If there are no regulations against landing a seaplane on a lake, river or inlet, then you can do it, except…
Regulations, unlike laws, can and should be interpreted. If you go to the regulatory body, the CAA, and say, “I want to set up the country’s first ever seaplane operation; I want to fly here and there and land on the water.” They will automatically say, You can’t. You can’t do that.
Why not? I’ve done it in Canada and America. Why can’t I do it here?
In Canada, if there are no regulations against landing a seaplane on a lake, river or inlet, then you can do it.
In many countries new to seaplanes, it is the opposite. They do not want you to land anywhere unless you have specific authorization. This is not based on any law. It is based on the omission that international standards are not defined in their local regulations. In bureaucratic terms, this often translates to “We have no idea, so let’s play it safe and say no.”
In Indonesia, a new seaplane operator asked me to land their seaplane on a lake inside an active volcano. Despite being a National Park, no regulations prohibited aircraft from landing inside the volcano. However, park regulations require a permit to enter. The park refused permission unless the CAA pre-approved the landing, clearly putting the onus on the agency that regulated aviation safety. I asked the CAA for permission to land inside the volcano so that the Park authorities could permit me to enter.
No, they said, we cannot do that.
Why not? I asked.
There is no precedent, they answered.
Since there were no laws against it and no regulations to approve it, but no one had done it before, they didn’t want to be the first to permit me. How could there ever be a precedent if you are never allowed to land there? On a parting note, they reminded me that, as the captain, I could legally divert an aircraft during an emergency. But someone’s life must be in danger. Here was a regulation they understood.
I decided to conduct a reconnaissance flight inside the volcano. As we flew over the caldera rim and crossed the camping site at the mouth of the lake’s outlet, the co-pilot cried out, “Oh, we are in trouble. Some guy is angry with us.”
I said, ‘How do you know he’s angry? ‘
He is waving.
Is he shaking his fist? No.
Is he waving his hand? No.
How is he waving?
He is waving with both arms over his head.
As any good search and rescue pilot knows, that is the universal sign for someone in trouble. Guess what? We have our emergency.
I circled, landed in the water, and ghosted to the shoreline. Jason, an Aussie hiker, had hired a guide to take him to the top of the 12,000-foot volcano and camp at the 6,300-foot lake. His guide had pneumonia. There was no way Jason could get him back over the 11,000-foot caldera rim and down the mountain to safety. He was going to die.
I decided to fly the guide to the hospital in Mataram. With formalities settled, we took pictures and patted each other on the back, and everything was blue skies. After descending through the cut in the caldera, I radioed Mataram Tower and requested a priority landing and an ambulance for the medevac on board. While we waited for the ambulance, the dying man suddenly got up, climbed out of the airplane, and proclaimed, “I can breathe.”
Since he was my alibi, I told him he still had to take the ambulance to the hospital. The local newspaper reported that a seaplane landed in the Rinjani volcano, saving a young man’s life. The governor wanted to thank me personally. The CAA gave me approval to land inside the volcano if the national park approved it. The governor offered the approval – if she was the first official passenger.
This story highlights the concept of jurisdiction, examining who holds authority and whose permission is required. As I said earlier, all the standards are there. It’s about how local authorities interpret them.
Let’s review the applicable jurisdiction, and I’ll explain its relevance to seaplane laws and regulations. Understanding this may help authorities apply jurisprudence to jurisdiction.
