flash cards for that system before moving on to the next section of CBT. I generally ensure that CBT is complete at least one week prior to training, giving me that week to study flash cards and start on procedures.

Once all this is done, you’ll have the knowledge required to start learning procedures, referring to your fleet’s aircraft operations manual. These will be taught early in your training, usually in a “paper tiger,” procedures training, or flight training device. It’s not necessary to have them down cold (except the associated flow patterns), as there will be subtleties of timing and emphasis best imparted by an instructor, but these lessons will go smoother if you are at least familiar with the procedures beforehand. The ground procedures are the most intensive (preflight, pushback, engine start, taxi, before takeoff, after landing, and shutdown/parking) and take the longest to get down, so place your emphasis there. In-flight procedures come much easier, and in-flight maneuvers take place much later in training (usually in a full-flight simulator), so you can delay study of these items until later.

Prepare Your Bubble

I don’t have kids, my spouse is self-reliant, and I’ve never lived in the same city as the training center while doing IQ, so this has always been pretty easy for me. It will be much harder for some of you. Nevertheless, it has to be said.

You need to create a training bubble for yourself, into which as few distractions as possible can penetrate. This means taking the airline up on their offer of a training hotel, even if you live nearby. It means leaving the spouse and kids at home. It may mean saving yourself the time and stress of commuting home when you have only one or even two days off between training blocks. This doesn’t mean you should spend four or five weeks nonstop in the pressure cooker of the training environment. It means that when you aren’t in the classroom, procedures trainer, or simulator, you need to leave yourself significant time to study, exercise, eat healthily, socialize with your training partner or partners, and study some more. The distractions of family and home life impede you from doing these things, so you need to minimize them. Explain the importance of what you are doing to your family; they’ll understand.

In a later installment of V1 Rotate, I’ll cover passing the Part 121 training program itself, but using these guidelines to prepare will go a long way in setting you up for success. 

The post How To Prepare for Your First Airline Training Program appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

What can you look forward to as a successful professional pilot, if you play your cards right? Airline captain Sam Weigel introduces us to his “dream home” in progress on a grass strip in the Pacific Northwest.

• READ MORE: Building the Dream While Rolling With Twists and Turns

The post Building the Dream, Continued appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

In early 2004, I was a newly-married freight dog flying single-pilot Part 135 for Ameriflight. A longtime colleague had just perished in a crash while covering my sometimes-hazardous route up California’s Owens Valley. I decided to redouble my efforts to get hired at a Part 121 airline. 

This being a few years after 9/11, the majors were all in pretty tough shape, and even the growing regionals could still be very selective about who they hired. My airline of choice was Horizon Air, then the best-paying regional ($28/hour during the first year!), but they were notoriously choosy, and so far, my efforts to land an interview had gone unrewarded. 

I called up my friend Brad Phillips, then a second-year Horizon first officer, and asked what extra steps I should take. He suggested flying up to Portland, where he’d give me a personal tour of the Horizon flight operations center. I did so forthwith, and while roaming the halls, we came across one of Horizon’s longtime chief pilots, the late Spike McKinsey. Upon learning I was both a UND alum and an Ameriflight pilot, Spike jotted down my name and promised he’d pull my application and take a look. One week later, I got the call to interview. My friendship with Brad set me on the path that led to where I am today.

While at Horizon, I met a guy named Mitch Nastri, who struck me as exceptionally friendly. We hung out a few times, but Mitch would also call me once a month, often at the same time of the month, almost like clockwork. It was uncanny. When I left Horizon for Compass in 2007, Mitch knew about it and followed up, asking how it was going. He came over to Compass himself a few years later. He continued to call me regularly just to chat, and over time I discovered that Mitch and I had quite a few friends in common, including in some places you wouldn’t expect. In fact, he was quasi-famous in my circle for his regular correspondence. I asked him about this once, whether he had a spreadsheet with a calling schedule, and he denied it. He said that whenever he had some downtime, he’d go down his contact list, see who he hadn’t talked to in a while, and call them. Mitch is, to this day, the most effective networker I’ve met in aviation. It surprised nobody who knew him when Mitch was hired by United Airlines in 2013—very early in the present hiring cycle—with zero turbine PIC time. He had seven internal letters of recommendation.

These two anecdotes amply demonstrate the role that networking plays in airline hiring—and it is even more important in other sectors of aviation, particularly business aviation. These days, because of the pilot shortage, it would be easy to downplay networking’s importance, assuming that one simply needs to accumulate the required certificates and experience, apply, and wait for the inevitable phone call. This would be a mistake for several reasons. 

First, the pilot shortage will not last, and there is no guarantee you will be at your dream job before the music stops. There’s a high likelihood you’ll have to hustle sometime in your career. Secondly, even amid a historic shortage, setting yourself apart from other candidates and scoring the call to interview can be surprisingly difficult— ask anyone applying to the regionals at the moment. Third, having contacts throughout the industry will ensure you are better informed, make better career decisions, and have a wider range of career options. 

