A new memory happening, right now
Every recent trip report that I've written begins with me complaining about the difficulty of fatherhood and life balance. This one is no different. But a silver lining has been revealed, too slowly for this dim-wit: Life is short. Identify the cherished things that get you through and hold onto them tight. Of course my children are at the top of this list, but not very far down it is the short time spent with my flying buddies in Alaska.
For some of us, answering the call of the Alaska backcountry comes just once a year, same time of year. It seems to be the same trip every time, but it is a cherished repetition. I liken it to déjà vu... "is this happening now or am I remembering it from last year?" It feels like a memory but it's the present.
Enjoying the silence of the river flowing nearby...but not for long, right Larry?
As we grow older, making close friends becomes rarer as we become more reclusive and concerned with our daily lives. So when you find camaraderie among newly discovered peers, at similar places in life, with an interest as wondrous as flying, it is something to foster. I could not miss this year.
And so it was, with a very high interest loan from my wife, that I was able to head north to Alaska in May for the 4th year in a row to see these friends...solo.
There are few things more special than some smartass buddies who love talking airplanes, but are multidimensional enough to commiserate over a good poopy diaper story.
The intention was to shoot a serious video, which is mostly what I did. And it only took me 10 months to edit and release it. Things like that take longer when your life is lived in 10 minute increments. But, it is my longest film yet at 36 minutes.
The cast of characters includes: Mike/DistrictFab from Portland, Greg/Big Renna from Boston, Greg/Akgreg from Kenai, Larry from Fairbanks, Kyle/Prosaria from Chugiak, Ron Kuzina, Jon Bush, and Tom Hudzinski from Wasilla, and me, Zzz, grizzled suburbanite. We played on the Knik River, ventured into the Alaska range, and explored some of the Yentna river gravel bars. It was new territory for me, which is the important thing. I want to feel like I'm exploring, even if it's semi-backyard grade exploration.
Return to Lake Hood
There's nothing like touring Lake Hood. Locals may take it for granted, but airports in the lower 48 simply don't have this concentration of Super Cubs, Skywagons, and all the related lovely beasts.
There's no better place for spotting Beavers than Lake Hood.
Attending the Alaska Airmen Association gathering means wandering around the Lake Hood seaplane base and gravel strip, since it's right there. Many of us stay at the Lakefront Hotel, which has a front row seat for lake ops, often enjoyed with a cold IPA in hand. The question is always whether the ice will be melted by early May. If you're around on Friday evening, come join us in the bar and look for a BCP hat.
Wandering the Fingers of Lake Hood at dusk, which is quite late in the evening.
Playground on the Knik
Day 1 was travel day, arrival into ANC and settling in. But for Day 2 I'd arranged a filming session with Ron Kuzina, aka 16Bravo from Wasilla. We met at Birchwood airport where the Airframe Alaska people were busy swapping wheels on one of their prototype Cubs. Gabe and Richenda from Airframes Alaska gave us a great tour of their facility, and sent us home with some nice new sweatshirts and hot sauce. Great company, and a big supporter of BCP. If possible, try them first for aftermarket parts and accessories. And don't put off those Alaskan bushwheels any longer... life is short.
The Airframes Alaska engineers are super friendly and engaging...and so are their dogs.
A brand new Airframes Alaska PA-18 fuselage ready for coating
Even a long Alaska day is beholden to the clock, so with some sense of haste we loaded gear into the Cubs: 3 of them. Ron had brought 2 friends, Jon Bush and Tom Hudzinski with their Backcountry Super Cubs SQ-12s to join the fray and haul Greg and Mike. Ron and I were lead plane in the group out to the Knik river, which seems the most logical and convenient spot to shoot video and still return home the same day. Larry trailed the group in his classic denim-finish 170B.
Ron and I were lead plane in the group, headed to the Knik.
It's a short flight from Birchwood up the Knik, and only 40 miles from downtown Anchorage as the crow flies to where we were filming. This was on the return, but you get the idea; it's a literal playground of gravel bars, and it changed from season to season as the glacier outflow reshapes the riverbed with its Gatorade-blue waters.
This view shows some of the potential to play in a good STOL machine.
The tedious job of actually trying to make a flying film... Big thanks to Pelican Cases for providing me some of their ultra-lightweight Pelican Air cases for this trip. They are now a full-fledged advertising partner of BCP, and sponsored the film.
Pelican Cases are a critical part of getting delicate gear to the scene; Good luck keeping the glacial dust out of your lenses though once you've cracked the seal and a Super Cub blows it at you at 2700 rpm...
