cub180
That was great of you !!
Did we meet when I came through last Sept. headed to Alaska? I was flying the home built painted like a American flag .
Doug

Yes we did.

Tell Dieter Doug says hello, hope to pass that way again this Sept.
Doug

Made it through customs yesterday night at Anchorage International. We were authorized a fuel stop at Tok, then to PANC. Wonderful surprise in Ft St John to have Dieter and Karen meet us at the airport. Had a chance in Kamloops to stay with another former stranger, Bart. Can't thank those folks enough for their generosity of time and hospitality.

We got so much done the past few days that I am woefully behind on the updates, but they will be processed in the order they occurred...and posted when ready. Today will not likely be that day, as we are flying home from Anchortown, but will get the story posted bit by bit.

Richard, I wondered if it was your airplane Dieter was describing. Bummer, hope you get it sorted out.

Oil cooler? If so yeah. Ordinarily no biggie but the distance and international border complicated things.

Time to start trying to catch up here, since we actually made it home yesterday afternoon...where were we?

Oh, yes...

Wednesday afternoon I was expecting to right off entirely as the weather suggested that the winds in Wenatchee were going to hit 30 kts by around 3 pm and maybe a whole lot worse by 5 pm. So we were expecting that we would need to get in the air by around 2 pm to have a good shot at getting in the air. Of course, we were going to be flying through that stuff, but occasional moderate turbulence, while not fun, I can handle in the air, but ground handling and low level flight during takeoff with winds like they were forecasting is a different matter.

I traded a couple emails with the expediter, paid my bill with them ($85.00 total, amazing, at that rate no matter how many times I was under the impression that the only reason it worked is that I kept persisting...it was money very well spent), and they again assured me it was coming. As noon approached I was pretty certain that we would be getting it right in time to not leave Wednesday and be trying to go on Thursday.

And then...

At 12:06 pm, Washington time, I got an email from Jeff Snowden with the temporary certificate.

Can we do it?

Checked wind, still not bad, threw all our stuff in bags, put in a call to get a briefing and file a flight plan, and packed the last things in the bag. Then I remembered that I had not remembered to file eAPIS, hauled the computer back out, and refiled. My brother's long-suffering wife put together a lunch for us, helped us load our stuff in the car, and I called Canadian Customs on the way to the airport.

Amy had not seen the airplane yet, as Shane had met us both times. So it was interesting to see her response...

"Oh my goodness! It is so small!!!"

Yes, it is. Here she is with Luke and the Island Girl.


We went ahead and fueled up, said our goodbyes to Amy and Luke, then to the staff at the Wenatchee General Aviation hangar, who had been seeing us come in and out, and had helped me out by inspecting the airplane when we first arrived (I had wanted a second set of eyes to look everything over before launching north across some of the truly roadless territory we were going to cross). Finally, we got in, checked the weather, and took off.

The wind was less than 15 kts, low enough that I can't remember what it was exactly. We climbed out and headed north. The winds aloft forecasts suggested we would have a tailwind, so I had filed a flight plan pretty much for our expect flight time, and since we were in the air pretty much at 2 pm, I filed based on direct to Oroville, then direct Kamloops at 90 kts and figured it would give me adequate cushion, as we had been flying mostly around 100 kts so far on this trip.

On our northward climb, we had a beautiful view of Wells Dam, one of the Columbia Dams I saw regularly from the road as a kid.


Not long after Wells, as we climbed up, two unfavorable things happened. First, we learned that there really was going to be moderate turbulence on this flight. And second, the wind was not going to be a tailwind really, but instead from the side. Which made the gusts feel very interesting, as a hard push would hit the rudder, yaw the whole airplane sideways, and the poor ball would swing sideways in the tube before swinging back the other way.

So now I was pulling back power to get us to maneuvering speed. Oh yeah, shouldn't have planned 100 kts if we are going to be flying 90 or less...

And furthermore, with the side wind, we had a very substantial headwind component. All of a sudden, I was realizing that I was going to have trouble showing up even within 30 minutes of when I had told customs I would be there. They had told me I had 30 minutes leeway...I should have moved it out another 30 minutes when they told me that. So I started trying to gauge whether the turbulence was enough to need us to slow down so much...started flying it a little harder, then dialing the speed back when it would get bumpier again...and got to spend the rest of the time watching the clock quite intently. Blech.