Supposedly hard-and-fast requirements are often not so critical when you have trusted employees vouching for you. Conventional wisdom in 2013 was that you absolutely, positively needed 1,000 hours of turbine PIC to get hired at United. It turned out that wasn’t true for a strongly recommended candidate.

Networking is one of the few things you can do for your aviation career that is free (or very nearly so) and you can also start from day one—or before you ever begin flight training. In fact, the sooner you start, the better. The people you meet early in your career will end up in every corner of the industry, while later, your circle will become more circumscribed. I would argue you have better networking opportunities as an FBO line boy than a flight instructor and better opportunities as a flight instructor than a regional pilot.

The actual networking process largely consists of being friendly, actively interacting with every pilot you meet, asking lots of questions, asking for contact info, and then following up regularly. You don’t need to impress anyone with your skills or knowledge; just asking questions and demonstrating an ability to follow through is enough. I give out my card readily to anyone who mentions they’re training to be a pro pilot or are planning to do so, and the percentage that reach out is minuscule. Only a few have called, texted, or emailed twice, and I remember their names. Twenty years ago, I kept track of contacts on 3×5 cards; today, there are numerous apps for doing so. Make notes every subsequent time you connect with a contact. I think making a contact schedule is probably overambitious, but Mitch’s strategy seems a good one: every time you have some downtime in a quiet place, go down your list of contacts and see who you haven’t talked to lately.

One final piece of the puzzle is that prospective employers often value recommendations from employees who have actually flown with the applicant. A letter of recommendation that carries firsthand observations of the applicant’s flying skills is powerful. Check airmen who have observed you professionally— conducting check rides or line checks—are particularly helpful. After a successful check ride, get the check airman or examiner’s contact info and stay in touch. Other times you might be able to finagle a ride with a contact or invite them along on one of your flights. If you fly for a regional airline, offline jump seaters can be useful contacts, particularly if you connected well over the course of the flight or if something unusual happened. Again, the important thing is to follow up promptly and stay in contact over subsequent months and years. 

The post Networking Strategies That Will Get You Noticed by the Airlines appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Professional pilots, like V1 Rotate’s Sam Weigel, take dozens of check rides over the course of their careers. This week, Sam shares some of his best tips for not only passing your next check ride, but also enjoying it.

• READ MORE: Switching to a Flying Career Later in Life

The post Pass Your Next Check Ride Like a Pro appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Happy New Year, everyone. As we move into 2023, it’s worthwhile to look back on 2022 as the year that shook the aviation industry, the piloting profession, and particularly the airline sector to its core. From record-shattering hiring at the major airlines to previously unthinkably lucrative contracts at the regionals, nearly every month of 2022 brought a new development that left those of us who’ve been in the business a while agape with amazement.

There have been some smaller interesting industry developments as well, mostly unintended consequences of the larger pilot shortage and not all of them necessarily positive for the new or aspiring professional pilot. One of these is that major airlines have revived the practice of “metering,” limiting or slowing the non-flow hiring of pilots who work for their affiliated regional airlines and instead preferring to poach pilots from rival carriers’ affiliated airlines. So, for example, it has become easier to get hired at Delta as an Envoy pilot than as a non-flow Endeavor pilot—and meanwhile, the Endeavor pilot may have a quicker time getting on at United than at Delta. This has reduced the career value of working for a regional airline even as the monetary value has increased considerably.

Another notable development is that the importance of turbine pilot-in-command (PIC) time—once an absolute necessity for career advancement—has greatly decreased, to the point where the legacy airlines are hiring a fair number of pilots without it. In fact, turbine PIC has become completely unnecessary for getting on with national/low-cost carriers (LCC) like Spirit, Frontier, Alaska, and JetBlue as well as ACMI (Aircraft, Crew, Maintenance, and Insurance) cargo carriers like Atlas, Katlitta, and Amerijet. These airlines’ willingness to hire regional first officers (FO)—and the legacy airlines’ willingness to poach these airlines’ FOs without turbine PIC—has created an interesting alternative career pipeline: regional first officer to national/LCC/ACMI FO to legacy airline.

This, in turn, has created a rather awkward situation at the regional airlines. They have lost so many FOs to this alternative pipeline that they no longer have enough upgrade candidates with the requisite 1,000 hours of Part 121 SIC (second in command) time (FAR 121.436) to meet their rather substantial need for captains. It is therefore a lack of captains that is canceling flights at the regionals. Most regional carriers are relatively overstaffed on FOs and have slowed pilot hiring accordingly.

Many of their junior FOs are barely flying on reserve. This, in turn, is increasing upgrade time, and driving ever more regional FOs to pursue the alternative of applying to national, low-cost, or ACMI airlines.

