Island hopping

If Santa was even jollier than usual Thursday as he made his procedure turn over Marpi, it’s easy to see why: The grizzled old aviator has seen fuel prices plunge. Flying was never cheap, but at least it’s a lot cheaper now.

It’s a good excuse to relish this blessing: The Commonwealth offers some of the world’s greatest flying. You sure can’t beat the scenery. Or the weather (typhoons notwithstanding).

Here’s a question I get on a regular basis: Is it viable for someone, or some association of someones, on Saipan to own and operate their own aircraft so they can island hop for business or pleasure?

Short answer: Sure. Longer answer: If you don’t do it with an obsessive and intelligent focus on safety, you’re better off trading your aviator shades for an iPod.

I can’t do justice to this field in a brief column. Nor is this a how-to guide. It’s what I’d tell you if you bought me a cup of coffee, so here’s 14 ounces of caffeinated hangar talk:

1. What about helicopters? Well, they’re lots of fun, but they’re no place for the tenderfoot. If you need a copter, charter one.

2. How about airplanes? They’re very doable. Flying between Saipan, Tinian, Rota, and Guam is straightforward and fun; Pagan is a special case and is excluded from my context here.

Personally, over water, for anything longer than a Saipan to/from Tinian route, my preference in airplanes is for a multi-engine airplane (as opposed to a single-engine airplane.) At the smallest, most affordable end of that spectrum, the family sedan breed of these craft are known as “light twins,” which generally seat from four to six people (including the driver).

A light twin typically has one piston-engine on each wing and is propeller-driven.

My favorite of the breed is the Piper Seminole, just because I’ve always had so much fun in them. But other worthy offerings include the Piper Aztec, Piper Seneca, and Beech Baron.

As for acquisition costs, I don’t track light twin costs regularly, and, as you can imagine, there are a lot of variables involved. I called my pals at an airport in Florida that does a lot of overhauls and repairs, and was advised that $130,000 to $160,000 or so would be at the lower end of the spectrum (but not at the very bottom end) for a very used one suitable for fair-weather island duty; listings I’ve seen have ranged from about $55,000 to almost a half a million bucks, so take your pick.

As for operating costs (fuel, oil, insurance, spare parts, maintenance, repairs, pilot salary and/or training, hanger or ramp space, etc.), these will range in the three digits (i.e. hundreds of dollars) per flight hour. Generic numbers for this can really get you in trouble, you have to take each case on its own specifics. For the sake of mentioning it, I’ll note that rental rates in the mainland, where fuel is a lot cheaper, are typically about $230 per flight hour on up for light twins, but those guys have economies of scale that you probably can’t match.

As for actually flying the craft, you need to have the appropriate pilot’s license or, of course, hire a pilot who does. Small airplane pilots frequently have pretty low salaries. Your mechanic, per hour, will cost you a lot more than your pilot will, unless you had the foresight to hire a “pilot/mechanic,” that is, somebody with both flavors of license which, on Saipan, would be a smart move.

Can you team up with the buddies to buy and operate an airplane? Yes indeed. Owner-operated airplanes typically spend very few hours aloft, so it can make a lot of sense to share costs of ownership and operations. But if you think a shotgun wedding will strain a relationship, wait until you find yourself in an aircraft partnership.

Can you subsidize your aircraft by charging the public to fly it places? The quick answer is no; not without meeting a lot of serious regulatory requirements which you probably don’t want to mess with.

As you may know, I have a smattering of flying photos at TropicalEd.com. My latest ride is the Airbus A300, but I haven’t posted any pictures yet (sorry).

Well, I’m done with that coffee you bought me. Here’s to blue skies, and in paradise, no less.