The 'wannabe' pilot's journal - Chapter 3: PPL(A) Holder

Okay, I’m no longer a ‘wannabe’ pilot — I’m officially a pilot now. In more formal terms, I’m no longer a PPL(A) Student but a PPL(A) Holder. But let’s rewind a bit. Last time I wrote, I had just completed my first solo flight. A lot has happened since then.

The ongoing COVID situation really threw a wrench into our plans. From flying 3–4 times a week, we were forced into a three-month break. Self-isolation, aircraft downtime due to maintenance, and airport closures because of the grass runway (grass and the months from November to late March don’t get along). Everything lined up according to the worst-case scenario, and bam! — no flying. So here’s the first piece of advice: if possible, choose a school based at an airport with a paved runway. Period. Asphalt is king. Grass is great too, but only if you have the time, patience, and nerves to wait out a week without rain so the runway can dry.

I was incredibly impatient, especially knowing that the aircraft I was training in had gone to spend the winter in Zadar. The decision to temporarily relocate the aircraft was based on better weather conditions, warmer temperatures, and a paved runway. So my instructor and I packed our bags, booked an apartment, and went on a ten-day flying trip to Zadar to finish the training.

Let me briefly describe what it feels like to move from flying on a grass field to flying at an international airport. First of all, Lučko is great for beginners. The grass runway forgives certain landing mistakes, the atmosphere is mostly relaxed, and you can time your flights to avoid peak hours. But compared to large airports, Lučko is basically a meadow — not in a negative sense, but purely in terms of infrastructure. The first time I came to fly in Zadar, I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that, to enter the secured airside area, you have to pass a security check just like a regular passenger. Makes sense, but coming from Lučko, I wasn’t used to such procedures. Then you get escorted to the aircraft, usually in a van that takes you to the general aviation apron. Pretty cool — it feels like being in a crew bus heading to your Airbus until you turn the corner and see “your” Cessna. The illusion fades a bit, but that VIP/professional feeling sticks. Next comes fueling. At Lučko, there’s a single pump; at major airports, aircraft are fueled by tank trucks. Again, logical — but surprising at first.

But enough about infrastructure. Let’s get to flying. The first challenge was taxiing the aircraft along the centerline of the taxiway marked with a yellow line. It takes a few tries to get a feel for where the nose wheel is and how to steer the plane so it follows that line. Once you’ve mastered that, you need to get used to a controlled airport. At Lučko, the control tower operates only during certain hours, mainly due to military operations. Since I mostly flew in the afternoons, I wasn’t using the tower — radio communication was limited to pilot-to-pilot. At major airports like Zadar, the tower operates throughout the airport’s hours, so you’re never flying “uncontrolled.” Also, there’s more traffic in Zadar. Even though civilian traffic is lighter in winter, it still exists — and there’s military traffic as well.

Once the initial ‘shock’ of asphalt and ATC wears off, you make it to the runway. What a feeling! Two kilometers of runway in front of you — quite a shift from 20+ hours of taking off from grass and dodging wildlife (deer, herons, hawks, etc.). You line up with the centerline and hear in your headset: “[Call sign], cleared for takeoff, runway 22.” Flying over the Zadar archipelago reminded me exactly why I fly.

The second part of flight training after your first solo includes ‘area’ flying and simulated emergency procedures, as well as what’s known as cross-country or route flying — flying along a predefined route. Area flying and emergency procedures are all about building experience for worst-case scenarios. You practice engine failures, flap failures, stall recoveries, steep turns, spiral dives, spins, etc. At first, it all seems intimidating, but keep in mind you’re doing it for your own safety. These are structured exercises with predefined parameters and sequences. Remember when I mentioned progress checks earlier? After practicing, you do the second progress check (PC2) — essentially demonstrating everything you’ve learned to a different instructor. After passing that, you’re cleared to perform those exercises solo.

Then comes cross-country flying. This includes flying to airports other than your base. Cross-country flying in PPL training is based on navigating using visual references on the ground. If your aircraft has radio navigation equipment, you can use it to make things easier, but keep in mind that during the skill test, the examiner may prohibit the use of those instruments (VOR, DME, GNSS, etc.).

After logging enough dual cross-country time, it’s time for the third and final progress check (PC3), after which you perform a solo cross-country flight and a few more solo flights. I was lucky enough to do this phase over the Adriatic, visiting nearly every coastal airport in Croatia except Brač (sadly). Route flying is truly the highlight of PPL training: flying alongside other aircraft, entering controlled airspaces, approaching airports you previously only knew as a passenger, and so on. After all the hours spent doing exercises, this is where you truly start enjoying the art of flying.

