![The Husky fits into almost any environment, and is especially at home on a farm strip. [Credit: Jim Stevenson]](https://planeandpilotmag.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/DSC04068.jpg)
Off to the left, a pristine Piper J-3 Cub on bushwheels sat exquisitely perched above one of the SR20s on an aircraft lift.
And the floor? Don’t even get me started. It was so spotless, you could’ve eaten off of it.But something was missing. The airplane I was actually here for—a 2025 Aviat Husky A-1C. “Hey, Cayla, nice to meet you,” said my soon-to-be CFI, Beau Serchen, as he walked toward me.
After exchanging pleasantries, Serchen asked if I wanted to check out one of the new Cirruses while we waited on Matt Hofeldt, owner and founder of Capital Flight and the vice president of brand at Aviat Aircraft, to finish a phone call.
Never one to pass up the chance to explore a new airplane, I lifted the Cirrus’ butterfly door and climbed in. Since this isn’t a story about a Cirrus, I’ll spare you the full rundown, but after spending the past five months and roughly 70 hours flying a sixth-generation SR20 for my instrument rating, I have to admit, I was genuinely impressed with the upgrades to this newest iteration.
Anyways, back to business. After finishing up his phone call, Hofeldt came over to say long time no see, threw me a green Husky trucker cap, climbed on the right wing in a crisscross, apple sauce position, and we began our plan of attack.
“I’d really like the entire, new owner type experience,” I said. “You know, some ground school, an in-depth walkaround, the whole rigmarole. Act like I’ve never flown a Husky before.”
With my wish as Serchen’s command, we got to work.
Back to School
Up on the second floor of the hangar, tucked away in a meeting room designed to resemble a control tower, Serchen walked me through a PowerPoint presentation dissecting the A-1C’s systems, landing gear, power settings, proper loading and landing techniques, and more.
Just from the presentation and our casual student-to-CFI conversation, it was clear Serchen had a genuine passion—not just for the airplane but for teaching as well. A welcome change in a world where too many instructors are simply passing the time.
After the completion of ground school, we headed downstairs to the hangar, where a matte green, warbird-looking type of Husky named Liberty Belle, complete with nose art and invasion stripes, gained its rightful spot in the hangar after an SR20 was moved out.
From there, we moved into a thorough walkaround and preflight, where Serchen made a special note to point out several of the A-1C’s most interesting features. Among them were the static ports integrated into the metal pitot tube extending from the leading edge of the left wing—rather than a more standard fuselage-mounted setup—along with glass bowls near the rudders for draining the pitot-static system.
He also highlighted the push-pull tab mechanism for the parking brake, vastly improved pilot seating positions, and the ability to completely remove the aft seat, opening up space for fishing poles and even more camping gear.
My only real complaint thus far?
Those hideous Rudolph—or clown—noses covering the pointy part of the flap hinge, which I was told are exactly that—“purchased by the box at Walmart every year during Christmastime,” according to Serchen. I’m still not entirely sure if he was joking (I’m leaning toward not), but either way, I think it’s about time Aviat came up with a better-looking, more-aerodynamic solution to spare pilots the dreaded forehead gashes.
Time to Fly
With the 25 knot winds beating up against the hangar door, Serchen asked if I was ready to saddle up.
Admittedly, not looking forward to the task at hand due to far less than ideal, gusty flying conditions paired with far more nosewheel flying than taildragging as of late, I replied, “Well, yeah, I guess it’s time to put my big girl pants on.”
As we rolled the airplane out of the hangar, I made particular note of how Serchen was handling the push, pull of the airplane, thanks to the Husky’s convenient hand hold on the horizontal stabilizer, along with his ability to really lean into the airplane with his body weight. It wasn’t something I was used to doing with lighter, tube-and-fabric taildraggers.
The Husky is indeed pretty husky, I guess you could say.
After showing me the “proper” way to climb into the airplane—sidestepping from the front of the strut to the tire then up onto the floorboard, rather than my usual method of coming in from behind the strut and practically walking my way into the seat—Serchen climbed in as well. I pulled the window and door together, sealing us inside.
