North to the future

[Captain Geoff]

I sat in the Ted Stevens bridge-to-nowhere airport. Crisp white shirt, 4 Captain stripes on my shoulder, black pants, black shoes. The epitome of a professional aviator. No grease allowed on this fateful day.

For the tenth time I looked at my watch wondering what was taking so long. I'd done some research, of course, in between haulin' manure and what not around. The plane was a beauty. Golden, sleek, built for pure speed, yet almost affordable - well, not for me anyway, but for the not quite wealthy. The sun was up - as it nearly always was, and with only a large bit of luck it was actually sunny. You could see the clouds gathering in the distance, though, so the window of opportunity was small.

Mac had safely stowed the Blue Baron in a hanger he was working on to keep it out of the weather. Well, that and I was paying him for it's much needed maintenance and FAA inspection.

I was listening to the tower amidst the whine of giant aircraft engines. The heavy metal I despise so much. Those fully automated behemoths flew themselves. Pilots, schmilots.

Suddenly I heard the callsign I'd been waiting for "November two three alpha kilo, roger, cleared straight in runway 24 Romeo". This was followed by "Roger, 24 right,alpha kilo". A big 757-200 landed at that moment ushering a cloud of blue smoke from the wheels, and after an eternity the nose came down, and the roar of full reverse thrust pounded my ears. The big plane laboriously turned off the main and onto the taxiway back toward the passenger terminals.

A small dot appeared, outlined by its white landing light. It got lower and lower and it was still a dot. Suddlenly, it was on the deck, and turning off onto the taxiway at the second turn off. It was still a speck, not much bigger than a Baron.

The unusual aircraft made it's way to the GA terminus and it looked like it's picture. Golden, Sleek. Single jet engine atop the stubby fuselage. Four seater. The engine shutdown and soon three people got out of the small plane. The pilot, dressed much as I, but wearing an insignia - clearly a Cirrus pilot - mid 40s probably.. He was followed by a tall, long legged stunning beauty of a girl. A blonde, she belonged on the cover of Vogue, or something. Maybe Sports Illustrated. Tanned - too much so. I could only imagine her health care bill in the future.

Following her came the customer, I presumed. Another tall, lanky male - late forties. Gold necklace. Expensive looking clothes. Curly Blonde hair. Jet set type. Flashy but subdued.

The woman sped past the pilot. She reached out her hand in a typically female handshake gesture. "Hikooki. We talked last month about Flash's trip?" Although she said it like a question, it was more of a statement. The greenish eyes were light and dancing around. I tried to shake her hand but it was limp and weak. I felt I might break it.

"John Player, our pilot". We shook hands.
"And this is our Boss, Flash Gordon"
"Hi".
"Hi, welcome to Anchorage"

We sized up each other in that instance. This was the world - no intergalacticly famous Flash Gordon. Movies and millions of dollars had been made of him. And he was just standing there.

"Let's get something to drink shall we?" he said.

Seemed like a down to earth type of guy. "Go on ahead, I'll meet you in a moment, first I want to talk to John". They ambled away, she clutching a bag with papers all but falling out of it. And what looked like a Itinerary.

"So, John, how is she"
"Non stop chatter box" :confused: "Oh, you mean the plane... Great. Sorry we couldn't do Valdez, but we don't have a Cirrus rep there and the Boss said to bring it up here."
"No problem"
Reaching into his flight bag he pulled out the Owners Manual. "Here- have a read, and here's the flight worthy certificate, maintenance log.. I'll take you on a flight if you like, but I can't take too long - my plane leaves in three hours."

"Right, well, let me get these two settled for the night. I've got them booked at a local B&B. Then let's take a short hop around the field.".

I went to find my two new best friends. I left the third parked, gleaming in the sun...

[Captain Geoff]

I caught up with Flash and Hi Cookie - um - Hikooki at the Sundowner. I quickly explained the situation with needing a test flight, so we sped them into a cab to the Artic Fox Inn - a local B&B (Bed and Breakfast). I explained I'd be ready to take them to their first port in the morning - off to Cold Bay for some cold water fishing.

