Post by Deleted on Aug 23, 2015 9:25:53 GMT -5
A Year in the Life... (#3)
Well, it's been a full year since I bought out Andy and rebranded his service to Air Caribou. It had sure been an eventful year. We had grown
alright, but so far I had resisted the severe temptation to add too much equipment, too quickly. I'm not the best businessman in the world
and I was still, to this day, relying on Andy to keep my heart in the clouds but my head on the ground. Nevertheless, the slow(er) addition
of equipment kept the business very viable and allowed for a moderate and healthy increase in business. One thing that had worried me was
just how much potential there was for growth down in Homer, seemingly a distance away from the major markets. While I'm sure the potential
was less, so too was the competition and that seemed to be working in our favour. The little Super Cubs had been kept so busy that while each
was in for their maintenance inspections, we had to beg, borrow or rent another plane in order to fulfill contracts. That was certainly a
good situation.
Our flights were still mostly to the towns south of us along the coast, delivering mail, groceries, medicines and whatnot. One would have
thought these would have got boring after a while, but I rarely find flying boring, and certainly not up this way. There were too many
characters and too much chance of things going south to allow for too much boredom. Just when you least expected it, we'd have an emergency
flights to do, or urgent flights of some nature crop up that would throw the most mundane of days into the dumper. Like this one time when I was
delivering mail to Port Graham. A pretty routine flight, except when I landed a couple of guys rushed up to me, flushed with fear and
excitement, and asked if I could take one of the women back to Homer. Seems she was about "due" and the midwife from the town had gone away
for a few days on a family emergency. Well, as you can imagine, a Super Cub isn't exactly "roomy" and getting in and out of one of those
things when you're fit isn't all that simple a feat, never mind when you're 9 months pregnant. With a lot of maneuvering and grunting, we managed to get her in the back seat. The look
on her face told me we didn't exactly have a whole lot of time, so I fired up and took off downwind because that gave us a more or less
straight out departure. Not long after I got to our cruising altitude of 1,000 ft, I heard this scream come from the back seat! I looked
around and my passenger was wide-eyed and terrified looking. I asked her if everything was ok (a bit like asking someone who had just stuck
their hand on a hot burner if their hand was ok!), and the reply scared the crap out of me. She screamed again. DAMN! She was in labour. Now
the Super Cub isn't exactly the fastest airplane around so I bumped the rpm needle right up against the redline and headed as straight as I
could for Homer, meanwhile radioing the tower telling them to have an ambulance meet us. They gave me an emergency clearance in and got
everyone else out of the way for us. With that done, I turned around to see if she was still "with me" and the look on her face suggested
that if I didn't hurry up, the baby was going to land in MY lap anytime now! I figured since the Super Cub is only rated for 2 passengers,
haste was the primary concern at this point. All the way across the bay, which was now three times wider than it was when I crossed going the
other way this morning, my eyes were glued to the shoreline near Homer. Finally after 7 long minutes (or was it hours?) I was on final. Screw
the flaps, screw the normal approach speeds, I flew the thing right onto the ground, practically ground looped turning off the runway and
screeched to a halt at the waiting ambulance. I let the experts extract the poor woman from the airplane and get her in the ambulance. It was
obvious that it had been a close call. As I was cleaning up the airplane, I noticed the ambulance hadn't gone anywhere and was getting really
concerned. My first thought was that she was faking the whole thing just to get a ride back to Homer; or that she was in serious trouble. I
stood by for a couple of minutes waiting, and then I got my answer. The wailing of a very young child suddenly could be overheard above the
din of the airport noises and I realized then she hadn't been faking at all. In fact, I broke out in a cold sweat realizing that might have
happened on the way over the Bay, and there wouldn't have been anything I could have done to help. Talk about a close shave!
