There are moments in aviation that burn themselves into your memory so deeply that you can replay them frame by frame for the rest of your life. One of those moments happened during my flight training in a little Cessna 150 — a tiny two-seater that taught me some of the biggest lessons I’ve ever learned in the air.
It was a beautiful, crystal-clear day. The kind of day pilots dream about. Blue skies, endless visibility, sunshine pouring across the wings. But up high, the winds were a different story. We climbed to 5,000 feet, and the west winds were howling at over 45 miles per hour. Even in that small airplane, you could feel the sky moving around us. It was bumpy, lively — the kind of air that demands your full attention.
That day’s lesson was slow flight training.
We reduced power and carefully slowed the airplane down, holding altitude, keeping the wings level, feeling every tiny control input. I dropped the flaps to 40 degrees and brought the aircraft down toward landing speed. The Cessna felt soft and mushy on the controls, hanging on the edge of flight, exactly where it was supposed to be for the exercise.
Then I looked down.
The ground wasn’t moving the way it should have been.
Instead of drifting forward beneath us, the earth was sliding the wrong direction. Slowly at first, then unmistakably clear — we were floating backwards. The headwind was stronger than our forward airspeed. We were still flying perfectly, wings level, nose pointed ahead… but relative to the ground, we were going in reverse.
We were flying backwards.
Just me and my instructor, suspended in the sky, riding a river of wind. It felt surreal. The airplane was doing everything it was designed to do, and the atmosphere was simply stronger that day. It was one of those rare moments where aviation stops being technical and becomes pure wonder. You don’t just learn — you feel what flight really is.
We laughed about it over the intercom, watching the landscape slide behind us. It was training, yes. But it was also magic. A reminder that the sky always has something new to teach you, no matter how small the airplane or how early you are in your journey.
That flight stayed with me. Not because of the maneuver itself, but because of the perspective it gave me. Aviation has a way of humbling you and thrilling you at the same time. It reminds you that you’re a guest in an invisible ocean of moving air — and sometimes, if you’re lucky, it lets you fly backwards just to prove a point.
Some passions sneak up on you quietly. Mine roared in on the whine of propellers and the smell of saltwater spray. In a place where seaplanes are lifelines and the skies are our highways, I didn’t just see airplanes — I saw freedom, adventure, and a world waiting to be explored from above.
At a very early age, I was bitten by the aviation bug. In Southeast Alaska, the only way to get from town to town — and for the most part, this still holds true today — was either by boat or by plane. And around here, seaplanes aren’t just handy, they’re essential.
When I was a kid, my dad worked part-time at the local airport. Sometimes he’d take me along, and that’s where I first laid eyes on the Ellis Airway Grumman Goose. I was amazed by those birds — their graceful lines, their ability to land on both water and land. Back then, our small airport also saw Pan Am, TWA, and the U.S. Coast Guard come through. For a young boy already fascinated by flight, it was pure magic.
I knew, even then, that one day I would become a commercial pilot.
Years passed, but that dream never faded. Then in January 1987, I made it happen. I traveled to a flight school in Northern California with one mission: earn my Private Pilot’s License. I did that — and more. In just seven months, I had also earned my Commercial License, my Instrument Rating, and my Seaplane Rating.
During those months, I literally ate, slept, and breathed aviation. Every day was a deep dive into the world I loved, and each hour in the air only deepened my passion.
My very first flight was in a Cessna 172, and I can still remember the thrill of that moment — the hum of the engine, the lift as the wheels left the ground, the world shrinking below. That flight wasn’t just a beginning; it was the start of a lifelong career in aviation.
And so, the boy who once stood at the edge of a runway watching Grumman Gooses take off, became a pilot himself. The journey had begun.
Decades later, I still feel the same rush every time I step into a cockpit. The boy who once pressed his face against the airport fence, mesmerized by a Grumman Goose, has flown countless hours over some of the most breathtaking landscapes in the world. Aviation didn’t just give me a career — it gave me a way of life. And every time I take off, I’m reminded of that first spark, and the dream it carried me into the sky.
Stepping into the world of private aviation can feel both thrilling and overwhelming—especially when you’re wearing two hats: charter sales and dispatch. In a small operation, these roles often overlap, demanding a unique combination of people skills, aviation knowledge, logistical savvy, and quick thinking. If you’re just beginning your journey in this niche, welcome aboard. Here’s what to expect—and how to prepare for takeoff.