At Omak, we went right over the house of a friend who had been away when Cedric and I stopped in, so I snapped a photo.


The turbulence forecast was for everything up to 12,000, and there were ceilings forecast along the route of 4,000 feet and less in Canada, so I didn't try to go up and get over top of it, we just sailed along, bumping and cruising. Cedric doesn't do well with turbulence sometimes, so when I got the briefing, I told him how it was going to be. Then I asked him if he wanted to sleep through it, and he was in favor of that. So he had taken half of a Benadryl, and he was out pretty much by the time we got to Wells Dam. I woke him up for that, but then he slept the rest of the way. So I got to fret about our arrival time all by myself.

On the way past Tonasket, we had a nice view up the Spectacle/Whitefish Valley.


Then, a view out the other side of the Okanogan Valley between Tonasket and Oroville.


We crossed into Canada, and I started talking to Kamloops Radio to get updates on conditions along our route of flight. If we could head straight to Kamloops from the elbow in Okanagan Lake, we would be saving quite a bit of time and might make it within the 30 minutes late customs window. If we had to go up the entire lake then take the valley that led directly to Kamloops, we would be quite late. It wasn't apparent from their report whether the straight across route would work. So we sailed on, crossing over Penticton.


When we got to the elbow in Okanagan Lake, there was a bit of ugly directly ahead.

Hmmmmm.

I turned up one of the valleys to try to get a sense of whether it was just obstruction to vision as opposed to obscuration, but as we got in closer it didn't get any better and I turned around. We headed toward Kelowna, and I was staying along the opposite side of the lake out of their airspace, but realizing now that we were going to be late, I called up Kamloops Radio again to notify them of our revised routing and arrival time. They had already told me that they couldn't help me as far as revising customs arrival time, but at least somebody would know when to expect me.

But as I was talking to them we emerged along the lake into a patch of really good visibility with a higher ceiling, and I could see across what looked like the top. So I told them to disregard and we started climbing and heading straight across.

But as we got near the divide, with terrain showing on my phone and a good view ahead, I could see that the good view ended near the top. The clouds were still low in there, and as we got near I slowed down and evaluated my options. There were a couple passes, and the one further away was lower, with lower terrain on the other side. It appeared to be reduced visibility, but not obscured, so I kept the speed down and flew on, probably around 500 agl now over rough timber country, marking my visibility ahead. It wasn't good. Probably around 3 miles, which is not my favorite.

Just as I was ready to reconsider, the visibility improved, and we sailed out into some lovely country that reminded me of some of the Alaska high tundra.


From there, the clouds started breaking up, and it was nicer and nicer.


As we neared Kamloops and called in, we were competing with a Jaz flight, one of the Canadian airlines, and of course they fly a lot faster than we do...no really, they do!...

So we took a little longer route by flying out over the river next to the main city of Kamloops before turning and landing straight in after the airline plane cleared the runway. From there, we taxied over to the transient apron, turned off the plane, and I got my cell phone to call customs. But when I took it out of airplane mode, it didn't show any service.

Uh, oh.

This could get complicated. When you land, you have to call customs, but you aren't allowed to leave your airplane.

I turned on the master, called up Kamloops Radio, and asked if they had any ideas what I could do. They said I could go up into the FBO to use a phone...but I knew full well customs wouldn't like that...

Then Cedric said, "My phone has service!"

"Oh good, let me borrow it."

But as I was dialing in on his, mine started showing service as well. Crisis averted. So I called on my phone after all, worked through the menu options until I got a customs agent, and she wanted to know if I had anything to declare...

"Not really, just that we arrived later than intended."

"Okay, well, you're cleared to go."

That easy! Canadian customs are great! Same way last time too.

My phone had a text on it from Bart Lalonde. I called him up, as he and I had been put in contact by a mutual friend and he had offered to take care of us when we arrived. He was standing over waving while we talked, so I taxied over to where he was, we tied the Island Girl down for the night, and he took us out to dinner at a spectacular restaurant in Kamloops, the Minos. Wow. Then Bart took us for a driving tour of Kamloops before heading back.

After getting back to his house, we watched a local aviation television program, which was pretty cool. I didn't catch the show title, but it was very entertaining, and they were flying a Beaver, so that is always good.