On another trip to Nanwalek, where I was dropping off some supplies for people who had been on a long sea kayak trip, I was waiting for them
to appear so I could make sure they had everything and to see where the next drop off point would be. They were depending on resupply by air
because of the length of the trip they were on, and they had stressed that they needed to meet with me before I left. They had been very
punctual on the previous 2 drops and with their sea kayaks on the shore nearby I was puzzled about where they might be this time. I figured
I'd wait about 30 minutes tops for them but after that I had to get back for another run. I was leaning lazily against the bush tire of the
Cub, enjoying the warm, Spring sun, half dozing and half wondering where they were, when I heard this rustling in the bushes near the edge of
the runway close by. "Ahh," I figured, "there they come." Yeah.... no. Emerging from the brush where I heard the noises, was this very large,
and somewhat unhappy (I could tell he was unhappy because of the pissed look on his furry face) grizzly male. Not just any grizzly male that
is. A very large, grizzly male, and one with an attitude. "CRAP!!" I yelled out out, somewhat involuntarily, but at the same time hoping to
scare him off. That's when I heard my 2 kayak friends on the other side of the runway yelling to me, "Look out! There's a bear there!!"
"Yeah, no shit!! Thanks!" I yelled back. Now most bears don't bother with people but this one seemed to be past that little impediment. With
my rifle in the back of the airplane (something I actually liked about Alaska over Canada - in Canada it's illegal to carry firearms out of
season, although exceptions have been made for some situations where a clear danger exists in the backcountry), I was wanting to jump for it,
but making sudden movements seemed not to be the best course of action at this point. The bear moseyed on over towards me, eyeing my airplane
with some interest. He seemed to be intrigued by the fabric covering, which of course is full of dope. Now, bears are neither the brightest
stars in the universe, nor are they particularly fussy about what they eat. In fact, they are scavengers and will dine on anything that
catches their fancy at the time. Or doesn't. They are willing to try everything. I mean, these dufosses will eat ants, mice, tree bark, fish,
rubber tires, home-baked cooking, laundry, and even, on occasion, dope-impregnated airplanes. It was the latter that had me somewhat
concerned. My two friends were still cowering back in the bushes, not really knowing what to do, but offering me all the moral support they
could throw my way. They fired me important pieces of information, like, "Wow, that bear is BIG!" and "Do bears eat people?" Yeah, thanks a
bunch guys! Now they had a rifle as well, but it was in their kayak, which was the other side of me, the airplane and (not coincidentally)
the bloody, big bear. They didn't seem to eager to head over and pick it up.
Finally when the bear went to the other side of the airplane on his investigation, I was able to lean inside and grab my rifle. I cocked the
lever and slowly made my way to the back of the aircraft on the opposite side of the tail to where he was. I was hoping that my movements,
which were emboldened now by having a high powered rifle actually in my hands, would scare him off. Suddenly, he took an investigatory "chomp"
out of my little plane's tail feathers to see if it was going to be worthy of his next meal! Well, I couldn't let this go on, so I fired a
warning shot over his head, hoping to scare him off. I figured that wasn't going to work and the next 'warning shot' would have to be through
his head. My little experiment worked however, and I guess as interested as he was in my airplane as brunch, he was figuring that there had
to be a less noisy place to dine and he charged off. Oh, but wait - he didn't just charge off anywhere! No sireee. He charged off heading
directly for my two kayaking buddies!! Now the bear at this point didn't really care he was about to run right over top of a couple of
lightweights like a rushing defensive lineman might run over a blocking wide receiver (and we all know who comes out on the wrong side of
that stick, don't we!). Well, the two kayakers dove for cover, one going north and the other one south, and the bear split the difference,
not bothering to look back as he did! When the two kayakers were able to gather enough strength, they slowly stood up, looking around to make
sure the coast was clear, then shakily made their way back to my airplane, and me. "Is he gone?" the one boy asked? "Yep, appears to be," I
said. "Unless that's him looking at us from the bush right there," I replied. I guess they didn't see the slight grin on my face for both
dove for the opposite side of the airplane as fast as they could, looking completely traumatized in the process. I assured them I
was kidding and yes, he was gone.
An hour later and half a roll of duct tape on, I was ready to fly again, while the two intrepid explorers decided that they'd find a
different place to camp. They checked their gear and we arranged for the next drop, and they were off in a cloud of spray; while I fired up
the Cubby and hoped my tape job would hold for the trip back to Homer. It did, and I had the airplane in the shop the next day.