My airline—one of the top three legacy carriers—has already hired quite a few pilots via this alternative pipeline over the last three years. I have flown with quite a few former Alaska and Spirit FOs who have little or zero turbine PIC experience. Several were hired in their mid-20s with only three or four years of total airline experience. They are generally fine pilots, and I do not hold their good fortune against them. I suspect that part of my airline’s calculus in hiring them was to A) not further cripple our regional partners by hiring too many of their captains, and B) kneecap our low-cost competitors by starving them of pilots. I’d argue that this strategy is counterproductive, or at best zero-sum, because the establishment of the alternative pipeline has itself been tremendously unhelpful for the regionals’ staffing woes.

This is all background to a very real dilemma for many current regional airline first officers. The question is this: should you stick it out at your regional and build the 1,000 hours of Part 121 required to upgrade to captain, or should you get on with a national, LCC, or ACMI carrier as soon as possible?

My personal feeling, likely influenced by my own career path, is that this career requires flexibility, and that one needs to stay open to alternative paths if your primary plan appears to be stalling out. The regionals’ staffing woes are not getting better, and if a captain shortage at your airline is paradoxically delaying your advancement, it’s hard to see that situation improving soon. In that case I’d probably aim for someplace that flies bigger airplanes and pays better than your regional airline. Currently that includes all national and LCC airlines, and some of the ACMIs. You can continue to build Part 121 time there, gain a Boeing 737 or Airbus A320 type rating (or, be still my heart, the 747), and put another airline training program on your resume.

This is not to say that turbine PIC time doesn’t have intrinsic value. It does. One’s first years as an airline captain are a valuable time of learning and seasoning. I think I was a much better FO at my current airline thanks to my years as a captain at the regionals. But the major airlines themselves are not valuing it so greatly these days, which, given their data-driven hiring practices, tells me that a lack of turbine PIC does not appreciably affect one’s ability to pass an airline training program. You’ll still eventually get your time of seasoning as a new captain; it might happen with 180 passengers in the back instead of 50, but the aeronautical decision making is the exact same. Before the 1980s, it was perfectly normal for one’s first captain “checkout” to be at a major airline, and I suspect we’re heading back to those days.

There’s one final wrinkle that might affect your decision to stay at the regionals vs. moving on to a LCC or national. If the regional airline model collapses fairly suddenly, one or more major airlines may be forced to absorb their wholly-owned regional carriers and bring their pilots on board. It would be a shame to miss out on this opportunity, but I’m personally a bit skeptical it’ll happen. Rather, I expect a continued whittling of regional flying and gradual mainline absorption of that capacity in the same manner as the last seven years. That should provide plenty of opportunities for regional pilots (and national/LCC pilots who wish to make the move) at the legacy carriers—but I don’t expect any major regional pilot windfalls that should prompt you to stick around longer than necessary.

The post Should I Stay or Should I Go? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Three weeks ago I flew from Austin to Tampa with Flying columnist Dick Karl in his personal Cessna Citation CJ1, and then interviewed him on camera for a V1 Rotate episode (and bonus episode). If you missed those videos I highly recommend them, because Dick is a really smart, interesting, and funny guy who has done a lot of neat things and has great stories to tell. 

The TL;DR [too long; didn’t read] version, however, is that Dick had a successful career as one of the nation’s leading cancer surgeons, but always admired and envied professional pilots even as he owned a succession of increasingly sophisticated airplanes. After retiring from medicine at age 68, Dick got himself hired as a Part 135 FO at JetSuite, and had a three-year second career in flying. Now 78 and retired again, Dick is still a super-sharp pilot, but age-related insurance challenges will likely be forcing him back down to the lower flight levels with the mere mortals. [editor’s note: Dick will be writing about this journey in his column “Gear Up” in the print edition of FLYING.]

• READ MORE: Switching to a Flying Career Later in Life

I’ve been thinking about Dick’s encore as a pro pilot a lot the last few weeks because I’ve been seeing a lot of forum posts by prospective midlife career changers asking if they’re too old to start flying. Most of these posters are in their 30s or 40s, though a few are in their late 20s! 

Many of these posts have a somewhat rueful tone, implying that they’ve missed the boat because they weren’t 23 years old with a fresh ATP the moment that the pilot shortage kicked into high gear. This always gives me a good chuckle because I had the aviation world’s worst possible timing (getting my ratings immediately prior to 9/11), I spent the “lost decade” stuck at the regional airlines, and I still consider my career rather successful (so far, knock on wood). But then again, I was fortunate in that I knew exactly what I wanted to do at a very early age, doubt never really entered into the picture, and starting young gave me plenty of time to wait for the industry to right itself.