1. Understand That Every Day Will Look Different
Unlike the rigid structure of scheduled commercial aviation, private jet charter is fluid and ever-changing. One day you’re planning a simple out-and-back mission for a local client; the next, you’re troubleshooting international permits and weather delays.
Key Tip: Flexibility is your best friend. Be ready to pivot and prioritize based on client needs, aircraft availability, weather, and operational limitations.
2. Sales Is Relationship-Based, Not Just Transactional
In private jet charter, you’re not just selling a flight—you’re building trust. Clients want to feel safe, seen, and taken care of. You’re dealing with high-net-worth individuals, business leaders, and sometimes celebrities, all of whom expect discretion, precision, and ease.
Key Tip: Be honest, responsive, and attentive. Learn your client’s preferences. Do they prefer a Gulfstream or a Challenger? Champagne or coffee? Window seat or aisle? Remember and personalize.
3. Learn the Basics of Aircraft Performance and Trip Feasibility
Even in sales, you need to understand the capabilities and limits of different aircraft. Can the jet land at that short airstrip in Telluride? How long is the flight from Aspen to Teterboro in a mid-size jet with winds aloft? Being able to answer these quickly sets you apart.
Key Tip: Create a quick reference guide of your fleet: aircraft range, runway requirements, passenger capacity, and baggage capacity. This helps you quote trips faster and with more confidence.
4. Time Management Is Crucial in Dispatch
If you’re also dispatching, you’re the bridge between the sales team, pilots, maintenance, and the client. You’ll be monitoring trip status, weather, NOTAMs, and coordinating ground transportation, catering, and FBO preferences.
Key Tip: Build a rhythm:
Check upcoming flights first thing in the morning
Confirm crew availability
Verify fuel orders and FBO reservations
Double-check permits and weather
Communicate clearly and early if anything changes
5. Expect to Be On-Call and On-Your-Toes
In a smaller operation, you’re likely part of a lean team. That means you might be working weekends, late nights, or holidays—especially when high season hits (hello, Super Bowl and Christmas in Aspen).
Key Tip: Set boundaries where you can, but embrace the lifestyle. It’s fast-paced, rewarding, and you’re never bored.
6. Tools You’ll Use Daily
Flight Planning Software (like ForeFlight, JetPlanner, or FOS)
CRM Systems for managing leads and repeat clients
Scheduling Tools like Avinode or Schedaero
Text, Email, and Phone – the personal touch still matters
Weather and NOTAM Briefing Sites
Key Tip: Get fast at toggling between systems. Speed and accuracy matter when quoting or updating a trip.
7. Keep a Log – Learn from Every Trip
Every trip has something to teach you: a missed catering order, a last-minute runway closure, a crew duty-time restriction. Don’t beat yourself up over mistakes—log them, debrief, and learn.
Key Tip: Keep a personal “Lessons Learned” notebook or file. It’ll become one of your best resources.
Final Thoughts from the Flight Deck
This industry isn’t for the faint of heart. But for those who love aviation, logistics, and people—it’s one of the most rewarding paths you can take. When you help a client get from A to B safely, smoothly, and with a smile on their face, it makes the long hours worth it.
So whether you’re in the dispatch room at 5 a.m. or closing a transatlantic charter deal at 10 p.m., remember—you’re now part of the engine that keeps private aviation moving.
I grew up in a small Native American village tucked away in the breathtaking wilderness of Southeast Alaska. Metlakatla—our only Native American reserve in the state—is a close-knit fishing and lumber town on Annette Island. That’s home.
In Metlakatla, the rhythm of life follows the tides. Fishing isn’t just a job—it’s a legacy. Many of my family members made their living on the water, and when the lumber mill was running full steam, others worked there too. As for me, I spent time working with my parents and family at the fish processing plant—Annette Island Packing Co. That was my world growing up. The salt air, the sound of boats returning from the sea, the bustle of the dock—that was normal.
But even then, something in me stirred for something… different. Bigger. Higher.
You see, in our village, there were only two ways to leave: by boat or by seaplane. And those seaplanes—they captured my imagination from a young age. Every time I saw one skim across the water and lift into the air, my heart lifted with it. Fishing might have been in my blood, but my mind? It was always in the clouds.