Andy's comments about the crew up at Quartz Creek needing some larger/faster transportation to/from that area didn't fall on deaf ears with
me. After several meetings with the Quartz Creek mining people we settled on a contract, and three weeks later I had a shiny, relatively new Cessna 206 TC sitting out front of
our hangar. That's a pretty capable machine and I liked the turbo charging aspect to it (one of the reasons I chose it over the 185, the
other being those big doors in back to load/unload from). It isn't a STOL airplane by any means, but it's big enough to get in and out of
most strips I would go to. Indeed I was able to pick up trips to the Bradley Hydro Electric facility at the top end of Kachemak Bay, so
the 206 was paying for itself fairly soon after acquiring it. In fact, six months after the purchase of the 206, I was running myself ragged
with that airplane. So we hired another pilot and got ourselves a Navajo for the longer runs. We were even doing some runs up to Anchorage
and the surrounding region for various people, and enough runs to Kenai we practically had a sched service running there over much of the
winter. It was great at hauling cargo, people and even did some air ambulance work for us. In the Spring, we expanded the area of operations
to places like Kodiak and Cold Bay, as well as getting some runs up to Talkeetna and Seward. Things were definitely on the rise with us.
And so here we sit. A year after I made the move to Homer. Out front of the Air Caribou Hangar sits a Super Cub (the seaplane is still over
at Beluga Lake), a Cessna 206 and a Navajo. It was one of those rare mornings when all airplanes were visible because none were out flying. I
had a charter later that day in the Navajo to bring a "Homerite" back from Girdwood as he was looking at purchasing the skiing operation up
there. The strip there is only 2,000' and change, but the Navajo can handle that ok. As we were moving into autumn, I had to start thinking
about the winter's flying and what we might need to do to keep things moving then, but rather than dreading it, I was looking forward to it.
Never mind that though. The fall was promising to be very busy with us, and we were starting to look at adding a base somewhere up north in
the interior. That would be fun!
Returning from Girdwood in our "new" Piper Navajo
Well, it's been a full year since I bought out Andy and rebranded his service to Air Caribou. It had sure been an eventful year. We had grown
alright, but so far I had resisted the severe temptation to add too much equipment, too quickly. I'm not the best businessman in the world
and I was still, to this day, relying on Andy to keep my heart in the clouds but my head on the ground. Nevertheless, the slow(er) addition
of equipment kept the business very viable and allowed for a moderate and healthy increase in business. One thing that had worried me was
just how much potential there was for growth down in Homer, seemingly a distance away from the major markets. While I'm sure the potential
was less, so too was the competition and that seemed to be working in our favour. The little Super Cubs had been kept so busy that while each
was in for their maintenance inspections, we had to beg, borrow or rent another plane in order to fulfill contracts. That was certainly a
good situation.