Then Bart started telling me about his work. I had known he had an engine shop, but wow, does he know engines. He worked at and was partial owner at Aero Sport Power, which was where our airplane was tied down, and designed and built engines for the experimental market. It was fabulous education to hear him explain how he designed engines, what he thought were the things that should be done to improve engines in the future, and how he had worked through some of the engine design issues he had been involved with. I wish I had taken notes. A lot of notes. When I need a new engine or an overhaul, I think I'll be calling Bart before I do anything else...

But we both ran out of steam, so eventually we had to call it a night. The next day had lots of entertainment in store anyway...

Morning came...but then it always does...so I woke up poor Cedric (not a morning child...) and we got ourselves ready to go out the door before 8 am. Bart took us for a look at his lovely cub. Someday when I'm so rich I can afford to have an airplane that is slow and has no room in it but can land most anywhere worth landing...I'll get a cub. And if I wanted a really nice cub, I think I would have to try to talk Bart into selling his. Fat tires, floats, skis, I'll take them all. Wow.


I have a feeling that writing books about aviation is not going to help me achieve the status of rich, but it is fun so I guess I'll keep going...

We were due for an oil change, so we were going to do that before we left Kamloops. The plane has an oil screen rather than a filter, and we had put almost 25 hours on since picking her up in Wisconsin. I had changed the oil in my previous bird, and felt it was not unreasonable to do it and then head off. Bart either agreed or was humoring me...

So I went out there, warmed up the engine to get the oil warm, peered under the cowling to get a good look at the quick drain...and there was no quick drain.

I didn't know that was possible.

In my vast oil changing experience, working on one airplane, there was always a quick drain. Here I was with airplane number two, a similar airplane to be sure, but no quick drain.

Hmmm.

The first thing I had to do was pull off the cowling so I could get access to the plug that was installed where the quick drain should have been. With that done, I removed the safety wire on the plug, placed a bucket below the plug, and applied an appropriate wrench to the plug.

Which did not move.

At all.

At the point where I was concerned I might break the wrench, and had already applied some good bruises to my hand, I started questioning this plan. Instead of breaking something, I looked over the options, and decided to pull the other plug, the big one, the one that doesn't get pulled as often as it should. The one with the sump screen in it.

It seemed like we would need a bit of a plan to pull the oil out of that one, and I ran in to consult with Bart. Bart, one of the most helpful and friendly people on earth, quickly fabricated an aluminum oil chute to catch and direct the oil. That seemed like a really good idea, so I got ready, found a helper (as I was running out of hands), and pulled the plug.

Oops.

The simplest way to describe the events is just to observe that the plug is really big. The oil comes out really fast (might have helped in this case to have had cold oil? Who knows...). The wind was blowing pretty good. I would say that most of the oil went down the chute and into the bucket as intended. Most.

By most, I mean 50.01% or more. Probably not a lot more.

So from a simple operation where I would change the oil, fuel up, then fly away, I had now managed to turn it into an operation where I would spend half a day just trying to clean up the mess I made, get everything put back together appropriately with fresh oil, and feel a bit incompetent.

Probably good for the soul to feel a bit incompetent. If so, my soul was in pretty good shape about then.

This was not a very exciting morning for Cedric. But that actually worked out pretty well. He was sitting in the airplane in an awkward sleeping pose, head back, sawing logs. What fun he missed.

But the mess was eventually cleaned up, the plane was put back in service with a beautiful new load of golden oil in the sump, and I fired it up to leak-check it. Ran it for a few minutes, then shut it down. Everything looked good, so we said out goodbyes to Bart and got ready to go get some fuel. Bart brought us out some Aero-Sport Power shirts and hats, and we taxied away, leaving behind new friends and carrying with us the knowledge that I would be buying a quick drain...

We taxied over looking for fuel, and I saw a fuel tank. Bart had described my destination, but I apparently hadn't listened very well...so I taxied in and shut down, and realized I was very much not in the right place. In fact, it probably should have dawned on me that my plane was surrounded by heavy equipment...not aircraft...


Now this would, of course, be just another footnote in the annals of taking a wrong turn at the pass, but when I figured out where to go, I got back in the plane, ran the starting checklist, and tried to start it.

Tried.

