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In Alaska, where passengers rely so heav-
ily on air taxis and commuters, there are
many towns and villages where landing
by instrument approaches is problematic.
There’s no certif ied weather information
available, and f light clearances from air
traff ic controllers, who are hundreds of
miles away, is diff icult if not impossible
to obtain. As a result, operating at many
airports still requires visual conditions,
which can be marginal at best.
In the Ketchikan crash, the weather was
not a factor. Instead, there may have been
something else occupying the attention
of the two pilots: the demands of serving
as a tour g uide. In addition to f ly ing t he
aircraft and communicating with other
pilots, they also narrate the f light for the
passengers, pointing out wildlife and
the scenery. The Taquan Air pilot told
investigators he was maneuvering to get
a better view of a waterfall. These tour
guide duties are not unique to Alaska,
but combined with a crowded, looselyinfamous bush pilot era.
“Alaska aviation has come so far since
the early days,” says Mike Bergt, president
of Alaska Central Express, a large air taxi
and commuter based in Anchorage. “It’s
not the same f lying at all. But the percep-
tion of that time still persists, and it makes
everything we do harder.”
Soon after the f irst air mail was trans-
ported in the territory in 1924, Alaskans
came to rely on bush pilots, the bold avia-
tors who willingly took on any conditions,
navigated near blind, and survived repeated
crashes (and, often, weeks alone in the
wilderness). A collective myth about these
men emerged, f itting seamlessly into the
legend of the untamed Last Frontier. But
as the Lower 48 transformed into a more
regulated f lying environment—with an
infrastructure that included instrument
landing systems, navigational aids, and
certif ied weather observers—Alaska was
left behind. With its dramatic geography
and extreme weather, the assumption
was that it was too wild to control, a view
that may have fueled federal indifference,
leading to a legacy of underfunded infra-
structure improvements.
Today, modern air taxis and small com-
muters are the true heirs to the original
bush pilots. Unfortunately, far too many
of them still operate in a style reminiscent
of those risk-taking aviators (an excessive
number of whom, it should be noted, died
on the job). Accident reports from the
National Transportation Safety Board
(NTSB) are full of examples of pilots who
cut corners in the pref light process, fail
to calculate proper weight and balance
for the load, and take chances with the
weat her. What is common in A laska av ia-
tion has always been far different from
what is acceptable in the Lower 48. Now
it feels as if the “it’s always been done that
way” attitude is too entrenched to change.
“The myth is outdated,” says Clint
Johnson, the Alaska regional chief forAS THE LOWER 48
TRANSFORMED INTO
A MORE REGULATED
FLYING ENVIRON-
MENT, ALASKA WAS
LEFT BEHIND.
the NTSB. “The f light safety situation
has def initely changed for the better from
the 1980s and 1990s. But the bush pilot
standards are hard to dismiss without
the resources found in the Lower 48.”
Like other air taxis and small commut-
ers, Mountain Air Service and Taquan
Air both operated under Part 135 of the
Federal Aviation Regulations. (Large air
carriers and other types of operations fall
under different sections of the regulations.)
These operators are ubiquitous in Alaska:
They f ly passengers, freight, mail, high
school sports teams, sled dogs, grocer-
ies, and everything else that anyone can
imagine. It’s those Part 135 f lights that
are increasingly crashing.
In the past, pilots alone were typically
cited for the decisions that led to acci-
dents. But that is beginning to change,
as federal investigators look for ways to
reduce the stubborn frequency of air taxi
and commuter crashes.
The broadening search for answers
has put a spotlight on some of the com-
panies themselves, as they crash again
and again without any apparent proce-
dural changes. Hageland Aviation, now
the state’s largest commuter (and which
operates under the name RavnAir Con-
nect), has been involved in 42 accidents
since 1990. Grant Aviation, another large
Part 135 operator, has been involved in
31 accidents in the same period. Dozens
of other companies have crashed f ive to
10 times over the years.
Ten months before the Ketchikan
midair, a Taquan Air plane collided with
a 3,300-foot mountain in Misty Fjords,
seriously injuring six passengers. (Taquan,
as well as Hageland and Grant, declined to
comment for this story.) In that accident,
the pilot’s decision to continue f lying in
fog and eventually zero visibility, was
a key part of the preliminary report’s
f indings. These weather problems are
less prevalent in the Lower 48, as the
aviation infrastructure exists there to f ly
using instruments between most points.Top: A Coast Guard crew rescues pas-
sengers after a 2018 crash. Above:
Emergency workers transport an injured
person after the midair crash in May.