Pilotage

Mark R. Twombly, a former editor in chief of AOPA Pilot, lives in Florida.

Municipal airstrip, Belize City, Belize: The Cessna Grand Caravan trundled across the small patch of asphalt ramp and made a sharp right turn onto the runway. Approaching the end, the pilot applied brake pressure to edge the airplane to the extreme right side of the strip, then pushed hard on the left pedal to pivot 180 degrees into takeoff position. A bit of tap-dancing on the pedals put the nose squarely over the centerline, and with a firm push forward on the power lever, 8,700 pounds of passengers, bags, pilot, and single-engine turboprop began to gather speed.

I monitored the young pilot's every action from the second-best seat in the house, the copilot's position. Despite my fantasy of handling checklist call-outs or even taking over the controls at the captain's invitation — heck, I'd logged nearly two hours of pilot-in-command time in a Grand Caravan a decade ago for a pilot report — I had to just sit and watch. My role was nothing more than a paying passenger, one of 14 on the Tropic Air flight.

With most of the 1,800-meter-long strip behind us, the pilot applied back-pressure to the yoke to raise the nose. Not a moment too soon, we cleared the uppermost branches of the low thicket of mangrove trees rising from the shallow bay just off the departure end of the runway. The pilot configured the attitude, power, airspeed, and trim for a climb to our cruise altitude — a lofty 2,000 feet agl. We flew straight and level for perhaps 10 minutes before he set up for a steep descent to our destination airport, San Pedro on Ambergris Cay.

The aviation world takes on a very different look beyond our Southern border, in what we Americans characterize as Third World countries in the Caribbean and Central and South America. In the United States, privately operated general aviation air.craft — and private pilots — vastly outnumber commercial operators and commercial pilots. In Belize, the opposite is true.

Belize is a relatively small country in both physical size and population, located in the southeast corner of the Yucatan Peninsula. Formerly known as British Honduras, it's bordered to the north by Mexico, to the west and south by Guatemala, and to the east by the Caribbean Sea. The warm waters of the Caribbean are the source of one of Belize's greatest assets — a nearly continuous 185-mile-long coral reef, second in size only to Australia's Great Barrier Reef.

Belize is considered one of the world's premier scuba-diving destinations, but a growing number of ecotourists are attracted to the country's lush rain forests, profuse vegetation, countless Mayan ruins, and fabulous wildlife ranging from monkeys and wild parrots to elusive jaguars. The preferred way for divers and ecotourists to get to where they want to go in Belize is by airplane.

The 15-minute flight between Belize City and San Pedro, a busy little scuba town crowding the southern tip of an offshore peninsula, is the milk run for Tropic Air and its friendly competition, Maya Airways. Tropic and Maya are two scheduled air carriers based in Belize. The only two. The term scheduled air carrier is infused with notions of size and substance — fleets of massive jets, legions of pilots and flight attendants, aisle carts laden with free nibbles and drinks, runways that are miles long. In Belize, it means something else.

The country's based aircraft fleet numbers about two dozen commercial aircraft and a smattering of noncommercial general aviation airplanes, all bearing Belizean V3 registration markings. Tropic Air operates Grand Caravans and a Cessna 208 and 180. Maya also has Caravans, as well as Britten Norman Islanders, a sturdy fixed-gear piston twin used extensively throughout the Third World. Caribee Air Service, a charter operator based at Belize City Municipal, has a Cessna 182 and a Piper Cherokee Six. Javier's Flying Service, another Belize City charter operator, flies a Cessna 206 and 172.

The airplanes frequent Belize's 10 public-use airstrips including PSW Goldson International, the gateway jetport on the northern outskirts of Belize City, the country's business center. A number of private strips also dot the landscape, especially near the big commercial shrimp and banana farms.

Who flies the airplanes for Tropic, Maya, and other Belizean commercial operators? The majority of the country's pilot population, that's who. Some 55 to 60 people carry Belizean pilot certificates, according to Tropic Air Chief Pilot Mike Kuhn who, ironically, is a native Missourian. At one time Belize administered a pilot certification program, but now aspiring aviators must obtain training and certification elsewhere and then apply for "validation" in Belize. It's not an easy process.

Some students take out loans at 18-percent interest to cover the considerable cost of basic training, often done in the United States. In the United States, earning a commercial certificate with an instrument rating means a pilot has the basic credentials to start earning a few dollars, but Belize ups the ante. A person must log a minimum of 750 hours' total time before becoming eligible for a Belizean pilot certificate.

A British protectorate, Belize models its aviation regulations on the British system, requiring pilot applicants to pass an extensive written "air laws" exam. Kuhn notes wryly that "the regulations are pretty much the same" as in the United States, but "the answers are different." Tropic helps its new hires get the required 750 hours by putting them in the right seat until they are fully qualified as captains.

To be a professional pilot in Belize is to be held in high regard by your countrymen. The pay is good, too; for a senior captain — as much as $40,000 a year in Belizean dollars, which is $20,000 U.S.

Despite the social status and compensation, Belize is experiencing a pilot shortage. Kuhn is having trouble recruiting Belizeans for pilot slots, and recently has had to hire several foreign nationals. As a result, government agencies are teaming up with commercial operators to offer flight-training scholarships in the hopes of attracting more native Belizeans to the profession.

Kuhn, who grew up at the airport his mother operated in St. Clair, Missouri, flew for Wings of Hope in Honduras for a year before signing on with Tropic 10 years ago. He's in Belize for the long haul.

"I've got a good thing going here," he says. "I try not to work too hard — I fly when I have to. There isn't a 7-Eleven around the corner, the electricity is not always reliable, and the water and telephone service is expensive. But I've got a beach in my front yard, the water is warm, and I can windsurf, dive, and fish."

A few days after my first officer nonexperience on Tropic Air, I arrived early for the flight from Dangriga, a small coastal town in southern Belize, to PSW Goldson, where I would catch the big jet back to the United States. The attendant in the tiny office/terminal said it's permitted to sit up front, but the final decision is up to the pilot. A few minutes later an Islander operated by Maya landed and rolled up to the ramp. When the props stopped turning the attendant began loading our bags into the back.

The only passengers aboard the Islander when it landed were a couple sitting behind the pilot. They were continuing on to the jetport, so they did not get out. The two people traveling with me have no particular love for small, noisy piston-powered airplanes, and climbed into a bench seat in the rear of the long, narrow cabin.

Wearing what I hoped was the convincing face of a fellow aviator, I started to slide into the copilot's seat. The pilot had other plans. Mumbling something about weight and balance, he waved me back to the rear door and a view of an oil-streaked engine cowl. How could he have known that I'm a little short of PIC time in Islanders?