No joy.

As the battery started sounding tired, I realized I was not getting out of here anytime super soon.

I walked over to the hangar next door, and the staff from MountainAire were in the middle of getting ready for lunch. But as soon as the burgers were on the grill, they brought a truck over and towed us to their apron to sort out our issues.


So the Island Girl got to go offroad.

When we looked it all over, it appeared that the starter was still engaged, so even just getting a hand prop start wasn't going to be likely to work. They helped us get fuel, then pulled the battery and took it in to the bench to charge it. So we sat around, ate leftovers from last nights Minos feast, and swapped hangar flying tales while the battery recovered from three starts that had not been followed by enough charging to replenish it. That seemed like a pretty small demand to result in a drained battery. When we pulled the battery out, it was a very small, different looking unit. I looked it up and it is an approved aviation battery, and some people swear it's a really good one. But it appeared to either be short on juice for the demand of the starter, or the starter was weak (which is what I had suspected based on how it felt since first picking the plane up), or the power supply cable from the battery to the starter was corroded.

Note to self, make your starts count until you figure out the issue!

Finally, we determined we had enough charge to give it a try, so again they sent us off with t-shirts, we got in and what do you know, it started right up. And I didn't shut it down again...

Off we went, launching west, climbing up along the valley wall, then turning and heading straight for Prince George. I had been looking at my options, hoping for a flight up the Cassiar side to Williams Lake, Smithers, Dease Lake, and then Whitehorse. But I just couldn't talk myself into being convinced that the weather outlook was satisfactory, and with murk hiding just across the mountains in Southeast Alaska, I didn't trust that it wouldn't spill over and then stick us in place. So I made the decision to head to Prince George, and then decide where I would go.

I had previously expressed an interest in Toad River, and it had been suggested that perhaps Toad River wouldn't be the best option at this time of year. But I thought it might be worth a try, if we got to Prince George in time.


The weather was nice, but we had a bit of a headwind, which of course doesn't help when you are trying to get as far as possible after a late start. Pretty soon I got distracted by a mystery. Below us, there were roads with strange dirt marks on either side. I was trying to imagine what machine would make those strange, roundish patterns on the earth. Then I thought perhaps it was oil exploration. At one point, I even considered archeologists with lots of funding.


The reality was pretty straightforward...they were scorch marks from burned slash piles. We started going over ground where the slash was still piled up after a logging operation, and it was rather obvious.


Another mystery solved. Thank goodness.

Out to the west, a large open pit mine was visible that I remembered flying over before, when we flew to Prince George from Kelowna on the last journey.


Then, a nice view of the Quesnel River.


We sailed on, past such curious places as 100 Mile House, and landed in Prince George with some daylight left. But how much daylight? And how far could we get if we forged on quickly? Time to run into the flight planning room and figure out the next stop.

As the guy ran out to fuel the plane, I was considering my options. At this point, based on the input I got on BCP, I decided that I was going to rule out an attempt to fly through Toad River. So my primary options were Mackenzie, Fort St. John, Hudson's Hope, and Fort Nelson. The weather forecast wasn't entirely positive about the side of the mountains we were on, so I quickly ruled out Mackenzie in favor of getting over to the side where the next day's weather was supposed to be good. Running the flight plans suggested that Fort Nelson was going to be a little on the late side, and I don't particularly love worrying about evening conditions and fading light, so I asked the fuel guy if he knew anything about Hudson's Hope.

He laughed, "No! Can't say I do!"

"Okay..."

Fort Saint John it was...so we launched out of Prince George and set a course slightly north for a while toward a patchier spot in the line of clouds over the mountains, then turned direct.


"Well, Cedric, it looks like we are going to Fort Saint John again, even though I had intended to try to go some other way."

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"What are we going to do when we get there? Where are we going to stay?"

"Well, I don't rightly know. Probably we'll find a hotel to stay in if we can figure out how to get in to town from the airport. We can camp if we need to, but it would be nice just to have a good bed for the night at this point."

"...Okay..."

As we went, the Rockies were ahead and to our right, standing between us and Fort Saint John. So here we were again, just like last time, crossing back over the Rockies. But going through the Rockies in Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho takes quite a while. We were showing a flight that was around 2 hours or a tad more, and it looked like the crossing of the mountains was going to be less than half of that. As we neared the mountains, I pointed to a ribbon of frozen white coming down from the mountains south of us, and running under us to the north.


