A few months ago, we had a couple of friends stay over at our place in Alakanuk, and conversation turned to the adventures of bush life…particularly flying. These two work for different state agencies, but both were in the village on business, so they stayed at our place. (Our spare bed and couch are a lot more comfortable than the school floor, and we like having them around. They are a lot of fun.)
With their jobs, they fly a LOT, bouncing around to different villages, and one of them even investigates plane crashes as part of his job. They are pros when it comes to the bush league. And their high tales are crazy!
Of course, there is the standard story of a moose wandering onto the airstrip at exactly the wrong time. Neither moose nor plane survived that one. Fortunately, the passengers did.
On one trip our friend took, there was loud banging as they raced down the runway trying to get airborne. He figured it was big clumps of snow and ice being thrown up. But just as they were lifting off, he happened to glance back, and the poor terror-stricken woman behind him was hanging onto the door next to her. Her arms were about getting yanked out of their sockets as she tried desperately to hold it shut. With all her efforts being focused on trying to keep that door closed, the door on her other side was left to bang around unimpeded. They landed, secured the doors, the woman tried to strangle the pilot, and then they took off again.
On another trip, our friend was sitting in the copilot seat. Just as they were taking off, he realized that the engine blanket was still on. (He realized it—not the pilot.) The blanket is something they use here to help keep the engine warm when they are sitting between flights. But blankets are definitely not meant for flying with. Could be disastrous.
The same guy investigated a crash where the pilot forgot to lower the landing gear. Oops. But once hitting belly to ground, which damaged the propellers so they couldn’t work properly, he was foolish enough to try to get the plane back into the air. That’s when things really turned bad. They got airborne just high enough to make a spectacular splash when they came back down, this time nose first. No one survived that one. Turns out the plane was full of a special cargo—they were smuggling alcohol in. Unfortunately, the cargo wasn’t the only thing full of booze that trip. (Alcohol is illegal in most villages in the bush—so they just make their own moonshine; they call it homebrew. But people will pay top dollar for the real stuff. A shipment like that can rake in a bundle—as long as it doesn’t end up splattered all over the tundra.)
Balance is a big deal in planes—and the smaller the plane, the bigger the deal. You have to have things equally distributed, or the plane gets a little ways in the air and simply rolls to its side and takes a nosedive. That happened a while ago to a State Trooper and his dog. Poor dog. But all survived.
You might think that these tiny planes don’t come with autopilot…but in fact they do. It’s called a bungee cord. Yup. Pilots have been known to get airborne, hook the controls to a bungee to keep them in place, and lean back for a snooze. This practice is frowned upon, however, because it tends to make the passengers nervous. But fly enough, and you will run across it.
Bush planes are often held together with baling wire and duct tape—literally. Windows duct taped in, doors wired shut, seat belts tied in a knot… (For more bush plane adventures, see “Traveling Tales” posted on March 26, 2010.)
And when we are flying out of the village, our departure time is only a rough estimate. It’s like calling for a cable repair guy and being told he’ll be there sometime between 8 and noon. Here, they radio when the pilot is on the way to the village. Then you have to high-tail it out to the airstrip, or you get left behind.
But we are currently in the lower 48 for the summer. We came down here to be with our kids. So now we are driving cars…on crowded freeways…at fast speeds. It makes bush plane travel seem tame in comparison.
Last week, we went camping with our kids at Bryce Canyon in southern Utah—an incredibly beautiful spot. But more on that later. It’s about a four hour trip, and we had to take both our car and truck, because there were too many of us for one vehicle. Our daughter and her friend (one of her companions from her mission) drove the pickup truck, and the rest of us went in the car.
We were planning to head home on Saturday, but were trying to accommodate everyone. My husband wanted to go on one more hike, the girls wanted to get home for an activity, and so forth. Our plans changed a half dozen times in a few hours…the girls were going to leave early and drive the truck home…then everyone was going on one more hike except for me (I was too sore to do another hike), so I was going to drive the truck home…then back to the girls driving because we were all going to go…and we finally settled on my husband and youngest son staying for the hike and driving the truck back and the rest of us leaving early in the car.
We got home just fine, and a couple hours later, my son called to say they were on their way.
About an hour or so after that, they called again. It was my husband. He said, “I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is, we’re still alive. The bad news is, we don’t have a pickup anymore.”
They had been driving along going 80 (yes, that was the speed limit), when there was an explosion and the truck dropped and veered left hard and sparks were flying——all at the same moment. Fortunately, he had both hands on the steering wheel, and he grabbed tight for control. Somehow, he managed to keep the truck upright and ease it off the road without over-correcting.
Turns out, the wheel exploded off the truck. Not the tire——the entire wheel. But the truck caught the edge of it, laying it flat and riding it like a sled down the freeway. This prevented the truck from hitting asphalt, which would probably have sent it into an 80 mph roll. The way it snagged the wheel also prevented it from sliding back and being run over by the rear tire, which also would have sent the truck into an 80 mph flip. But somehow, they came out all right.
I can’t believe everything that was involved…all the “what ifs.” If our daughter had been driving, I’m sure it would have been disastrous…if I had been driving, I don’t think I could have controlled it…if the wheel hadn’t been snagged just so…if he hadn’t had both hands on the steering wheel…if it had happened in a narrower strip of road…and the list goes on.
I think there was a legion of guardian angels involved in that episode.
When it comes to travel, I’ll take a dilapidated bush plane any day. It’s safer.
Pictures of the truck after riding the wheel like a sled down the freeway at 80 mph.