Pilot Ron Kuzina, aka 16Bravo takes a minute to chill out at the bar, resting against his beautiful Highcountry Cub.Ron, Jon, and Tom were great sports. I took forever to set up my camera stabilizer and figure out what the hell I was doing, all the while they were standing around probably eager to fly in this playground. When they finally got in the air, it was chaos. I had a radio strapped to my chest, but was a little too preoccupied to direct anything, so Larry stood behind me and gave me a heads up by tapping on my shoulder when anything was coming my way. It was a huge help. Big Renna had literally opened the box of his DJI Mavic Pro the morning of this shoot, so he was off learning how to fly a drone. It was wild, but I can think of nothing more fun.
The guys just kind did laps and played a little, flying past me at close range and at low level over the river. On the other side of the main channel were pools where shallow flowing water made for a sort of hopscotch of areas where you could touch down with 35s and survive, but still, being airborne over the deeper areas was mandatory. Each of the pilots splashed in and took off, but at one point Jon ventured further upstream, playing the touch and go game in the shallow water. When he got back, he reported that he'd nearly gotten in over his head in an area that was deeper than he thought. You can see it in the finished film.
Pilot Jon Bush brings his 24" stretched SQ-12 Rev2 to minimum controllable airspeed on the Knik river.Tom would unfortunately bend his beautiful bird the following weekend in the Talkeetna slow flight demonstration. He's a great pilot though, and I have some beautiful footage of him flying. At this point, several months later, he's completed his repairs and is in the air again. Congrats on a graceful recovery from bent metal.
A pro at ruining what could have been a super cool and serious shot, Bigrenna does his pressed ham trick.
We returned to Lake Hood for an evening of hanging at the Millennium Lakefront bar and visiting with a few other BCP people. The turnout was pretty slim compared to years prior, but considering that I'd met all my close friends on this trip at this same venue, it was alright. We had fun.
Saturday was the Alaska Airmen Association "Gathering" at the FedEx hangar, and it was pretty much déjà vu, an event like all the previous years, with a raffle Cub, static displays, and seeing the same friendly faces from vendors. That evening we wandered over to a hangar party to visit with some folks, and performed the traditional evening stroll of the Lake Hood Fingers, admiring the aircraft.
L to R: Prosaria, AKgreg, DistrictFab, Zzz
Into the Alaska Range
Before I knew it the Airmen show weekend was coming to a close. Mike and I climbed in with Akgreg and headed south to his base of operations at Soldotna airport to prepare for whatever adventure we could design that evening. The weather forecast was pretty grim, with rain showers and low ceilings seemingly passing directly over everywhere we wanted to go. Bigrenna had to fly home out of ANC on Tuesday night, so the pressure was on to choose wisely to avoid getting stuck somewhere.
The observations on Monday morning sealed it: We would head northwest into the Alaska Range. The webcam at Rohn showed only scattered clouds with a little sun peaking in...cross-referencing Alaska.org's public cabin reference showed a nice sized unit. There's no reservations for public use cabins so you just have to hope it's vacant.
Fueling up for the trip to Rohn in the Alaska Range
Tatitna, or Rohn, turned out to be a great spot to hang out. We were totally alone, not a single other soul spotted the 2 days we were there. The Kuskokwim river was trickling north with snowmelt, and as I understand, would become much bigger in the coming weeks. The cabin site is in a lush mossy forest just in from the edge of the steep cutbank of the river. A steel fire pit and a decent stock of firewood did little to repel the curious and hungry mosquitos, so having learned from the previous years, we whipped out our bug shirts and relaxed in relative security from bites. Native Alaskans may ridicule me...
A checkpoint cabin on the famous Iditarod Trail, Rohn
After flying a distance, the call of the cold beer in the cooler is hard to resist. I really wanted to do nothing more than kick back and relax, but we figured it was best to do a little flying in the quickly clearing skies to capture some mementos of our adventure. Kyle kicked over the big IO-520 of the 185, and Larry did the same with the 170. We took positions and did our thing.
Big Greg, in all his handsome glory, wondering why the hell I'm taking his photo.
Adventure part 2: Cessnas in the Alaskas
When you need only one word/shirt to describe your passion in life.
Skywagon lover and evangelist, Greg Hren, aka BushwagonEast. He's helped empty many a bank account his with documented "restomods."One of the guys has a photo of 4 of us wearing our bug shirts, a photo to best the best of the goofy buddy pics. The night in the Rohn cabin was slightly complicated by our enthusiasm to have a fire in the stove, something thoroughly unwarranted when the overnight low only dips to 45 and all we have are 20 degree bags. We basically slept on top of our sleeping bags, letting the few lucky mosquitoes who'd slipped in through the cabin doorway take full advantage of the man meat buffet.
Breakfast of champions, or rather, pilots who value weight savings over meal quality.
