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Bad weather in Hawaii? The 300-plus days of pure sunshine in paradise can lure a pilot into a false sense of weather security, despite what that tiny voice may be telling you.

Yes, I'm lucky enough to live and fly in the Aloha State, but I hadn't been up in 3 weeks and it was time to shake the dust off before it turned to rust. So I booked a Cessna 172SP at a flight school tucked amid the bustle of Honolulu International Airport.

The morning was nice. Light winds. Blue sky. Few clouds. And humid. Clue number one.

But my flight wasn't until the afternoon. It was the only slot on the schedule, so I used up my day catching up with some friends who were visiting from California.

As I lounged at their hotel waiting for my flight time, I glanced at plane after plane plotting across the sky. The blue was now dotted with white spots. Nothing unusual, right? The calm, puffy clouds come and go all day in Hawaii.

Then... plink, on the beach umbrella. A rain drop. Ok, just a passing shower. Clue number two.

As my flight time neared, I started towards the airport. My route to the airport on the ground took me directly under the route I'd use to get to the practice area in the air. I could get a good look at what I should expect.

And guess what? Those white clouds had turned dark, and suddenly, my windshield wipers were turning as fast as a prop. I stayed on course for the airport, thinking perhaps I could check on the radar and ask for some good local advice at the FBO.

The heavy shower had given way to some sun as I pulled into the parking lot, but my guard was still up as I looked back towards the dark practice area.

I wanted to make the most of it. Perhaps this would be a good day to take an instructor with me for some advice on how to pick your way around the weather. Clue number three.

"Looks a bit questionable out towards the west," I declared as I walked into the flight school. "Any flight instructors available to go with me today?"

After taking a quick inventory of the room, the dispatcher invited an instructor over to meet me. The instructor's reaction surprised me.

"Hey, I just came from that area. There are some showers, but you'll be fine by yourself," he insisted. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing big." Clue number four.

"Really? Ok." I'd be fine. A certified flight instructor who knew the area well had just sized me up, and endorsed my flight. I grabbed the keys and walked out to the flight line - by myself.

One more glance towards the practice area showed no improvement, but it was "nothing big." I started my preflight. That tiny voice was telling me something, but I didn't hear it. Neither did the flight instructor. I was still planning to fly.

15 minutes. 20 minutes. Then 25 minutes later, after two more calls to the weather briefer who confirmed moderate showers, I found myself still standing on the flight line, contemplating the route I'd take around or under those inky clouds.

But then the voice got louder. My girlfriend. Our house. My family. My career. My life. Was it worth it? Just to get some practice? The voice forced its way out.

I gathered my pride, locked up the plane, and headed back to the FBO. The dispatcher gave me those "you're back so soon?" eyes as I walked in.

"Sorry, it just looks too menacing out towards the practice area. I'll book a plane for next weekend."

And there I was - an air-wimp in my mind. For a few hours, I wondered if I really was a pilot. But then it hit me.

I know my limits. I set them. I follow them. And that just makes me a better pilot. Better, perhaps, than that brave instructor.

Article by Chris Archer; Send him an email