• READ MORE: Switching Careers Late in Life, Part 2

Here’s the reality: the most successful pilots you and I will ever know, from a career earnings and advancement standpoint, were born in 1996, entered college in 2014 just as the entire aviation industry really got going again, worked hard and graduated with 1,500 hours, spent a couple years at the regionals and/or LCCs [low cost carriers], and got hired by a major airline last year at the age of 25, right at the start of the post-Covid hiring wave. These folks aren’t unicorns; they’re already somewhat common at my airline and the other two legacies, and I know of several already in the left seat. They are looking at a potential 39 years as major airline captains, with career earnings of at least $11 million in today’s dollars. Compared to these folks, I’m totally pathetic—I didn’t make major airline captain until 38! And if you’re just starting flight training today, well into the hiring wave, in your 30s or 40s? Yeeeesh. Welcome to Loserville, population: you.

I’m being sarcastic, of course. Such wild aviation success stories are an absolute aberration, historically speaking. But because such rapid advancement is the norm at this moment, it seems many new and prospective pilots are considering this as the yardstick of success—and comparing their own prospects in deciding whether to take the leap. This is ludicrous. I don’t compare my fortunes to those of last month’s Powerball winner, which is effectively what a 25-year old major airline captain is. Such extremely lucky cases shouldn’t even enter your calculus in deciding whether to take the plunge. The only comparison that’s really valid is what you’re doing with your life right now.

Let’s do some quick math. Flight training from private to MEI (multi-engine instructor) is currently running around $100,000, give or take. If you have enough years of flying left to make $100,000 more than your current job or alternative career path, flying is a financial win. That’s the case for most white-collar workers in non-managerial roles in their 30s or 40s, and even some in their 50s. Most can break even without ever flying for a major airline, or any airline at all. 

Now, high earners will have a much harder time making the numbers work (Dr. Karl made less than 10 percent of his previous salary as a JetSuite FO, for example)—but are more likely to be in a financial position to accept decreased income while maintaining an acceptable standard of living. It’s true that this income is at somewhat greater risk than most careers, particularly because of medical factors, and many health issues crop up in one’s 50s. I would only consider a midlife career change if you’re in good health with excellent prospects of maintaining a first class FAA medical into your 60s. If in doubt, consult an aviation medical examiner (AME).  

With money out of the way, lifestyle becomes the prime consideration. Many people in their 30s and 40s have young families at home, and most are established in their career enough that they have some stability and control over their schedule. They are likely used to being home for birthdays, anniversaries and holidays, first steps and Little League games. Being new and junior in a 24/7/365 business like aviation is likely to come as a shock to such people (not to mention their families). This is the price of having far more time off work than most high-paying career fields. With some seniority, the lifestyle gets much better. Those who particularly value control over their schedule may sacrifice career advancement and earnings to stay senior at one company. In my experience, enjoying this career requires a fair amount of flexibility, both from you and from your spouse and kids, if you have them.

Quite honestly, though, the triggering factor ought to be whether you love flying so much that doing it makes you happier than most anything else. If you’re not sure because you haven’t flown much, get your private pilot certificate before committing to a career change. Do it on a vigorous schedule to simulate the rigors of professional flying. You’ll know by the check ride whether it’s for you.

I’ve flown with a lot of midlife career changers and, for the record, as a group they tend to be pretty happy with their choice. They also tend to have a balanced perspective that is often lacking among those of us who have done little outside of aviation. But within this group, there are some who came to aviation because of dissatisfaction with their former career, and there are others who switched because of their overwhelming fascination with flight. Dick Karl said something very insightful about these two groups during our chat: “The latter avenue is much more likely to provide pleasure than the former, because running away from something is way different than running towards something.” To this I can only add that if you are unsatisfied with your current life, a career switch to flying is unlikely to improve things, certainly not in the short term with all the stress and turmoil and family friction of the transition. First address the sources of your dissatisfaction, and then consider whether flying is something worth running towards. 

The post Too Old to Switch Careers? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

What’s it like to go from the operating theater to the flight deck? We share the rest of the story, which we started last week in “V1 Rotate: Making the Switch,” as we join FLYING columnist Dick Karl as he explains to Sam Weigel how he made the transition from success as a cancer surgeon to a satisfying second act as a Part 135 pilot.

The post Switching Careers Late in Life, Part 2 appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

What is it like to switch to a flying career later in life? V1 Rotate’s Sam Weigel flies with fellow FLYING columnist Dick Karl in his Cessna Citation CJ1 from Austin to Tampa to find out how Karl made the transition from cancer surgeon to Part 135 pilot.

• READ MORE: Game Over for Regional Airlines?

The post Switching to a Flying Career Later in Life appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

When I started V1 Rotate late last year, it had already become apparent that the COVID-19 pandemic was going to become a footnote in aviation history, a momentary blip in an era of strong opportunity for professional pilots.

My employer had resumed hiring, as had every other airline and most flight departments and Part 135 and 91K operators. Flight training was proceeding apace, and United had just opened its new Aviate Academy. The coming year seemed likely to eclipse 2019 in terms of both training and hiring, but otherwise represent an evolution of the ongoing pilot shortage.