Right off the bat, I took particular joy in the A-1C’s vastly improved seating position. With a simple mechanical lever underneath the seat, I was able to move it up, down, forward, and aft with ease. Since I’m 5-foot-4, this makes a ton of difference, and in a world where I feel as though a simple lever is almost overlooked (especially in modern taildraggers), I was ecstatic to see that Aviat paid attention to this detail.
![Cayla McLeod looks over the airplane during a preflight inspection on the Capital Flight ramp in Middleton, Wisconsin. [Credit: Jim Stevenson]](https://planeandpilotmag.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/DSC04511.jpg?w=1024)
Back to Basics
Serchen walked me through the Husky’s straightforward starting procedure—master switch on, mixture rich, boost pump on for a few seconds, then back off. Mixture to idle, twist the key to start, wait for it to catch then smoothly bring the mixture forward.
In no time, the 200hp Lycoming roared to life. Temps and pressures looked good, and I started to taxi toward the runway. But Serchen had a slightly different idea.
“Why don’t you taxi down a bit, get a feel for the ground handling, do a few circles, and then we’ll take off,” he said.
With my recent lack of tailwheel flying, I happily obliged. After all, a little taxi work would allow my feet a little time to warm back up.
With a 20-knot, incredibly variable crosswind hitting the sides of the airplane as I made my circles, I thought, “If it’s this sporty feeling on the ground, it sure is going to be fun in the air.”
Being careful to avoid tight, low-power turns—to avoid damaging the Alaskan Bushwheels—I worked through Serchen’s suggested circles on the ramp. Nothing about the Husky’s pavement handling stood out as unusual. It simply felt like a beefier version of the Piper Super Cub—almost as if it were designed that way.
Feeling as though my feet were coming back to life, I made my way toward the runway. As excited as I was to finally get some time at the controls, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about doing it in these conditions. Whatever. Just fly the airplane, I thought.
Like everything about the Husky thus far, the run-up was also straightforward. At 1,900 rpm I performed a mag check, cycled the prop, and made sure everything was in the green. Serchen gave his seal of approval, and I announced our departure.
Bark and a Bite
After lining up on centerline and ensuring my tailwheel was straight with a tap-tap of the brakes and a little touch of throttle, I simultaneously applied full power and right aileron and began our takeoff roll. Within a few seconds, I felt what I could only assume to be the Husky barking, eagerly awaiting back pressure on the stick, as it was more than ready to take flight.
Although the A-1C is slightly heavier than comparable competitor aircraft at a little over 1,400 pounds, the takeoff roll was hardly noticeably longer, at only a couple hundred feet, if that. For how I’d actually use this airplane—grass strips, ranch fields, riverbeds, and more than likely based at a local county airport—I’m not chasing a few feet of takeoff distance. If it’s that tight, I’m probably not going.
What matters most (to me anyways) is how an airplane feels, what it can carry, how far it can go, overall safety and reliability, and how comfortably it handles the type of backcountry strips most pilots actually use.
“All right, let’s head up to Baraboo-Dells. It’s KDLL,” said Serchen as I reached down to allow the Garmin GTN 750 to guide the way.
Although it was fairly bumpy, with a quartering 23-knot headwind forcing a steady crab to stay on the magenta line, I was immediately impressed by the A-1C’s solid, composed feel in such turbulent conditions. On a day like this, I was thankful to be in a slightly heavier airplane.
While the added weight was slightly noticeable, the ailerons felt like the complete opposite—light and incredibly responsive. It’s a welcome change from earlier Husky models like the A-1B, with their far more rigid, bungee-style trim system, of which I’ve never been particularly fond of.
Landing Practice
As we approached KDLL, I listened to the AWOS and was disappointed to hear the winds were still gusty and variable at 22 knots. Fortunately, Serchen mentioned the airport had a grass runway oriented mostly into the wind. Absolute music to my ears.
I entered the pattern and flew the Husky like any other low-and-slow taildragger. Abeam the numbers, I began easing the power back and bringing the nose slightly above the horizon. At around 80, I reached down for the flap handle on the far left side of the cockpit floor but quickly realized it wasn’t going to come easily.