After seeing them safely off, I went back to the plane where I had john explain to me all about its features. We took a test flight, and all seemed well, so I signed the paper work he insisted Cirrus wanted. Flash had already accepted ownership. My signature was a mere formality.

I put John on his return flight back to Minneapolis, and I headed to a hotel to read the owners manual more thoroughly and to plan the next flight....

[Captain Geoff]

The morning - if you could tell it was - was bright and sunny. The flight we had planned for the first leg of this adventure was a long one, and would be my first alone.

I met Cookie and Flash at the Arctic Fox, where they were apparently stuffed with pancakes, jam, bagels, eggs, and so on. PGA pay, being what it is, hardly allowed me a donut and coffee. And I'm sure the Boss won't be too happy with that expense voucher. But that's never stopped me before. While driving to meet these two, I suddenly realized that I'm celebrating seven years with this outfit. My how time has flown!

We chatted for a while and I learned the first stop was for some sort of fishing charter that Flash had always wanted to do. But, as the flight was three hours, we headed out to the plane without much delay. I drove into the airport via the back gate and parked near the plane. The gleaming aircraft sat expectantly, it's sleek body just wanting to take off. I got them seated comfortably while I preflighted the plane, topping the tanks to the brim. They were light on bags, which was just as well weight wise. Soon Anchorage tower was clearing us for take off.

The jet engine whine grew to a roar as I released the brakes and the plane lurched forward quickly gathering speed. We were airborne by the second turnoff and heading west down the long chain of islands that make Alaskan planes ever so necessary.

Although I want to talk with Hikookie and Flash, I just did not feel comfortable leaving the controls in autopilot, until I was sure of the plane. We had a couple of altitude/autopilot thrills until I got the hand of the autopilot system. The plane climbed very slowly and drank gas excessively at low altitudes, but once high, she was a tea-totaler in gas consumption. Thankfully, fuel calculations paid off and there was room to spare in the fuel department.

[Captain Geoff]

Cold Bay was just that. Not a heck of a lot to do, but there was some fishing boat that Flash had wanted to be on. He's paying anyway.

We were to meet in a couple of days, so I spent time wandering the streets, such as they were of the local area. And it was kind of cold.

Friday, we met as planned by the hanger where I had stowed the plane. I recognized Flash, but it took me a while to realize that HiKookie was the girl with him. She had completely changed. Her hair was now a neon pink color. Set off by a completely black out fit - she almost looked like something from a Hollywood Halloween horror movie set. I'm, not sure what she used on her skin but every exposed body part was a sort of milky white semi-translucent ghoulishly looking skin tone. Her Jack (of Nightmare Before Christmas) earrings and metal encased teeth made quite an impression.

We climbed into the plane for the three hour flight to Petersburg where recent bear sightings were the reason for the trip. I put the plane into autopilot and she flew quite nicely. I do have to give it a vs and not an altitude however. Clicking on the altitude button makes the plane want to stay at current altitude.

I was finally able to spend some time with the two of them and Cookie offered that the pink hair, she was told, would scare off any curious bear. I'm not sure it would scare them so much as burn their eyes. The brilliant pink color almost hurts the eye. There were a couple of places in Petersburg to visit - the Clausen Museum and the Sons of Norway Hall. The small town would be a nice break from the more rural Cold Bay.

I found out that Flash was from Cleveland, though he did a lot of work in Vegas and that yeah, he was the "real" Flash Gordon. Seeing as how Flash was in the movies back in what the '50s?, he was remarkably young looking.

Cookie didn't say much, being busy with her art work which is quite impressive. Apparently she is Japanese-American and is madly in love with someone named Daydara whom she continuously referred to as a sexy beast. I'm sure I'll learn more over the course of time. We only plan on being in Petersburg for a short time however - maybe a day or two....

[Captain Geoff]

The past couple of days were a whirlwind as the twosome visited local spots. We flew up to Merrill field in Anchorage and they had some sort of political rally they attended. Flash likes to spread his money around I guess. I try to stay out of politics, because I get easily confused on which side of the fence I should be on - Alaska or California.