Instead, we got a year that surpassed all expectations and shattered industry norms. In 2022, Delta Air Lines is on target to hire 2,500 pilots—almost twice its previous hiring record—and United’s and American’s hiring is on a similarly frenetic pace. In all, the three legacy airlines accounted for 5,465 pilots hired through September, according to data from the Future & Active Pilot Advisors web site.

The low-cost and national airlines hired another 3,101, and the three largest cargo airlines, another 1,557. At my airline, the hiring has also been accompanied by strong internal advancement. For the first time ever, we’ve had new-hires placed into our largest international widebody fleets, the Airbus A350 and A330. Brand new line pilots not even off probation have been awarded captain upgrades (NYC 737), and pilots with a mere two years of seniority are getting the Boeing 757/767 left seat. Every time I come to work, there’s some crazy new development that has us all shaking our heads.

And yet, there’s nothing happening at my airline that compares to the earth-shattering revolution happening at the regional airlines right now. Understand that ever since they started in the early 1980s, the regionals have formed a sort of minor league system for pilots. Almost all of us at the majors who are from a civilian background spent time at the regionals, building the experience necessary to move upward. The regionals were notoriously low-paid, and for a time in the late 80s through mid-1990s, many airlines actually required pilots to pay for their own training. The attitude was generally “you need us more than we need you, and we know you’ll do anything for that dream job.”

But of course, the regionals do need pilots to operate—moderately experienced pilots at that, thanks to the 1,500-hour rule—and such pilots are suddenly in huge demand. As soon as the post-COVID hiring boom took off, the regionals’ attrition numbers skyrocketed to an unsustainable level. It’s not just that they’re losing captains to the likes of Delta and United; they are also losing first officers (FO) to Spirit and JetBlue and Atlas, sometimes after as little as a year of employment. This is doubly threatening to the regionals’ ability to staff their contractual flying, because few of their new hires have the experience requirements to upgrade quickly; they need a few years on the line first. The only solution was to increase their pay enough to entice FOs to stick around long enough to upgrade and fly as captain for a few years before moving on.

American Airlines’ wholly-owned regionals—Envoy, Piedmont, and PSA—were the first to do this, as I reported in a V1 Rotate video on July 1. Their pilot contract wasn’t up for renegotiation for another two years, but out of the blue, they announced permanent raises of 13 to 32 percent, temporary raises of 50 percent above that, and a 100 percent bonus for check airmen. This brought first year FO pay to around $90,000 (plus bonuses), captain pay increased to around $146 to $213/hour, and check airmen are making as much as $426 per hour.

For comparison, the top American Boeing 777 captain rate is a “mere” $342/hour. This development was particularly delicious because only a few years back, American had threatened its regional pilots with annihilation unless they signed concessionary contracts. Cause, meet effect.

Naturally, all the other regional airlines were forced to follow suit shortly thereafter or see their most experienced pilots leave for Envoy et al. Industry giants Skywest and Republic matched the new rates and made them permanent, Horizon nearly doubled its existing rates, and even notoriously cheap airlines, like Mesa, have been forced onto the bandwagon. Delta’s wholly-owned regional, Endeavor, resisted the longest, insisting that the flow agreement to Delta would be enough to entice new pilots—but, faced with triple-digit monthly attrition and single-digit new hire classes, was finally forced to give up the game last week. They actually put up higher numbers than the American wholly-owned carriers, increasing new-hire pay to $100/hour, which is more than first-year pilots on Delta’s mainline.

The obvious question is where this is all leading. The regionals’ cost structure was never that much lower than the majors; a decade ago, their CASM (cost per available seat-mile) was within 5 to 10 percent of their major partners. Now, it must be incredibly high to an unsustainable degree. Add to this the regional carriers’ financial and operational instability and the negative effects on their major partners’ brands, and it becomes hard to see a reason for the regional airline industry to continue to exist. I’ve been arguing this day would come ever since I started writing about the pilot shortage in 2014, and now it has happened. The only reason for the current arrangement to persist at this point is industry inertia and C-suite egos. Mind you, those are considerable factors, and the regionals may continue to trudge along for years, slapping very expensive Band-Aids on the problem. Or, a major airline may choose to take a bold step that changes the industry, and the piloting profession.

If I were the CEO of American Airlines, here’s what I’d negotiate with APA [Allied Pilots Association] and ALPA [Air Line Pilots Association], who I think would be happy to oblige: I’d keep the Envoy, Piedmont, and PSA certificates for the moment, folding them into a single regional certificate or into mainline later, but I’d bring all their pilots onto the American seniority list immediately with the proviso that all American flying, regional or mainline, is to be performed by American Airlines pilots. I’d specify that all future new-hires with a military background or 4,000 hours total time and 1,000 hours turbine PIC can bid mainline equipment if they choose, while those with less will stay on regional equipment until they meet those hour requirements. This arrangement would ensure American remains an airline of choice for both experienced pilots as well as those with 1,500 hours, while providing very predictable staffing for the regional feed. It would also make any academy or cadet program they choose to develop considerably more popular, with a strong field of suitable applicants.