Escape from Rohn, detour to Yentna
The next morning brought some interesting-looking weather developments over Rainy Pass; the clouds pretty much obscured the peaks, and it would have been difficult to determine flyability without poking our noses in there, so we decided to load gear, depart, and try the alternate route. It wasn't bad enough that we couldn't have returned through Rainy Pass, but we were also curious about the supposedly mellower Ptarmigan Pass that curved south from the Kuskokwim and then back north and east out the Skwentna. It was a little longer, but the corridor was much wider with plenty of options. To be honest, the weather was gorgeous and only improving.
Kyle empties the reserves into his tanks for the flight back.
As this was playing out, it was much too short a trip. And we hadn't really experienced what I felt we'd trekked all the way to Alaska for: Well, I don't know what I came for. Adventure. Unknown. Decision-making. Camaraderie. Flying.
We're all relatively inexperienced pilots by comparison to the ilk we flock to on the Internet. I'm not sure any of us has over 1,000 hours save for Larry, who is a commercial pilot flying C-46s and DC-6s for Everts Air Cargo. So the idea of just setting out to explore something and find our own "playground" in backcountry Alaska is slightly intimidating. There's a strange innate urge to strike out then return home and sip coffee by the woodstove and digest the experience. But screw that. We were here, and there were some rivers calling our names.
Flying upriver on the Kuskokwim, on a southerly heading. I always find that odd, for some reason.
Northward, flying out Ptarmigan Pass and out the Skwentna river.
I wasn't bound to let this trip fizzle out by just returning to Soldotna to unpack. The adventure had to continue; the day was young!
Just 3 days prior, I bent the ear of my friend and long time BCP member Devon Holmberg, aka Born2FlyAK. The name fits perfectly. He is a pilot for Regal Aviation, flying Beavers and 206s of all configurations, hauling pax and cargo. He grew up just over the hill in McGrath and knows this area like the back of his hand. I asked where we could go to find some mellow river bars to camp and play on.
He suggested the Yentna— a meandering river with plentiful large river bars, with gravel small enough for Larry's 8.50s. Heck, 6.00s would work great. What a bunch of posers we are landing these buffed spots with bushwheels! Devon even sent me the coordinates of a good camping spot, though he warned it was also a great place to see some bears. So we gave it a go. What a great little detour!
We filmed a few takeoffs and landings with the drones, then just sat around eating salami and cheese on crackers, trading some silly tales. No cell service. The sun peeked out. Idyllic, it was.
Nothing feels more rugged than slicing your cheese with your Spyderco.
Givin' the baby bushwheel a break on this perfect gravel bar.
Nary a nick in the stainless-edged MT. These props have the coolest sound and the smoothest feel to them.After we departed the world's best lunch spot, Larry and Bigrenna set off for Anchorage while we headed south to cross over the Forelands and back to Soldotna. The trip wasn't quite over though... The following day Mike, Big Greg, and I spent a few hours trolling the Cook Inlet for Kings, and Mike scored. Always nice to go home from AK with a cooler of fresh salmon.
Fellow Kenai peninsulan Gregg (another one?) Motonaga, aka Squash and his wife met us for dinner in Homer, and he was kind enough to fly me and Mike back to Soldotna for what I think may be the most relaxing and gorgeous evening flight I've ever been on in my life. The air was buttery smooth, the light was warm and lowering in the sky. I was sitting right seat, and Gregg let me fly the majority of the flight home. It was a wonderful way to cap the trip. We'd be on a flight back to Portland in the morning.
The gorgeous evening water of Tustumena Lake, Kenai Peninsula
Squash about to stick a perfect short landing in the grass/gravel at Soldotna, 4-up in the 185.
This is the normally the part of the article where the end of the story comes; some attempt at a profound revelation about life, love, and what airplanes, trees, and rocks mean to us, and why it makes the rest of the year slaving at a desk and slinging diapers worth the fight. Well, here's my attempt:
Each year I feel the end drawing closer, only in my 4th decade, the call of that good night, the sense of urgency to pack some living into this life. I hope Dylan Thomas would applaud my meager attempt to rage against the dying of the light....ah shit, I'm only 43. My plight is more akin a fairy tale, with a beautiful family. But it's such a splendid respite from the slog of working and only daydreaming, to actually go out with friends and do these things in the mecca of Alaska. That it's the same few days every year, with the same friends, in the same old airplanes, is a wonderful thing. In our little gang, simplest of vacations has become a sacred tradition that I intend to repeat in just a few weeks. And it feels like some cherished memory, even as it's happening. Like déjà vu.
The film
If you've read this far, I would like to reward you with additional wasted time. 10 months in the making, edited 5 minutes at a time between diaper changes and feedings, I present the short film: Déjà Vu, Alaska; brought to you by Airframes Alaska and Pelican. I highly suggest casting it to the big TV and pumping up the volume.