Anyways, we flew up to Clear in some of the thickest clouds and fog I've seen. I actually missed the airfield on the first pass and had to go around. Visibility was only about a quarter mile. But I found it the second time. We only stayed a short time - Flash wanted to check out the fishing up at Hangar Lake. So we flew Back to Merrill where I met up with Mac the Wrench. After a few brews, I convinced him to get me a float plane so I can take Flash up to Bethel on the Lake. Not sure what I'll owe him for that, but Flash is paying anyway. Must be nice to have that kind of money.

The darkness is getting longer and VFR times are getting shorter - especially given the cloudy skies. The trip up to Merrill this last time was gorgeous. The skies were clear and you could see forever. The flights were short so we didn't get much time to chat. I'm hoping Flash will settle in at Hangar Lake for a couple of days of brews and barbies as our Aussie friends like to say.

Next stop - FISHING!

[Captain Geoff]

We pick up the story a few months into the future where our intrepid captain is still shuttling around the two-some. Currently they are on Little Diomede Island now looking across the vast expanse of water at the now famous "You can see Russia from Alaska" spot. The two islands are so close one can almost heave a stone and hit the other. Still, the little fishing village has a helicopter landing spot and after a quick tour over the island the battered and rented Bell 206 Ranger settles down upon the pad in spring.

The weather was typical Alaska - wet and cold. The rain, temporarily abated, was due to return in minutes, so our good Captain has left the pair in capable native hands and evacuated back to the mainland.

The journey so far had encompassed several interesting flights - a float plane to visit a mining village, a souped up Piper Cub for a tiny airfield, and now the Ranger. There had been the one snowy - well ok - blizzard return to Merrill Field. That one was one of the most dangerous approaches ever undertaken. Visibility was less than 500 feet and no controllers were on duty because the weather was so bad. No one expected the little Cirrus Jet to return that day. The first pass over the airfield was off and a go around was initiated. Even the second pass had been fouled by the gusty winds. Undaunted the little jet landed on the third pass - threatening to leave the runway while sliding on the snow as the wind pushed hard.

Back on the mainland, the Captain had one of his favorite beverages and was talking jovially with the locals. Almost everyone spoke Russian and the little he knew was quickly overwhelmed. But that was alright. Nyet was not in their vocabulary, which as the night went on became more and more mono-syllabic.

The two-some wanted a couple of days on the god-foresaken rock and Captain Geoff was only more than happy to have nothing to do. Maybe the weather would clear for the next leg of the journey.....

[The Boss]

Yeah, you can see Russia from there... but which one is Governor Palin's house?

Hmmm... I wonder if they need manure on Little Diomede...? :heheh:

[Captain Geoff]

The Ranger lifted off without a hitch covering the few miles to Little Diomede. The precarious little fishing village had apparently undergone a transformation from a quiet little hovel to a tropical haven. Plastic palm trees and bright pink flamingos were everywhere. Bright "camping" lights adorned nearly every house, and even the local hauler had been lit up. As the Ranger settled onto the only landing pad - such as it was, the dust it kicked up momentarily sent the decorations into wild gyrations. The crowd that assembled, although native by and large could easily have been mistaken for native Hawaiians with their grass skirts, flowers and coconuts. But Flash and Hi Cookie stuck out from the crowd. Wildly colored shirts flapped in the residual breeze from the rotorwash. Each had what looked like a coconut in hand with a straw sticking out of it.

"Welcome Cap'n" Flash said with a bit of a slur. "We be celebratin' the seein' of Russia with all our good friends here on diamond island". The rogue Irish accent didn't fool me though, he was still an enigma. A standing, talking, blitzed out-of-his-mind drunk.

'Well", says I, "Get your drunken arses into the flying carpet and we'll spread your cheer over Alaska" (and not hopefully the rented helo's flooring). While Flash nimbly climbed aboard, Hi Cookie lived up to her first name... higher than a kite. I ended up putting her into a fireman's carry after struggling futiley to get her into the helo. As I flopped her into the seat and did her seat belt, she exclaimed "More!" and passed out. Flash was waving and smiling at the gathered crowd. I expect it'll be quite a while until they have such a party as this one.