Will American or Delta or United adopt my proposal or something like it? I don’t know, because there is a very rich history of irrational management in this industry. But it does very much feel like everything changed in 2022, and I don’t think we’ve seen the end of the follow-on effects.

The post Game Over for Regional Airlines? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

It’s easy to get enthralled by digital technology in the cockpit and choosing that option for instrumentation by going with a glass cockpit. But like choosing to fly a high or low wing aircraft, it’s yet another aviator conundrum and there are distinct advantages to making the right choice. Sam Weigel breaks down the score and comes up with an innovative solution.

• READ MORE: What Is the Right Age To Start Flight Training?
• READ MORE: Taildragger or Tricycle Gear?

Colleges That Use a Glass Cockpit

Whether you train in a glass cockpit or a steam gauge cockpit, if you’re going to the airlines you’ll want to know what the latest is in aviation careers. Interested in going to college and becoming a professional pilot? Check out FLYING’s Flight School Guide. Here, you’ll find out how we ranked the top flight schools in the United States and better learn what each college has to offer. Many offer glass cockpit training, so be sure to compare each to each other to see how they stack up!

Considering a Career in Aviation?

Be sure to stay up to date on the latest in training, careers, salaries, and more by subscribing to the Careers Newsletter!

The post Glass Cockpit or Steam Gauges for Training? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

With the recent well-publicized upsurge in pay and benefits thanks to the pilot shortage, there’s been a great deal of renewed interest in flight training among prospective professional pilots young and old—and also among interested parents looking to set their progeny on a lucrative career path. 

Recently, I’ve seen a question surface which I’m perhaps uniquely qualified to answer: Is there an advantage to starting flight training before graduating high school? How young is too young? Is there an ideal age?

Technically there is no minimum age to start flight training, a fact I discovered as an aviation- stricken 13-year old who had just taken the stick for the first time on an EAA (Experimental Aircraft Association) Young Eagles ride. I called the local FSDO (Flight Standards District Office) and managed to get a hapless inspector on the phone; he confirmed that one must be 16 years old to solo and 17 to earn one’s private pilot certificate in an airplane (14 and 16, respectively, in a glider), but there is no minimum age to begin dual instruction with a flight instructor. 

“Can you reach the rudder pedals in a Cessna 150?” he asked. I didn’t know. A week later, an introductory flight confirmed that I could, with the aid of a pillow. I started taking lessons, scrimping and saving $56 (!) for an hour of dual at the end of each month. I soloed on my 16th birthday and passed my private pilot check ride on my 17th. Today, at the age of 41, I’ve been flying more than two-thirds of my life and have some 15,000 hours of flight time—nearly two full years spent airborne.

In retrospect, I’m a little ambivalent about the path I took. It worked for me because I was utterly obsessed with flight at 13 years old and too impatient to wait a few years—actively flying kept me focused through my teen years. Considering the fact that I was a broke kid paying out of pocket, starting early helped spread the cost over four years. Had I waited, it’s quite possible my interest and my scant earnings would have wandered. And yet I’m keenly aware that the way I did it was less than efficient, and isn’t necessarily the best path for every interested youth.

Law of Recency

Any flight instructor will tell you that a month between lessons is way too long (“law of recency”).

You forget a great deal over a month, particularly when the skill is so fresh, meaning that each subsequent lesson wastes time reteaching things. In my opinion, the most efficient pace for learning to fly is one to two lessons a week. Starting early means that even if you retain the information well, you are likely to exceed the required hours by a good bit. In 1997, I soloed at 32.4 hours (having averaged 11 hours a year until then), and the next year, I got my private at 71.6 hours. Those were well above-average numbers back in the pre-TAA (technically advanced airplane) age. If you’re looking for maximum efficiency, I would not start as early as I did—I’d wait until 15 or 16.

That said, I do think that taking flight training before graduating high school is an excellent idea for any youth interested in a flying career (including those planning on a military track). I’ve taught primary students in both traditional and accelerated settings, and I rather strongly feel that the private certificate shouldn’t be rushed, because it introduces so many new skills and fundamental knowledge that will be built upon over the course of one’s career. 

For anyone considering a pilot career, private pilot training should afford one the chance to fall in love with flying and assess whether you’re well suited to it, without the pressure of having already entered a collegiate program or aviation academy. I’ve come across too many recent stories of primary students getting utterly burned out before they’ve even experienced the magic of their first solo cross-country flight.

