As a professional pilot, I am in the fortunate position of having access to a wide range of aircraft with varying levels of performance, speed, and range. My day job has me flying a narrow-body airliner all across Canada. In my days off, I provide freelance flight instruction in everything from J-3 Cubs to Cirrus SR22s. Lastly, when I find the time, I am a proud partner in a Cessna 310 that I get to fly on a semi-regular basis.

Each of these aircraft has their pros and cons. Each has their own personalities. Most importantly, each one of these airplanes can seriously hurt you, or worse, if you don’t respect them and their capabilities or lack thereof.

One of the most critical things that I preach to my students, and I hope what you will take away from this article, is to know your own personal limitations. This is essential whether you fly one aircraft or 20.

What do I mean by personal limitations?

As pilots, we are governed by the Canadian Aviation Regulations (CARs) and the air laws within them. Within the CARs, we have meteorological restrictions that govern our ability to fly day VFR, night VFR, and under Instrument Flight Rules.

Personal limitations go beyond that. They are what conditions YOU are comfortable flying in, given a specific aircraft, specific day, currency, and where you would grade yourself on the IMSAFE checklist.

Some pilots can and do use the CARs restrictions as their own personal limitations. That might be fine for them, but it may not be fine for you.

Personal limitations are not necessarily something that you set in stone and never change. Personal limitations ebb and flow with your own comfort levels with the aircraft that you are operating. If, like me, you operate different aircraft, you need to take that into account.

These days, the airplane I fly the most is the Embraer E195-E2. It has state-of-the-art avionics and is capable of flying into known icing, departing into RVR 600 (i.e. 600 feet of visibility) skies, and landing using Category Two ILS approaches (RVR 1200 and 100-foot ceilings). Given the appropriate training and aviation infrastructure, I can fly safely in most of what Mother Nature can throw at us, but not everything. Even there, we have our limitations.

When I strap myself into a fabric-and-tube taildragger, I obviously don’t blast off into RVR 600. Heck, I would barely be able to find the hangar at my local airport in RVR 600. But this is a more nuanced discussion than that.

Going back to the taildragger example, anyone that owns or flies taildraggers knows how much “fun” they can be in a strong crosswind. Most are light enough and without enough rudder authority for pilots to effectively taxi them in strong crosswinds. At some point, the airplane starts driving the pilot where it wants to go, not where you want to go. If these pilots want to enjoy their airplanes for the foreseeable future, they need to heed these limitations. But, what if it’s only a moderate crosswind? What does that even mean? For everyone, it’s different. For me, it might be a 10-knot crosswind. For you, maybe it’s a 15-knot crosswind.

Perhaps you are more proficient, current, and feeling up to wrangling that taildragger around the circuit today. If so, kudos! I’ll cheer you on from the ramp.

Another example, I have a seaplane rating and get to fly floats only a few times per year now. I have access to a Husky on amphibs, but given my schedule and the distance between its home base and me, I don’t get to fly it very often. Maybe 10 hours per year if I’m lucky. I used to fly it more and as a result was more proficient. Now, when I fly it, I am a lot more cautious and attentive to the weather conditions, especially if I’m landing on the water. Conditions that a lot of float drivers wouldn’t think twice about will have me watching from the dock. I can live with that. Who doesn’t like watching airplanes take off and land?

If you are reading this, chances are you have heard that old aviation cliché “It’s better to be on the ground, wishing you were in the air, than being in the air, wishing you were on the ground.” That’s what this is all about. Don’t let yourself get caught in this trap if you can help it.

So, how do we have personal limitations that strike the right balance between flying our aircraft enough but also doing so where we don’t scare ourselves?

We need to have an honest assessment of how we feel about flying on a particular day, given the aircraft we are hopping into and the mission that we are about to embark on. When was the last time you flew this airplane? Is it airworthy? Are YOU airworthy?

This year I had to make the hard decision to cancel my trip to Oshkosh.

My bags were packed; the airplane was ready and fuelled. The kids were at the in-laws. Even my EAPIS was filed! However, we woke up the morning we were scheduled to leave and the weather forecasted had deteriorated dramatically. Even though I personally fly in inclement weather all the time, my aircraft of choice that day was not equipped for the mission. So, I cancelled the trip. We were on a tight timeline, so it meant not going this year. Other than the FOMO (fear of missing out) that I experienced thanks to social media, I am satisfied that when push came to shove, I made the right decision for me.

What can you do if you’d like to modify your personal limitations and expand your flying envelope? My first suggestion is to find a local flight instructor to go flying with. Someone that is competent in your aircraft and can help you safely explore the boundaries of you and your aircraft’s abilities. Once you have that knowledge and skill established, maintain it by flying often.