"Guess what the name of that river is?"

"...Uh...I don't know, Dad..."

"It's the Parsnip River."

"Isn't a Parsnip something that you eat?"

"Yes."

"So it is like a vegetable river then."

"I guess so..."

The east side of the river valley abuts the western slope of the mountains, so immediately after crossing the river we started over the wooded lower slopes. But the wooded lower slopes were not really on our minds, we were mostly looking at the tops, which were wonderfully snow-covered rocks jutting up above the treeline.


As we crossed over the main spine of rock, the jutting face looking up at us was so striking I turned and followed long enough to get a photo.


Mountains are truly wonderful to behold from an airplane. Of course they are also wonderful to behold on the ground. Having grown up in the foothills of the Cascades, I find that I love the feeling of the mountains around me even after living in King Salmon for as long as we have. For anybody that hasn't been there, King Salmon is in the tundra lowlands of Bristol Bay, though we do have views of the mountains. As we left the hills, we could see Fort Saint John off in the distance, but when I looked at the GPS it still said that the town was 100 miles away.

Weird.

On a good day you can easily see 100 miles...but usually not so well as to pick out a town at that distance.

But as we flew, it got closer, much fast than it was supposed to...

I finally realized that the canyon in front of the development, which was now much less than a city as we got closer, was not the mighty Peace River, but a much smaller drainage of some sort, and the 'city' was actually some sort of an industrial compound. Mystery solved. Sort of. I don't actually know what it was...


But with low-angle sun hitting it, it stood out for miles.

We went on and as we flew the Pine River ran down ahead and to our left, on its way to meet the Peace River near Fort Saint John. It passed through a lovely little canyon that stood out nicely in the evening light.


Finally, the Peace River Canyon cliffs were ahead of us, Fort Saint John to our left, and the Airport dead ahead.


Cedric had asked me a few times on the flight what we were going to do when we reached Fort Saint John, and other than trying to find a hotel, I didn't have much to offer. As we landed, I asked the radio operator what the quickest way to parking and fuel was.

"Probably backtaxi, then parking is right near the end of the runway there. Fuel is available from the business after the hangars, but likely not until morning at this point."

"Copy, thanks."

Hmmm. If it is too late to get fuel, that would limit our ability to get in the air the next morning. We turned off the runway onto the taxiway, and next to the hangars up ahead, a lady was standing out by the taxiway waving at us.

"Cedric, look at that lady waving."

"What is she doing?"

"I have no idea..."

But she looked fairly earnest, so I slowed down, then stopped as we neared her and she came around behind to the door.

"Hi, we're here to meet you."

"You are?"

"Yes! We know you from Backcountrypilot.org, you've talked with my husband about this trip."

"I don't think we are who you think we are..."

At this point, I was pretty convinced that I had no idea what she was referring to, but she was pretty clearly expecting to help us.

"Just taxi over behind this hangar, my husband is waiting there and we can help you."

Well, after all, what did I have to lose?

So we taxied over there, shut down, and got out. I walked over to her, and asked her a question, "Who do you think I am?"

"You're Troy Hamon!"

"Well, yes I am...okay, how did you know we were coming?"

"We were watching your SPOT device, and when somebody asked if you were going to Dawson Creek we checked and it looked like you were coming here, so we came to meet you!"

I have to say I was totally floored. So there they were, Dieter and Karen, meeting us on the evening when we had no plans, no idea what we were going to do, or how we were going to do it. That might have been the coolest experience of the whole trip.

Dieter showed us his C180, an airplane so beautiful and powerful that it scarcely belongs in the same category as our little Island Girl. Wow, what a machine.


Dieter and Karen helped us secure the airplane for the night, we loaded up our overnight bags into their truck, then they took us home, fed us, let us sleep in their living room, and visited until we were too tired to keep up. What an amazing treat. Dieter not only has a C180 to die for, he has a cub that is similarly awesome, and we got to see pictures and hear stories. But the next day was going to be a long one, so we headed to bed, amazed and pleased with our new connection in Fort Saint John. Good people show up out of the woodwork in aviation. They just do. Wow.

