Pilotage

A former editor of AOPA Pilot, Mark Twombly flies his Piper Twin Comanche in Florida.

One-upmanship is a time-honored tradition in aviation, and in keeping with that spirit I say, "Top this!"

I can take off in my airplane from my home field and fly to any of eight different countries nonstop. That's eight, as in three less than 11, which is how many I could fly to if I was willing to land with VFR fuel reserves instead of IFR reserves.

This is without resorting to such tricks as installing auxiliary fuel tanks in every crevice or flying at a radically low, range-extending power setting. Nor is my airplane a Burt Rutan Voyager knockoff capable of endurance measured in days instead of hours. It's an unmodified Piper Twin Comanche with standard tanks — 84 gallons usable. At a conservative average block-to-block speed of 150 knots, I can cover about 650 nautical miles in no-wind conditions and land with a hour of tach time still in the tanks.

The secret to my international reach is the starting point. Take a map, pick any point within U.S. borders, and scribe a circle with a 650-nm radius. Ignoring political restrictions, where could I fly to without ending the trip with the Twin Comanche's first, and last, water landing?

From San Diego, only Mexico is within reach. From Anchorage I could fly to Canada and the northeastern tip of Russia. From Brownsville, Texas, I could make Mexico, Belize, and Guatemala, barely. Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, is good for a nonstop flight to Canada, the Bahamas, or Bermuda.

Now look at Florida. The Caribbean and its many small island countries, as well as parts of Mexico and Central America, are within a few hours' flight of Fort Myers, where I base. If I could land in Cuba and also overfly it at will (I can do neither, although with prior permission overflights are permitted), I could fly nonstop to Cuba, the Cayman Islands, Jamaica, Haiti, the Turks and Caicos, Mexico, Honduras, or Belize. If I stretched my fuel (bad idea) or departed from Key West (excellent idea), I could add Nicaragua, Guatemala, and the Dominican Republic to my list of nonstop destinations.

I used to dream about making such exotic international flights. I would visualize climbing high to get the highest true airspeed for the lowest fuel consumption from normally aspirated engines. I would imagine myself listening for heart-stopping hiccups while flying over benign blue water. And I would see myself looking down on island nations and Third World lands that are close to the United States geographically but in another hemisphere economically.

In recent years I've begun to act on my travel fantasies. I've flown to the Cayman Islands, Jamaica, the Turks and Caicos, and throughout the Bahamas. I've flown over Cuba several times, and I hope someday soon I can land and explore the island without provoking the U.S. State Department.

Flying internationally is one of the most memorable uses of a general aviation airplane. All of the reasons we fly ourselves in the United States — convenience, flexibility, the invigorating mental workout, the camaraderie of all we meet in the aviation community from controllers to the person who fills the tanks, and the view — are present in double doses when it comes to international flying.

Last August I flew on American Airlines to Belize in Central America. It was a short, pleasant flight from Miami. I stood in line for about 30 minutes to clear customs and then caught a taxi to the hotel. It was all very routine and unremarkable.

I compare that with a flight in the Twin Comanche to Montego Bay, Jamaica, a fuel stop on the route from Grand Cayman to Providenciales in the Turks and Caicos. A layer of broken clouds over the low hills west of the airport prompted a complicated, interesting instrument approach — the only one I've ever had to fly in the Caribbean.

We had to clear customs just to refuel, but while arriving airline passengers queued up, we dealt with our own general aviation customs agent. She was friendly and extremely helpful. When we discovered we had to pay for the fuel in Jamaican dollars, she hailed a cab, instructed the driver to take us to an ATM and wait until we were ready to return, and briefed us on how to keep ourselves and our cash clear of trouble.

The leg from Montego Bay to Provo took us over the barren, brown hills of Haiti, with the verdant Dominican Republic looming in the distance. We landed in Provo just before dark and wound up in a heated argument with an immigration official because we didn't have enough cash to pay the exorbitant entry fees.

With hope for an amicable settlement fading and a night in the local jail looking like a real possibility, a Canadian ex-pat stuck her head in the door, assessed our plight, and generously offered to lend us the money on the spot. The next day we stopped by her and her husband's live-aboard boat to pay her back, with interest — a bouquet of flowers.

International travel is at its best when it can be called an adventure. It is always that when the transportation is by general aviation airplane. And from where I park, there's no lack of international destinations from which to choose. Unless you're in Florida, too, try topping that.

By the way, did I mention that I can take off from my home field and fly sea to shining sea, one U.S. coast to another, in about 30 minutes?