“Yeah, you gotta slow down a good bit,” said Serchen. With that as my cue, I pulled the nose back up more around 70 mph and pulled the handle back with ease.
Adding a touch of power back in to counteract my sink, I turned left base and told Serchen I was going in for a three-point, as I do tend to favor a fully stalled landing.
However, being used to flying slightly lighter and slower tube-and-fabric taildraggers, I brought the Husky in slower than I should have, in the mid to upper 50s, which ensured that I received my tailwheel currency in one fair shot, with three bounces on the grass in a fully stalled configuration.
“Yeehaw!” I said with my blood pumping in true tailwheel fashion. But thanks to the Husky’s improved spring system, the bounces felt far less harsh than they would have in the older A-1B.
“Ha ha, let’s try some wheel landings, to start. How about that?” said Serchen.
With that as my cue, I turned around the Husky on the grass and took back off. Off in no more than a second or two, I climbed away from the airport. “Pitch for 74,” said Serchen. “Geez, that just feels like way too much,” I replied as I felt like I was pitching for the moon. But looking off the right wingtip, the attitude no longer looked as dramatic.
Entering left downwind, albeit at a slower speed this go-around to have a smoother time at engaging the flap handle, Serchen encouraged me to keep the speed up on final to better prepare for the wheel landing.
Pitching for around 65-70 without fixating on the avionics, I shifted my focus down the runway. Despite the wind turning it into a bit of a dogfight (no pun intended)—and my feet still adjusting from recent Cirrus time—I lined up the Husky’s nose on the invisible, grassy threshold and set up for a wheel landing.
“Yeah, this’ll work out,” Serchen said from the back seat.
I’ll admit, it felt a little unnatural at first, as my three-point habits slowly tried to creep in, but I resisted the urge to slow further or ease back on the stick. As it turned out, the Husky felt completely at home in this attitude, almost as if the airplane preferred that style of landing.
As the Bushwheels rolled their way onto the soft grass, I felt my love for flying come rushing back in a way I hadn’t experienced in quite some time. There’s something so uniquely rewarding about feeling connected to an airplane in the most minute of ways. It’s something the Husky delivered in every sense of my two-day A-1C checkout experience at Capital Flight.
Whether it was one of our more than 20 or so wheel landings or three-points, a 1,000-foot farm field strip with a dramatic dip in the middle, flanked by intimidating power lines, or a makeshift runway in a backyard, the Husky did more than deliver. It left me wondering why I hadn’t been introduced to this airplane far sooner.
![The 200-hp Aviat Husky Liberty Belle flies over the Wisconsin farm fields on the way to a grass strip. [Credit: Jim Stevenson]](https://planeandpilotmag.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/DSC05019.jpg?w=1024)
Final Thoughts (For Now)
What stood out just as much as the airplane’s capability and sheer enjoyment was Aviat vice president Hofeldt’s willingness to listen—and genuinely accept critique. Even in areas I wasn’t fully sold on—like the throttle quadrant layout and flap handle position—he was candid, acknowledging them as pain points and emphasizing that pilot feedback is actively being worked into the design and engineering process. It’s a refreshing shift from manufacturers that tend to cling tightly to their version of “tried and true.”
That openness naturally led me to ask some tougher questions about what’s next for Aviat and the A-1C. Truthfully, I was left wanting more—not just from the airplane but from the people behind it. It’s rare to come across an aircraft and a team so clearly aligned in purpose, passion, and skill.
While I’ll spare his trade secrets, it’s clear Aviat is a manufacturer worth watching—and one I’m genuinely excited to continue highlighting in Plane + Pilot—as the Husky is a true adventure machine, equally at home in farm fields as it is on remote mountain strips.
And though I didn’t get to fly the Husky against the dramatic backdrop of the Tetons, Wisconsin was an honest proving ground—one where the airplane’s strengths weren’t amplified by scenery but revealed entirely by their own merit.
I still have a lot more to say about the mighty A-1C. But for now consider this less of a technical deep dive and more of a preview of what’s to come. It’s an airplane you’ll be hearing plenty about.
This feature first appeared in the May/June 2026 Issue of Plane + Pilot magazine.