Our flights were still mostly to the towns south of us along the coast, delivering mail, groceries, medicines and whatnot. One would have
thought these would have got boring after a while, but I rarely find flying boring, and certainly not up this way. There were too many
characters and too much chance of things going south to allow for too much boredom. Just when you least expected it, we'd have an emergency
flights to do, or urgent flights of some nature crop up that would throw the most mundane of days into the dumper. Like this one time when I was
delivering mail to Port Graham. A pretty routine flight, except when I landed a couple of guys rushed up to me, flushed with fear and
excitement, and asked if I could take one of the women back to Homer. Seems she was about "due" and the midwife from the town had gone away
for a few days on a family emergency. Well, as you can imagine, a Super Cub isn't exactly "roomy" and getting in and out of one of those
things when you're fit isn't all that simple a feat, never mind when you're 9 months pregnant. With a lot of maneuvering and grunting, we managed to get her in the back seat. The look
on her face told me we didn't exactly have a whole lot of time, so I fired up and took off downwind because that gave us a more or less
straight out departure. Not long after I got to our cruising altitude of 1,000 ft, I heard this scream come from the back seat! I looked
around and my passenger was wide-eyed and terrified looking. I asked her if everything was ok (a bit like asking someone who had just stuck
their hand on a hot burner if their hand was ok!), and the reply scared the crap out of me. She screamed again. DAMN! She was in labour. Now
the Super Cub isn't exactly the fastest airplane around so I bumped the rpm needle right up against the redline and headed as straight as I
could for Homer, meanwhile radioing the tower telling them to have an ambulance meet us. They gave me an emergency clearance in and got
everyone else out of the way for us. With that done, I turned around to see if she was still "with me" and the look on her face suggested
that if I didn't hurry up, the baby was going to land in MY lap anytime now! I figured since the Super Cub is only rated for 2 passengers,
haste was the primary concern at this point. All the way across the bay, which was now three times wider than it was when I crossed going the
other way this morning, my eyes were glued to the shoreline near Homer. Finally after 7 long minutes (or was it hours?) I was on final. Screw
the flaps, screw the normal approach speeds, I flew the thing right onto the ground, practically ground looped turning off the runway and
screeched to a halt at the waiting ambulance. I let the experts extract the poor woman from the airplane and get her in the ambulance. It was
obvious that it had been a close call. As I was cleaning up the airplane, I noticed the ambulance hadn't gone anywhere and was getting really
concerned. My first thought was that she was faking the whole thing just to get a ride back to Homer; or that she was in serious trouble. I
stood by for a couple of minutes waiting, and then I got my answer. The wailing of a very young child suddenly could be overheard above the
din of the airport noises and I realized then she hadn't been faking at all. In fact, I broke out in a cold sweat realizing that might have
happened on the way over the Bay, and there wouldn't have been anything I could have done to help. Talk about a close shave!
On another trip to Nanwalek, where I was dropping off some supplies for people who had been on a long sea kayak trip, I was waiting for them
to appear so I could make sure they had everything and to see where the next drop off point would be. They were depending on resupply by air
because of the length of the trip they were on, and they had stressed that they needed to meet with me before I left. They had been very
punctual on the previous 2 drops and with their sea kayaks on the shore nearby I was puzzled about where they might be this time. I figured
I'd wait about 30 minutes tops for them but after that I had to get back for another run. I was leaning lazily against the bush tire of the
Cub, enjoying the warm, Spring sun, half dozing and half wondering where they were, when I heard this rustling in the bushes near the edge of
the runway close by. "Ahh," I figured, "there they come." Yeah.... no. Emerging from the brush where I heard the noises, was this very large,
and somewhat unhappy (I could tell he was unhappy because of the pissed look on his furry face) grizzly male. Not just any grizzly male that
is. A very large, grizzly male, and one with an attitude. "CRAP!!" I yelled out out, somewhat involuntarily, but at the same time hoping to
scare him off. That's when I heard my 2 kayak friends on the other side of the runway yelling to me, "Look out! There's a bear there!!"
"Yeah, no shit!! Thanks!" I yelled back. Now most bears don't bother with people but this one seemed to be past that little impediment. With
my rifle in the back of the airplane (something I actually liked about Alaska over Canada - in Canada it's illegal to carry firearms out of
season, although exceptions have been made for some situations where a clear danger exists in the backcountry), I was wanting to jump for it,
but making sudden movements seemed not to be the best course of action at this point. The bear moseyed on over towards me, eyeing my airplane
with some interest. He seemed to be intrigued by the fabric covering, which of course is full of dope. Now, bears are neither the brightest
stars in the universe, nor are they particularly fussy about what they eat. In fact, they are scavengers and will dine on anything that
catches their fancy at the time. Or doesn't. They are willing to try everything. I mean, these dufosses will eat ants, mice, tree bark, fish,
rubber tires, home-baked cooking, laundry, and even, on occasion, dope-impregnated airplanes. It was the latter that had me somewhat
concerned. My two friends were still cowering back in the bushes, not really knowing what to do, but offering me all the moral support they
could throw my way. They fired me important pieces of information, like, "Wow, that bear is BIG!" and "Do bears eat people?" Yeah, thanks a
bunch guys! Now they had a rifle as well, but it was in their kayak, which was the other side of me, the airplane and (not coincidentally)
the bloody, big bear. They didn't seem to eager to head over and pick it up.
