Sailing over Manhattan

The Statue of Liberty, the skyscrapers of Manhattan, the East River, and the Brooklyn Bridge—all were bathed in soft morning sunshine. It was a hit parade of Big Apple views.

The flight is a rite of passage for many pilots—particularly me, a rusty pilot returning after a 34-year absence. I’m an ocean-cruising sailor and, after selling my boat, I decided to get back in the air again. Many sailors are also pilots, and I’m equally happy doing either.

I began recurrent flight training in early summer 2024 with an old friend and fellow sailor, Rex Damschroder. He owns Fremont Airport (14G) in Fremont, Ohio, and rents a Piper Tomahawk—the same model aircraft I’d trained in 43 years ago at age 26 and flew for a few years in New Orleans.

The 90-minute drive is well worth it from my home in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Fremont is slow-paced and nontowered, and the Tomahawk is usually available. The FBO, with a friendly French bulldog named Piper, has the down-home atmosphere of a country store.

Rex, with 25,000 hours, has logged 23 single-engine trans-Atlantic crossings. With his long-distance flying experience, he was the perfect instructor to get me back in the left seat—and especially back into cross-country.

Generally, it takes an hour of instruction for every year’s absence from aviation to regain competency. It took 29 hours of dual before I completed my flight review.

In mid-October, I was ready for my first big cross-country: a 220-mile flight to my cousin’s airpark home near Chicago. Besides a Mode C transponder and ADS-B Out, the biggest change from my earlier days was the use of electronic flight bags.

My route took me over two VORs, but I used them only as backups, relying on GPS. Navigation is much easier these days, but I still confirmed my course using landmarks on a paper chart.

Over endless Midwest farm fields, flight following handed me off to successive controllers until I neared Naperville on Chicago’s west side. Taxiing up to my cousin’s house just off the runway was a major accomplishment—I’d dreamed about it for years.

Over the winter, I worked on crosswind landings and practiced countless touch and goes. I did a few 100-mile hamburger runs, then a 180-mile flight down to Indianapolis for lunch with another cousin.

At this stage, I’d flown 230 hours, and around 50 as a newbie, rusty pilot. This is a particularly perilous period for low-time pilots like me. With just enough experience to start feeling comfortable, I reminded myself not to get too confident and fly into trouble.

With this inner voice of caution, I left my flatland comfort zone to try a little mountain flying. Yet another cousin lives in Middletown, New York, 60 miles north of Manhattan. Flying 400 miles over the Allegheny Mountains to visit him made a perfect cross-country destination.

I plotted a course on paper charts (and in ForeFlight) and ran it by Rex, who approved the route. After a weather briefing, I departed Fremont on a July morning bound for Orange County Airport (MGJ) in New York.

Flight following handed me off to a succession of controllers as I continued east. Once into Pennsylvania, the mountains rose below, and I increased altitude, keeping well above the dense forests of the Allegheny Mountains.

After a fuel stop in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania (home of the Piper Aviation Museum), I climbed to 7,500 over broken clouds and the Wilkes-Barre vortac. With an outside air temperature of 52 degrees, the cabin heater felt good. My last controller, New York Approach, let me go five miles from Orange County, and I landed five hours from Fremont. I’d done it!

But now came the real test: the Hudson River VFR Corridor.

Regarded by many pilots as the ultimate flightseeing route, this passage allows GA aircraft to fly in uncontrolled airspace past lower Manhattan while staying under the busy New York Class B airspace.

However, a strict set of rules must be followed. VFR aircraft transitioning the corridor stay between 1,000 feet and 1,300 feet and follow the river’s western shore southbound, the eastern shore northbound.

A current New York Terminal Area Chart is required on board, and completion of an online tutorial at faasafety.gov is highly recommended. Aircraft must monitor CTAF 123.05, be familiar with Hudson River and East River Exclusion SFRA rules, not exceed 140 knots, and report their position at designated landmarks.It is regarded by many pilots as the ultimate flightseeing route.

These landmarks are Alpine Tower (at the north end), the George Washington Bridge, the museum ship Intrepid, the Clock, the Statue of Liberty, and the Verrazano Narrows Bridge.

I flew the route in the early morning. Nervous, but relieved to find little traffic, I made my position reports, circled the Statue of Liberty counterclockwise (per regulations), then headed north past the Clock and Wall Street.

The views were stunning—nearly too fantastic and amazing to process in real time. To the east, the skyscrapers of lower Manhattan rose above, and I glanced into apartments and offices as they slipped past. It seemed almost unreal, like a dream. There is no other flying experience like it—no wonder it’s on so many pilots’ bucket lists.

I’ve come a long way in my return to flying. I started glider training early this summer and recently soloed. Who knows where my rusty pilot journey will take me, but I’m having the time of my life finding out.

Charles Scott lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan. A semi-retired cameraman/photographer, he is a world-traveler, offshore sailor, and most recently, a current pilot again after a 34-year absence from aviation.