We lifted off without incident and headed back to the jet, none too sure I wanted to take them to Wasilla, the supposed real home of the future presidential hopeful. Maybe we'll see Russia from there...

[The Boss]

:rofl:

[Captain Geoff]

Halfway to Wasilla, the somewhat sober Flash informed me it wasn't Wasilla after all, but Talkeetna was the destination. I checked my charts, and sure we could land there. It was after all the sightseeing hub of Denali. For once we had a pretty clear and sunny day. The landing was uneventful, and soon the two-some were out shopping at the local Nagley's general store.

Soon we were back in the air, taking advantage of a clear day we went to White Mountain - which wasn't. In fact there wasn't much there in any case. But we had dinner there at the field maintainer's house.

Our next stop was back to Merrill Field where we picked up the Lake Renegade again for some serious water landings coming up. Naturally, it was raining at take off and I had to fly pretty low to be below the clouds to navigate with my terrain map. Our next stop was Moser Bay. The Salmon are running now and Flash, ever eager for adventure, decided this was the place to go.

Approaching the bay was nerve wracking as the cloud base was below the mountain tops and the howling wind drove the Renegade into an almost perpetual 30 degree bank. My muscles began to ache as I fought to keep on track and not crash into some mountain. Finally I spotted the yellow house with the pier that was supposed to mark the landing area. There was no windsock so I tried various approaches. The buffetting winds made me wish I was back in Anchorage. The shear winds, down and up drafts had us bouncing all over the sky and I was really nervous about landing. The seas were running rough and my passengers both lost their breakfast. Thankfully we had baggies for them. I nearly lost it as well as the negative g's began to take their toll.

The rain was whipping past us, the ice indicator started glowing and those last 300 feet were heart stoppers as we descended in jerks. I had to fight the controls every inch of the way as the wind howled all around us. I dropped speed, applied full flaps, and prayed. And I'm not a religious man, but some times you just have to have more to rely on. We hit a wave, the nose came up, and I pushed hard on the yoke we couldn't afford a stall at this point. I got the nose down in time for the next wave to crash into us - and suddenly we were dead in the water.

Only about a quarter mile from the pier; I aimed for it, and gunned the engine. The plane turned to the left, right rudder had no effect. as we spun around I saw the wake we had left. There simply was no way to turn to the right. So I made a broad left turn until we passed the pier's direction and then made a sharp turn to get around and head back out in to a wider turn as we approached the pier's bearing. It took four attempts, but with each one we got closer. The smell inside the cabin was now ominous, and had we been anywhere near civilization they'd have quarantined us as a hazardous waste site. I didn't know the human body could throw so much liquid out. The baggies were useless as my compatriots completely lost it. I'm renting this Renegade. Well, maybe buying it now.

Nonetheless, we finally made it to the pier where I lashed the plane to the dock. As we spilled out of the plane we all lay sprawled in the pouring rain. Soaked and totally dishevelled, the owners of the yellow house took pity on us and invited us in for hot tea. If the storm abates, I'll go out clean the plane the best I can. Hopefully the stench will be disappaited. And Flash can find his fishing boat on his own....

[Captain Geoff]

Seems that seaplanes are in store for me for a while as our next stop was Meyers Chuck way down south. We took the Renegade down in a relatively easy but very long flight. Once there we developed engine problems and swapped it for a Beaver. I haven't flown a Beaver in a very long time, and this one seems a little short on engine power and sure sucks on the gas.

Next up was Tamgas Harbor, a short hop for some ice calving and deep sea fishing for the pax.

We're now enroute to Seldovia, but I'm afraid this trip will take some time. I've had to set this bird down several times do to lack of power. The icing conditions and use of pitot and de-icer are draining badly needed power from the engine. I'm trying to fly VOR to VOR and so far we've been lucky to get fuel, but the equivalent of four hours flight time is only lasting about 2 hours, and it's very difficult to fly high - as the low ceiling and high clouds make visibility zero. It's hard to navigate when you can't see anything, so I'm being forced to stay low.