Now, it’s true that some programs won’t give you full credit for a private certificate earned outside of a Part 141 or collegiate setting. In my case, a local community college gave me full credit for my private while I was in high school, which allowed me to transfer into the University of North Dakota’s flight program without taking their private pilot test course. If this is not an option for you—and you have your heart set on a program that is not transfer-friendly—consider training at your local FBO just through your first solo, perhaps during your senior year of high school. It will give you a good taste of what flying is about, and will likely allow you to go through your subsequent school’s private pilot course in the minimum allotted hours (a rarity these days). If you are aiming for a military flight slot, prior flight experience will give you a leg up over other applicants in the ultra-competitive selection process and rigorous initial training.

Sustaining Motivation

Looking back at my early flight training, I realize that those first few years of monthly lessons served more to keep me interested and motivated than anything, and there are cheaper ways to do that. One of the best is the Civil Air Patrol’s cadet program, so long as you don’t mind its quasi-military flavor (which varies considerably by wing and squadron, according to the tastes of the local commanders). Another is the Experimental Aircraft Association; most chapters involve youth in building and restoration projects, which is an excellent way to gain aviation knowledge while meeting local pilots and getting invited to fly in their airplanes. Many chapters also offer scholarships for youth flight training. For those who live near a soaring club, gliders offer a fantastic introduction to the fundamentals of flight in a communal setting. And lastly, flying with friends and family who are not instructors can be a cost-effective option in one’s early teens and prior, even if you can’t log the hours. Any prior experience will make subsequent flight training more effective, giving you more bang for your buck.

All this said, if you or your child is an aviation-obsessed early teen or preteen who just can’t wait to start lessons, and you can make it work financially, there is nothing in primary training that a reasonably intelligent kid can’t readily grasp. Learning to fly delivers a great deal of enjoyment and confidence at an age when “grown-up” activity options are generally limited. I’m grateful that my parents gave me the freedom to fly as early as they did; as a result, I have a lifetime of flying to look back on, with many fond memories throughout.

The post What Is the Right Age To Start Flight Training? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Welcome to V1 Rotate

In this week’s episode of V1 Rotate, Sam Weigel takes a break from the Boeing 737 to show off his newest acquisition, a freshly restored 1946 Stinson 108 taildragger. Recounting his journey from training in “boring” airplanes to being introduced to the Piper J-3 Cub (“The world’s worst airplane for every mission but one…”) to owning several tailwheel aircraft, Weigel explains how these classic airplanes are still relevant today to the new or aspiring professional pilot.

Interested in flying a taildragger? You might also like…

• READ MORE: Should Your First Airplane Be a Taildragger?
• READ MORE: Taildragger vs. Tricycle Gear

Consider a Career in Aviation

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The post Building Time in a Taildragger appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Recently, I’ve seen several threads on Reddit’s “r/flying” forum regarding the feasibility of purchasing an aircraft for training and time-building purposes from the perspective of an aspiring professional pilot. It’s an interesting and somewhat complex question that deserves a closer look. 

I was not an aircraft owner until I had more than 10,000 hours, but I know of a number of professional pilots who purchased and flew aircraft for training and/or time building. I think that ownership can make sense in certain circumstances, but definitely not all, and the choice requires a sober consideration of your needs, wants, and resources.

The conversation about aircraft ownership usually centers on costs versus renting, which has become increasingly expensive and can feel like throwing money down the rathole. The thing is, rental and overall training costs can vary wildly, and there’s not always a strict correlation between cost and aircraft or training quality. Part of the equation must be the cost and quality of rental and training in your area, and whether you are geographically limited or can search further afield.

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Three Flavors

Ownership costs come in three flavors: upfront, fixed (monthly), and variable (per flight hour). I don’t consider the purchase price to be a cost, because used aircraft prices are quite stable and historically tend to appreciate at roughly the rate of inflation—you should get that money back. Upfront costs include the expense of finding and inspecting the aircraft as well as the price of registering it in your state (sales and/or use tax; 0 percent to 10 percent of the purchase price). You won’t get this money back. Fixed monthly costs include the price of financing the aircraft, insurance, hangar/tie down, and planned annual maintenance. Variable hourly costs are fuel, oil, and an unplanned maintenance and overhaul fund.

You need to make some assumptions about your usage. Let’s say that you plan to fly the aircraft 500 hours total over the course of 18 months of ownership. You have found a promising IFR-equipped Cessna 172 for sale locally for $75,000, hired an A&P to do a pre-buy inspection for $1,000, and live in Florida where sales tax is 6 percent. Your upfront sunk costs are $5,500, or $11 per expected flight hour. You have good credit and got a loan to finance 80 percent of the purchase at 5 percent interest, which works out to $250/month. You’ve found an insurance policy covering training for $2,000/year, or $167/month Your local airport has a T-hangar for $300/month, and you’re budgeting $1,000 for each annual inspection. Your fixed costs are $800/month, or $29 per flight hour. And lastly, fuel at 8 gallons per hour and $7.50 per gallon, another $1/hour for oil, and $30/hour for the maintenance and overhaul fund yields variable costs of $91/hour. All told, you’re looking at $131/hour for your very own 172. Not bad, right? You certainly won’t find a rental that cheap these days.

