Photography by Chris Rose
The indescribably blue ocean around the Bahamas is intriguing from any height, but when seen from the close proximity of a seaplane, it dazzles.
Scores of uninhabited islands; green-tinged coral reefs just below the aquamarine surface; plunging ocean depths that fall 3,000 feet or more; miles of mangroves; and saltwater rivers pulled between rocky passes, seem barely more than a wingspan away.
During a half-day, 400-nm flight from Florida to Crooked Island—one of the more distant and less visited “out islands,” without a harbor suitable for cruise ships or an airport made for airliners—Gary Lickle, owner and pilot of an amphibious Carbon Cub, seldom climbs more than a few hundred feet from the shimmering ocean surface.
“An amphibious floatplane provides the flexibility to set down almost anywhere, and we make the most of that capability here because there are so many places to explore,” he says. “Some of the atolls we visit are so remote that there’s no sign people have ever been there. And we make sure and leave them in the same condition we found them.”
On this trip, Lickle is in radio contact with pilots in three other airplanes, and they’re all headed for several days of fishing in the shallow waters around a remote island destination. For the second half of the four-hour flight, Lickle and passenger Dack Patriarca are joined by longtime friend Jim Roswell and his adult son Madison, flying beside them in an amphibious Super Cub. After stops at Marsh Harbor to clear Bahamian customs and Stella Maris on Long Island for fuel, the lighthouse at the southern tip of Crooked Island comes into view from a distance of about 20 miles.
The Bird Rock Lighthouse isn’t all that tall (112 feet), but the land surrounding it is so low, soggy, and flat that the structure seems more prominent. Like many of the 700-plus islands in the Bahamas chain, the dry land barely clears the Atlantic Ocean surface. At Crooked Island, a network of saltwater rivers connects shallow but broad tidal pools to the plunging ocean depths just offshore. That creates a haven for game fish, and the anglers and scuba divers who pursue them.
Fishermen from around the globe come to this part of the world to try their luck at catching bonefish and permit in the shallows, and wahoo and marlin in the blue depths. General aviation presents the best way to reach these pristine areas, and it transforms the journey itself into an essential part of the adventurous island experience.
“The fishing and the diving here are every bit as good as they are in places like Indonesia or the South Pacific,” said Patriarca, a GA pilot from Florida. “And you don’t have to travel halfway around the world. Places like this are accessible to pilots flying VFR. Even though we’re not far from home, it feels totally different.”
Pilots who fly above 6,000 feet can stay in radio and radar contact with Miami Center over the Bahamas, but the pilots of this group (consisting of two Super Cubs, an RV–6, and a Bonanza A36) prefer staying lower and relying on each other for backup. “We know radar and flight following are of limited use at the lower altitudes where we prefer to fly,” Lickle said. “We’d rather fly together and depend on each other.”
The faster, higher-flying Bonanza and RV–6 report clear weather and calm seas as they overtake the Cubs and pass beyond them on the final leg, and there is a steady banter about the fishing conditions they expect to encounter at their destination.
The Cub pilots keep a collection of plastic gas cans in the storage compartments of their floats, and they use them to carry avgas to extend their range. “In the Bahamas, it’s our policy to always buy fuel if it’s available,” Lickle said. “You never know when a pump is going to be broken, or an FBO will be sold out. Carrying the extra fuel gives you options.”
Approaching Crooked Island, the pilots switch to the Bahamas aviation party line on 122.8 MHz, which is used as the common traffic advisory frequency for most airports in the region, and announce their intentions to land at Pittstown’s narrow and gritty Runway 10. Once down, they taxi to a stop on the prickly grass in front of the Crooked Island Lodge, a series of cottages that draw fishermen and scuba divers from many distant parts of the world.
As the propellers wind to a halt, lodge manager Cynthia Williams meets the group at their airplanes with red and orange rum punches on ice. “This will make sure your stay gets off to the right start,” she says, handing over the sweet but potent drinks.
Never happened. Flying VFR in the Bahamas can be done without flight plans or any special procedures, and this group takes full advantage of those freedoms. When they’re not fishing, the group flies around the other islands in the chain for day trips, returning before dark—when VFR flying in the Bahamas is banned.
For seaplanes, the cays and beaches within 15 minutes’ flying time from Pittstown present a range of attractions. Lickle and the Roswells strap fishing rods to their airplanes and carry diving gear in their cargo compartments. “We’ve been flying here and boating here for more than 35 years, and Madison was practically raised out here,” Lickle said. “Some trips we make with our spouses. Sometimes we bring our kids. This is a guys’ trip where the focus is fishing. But every trip is unique and has its own special character.”
Many floatplane owners refuse to allow their airplanes in saltwater out of concern for corrosion. But Roswell and Lickle say their airplanes were built with extensive corrosion protection, they take extra measures to treat them before and after each ocean trip, and the rewards for water landings are too rich to pass up.
