How Far is too Far?

I used to dread long road trips.  My childhood memories are replete with excursions that included hours-long stints in the family car with as few stops as possible.  If you felt hungry you reached into the cooler in the back for a snack.  If you felt bored you turned on the radio or opened a book.  But if you felt the urge to use the restroom, you held it until the driver felt sufficiently uncomfortable to pull over.  Thirty years on and my family members are still testing the limits of human endurance each time they enter a moving vehicle.  “I hope you brought your ‘iron bladder,’ Josh,” my old man boasted a few years back, “I’m a glutton for punishment.”  For he and his siblings, driving wasn’t an experience but a sport where the fastest time between point A and point B won you bragging rights at the holiday dinner table.  “Get-there-itis” isn’t solely an aerial phenomenon.

My own adulthood couldn’t be more different in this regard.  I’ll openly admit to pulling over and exiting my car every 90 minutes or so during road trips, even if my bladder or stomach feel just fine.  At work, my colleagues know me as someone who doesn’t prefer to sit idle at the office.  I go for several short walks during the workday, use a standing desk, and almost always observe a “59-minute rule” as a meeting host.  Even at home during my time off, I grow restless in front of the TV and will go for a stroll every few hours.  My extended family’s disapproval at the holiday dinner table might as well fall on deaf ears.  As far as I’m concerned, I’m “fashionably late” and show no qualms after pulling into the driveway two hours later than my other relatives.

At this point – dear reader – you’re right to ask the relevant question: “how can someone who dislikes sitting for long periods take up flying, much less instructing?  Sitting for hours on end comes with the territory.”  While I abhor extended periods of stillness, that doesn’t mean I don’t find joy when seated behind the controls of my little airplane.  What it does mean is that I observe “healthy limits.”  Ask any medical professional and they will assert that frequent sitting or lying down for more than “two hours” at a time is unhealthy.  Heart disease, blood clots, and varicose veins are just some of the medical conditions that accompany a “sedentary lifestyle.”  As a man in my forties, I won’t willingly give my middle-aged body a reason to develop a future problem that might jeopardize my future ability to fly.  Two of those above-listed conditions are automatic disqualifiers for a flight physical of any class and so I move my body as often as possible.[1]  My “healthy limits” serve my relevant long-term purpose of staying in the air well into the future.

When it comes to flight planning, I observe the same preferences as when driving any significant distance: stopping every ninety minutes to two hours to get out, use the facilities, eat, walk, and sip some more coffee.  If that means added complexity by shooting additional instrument approaches along the way, then I welcome the extra practice.  The National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) cited that “up to 20% of aviation accidents are caused by fatigue,” that one in five aircraft crashes is attributable to extended periods of wakefulness and/or long periods behind the flight controls.[2]  In light of that statistic, why not plan several stops during a long cross-country to mitigate that risk?  Because so many of us pilots fall prey to our own need to prove ourselves.  The “IMSAFE” checklist can be an iterative tool – one that we run before flight and then again and again until we reach our destination.[3]  And when the risk of fatigue approaches our ability to reasonably mitigate it while underway, it’s time to come down and take a break or cease flying for the day.

There is also the extended stay at altitude to consider.  The FAA’s rules on oxygen use above 12,500 feet are quite clear, but what is not well-known to many pilots is how hypoxia can sneak up on you after extended periods at much lower altitudes.[4]  The military mandates that all crewmembers – essential or non-essential – be on supplementary oxygen when not in a pressurized environment at 10,000 feet MSL or above.[5]  But even that regulation isn’t conservative.  Hypoxia can occur at still lower altitudes if you spend sufficient time there.  Upon arriving at my alma mater in Colorado a few decades back, I witnessed several of my classmates fall victim to “altitude sickness” (i.e., hypoxia) after only a few hours at only 7,250 feet.  While outward symptoms betrayed most, several others passed out before medics arrived, and a few even fainted and collapsed onto the ground before they were aware that anything was amiss.  Hypoxia greatly erodes self-awareness.  If you’re going to fly cross-country for any significant distance or time, it’s worth considering altitude in your risk management, even if supplemental oxygen isn’t required.  That inconvenient “pit stop” during a long cross-country isn’t just a bathroom break, an opportunity to refuel your body, or to wake up, it’s also a chance for your system to replenish your depleted oxygen levels and restore your cognitive function before carrying on.    

This past weekend, my wife and I tuned into a popular VLOG to see the channel’s host plan and fly a cross-country of more than 1,000 miles, in a small GA aircraft with no lavatory, at 7,000 feet of altitude or higher, and without a single stop along the way.  I found it difficult to not admire this person.  My inner twenty-something applauded this individual’s endurance.  But the CFI that is me today shook his head at the lack of risk mitigation.  The extended range fuel tanks, high ground speed on account of a tail wind, and even greater fuel efficiency at high altitudes did not compensate for the risks in any appreciable way – and it showed.  The VLOG host and their co-pilot could not hide the complete exhaustion on their faces by the time they landed.

Many pilots out there don’t realize just how sinister fatigue and altitude can be until it’s too late.  While there is nothing illegal about flying great distances at high altitudes without a planned layover, I cannot recommend that anyone attempt to repeat such a risky feat in a small, GA airplane.  Recognize fatigue and hypoxia for what they are, respect your body, protect your passengers, and plan a stop or two along the way!  Just because you can fly that far and that high doesn’t mean you should.

Fly on Folks,

Josh Meyer

[1] Federal Aviation Regulations, Part 67, FAA. ecfr.gov, 2026:  https://www.ecfr.gov/current/title-14/chapter-I/subchapter-D/part-67

[2] National Business Aviation Association. “Understanding the Risks of Fatigue.” nbaa.org, 2019:  https://nbaa.org/aircraft-operations/safety/human-factors/fatigue/understanding-risks-fatigue/

[3] FAA General Aviation Joint Steering Committee. “Single-Pilot Crew Resource Management.” faa.gov, 2022:  https://www.faa.gov/sites/faa.gov/files/2022-01/Single-Pilot%20Crew%20Resource%20Management.pdf

[4] Federal Aviation Regulation, Part 91. FAA. ecfr.gov, 2026:  https://www.ecfr.gov/current/title-14/chapter-I/subchapter-F/part-91/subpart-C/section-91.211

[5] Airman Information Publication – ENR 1.15: “Medical Facts for Pilots.” faa.gov, 2026:  https://www.faa.gov/air_traffic/publications/atpubs/aip_html/part2_enr_section_1.15.html