I certainly don't mean to offend but if you decide to aviate and hit a granite cloud in Los Angeles it has the exact same effect as it would in Alaska.
Very true, but the factors leading to you deciding to depart or not are very different in LA. Ultimately, the deck is stacked against you from the beginning because these flights (which are by and large done in .3 increments when you're flying to Hoonah) go through areas of limited weather availability that change rapidly. The forecasting is poor and the winds are strong. Literally every single bay and valley has it's own little micro-climate and basically operates independently of the rest of the area, and what's true in one little region is not true in another area 5 miles away. There simply isn't adequate information available to make good judgments 100% of the time and VFR flying is by it's very nature a subjective art - not a objective one.
Unless you've done it quite a bit, how can you tell when you're in 1SM at 500' in a 207 or 3/4SM? Even if you're experienced it's tough - and having done this sort of thing for several thousand hours, I'll tell you the truth, when I'm down low, close to terrain, I'm only looking outside to make sure I'm going to be able to maintain VFR. The outside is like another instrument that I keep in my scan that low when the weather is crappy. My scan at 500' AGL is much more focused inside than it is outside, because honestly, 1SM and clear of clouds in Class G is freaking instrument flying. If you're trying to do pilotage in that weather with modern airplanes and technology, you're doing it wrong. If you're on a pre-defined route at a pre-defined altitude and you wait for the weather to come to you, the flight is much more objective. That's why instrument flying is so much safer - because honestly, all of the decisions under 135 are by and large made for you. The airport is either above minimums or below minimums. You get to minimums and you either see all the 91.175 stuff or you go missed. You look at the forecast and you either have the weather to depart, or you don't - and even if you do have the weather, if it's even remotely questionable, you have an alternate. IFR flying is substantially less challenging than VFR flying when operating in marginal weather.
People will say the same thing about VFR cloud clearance requirements, but the God's honest truth is that most pilots don't know what the hell "bad VFR weather" looks like. Most pilots I've known in the lower 48 have never flown VFR in 1SM of visibility. So when you take 500hr guys and gals and toss them into natures weather playground you're asking for trouble. At 500hrs, a lot of these people are just looking to build flight time and move on to the next thing. They don't want to ding their record, so they're at least going to
try to play by the rules as best they can. They also don't want to lose their job for not flying (which is a real thing), so they get out there and at least
try to git-r-dun. This means that they either neglect their flight instruments and the associated skills or try to operate by pilotage a little more than they should when the conditions are less than ideal. They
should turn around well before they end up in inadvertent IMC, but most people haven't really had the experience of flying VFR in extremely marginal conditions before they get to Alaska so they don't really know any better and all of the sudden - wham - they're flying IMC at 500' and they have to shoot from the hip and extricate themselves from the situation without getting killed. For many, inadvertent IMC in a small airplane somewhere in Alaska is the first real instrument flying they've ever done in their career, and if they've been neglecting their instrument skills because they've been flying floats or are simply inexperienced (as appears to be the case on this second tragedy at Point Howard) they're woefully unprepared to "do the right thing" when they need to.
You can look at the cameras to fly up the Canal, have a good idea what the weather is at every step of the way before you depart, and have to turn around because it's entirely different than when you left 20 minutes ago. If any of you folks have shot a contact approach, flying to Hoonah or Gustavus is a lot like flying a contact approach for 20 to 30 minutes in highly mountainous terrain. It's not clear all of the time - even for experienced guys - what the best course of action is, and sometimes, you're left with only bad options.
Finally, it's worth noting the type of people drawn to this kind of flying. Nearly everyone who comes to Alaska to fly is an adventurer in some way shape or form. The guys who aren't looking for the challenge and the emotions associated with doing hard work in inclement conditions stay away from this type of work. Those guys CFI until they can apply for a better job flying better equipment in safer conditions. As such, this type of flying inherently attracts the people who are less risk averse than the general population of pilots out there. Most of the people who don't fall in love with the state leave after a season, but some stay, and over time they learn to mitigate the risks so they can operate safely. Ultimately though, we should acknowledge that Alaska attracts a certain breed of aviator to fly little airplanes - and those guys and gals are probably inherently more susceptible to risks early in their careers that are not prevalent elsewhere in the country. This isn't necessarily a bad thing - the transportation infrastructure of the state relies upon it - still, we need to acknowledge the human factors associated with these sorts of accidents as well.