We're currently on the western side of of Kupreanof Island right across from Devil's Elbow. We're going to hole up until morning in a little public cabin/shelter. This should be cozy. Destination: Seldovia SBP. Hopefully my next report will be from there, and not a mayday....:eek:

[The Boss]

Hm. Sounds like there's something wrong with that Beaver, if you're that low on power. They do suck up the fuel, though. :cool: I'll see if I can get ahold of Mac and convince him to meet you in Seldovia.

[Captain Geoff]

We're halfway to Seldovia. I had managed to just clear the clouds up at about 6,000 feet. But then Flash decided he wanted to see the land which brought us down to less than a thousand feet. He saw some fishing folk and asked that I put 'er down near them. So were near absolutely nothing in the Pacific Ocean, bobbing gently in the breeze while Flash gets out the inflatable "canoe" and paddles over to the beach to talk with them. With any luck, we'll be in Cordova tomorrow. The engine's running just in case....

[Captain Geoff]

Cordova. Beautiful land nestled between ocean, river and lake. A welcome sight to this poor pilot as the last vestiges of avgas fumes caused the engine to sputter, cough and die as the line went around a cleat on the seaplane mooring pier.

This Beaver needs a better rudder both in and out of the water. The constant tendency to pull to the port has worn my muscles out fighting to keep her on course. I've got to find a better float plane.

Well, they've got gas here, so I'll refuel, water and feed. Let the pax enjoy the town for a couple of hours and push on to the final Destination, Seldovia. It'll be nice to get in the Cirrus jet once again. For all it's faults it does have an (almost) operational autopilot.

Winter is coming fast now and Flash in anxious for ice fishing. Soon it will be ski time.

[Captain Geoff]

This next leg was the most dangerous of all. The Beaver seems to take forever to climb up to 2000. Cloud cover is up at 4700, so after take off I climbed relentlessly finally making it to 5,000 feet - above the clouds where islands of mountains faced me. I skirted several and watched as the fuel gauge steadily dropped toward zero.

There was no way I could make it to Seldovia, so I opted for the closest airport, a little strip of a thing which descending through the clouds appeared wondorously out of the thick cloud/fog bank. I applied full flap slowed down and landed right at the tip of the runway. Needless to say it was perfect - until the brakes just wouldn't stop this old bird. So off the end the of the runway I went smoke and squealing brakes all the way.

I finally got the plane stopped. Near the waters edge. Guess I'll have to hand carry some gas down here, I thought as the engine gave it's last gasp.

An hour later I was airborne and experiencing the weirdest sky I've ever seen. Must be the Aurora Borealis on drugs. I flew toward Homer and then cut south to get on the 181 radial into Seldovia. The landing was uneventful, and I beached the Beaver. I left it with Mac after explaining all the things wrong with the plane.

Next stop Anchorage and then on to further things.....Just where am I going to find a plane with long enough legs????

[The Boss]

Ah, that would explain Mac's mood when I talked to him...

:mac: = :banghead:

[Nordbo]

The Alaska Air Captain and First Officer settle into the economy class seats for the Canada Air flight from Whitehorse to Anchorage.

FO: "Nice landing, Capt."
Capt: "Well... practice practice. There's something kind of appealing about one-engine landings in a 737. I always liked how the passenger/cargo 737 made for more interesting flying than the straight passengers. The balance difference is nice."


FO: "Yeah, it's getting me some nice experience."
Capt: "Yeah, just don't get the swine flu like the other guys. I could have used a lay-over in Whitehorse to relax. But nooo... People have to get all cuddly with piglets and fuck up that plan."

FO: "It's getting difficult to avoid these days."
Capt: "Yeah well... it's getting more difficult to not get annoyed with people, too."


FO: "Did the mechanic say anything about how bad it was with the engine?"
Capt: "Yeah, it'll take a few hours to fix, but nothing particularly fancy. It should be good the day after tomorrow. They just needed two parts flown in, and they should be sent with the next flight out of Anchorage."

FO: "But who is going to fly it?"