From above, it’s easy to spot the dark outline of stingrays cruising in the shallow waters. There are also a pair of dolphin and a lone tiger shark, its distinctive and colorful skin pattern clearly visible from the air. The seaplanes land at a sheltered beach, and a wary osprey flies out to show its readiness to protect its nest from intruders.
Madison pulls on a mask, snorkel, and fins; grabs a sling that had been lashed to the wing strut; and dives down to the grassy bottom about 10 feet below the floats. There, he spears a small grouper, then hands it to his dad who is standing on the pontoon of his Super Cub.
“Our dinner menu has just been set,” Jim says.
It’s about 90 degrees in the sunshine and about 80 in the water, and as the day wears on, towering cumulus clouds build to the east. The wind kicks up to about 15 knots and scattered but sometimes intense rainshowers spread throughout the region. The Cubs return to the airport, where they’re tied down securely.
A few hours later, the showers are gone, the sky is brilliant blue again, and the RV–6 and Bonanza return from a day trip to San Salvador. Lickle acts on his own advice about never passing up a fuel stop and siphons 10 gallons of avgas from his friend Randy Rizor’s Bonanza. In the Carbon Cub, that’s enough for two flight hours, or roughly 200 miles in no-wind conditions. The Bonanza has more than enough range to make it home nonstop without refueling, even though the group plans to stop at Stella Maris (where avgas sells for $7.15 a gallon). The weather in the Bahamas can change quickly, but Lickle said he’s seldom been stuck by weather.
“I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve had to change my travel dates based on weather,” he said. “And if you’re going to get stuck somewhere, take a look around. This isn’t a bad place to spend an extra day.”
The flying conditions are ideal, and several pilots stay airborne into the evening and touch down just as the sun meets the horizon.
As they shut down, a U.S. Coast Guard helicopter flies overhead. These islands were centers for drug smuggling in the 1980s and early 1990s, although coastal patrols and powerful U.S. radar seem to have brought those activities here to a stop.
“They say that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” Lickle says. “Well, what happens in the Bahamas never really happened at all.”
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One of the most intimidating aspects of international general aviation flying is U.S. Customs and Border Protection’s electronic notification system known as eAPIS.
How bad is eAPIS?
It starts with an interface so awful that several entrepreneurial firms have made successful businesses by offering alternatives. (The most popular, Flashpass, is based in Mexico. Really.) Other lowlights include baffling password rules, nonsensical nomenclature, Microsoft Explorer, and the heavy-handed threat of huge fines if pilots miss their anticipated border crossing times by more than 15 minutes.
Fortunately, the actual imposition of fines is extremely rare, and CBP has made some needed upgrades.
For helpful eAPIS tips, take the AOPA Air Safety Institute’s free online tutorial.
Every sailor—and any seaplane pilot—knows that saltwater doesn’t mix with metal surfaces. Remember these tips when you fly in salty climates:
A quick flight through some rainshowers doesn’t hurt, either.
It’s hard to have a bad time in a place dominated by sunshine, surrounded by crystal blue water, and overrun with great diving and fishing. Follow these quick tips to guarantee the great experience.
As this edition of AOPA Pilot went to press, AOPA learned that the government of the Bahamas has begun enforcing severe restrictions on seaplane operations that threaten to make adventures like the ones on these pages a thing of the past.
An obscure policy from the 1970s requires all seaplane pilots flying in the Bahamas to receive prior written permission for every water landing. Many seaplane pilots, even those who have flown in the Bahamas for years, are unaware that such policies even exist. Recently, however, AOPA has been informed that the Bahamian government has begun enforcing those old, outdated, and overly broad restrictions on seaplane flying.
According to the Bahamas Civil Aviation Department (CAD), pilots must obtain written CAD permission for every water landing, and water landings can only be made at designated seaplane bases. In addition, the CAD requires written approval from property owners, proof of insurance, and a written request from pilots describing the time, date, location, and reason for each water takeoff and landing.
AOPA is working with the Bahamian government to eliminate these unnecessary burdens. For new developments, please check the website and look for “Flight Planning for the Bahamas.” —Dave Hirschman
Avgas can be expensive in the Bahamas, but pilots seldom pass up a chance to buy it.
“If I have a chance to fill the tanks, I fill the tanks,” said Gary Lickle, who has been flying in the region for decades. “You never know when you’re going to have another chance.”
Broken pumps, electrical outages, and missed fuel shipments are common in the region—even at airports where fuel is reputed to be available.
At Stella Maris, a common waypoint for pilots on their way to or from the “out islands,” avgas sells for $7.15 and jet fuel $6.55 a gallon. That’s a little more than a dollar-and-a-half per gallon higher than at my home airport, but the Bahamas price is more than $2 a gallon less than at Baltimore-Washington International Airport.
Video Extra: Join us as we fly to the Bahamas and beyond in this online video.