Still, if you have a responsible instructor, they’ll insist that you keep practicing those exercises even during the route phase, as they’re part of the skill test. For me, doing all that over the sea, with a view quite different from Zagreb, made it much more enjoyable.

And so, after logging the full 45 hours, it was time for the final skill test. Keep in mind that once your training ends, you’re no longer a student — the school is not obligated to provide an aircraft for the exam. Also, if your instructor deems you unprepared, they may require additional flight hours, which are not included in the base training price. Skill test examiners are assigned by the Croatian Civil Aviation Agency. Before enrolling, ask whether the training price includes aircraft rental for the skill test. Examiners also charge a fee, usually between €50–€100. The test itself is mostly predefined, and the examiner sets the route you’ll fly. It’s up to you to prepare — charts, headings, timing, etc. The exam includes everything from pre-flight inspection to parking the aircraft, including fueling. The examiner can ask theoretical questions at any time — some prefer to do a separate oral exam before the flight. Your task is to complete the flight solo and safely, as if the examiner weren’t there. The test includes route flying, area exercises, and traffic patterns — at least three involving some form of failure simulation (usually engine or flap failure). The exam typically lasts up to 1.5 hours. The examiner will speak minimally during the flight and may ask questions, but if they assist you with the controls at any point — that’s an automatic fail, and you’ll likely be asked to return to the airport. In that case, you’ll need to fly additional hours with an instructor before reapplying for the skill test.

My exam went by the book — no surprises, nothing we hadn’t already practiced. Don’t think of the test as something designed to fail you — it’s a chance to prove how much you’ve learned and that you can fly safely on your own. Don’t expect any leniency. In theory, the examiner could overlook a mistake (though they shouldn’t), but once you’re flying solo, that same mistake could have serious consequences. In aviation, staying humble, acknowledging risks, and doing everything you can to mitigate them is crucial.

And so, with just two sentences from the examiner — “Congratulations, you’ve passed. You’ve shown you can fly; now it’s up to you” — a long-standing dream came true. You leave the airport overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions, knowing you’re officially a pilot. The feeling is incredible. The next step is to take your documents to the Croatian Civil Aviation Agency and obtain the official license: “Flight Crew Licence.” As is typical here, that document will set you back 800 HRK.

And so, with my checkride behind me, this wannabe pilot’s diary comes to an end — at least for now. I’ll write again once I start time-building, get my night rating, or move on to multi-engine aircraft. Until then, thank you for reading. I hope this diary provided both official and unofficial information about becoming a pilot. And more than that — I hope it inspired someone to chase their flying dreams.

To wrap up, here are some of my most important tips:

Not everyone is cut out to be a pilot, for various reasons. Before investing in a license, try a scenic flight in a Cessna or similar small aircraft.
If possible, avoid distance learning for PPL theory. Go for in-person classes.
Dedicate time to learning the theory — every sentence in pilot training literature exists for a reason and has a practical purpose.
If you plan to upgrade to a commercial license quickly, get a Class 1 medical (renewed yearly). Otherwise, Class 2 is sufficient.
Choose a school at an airport near where you live to avoid inconsistent training schedules.
A paved runway at your school’s home base is a big advantage.
If you can, fly newer aircraft. Older ones tend to need more (and sometimes unexpected) maintenance, which can disrupt your training. Also, a school with more than one aircraft should be preferred.
Consider completing your training at a more distant location if you can relocate for a few weeks.
During cross-country flights, depending on your instructor, you may get to choose your own routes. Pick routes that include as many different airports as possible.
Solo flying is scary at first, but you need to break free — your instructor won’t always be in the right seat.
At some point during training, you’ll feel fear or discomfort. Don’t give up immediately — give yourself and the plane time.
Don’t be a fair-weather pilot. Try flying in borderline weather (with instructor approval), including rain and crosswind landings.
Lošinj and Grobnik airports are not for beginners — visit them with an instructor before flying there solo.
The full PPL training (theory and practical) typically costs €9,500–€10,500. Pricey, but achievable. Negotiate — prices may not be fixed.
If you fly to an airport not covered by your training school, you may have to pay for landing and handling fees (ranging from 200–500 HRK per flight). Always ask which airports are included.
After getting licensed, you must keep flying. Only by flying regularly will you maintain or improve your skills. If you take a long break, find an instructor to do a refresher hour or two with.
Log more than the minimum annual flight hours to keep your license valid. Otherwise, you’ll have to re-do the skill test.
Keep both a paper and digital logbook. There are tons of Excel templates online, but consider investing a few euros in a proper digital logbook. Paper can be lost or damaged — the cloud version won’t.
Finally, enjoy every moment of flying and flight preparation. If just thinking about it doesn’t excite you, maybe flying isn’t for you.