When I got to high school and we took the SATs, I struggled. Sitting in a classroom, grinding through test prep—that just wasn’t me. The advice I got wasn’t surprising: “Stick with what you know. Maybe go into fishing or lumber.” That’s what people expected. Based on my test scores, they said becoming a pilot might not be in the cards for me.
But you know what? I didn’t care.
I knew what I wanted.
I was going to become a pilot. A seaplane pilot.
So after high school, I took a year to regroup, then enrolled in flight school. Seven months later, I had earned my Private Pilot Certificate, my Commercial Pilot License, my Instrument Rating, and my Seaplane Rating. I didn’t stop. A little over a year after that, I was flying online—earning a paycheck—as a commercial seaplane pilot.
And you know what? I did it. No matter what anyone else said, I made it.
I’ve now spent the majority of my career in aviation, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. Aviation gave me a life that started in a small Native village and took me to the skies above the Tongass National Forest, the Inside Passage, and beyond.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:
Don’t let someone else’s opinion of your potential define your path.
I’m living proof that ambition and persistence can overcome low test scores, limited opportunity, and even small-town expectations.
Aviation isn’t just my career—it’s my life. And it all started in a little fishing village called Metlakatla.
In the picturesque village of Metlakatla, Alaska, surrounded by the majestic beauty of the Pacific Northwest, a young man named Iñupiaq dreamed of the skies. Growing up in a place where the land met the ocean, he found himself constantly gazing upwards, mesmerized by the aircrafts that flew overhead.
From a tender age, Iñupiaq was captivated by the idea of soaring above the clouds, exploring the world from a vantage point few could imagine. He would spend hours crafting paper airplanes, meticulously studying aviation books, and asking endless questions to the local aviators who occasionally visited the village. His dreams were bold, but they were his own.
Yet, as he grew older, the harsh reality of society’s expectations began to set in. School was a challenge for Iñupiaq; traditional tests and academic pressures did not align with his way of learning. Teachers and peers alike often discouraged his dream, pointing to his test scores as a measure of his potential. “Stick to something more realistic,” they would say. “Aviation is not for everyone.”
Despite these discouraging words, Iñupiaq’s spirit remained unbroken. He found solace and strength in his determination, knowing that passion and perseverance were the true markers of success. He sought out every opportunity to learn about flying, volunteering at the local airstrip, and saving every penny for flight lessons.
Through sheer grit and tenacity, Iñupiaq managed to secure a scholarship to a flight school, where he worked harder than ever before. His instructors were impressed not by his test scores, but by his unwavering dedication and natural affinity for aviation. He excelled in his training, proving that intelligence and capability could not be defined by standardized tests alone.
Years of hard work paid off when Iñupiaq finally earned his pilot’s license. He went on to have a storied career in the aviation industry, flying commercial planes and touching the lives of countless passengers. His journey was one of inspiration, a testament to the power of dreams and the importance of following one’s passion despite the naysayers.
Now, over 40 years into his career, Iñupiaq often returns to Metlakatla to speak to young people about his journey. He encourages them to believe in their dreams and to never let anyone define their limits.
“The sky is not the limit,” he tells them. “It’s just the beginning. Chase your dreams with all your heart, and let your passion be your guiding star.”
I hope this story provides the encouragement you’re looking for. It’s a reminder that our dreams are worth fighting for, no matter the obstacles we face.
what would it take to reopen the annette island airport?
Reopening Annette Island Airport would involve several key steps and considerations:
1. Infrastructure Assessment and Repairs: o Runway and Taxiway Maintenance: The runways, especially the asphalt surface of Runway 12/30 and the gravel surface of Runway 2/20, would need thorough inspection and repairs1. o Facilities and Equipment: Ensuring that all airport facilities, including lighting, signage, and communication systems, are operational and up to current standards1.
2. Regulatory Compliance: o FAA Certification: The airport would need to meet Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) requirements for safety and operations1. o Environmental Impact Assessments: Conducting necessary environmental reviews to comply with federal and state regulations1.
3. Operational Readiness: o Staffing: Hiring and training staff for airport operations, including ground handling, security, and air traffic control (if applicable)1. o Emergency Services: Establishing or updating emergency response protocols and ensuring the availability of emergency services1.