Finally when the bear went to the other side of the airplane on his investigation, I was able to lean inside and grab my rifle. I cocked the
lever and slowly made my way to the back of the aircraft on the opposite side of the tail to where he was. I was hoping that my movements,
which were emboldened now by having a high powered rifle actually in my hands, would scare him off. Suddenly, he took an investigatory "chomp"
out of my little plane's tail feathers to see if it was going to be worthy of his next meal! Well, I couldn't let this go on, so I fired a
warning shot over his head, hoping to scare him off. I figured that wasn't going to work and the next 'warning shot' would have to be through
his head. My little experiment worked however, and I guess as interested as he was in my airplane as brunch, he was figuring that there had
to be a less noisy place to dine and he charged off. Oh, but wait - he didn't just charge off anywhere! No sireee. He charged off heading
directly for my two kayaking buddies!! Now the bear at this point didn't really care he was about to run right over top of a couple of
lightweights like a rushing defensive lineman might run over a blocking wide receiver (and we all know who comes out on the wrong side of
that stick, don't we!). Well, the two kayakers dove for cover, one going north and the other one south, and the bear split the difference,
not bothering to look back as he did! When the two kayakers were able to gather enough strength, they slowly stood up, looking around to make
sure the coast was clear, then shakily made their way back to my airplane, and me. "Is he gone?" the one boy asked? "Yep, appears to be," I
said. "Unless that's him looking at us from the bush right there," I replied. I guess they didn't see the slight grin on my face for both
dove for the opposite side of the airplane as fast as they could, looking completely traumatized in the process. I assured them I
was kidding and yes, he was gone.
An hour later and half a roll of duct tape on, I was ready to fly again, while the two intrepid explorers decided that they'd find a
different place to camp. They checked their gear and we arranged for the next drop, and they were off in a cloud of spray; while I fired up
the Cubby and hoped my tape job would hold for the trip back to Homer. It did, and I had the airplane in the shop the next day.
Andy's comments about the crew up at Quartz Creek needing some larger/faster transportation to/from that area didn't fall on deaf ears with
me. After several meetings with the Quartz Creek mining people we settled on a contract, and three weeks later I had a shiny, relatively new Cessna 206 TC sitting out front of
our hangar. That's a pretty capable machine and I liked the turbo charging aspect to it (one of the reasons I chose it over the 185, the
other being those big doors in back to load/unload from). It isn't a STOL airplane by any means, but it's big enough to get in and out of
most strips I would go to. Indeed I was able to pick up trips to the Bradley Hydro Electric facility at the top end of Kachemak Bay, so
the 206 was paying for itself fairly soon after acquiring it. In fact, six months after the purchase of the 206, I was running myself ragged
with that airplane. So we hired another pilot and got ourselves a Navajo for the longer runs. We were even doing some runs up to Anchorage
and the surrounding region for various people, and enough runs to Kenai we practically had a sched service running there over much of the
winter. It was great at hauling cargo, people and even did some air ambulance work for us. In the Spring, we expanded the area of operations
to places like Kodiak and Cold Bay, as well as getting some runs up to Talkeetna and Seward. Things were definitely on the rise with us.
And so here we sit. A year after I made the move to Homer. Out front of the Air Caribou Hangar sits a Super Cub (the seaplane is still over
at Beluga Lake), a Cessna 206 and a Navajo. It was one of those rare mornings when all airplanes were visible because none were out flying. I
had a charter later that day in the Navajo to bring a "Homerite" back from Girdwood as he was looking at purchasing the skiing operation up
there. The strip there is only 2,000' and change, but the Navajo can handle that ok. As we were moving into autumn, I had to start thinking
about the winter's flying and what we might need to do to keep things moving then, but rather than dreading it, I was looking forward to it.
Never mind that though. The fall was promising to be very busy with us, and we were starting to look at adding a base somewhere up north in
the interior. That would be fun!
Returning from Girdwood in our "new" Piper Navajo
.