A few things will have become apparent to you during this exercise. First, you need to have $20,500 laying around, because no bank will finance 100 percent of an aircraft loan. Your 500 hours of flight time over 18 months will cost you $65,500, and none of this can be financed. You’ll still need to pay an instructor, and though you can do your private certificate, instrument rating, and time building in the 172 (and CFI/II, if you wish), you’ll still need to rent a complex or TAA airplane for your commercial and a twin for your multi rating (and MEI). It’s still going to be considerably cheaper than going to a Part 141 ratings factory, but keep in mind that Part 141 training can usually be 100 percent financed, and often at a lower interest rate than owning an airplane. So this is very much a case of needing money to save money.

The second factor is that ownership adds financial risk. Bend some metal during training and your insurance goes up? Get kicked out of your cheap hangar and the only one available nearby is $1,000/month? Unexpectedly expensive first annual? Engine doesn’t make it to TBO? All these common situations have the potential to raise your hourly rate well above renting.

The third glaring fact is that the more hours you fly your airplane, the cheaper it gets, and vice-versa. In the above scenario, if you were only planning to keep the airplane for 12 months and 250 hours, your hourly costs rise to $150/hour, which isn’t a lot less than rental in many areas. Conversely, 1,500 hours in 24 months works out to $108/hour. Ownership doesn’t make much financial sense for someone planning the traditional route of paying for their first 250 hours and then getting a time-building job. But if you really don’t want to flight instruct, tow banners, fly skydivers, or work at another traditional entry-level flying job, then owning an airplane will get you to 1,500 hours far cheaper than renting. This might make a lot of sense if you have a well-paying job that gives you enough time off to fly a lot, and don’t wish to leave it until you start working for an airline.

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About the only other scenarios where sole ownership might pay off is if you have the opportunity to lease back the airplane to a flight school, or if you plan to hang out your shingle as an independent CFI.

I’ve long argued that shared ownership makes the most sense for the vast majority of pilots, because you split your upfront and fixed costs, and airplanes love to be flown more. Let’s say you go in on that 172 with two friends who are also about to start flight training and who all plan to fly 500 hours in 18 months. The airplane is now loving life at 84 hours per month, the engine has a better chance of making TBO, each of you only need to bring $6,800 into the deal, and the hourly rate has dropped to $105/hour. The three of you can share a local CFI and knock out your training in no time flat, and you can double-dip time-building hours by logging safety pilot time while your buddy flies under the hood.

There is a group of eight flight attendants at my airline that are doing exactly this. They formed a conglomerate and bought a Piper Warrior together, did much of their flight training in it, and are now building flight time together to get hired at a regional airline (and get automatically hired back at my airline after a few years!). I’m so damn proud of these folks’ ingenuity and thriftiness, and I can’t wait to welcome them to my side of the flight deck door.

But honestly, I think this focus on cost misses the real attraction of aircraft ownership for the aspiring professional pilot: It potentially represents a massive increase in the value of your training and time building. Not having to work around an FBO or flight school’s schedule is huge. Being able to put together long cross-country adventures will build your flight time faster, give you a trove of valuable experience, and be far more enjoyable and less likely to burn you out. You’ll know your airplane intimately, will have the assurance of knowing you’re the only one flying it and it’s not being abused by other students, and you’ll gain a great deal of insight into systems and maintenance.

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If I were to start over today, knowing what I know now, I’d buy a classic taildragger, let’s say an Aeronca Champ, for $30,000. I’d get my private in it and then build time flying it all over America at 75 mph ($79/hour for 500 hours in 18 months), go to a Part 141 school for instrument through CFI, and then once I had a couple hundred hours of tailwheel time, I’d hang out my shingle as a niche tailwheel instructor (going rate: $60-plus/hour) and get to 1,500 hours that way. I’d have fantastic stick and rudder skills and a bunch of great stories to take to my first airline job.

This is a bit of a fantasy, because few zero-time pilots have the knowledge to successfully navigate such a path on their own. You’d need guidance from experienced owners and old-school instructors. It should give you the idea, however, of the possibilities if you get a bit creative and deviate from the cookie-cutter career path that will leave you $100,000 in debt and potentially bore you to death en route to the promised land.

The post Should You Buy an Airplane for Training and Time Building? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Ready to take that next step in your pilot career? FLYING contributor Sam Weigel’s got you covered with details about flow-through agreements between regional airlines and the majors.

Sam’s got tips for choosing a regional airline, including pros and cons about flow-throughs and what they could do for your career progression. They can add a layer of predictability to your career. 

Also, Sam offers a brief history and background on the issue, including his personal perspective. 

The post Can Airline Flow-Through Agreements Benefit Your Pilot Career? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.