4. Community and Stakeholder Engagement: o Local Support: Engaging with the Metlakatla Indian Community and other local stakeholders to gain support and address any concerns1. o Funding and Investment: Securing funding for the necessary upgrades and ongoing operations, possibly through federal grants, private investment, or tribal funding1.
5. Marketing and Partnerships: o Airline Partnerships: Negotiating with airlines to establish routes and services to and from the airport1. o Promotion: Marketing the airport to potential users, including tourists, businesses, and cargo operators1.
A little History of Annette Island Airport:
Annette Island Airport (IATA: ANN, ICAO: PANT, FAA LID: ANN) is located on Annette Island in the Prince of Wales – Hyder Census Area of the U.S. state of Alaska.[1] It is located 5 nautical miles (9 km) south of Metlakatla, Alaska.[2] The airport was established as the Annette Island Army Airfield during World War II and initially served as a military airbase.
Facilities and aircraft [edit] Annette Island Airport has two runways: 12/30 is 7,493 by 150 feet (2,284 x 46 m) with an asphalt surface and 2/20 is 5,709 by 150 feet (1,740 x 46 m) with a gravel surface. For the 12-month period ending January 16, 1990, the airport had 8,400 aircraft operations, an average of 23 per day: 64% general aviation, 24% military, and 12% air taxi.[1]
Historical airline service [edit] Prior to the opening of the Ketchikan International Airport (KTN) in 1973, the Annette Island Airport served as the primary airfield for scheduled passenger service for Ketchikan which is located approximately 20 air miles to the north. In 1947, Pan American World Airways was operating daily nonstop service to Seattle and Juneau with Douglas DC-4 prop aircraft with no change of plane flights operated twice a week to Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory of Canada via Juneau and then continuing on to Fairbanks, Galena and Nome in Alaska.[3] Pan Am later operated Douglas DC-6B and Boeing 377 Stratocruiser aircraft into the airport.[4] During the late 1950s, Pacific Northern Airlines (PNA, the successor of Woodley Airways) served the airport with Lockheed Constellation propliners with nonstop service to Seattle and Juneau as well as direct, no change of plane flights to Anchorage, Cordova and Yakutat.[5] The airport’s first jet service arrived during the early 1960s. In 1963, Pan Am was flying Boeing 707 jetliners into the airport with a daily roundtrip routing of Seattle – Annette Island – Juneau.[6] By 1965, Pacific Northern was operating Boeing 720 jetliners on nonstop flights to Seattle and Juneau as well as on direct services to Anchorage via Juneau.[7] In 1967, Pacific Northern was acquired by and merged into Western Airlines which continued to operate jet service into the airport.[8] By 1968, Western was serving the airport with Boeing 720B jetliners with nonstop service to Seattle and Juneau as well as direct, no change of plane flights to Portland, OR, San Francisco and Los Angeles.[9] In 1971, the federal Civil Aeronautics Board (CAB) awarded Alaska Airlines new route authority which enabled this air carrier to begin jet service into Annette Island Airport thus replacing Western.
With the opening of the Ketchikan International Airport in 1973, Annette Island lost all scheduled passenger jet flights as such airline service then moved to the then-new Ketchikan airport. Prior to the opening of the Ketchikan airport in 1973, Alaska Airlines was also operating scheduled flights with Super Catalina and Grumman Goose prop-driven amphibian aircraft on the short hop between Annette Island Airport and the Ketchikan Harbor Seaplane Base serving Ketchikan as well as to other local destinations in southeast Alaska.[10]
See also Annette Island Airport (IATA: ANN, ICAO: PANT, FAA LID: ANN) is located on Annette Island in the Prince of Wales – Hyder Census Area of the U.S. state of Alaska.[1] It is located 5 nautical miles (9 km) south of Metlakatla, Alaska.[2] The airport was established as the Annette Island Army Airfield during World War II and initially served as a military airbase.