At Dieter and Karen's house, I was running some numbers in my head. When we left on this adventure, we had three weeks before our local swim club was having sanctioned time trials. I've been helping coach this year, and Cedric swims on the team, and I am a certified official. Taking Cedric out of swimming for a chunk of time made it less likely that this would be a particularly important meet for him, but my participation was a little more critical as otherwise we would need to bring another official out from Anchorage. We had arranged to bring out the primary two officials we needed, but with me there, we had the needed three. Without me there, well, that would make things complicated at the very end.

But we had encountered some delays. Rather substantial delays. And now, after having given ourselves three weeks to work with, we were going to be leaving Fort Saint John on a Friday morning, while the swim meet started Saturday evening. In King Salmon.

So what did that look like?

I ran a few variations of flight plans through Skyvector, and if we really did scoot along, it was within the realm of possible. The weather in general appeared to be favorable, so we were going to be primarily limited by how long we could fly, and the window for getting through customs. I didn't know what that window was exactly, but we had a lot of hours between us and Northway, and we were going to be needing to stop in Fort Nelson, Watson Lake, and Whitehorse, and those stops would need to be as quick as possible.

Dieter and Karen rose early anyway, and so did I, but I had to work a little bit to get poor Cedric up at 6 am. That's not part of his experience in real life, and he doesn't particularly leap out of bed. But we were going to have an awful lot of flying to do, so I figured he'd catch up on his sleep in the plane.

We had breakfast, then threw our stuff back in bags and thanked our incredible newfound friends, and gracious hosts, before Dieter took us out to load up and get on our way.


I had tried starting the airplane with a number of different primer strokes. On the checklist, it suggested 3 strokes. In the passage of time on the trip I had raised that number to 4 and then 5. But on this morning I finally decided to try 6 shots of primer. The airplane would start, but the starter seemed pretty weak in general, and anything that would make it fire on first turn would be good. Most people I know would shudder at so many primer strokes, but I had found on my last Tri-Pacer that 6 shots made a first turnover start on every attempt. I had at the time assumed it was an anomaly, but now, after the failed starts and dead battery in Kamloops, I wanted to make sure I didn't waste any attempts.

And you know what? It started right up. I might well have another 6 prime airplane.

We launched out of Fort Saint John before 7:30 am, half an hour after my target time, but still pretty early on, and headed to Fort Nelson over the cut forest. Last time I was on a similar adventure, I had been amazed at the cut lines in the forest, but we failed to get any photos of them. This time, it wasn't long before the lines appeared, and I found an intersection of many lines below me, cut through the forest. I should have asked Dieter what they were for while I was thinking of it the evening before...


Cedric had wasted no time getting himself settled in to a good nap to make up for the sleep he missed the night before.


I started noticing that while for the most part, the cut lines were straight lines that went through the forest for miles, a few were a bit wobbly. And it wasn't that the straight lines would occasionally have bends in them, it was that some of the lines just weren't straight. They were straight-ish, generally going in a straight direction, but with many little bobbles in the route.


Maybe the surveyors got bored and decided to mess with people like me. Or maybe the guy driving the big line cutting machine sneezed every so often while driving...

For the most part, the radio was pretty quiet, with a few aircraft calling traffic in or out of Fort Saint John, well behind us now. But as we reached the Sikanni Chief River, there was some helicopter traffic, with two craft talking back and forth about their locations and plans. They were calling traffic all within 500 feet of the surface, so we were well above them flying around 1500 agl, and despite having charts to pour over to sort out the landmarks they were calling, and pretty fair Mark I eyeballs, I never did see them.

As we approached Fort Nelson, it leaped into view as a settlement totally carved out of the forest as we approached to land.


After landing, I asked the radio operator where to go for fuel, and he referenced the second hangar.

The second hangar...hmm...

The first hangar looked familiar. Last time here we had tied down to a grate next to it, and there it was. But the second hangar was a huge building that hadn't been there last time. In its place had been the pair of mobile homes, one with the office/lounge and the other with the unheated flight planning room.

I taxied over and parked, but when I approached the second hangar, this monstrous edifice, and stuck my head inside, it looked like a fresh construction project. The shell was up, but inside was dirt floor, uninsulated walls, and lots of empty space. Nothing and nobody.

What was it I said about needing to get turned around fast to make customs?

