Becoming a Pilot As a Physician (Ft. Dr. Jeff Kerrie)
My Conversation with Dr. Jeff Kerrie: MD, Pilot, Modern Renaissance Doc
From day one, Jeff was the king of “medical ADHD,” dabbling in everything from ICU medicine and internal medicine to ethics, dive and hyperbaric medicine, and genuine medical leadership. But our focus for this episode? The exhilarating, endlessly challenging journey of getting a private pilot’s license, and why it’s more accessible (and beneficial) for burnt-out doctors than you might think.
Why Learn to Fly? The Catalyst for Change
For Dr. Kerrie, the pull toward aviation began as a kid watching Top Gun and local skydivers in Abbotsford, BC. Like many lifelong fascinations, it simmered beneath the surface until the stars (and his schedule) aligned: post-residency, a bit of extra cash, a reduction in debt, and a powerful realization from his time with patients—life is short, and waiting for “someday” is the surest path to regret.
I've seen this same lesson time and again: retired patients with suddenly limited health, or colleagues shelving plans for “another year,” only to be derailed by life. Pursuing passions now isn’t selfish—it’s an investment in your own vitality. For Dr. Kerrie, that meant going to a flight school, plunking down a bit of money for a “discovery flight,” taking the controls, and feeling the rush of zipping above Vancouver Island. That rush? For many doctors, it’s the first time in ages their minds have been forced to focus on something other than medicine.
What Does It Take to Become a Pilot?
You don’t need 20/20 vision (unless you’re actually trying to be a Top Gun pilot), and you certainly don’t need to be retired. Dr. Kerrie explained the Canadian route (very similar to the US):
Discovery Flight: For about $100, you can book a test ride at many local airports. You’ll actually get to fly the aircraft—with an instructor, of course.
Ground School: The academic side. You’ll study weather, engines, navigation (old school with pencils and maps), and aviation law—everything to make sure you don’t end up as a confused dot on someone else’s radar.
Flight Hours: You’ll need a minimum of 80 hours in the air. This includes supervised, solo, and cross-country flights (like the legendary Chilliwack pie run—BC Med friends, you know!).
Medical & Certification: Yes, there’s paperwork and a required physical to clear you for takeoff. The hurdles aren’t huge unless you have major cardiac, pulmonary, or psychiatric issues. (Word to the wise: mental health stigma in aviation is real and needs to be challenged—but that’s another blog post.)
The Cost and Commitment
A private pilot’s license might run you $15k-$20k—less, even, if you’re efficient; more if you spread it out with a busy schedule. Compare that to the cost of many medical conferences or endless weekends “trying” (and failing) to decompress, and you might find the investment is well worth it. Plus, you pay as you go: no huge upfront cost, just incremental payments as you earn your wings.
Where Flying Can Take You (Literally and Metaphorically)
The real beauty? Once you’re certified, the sky—well, the landmass of Canada (or wherever you’re licensed to fly)—is yours. Dr. Kerrie’s a master of the “$100 hamburger” or “$100 pie”: quick, soul-replenishing hops to small towns or paradise spots like Tofino (a jaw-dropping 43-minute flight from Victoria, versus five hours in the car!) for lunch or surf. For those with the means, you could work up to cross-country flights, trips into the Rockies, or maybe even a future “fly and write-off” if you’re practicing rural medicine.
Hyperfocus, Flow, and Burnout Prevention
Why is flying so powerful against burnout? For Jeff (and me, and many docs like us) it hijacks your brain—in the best possible way. You can’t be distracted while flying. Every sense is alert, every decision matters. It’s flow state, incarnate. Much like skydiving or scuba, learning to fly is a deep dive into a non-medical realm where your skills, focus, and joy of learning come together.
And perhaps most critically, it reminds you that you’re more than a physician; you can reclaim your identity, one hobby, one daring experience at a time.
Making It Happen: How Anyone (Even Busy Physicians) Can Start
If you’re reading this and feeling weighed down by the treadmill of practice, maybe flying—maybe something—is your ticket to freedom. My advice, echoing Dr. Kerrie’s:
Book a Discovery Flight. Seriously. Don’t overthink it. Call your local airport, schedule a session, and go up. The worst that happens? You get an amazing view and a story.
Talk to Your Colleagues. Chances are, someone around you is already airborne (literally or figuratively). Most pilots love showing newbies their world. Offer to buy the fuel or a burger!
Don’t Wait for Retirement. Health, weather, and work won’t get more predictable. The best time is now, even if you have to do it in increments between call shifts.
Consider Work Perks. For rural docs, flying can be a deductible expense if you use it for travel to distant clinics.
Let Go of Perfection. You don’t have to become a commercial pilot or buy a fighter jet. Just learning and achieving the basics is exhilarating.
Final Descent: What Flying Gives Back
Medicine will always fill our days with complexity, surprise, and (hopefully) meaning. But it can’t—and shouldn’t—be our only source of identity, joy, or renewal. For me and for Dr. Jeff Kerrie, flying is the rare antidote that invigorates, challenges, and restores—not to mention provides some epic lunch trips.
So, fellow docs and kindred spirits: if you’ve ever wanted to soar, this is your permission slip. Book that Discovery Flight. Find your version of the $100 hamburger. And remember, you’re meant for more than just the ground.
Till next time,
Dr. Rob Beck