Facilities and aircraft [edit] Annette Island Airport has two runways: 12/30 is 7,493 by 150 feet (2,284 x 46 m) with an asphalt surface and 2/20 is 5,709 by 150 feet (1,740 x 46 m) with a gravel surface. For the 12-month period ending January 16, 1990, the airport had 8,400 aircraft operations, an average of 23 per day: 64% general aviation, 24% military, and 12% air taxi.[1]
Historical airline service [edit] Prior to the opening of the Ketchikan International Airport (KTN) in 1973, the Annette Island Airport served as the primary airfield for scheduled passenger service for Ketchikan which is located approximately 20 air miles to the north. In 1947, Pan American World Airways was operating daily nonstop service to Seattle and Juneau with Douglas DC-4 prop aircraft with no change of plane flights operated twice a week to Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory of Canada via Juneau and then continuing on to Fairbanks, Galena and Nome in Alaska.[3] Pan Am later operated Douglas DC-6B and Boeing 377 Stratocruiser aircraft into the airport.[4] During the late 1950s, Pacific Northern Airlines (PNA, the successor of Woodley Airways) served the airport with Lockheed Constellation propliners with nonstop service to Seattle and Juneau as well as direct, no change of plane flights to Anchorage, Cordova and Yakutat.[5] The airport’s first jet service arrived during the early 1960s. In 1963, Pan Am was flying Boeing 707 jetliners into the airport with a daily roundtrip routing of Seattle – Annette Island – Juneau.[6] By 1965, Pacific Northern was operating Boeing 720 jetliners on nonstop flights to Seattle and Juneau as well as on direct services to Anchorage via Juneau.[7] In 1967, Pacific Northern was acquired by and merged into Western Airlines which continued to operate jet service into the airport.[8] By 1968, Western was serving the airport with Boeing 720B jetliners with nonstop service to Seattle and Juneau as well as direct, no change of plane flights to Portland, OR, San Francisco and Los Angeles.[9] In 1971, the federal Civil Aeronautics Board (CAB) awarded Alaska Airlines new route authority which enabled this air carrier to begin jet service into Annette Island Airport thus replacing Western.
With the opening of the Ketchikan International Airport in 1973, Annette Island lost all scheduled passenger jet flights as such airline service then moved to the then-new Ketchikan airport. Prior to the opening of the Ketchikan airport in 1973, Alaska Airlines was also operating scheduled flights with Super Catalina and Grumman Goose prop-driven amphibian aircraft on the short hop between Annette Island Airport and the Ketchikan Harbor Seaplane Base serving Ketchikan as well as to other local destinations in southeast Alaska.[10]
The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a golden hue across the tarmac. My heart raced as I stood beside the small Cessna, its wings stretching out like a bird ready to take flight. The instructor’s words echoed in my mind: “You’re ready. Trust yourself.”
I climbed into the cockpit, my hands trembling. The familiar controls felt foreign—each lever, each gauge, a puzzle waiting to be solved. The engine roared to life, and suddenly, I was alone. Just me, the plane, and the vast expanse of sky.
I taxied to the runway, my palms slick with sweat. The wind whispered secrets through the open window. I glanced at the altimeter—it was time. With a deep breath, I pushed the throttle forward. The plane surged, and suddenly, I was hurtling down the runway, wheels lifting off the ground.
The world fell away. The houses, the trees—they shrank to miniature versions of themselves. I leveled off, and the quiet enveloped me. No more dual controls, no more safety net. Just the hum of the engine and the rush of air against the wings.
I circled the field, gaining confidence with each turn. The fear melted into exhilaration. I dipped the wing, feeling the G-forces press me into the seat. The sky stretched out infinitely, and for the first time, I understood what it meant to be truly free.
Then came the moment—the one I’d been both dreading and anticipating. The instructor’s voice crackled over the radio: “You’re ready for your solo landing.” My heart pounded. I lined up with the runway, my eyes fixed on the numbers painted in white.
The descent was smooth, the ground rising to meet me. I flared, pulled back on the yoke, and touched down. The wheels kissed the asphalt, and suddenly, I was rolling, the plane slowing to a stop. I’d done it—I’d flown solo.
As I taxied back, the grin on my face felt permanent. The instructor met me at the hangar, clapping me on the back. “Congratulations,” he said. “You’re a pilot now.”
And in that moment, I knew—I’d found my wings. The sky was no longer a distant dream; it was my canvas, my playground. From that day forward, every flight would be an adventure, every cloud a companion.
The loud sound of silence—the absence of the instructor’s voice, the absence of doubt—had become my symphony. And as I shut down the engine, I whispered my gratitude to the wind, to the sky, and to the little Cessna that had carried me into the blue.
Notes from Alex 