I immediately turned and walked over toward the next business, a helicopter operator, and found a couple ladies inside at the front desk.

"Excuse me, I'm here with my little airplane out there, and I'm hoping to find somebody that will sell me some fuel."

"Oh, they should be over there in that hangar..."

"Yeah, that is what the radio operator told me, but I tried the published frequency to request fuel when we were 20 miles out and got no response, and now I don't see anybody over there. The building looks like it isn't even ready to use yet."

"Yeah, the radios don't seem to be working right. That building is barely up, but they have been operating out of the back corner of it. I'll call over there."

"Last time I was here, they were operating out of a couple trailers."

"Those trailers are still there, they moved them back and they are over there behind the big hangar now!"

She made a couple calls, then found her quarry, Brook.

"He was actually back in the shop with our guys, he'll be right out."

Brook showed up, and he went over to get the truck and fuel us.


The little blue hangar, which didn't seem little before, is the old one, and then there is the other one. After paying him, I asked about the old red courtesy car we had enjoyed last time. It was huge. It was a Dodge. And it had more character than any other courtesy car I ever encountered. It had so much character that it might have had a couple of homicides in its background, but I was careful not to ask it about those indiscretions, trying instead to remain on its good side so as to prevent it committing more, similar crimes.

"Yeah, that old car, I've heard stories about it. But I started working here a few years ago after they had already got rid of it."

"Well, if you've heard stories about it, they were probably true...it was an amazing vehicle. And I mean that in almost every possible way, positive and negative..."

And with that, we launched, trying to get as far as we could on this day to get ourselves in position to be able to make the swim meet in time after such long delay...

I've had some good experiences when flying cross country like you had with Dieter and Karen. About 1990 I was going to visit my sister in Portland ME and stopped at Pen Yan NY for the night. Some people were saying farewell to some friends in a Mooney and when they found out I was a farmer from Iowa, they insisted I go to a Luner Eclipse party on a mountain top at Branchport. It was a winery and I got a bottle of wine and had a good time.

When we left Fort Nelson, we set in a direct course to Watson Lake and started climbing. The forecast winds aloft had us riding a nice tailwind for this leg and the next, so we got up to 6500 feet and sure enough, an extra 20 mph or more was registering on the gps. The weather was forecast to be good but the clouds ahead were to have scattered layers down in the 4000 foot range, so we weren't sure we could manage to keep it at 6500 feet the whole way. At 6500 we were leaned out, and moving fast, as we crossed the Toad River. Love that name. We had skipped out on flying to the Toad River airstrip based on the advice, it turns out, of Dieter online. But here it was beneath us, a frozen ribbon of ice and snow snaking down out of the mountains where the little airstrip is, before joining up with the Liard River just downstream.


Further on, we crossed over the Liard River, which then was set alongside the mountains on our left.


Somewhere around here I started running some numbers in my head. We were trying to reach Whitehorse in time to make Northway Customs. Nobody had told me what that window was, but I was assuming I needed to land at Northway no later than 4:30 pm. My flight plan as filed was to Whitehorse, landing by 2 pm. Then, If we departed by 3 pm (assuming I could get everything done in less than an hour, including fuel, calling customs, etc.) then we would have roughly a 2.5 hour trip, landing by 4:30 pm Alaska time (accounting for the change in time zone).

But we were a little late getting out of Fort Saint John, as I'm not the quickest morning person, and Cedric is less so. And getting fuel in Fort Nelson had taken a little longer than the 30 minutes I had built in to my planning. So we were running maybe a little late in general.

But now, the tailwind was greater than forecast, we were now showing a solid 25-30 mph boost, and were traveling along faster than anticipated. Our airplane doesn't have the legs to make a direct Fort Nelson to Whitehorse flight. Usually. But leaned out at altitude, with a big tailwind, I was starting to see a realistic opportunity to go direct to Whitehorse without compromising my personal rule for a 1 hour reserve...maybe. Hmmm.

I spent the last 60 miles to Watson Lake filling up a scratch pad that I have clipped on the yoke with scribbles, adding and subtracting, multiplying and dividing, and kept coming up with numbers that looked good on paper, but only if the wind held up. As we neared Watson Lake, I called Whitehorse Radio to get an update on winds aloft along the route and make a decision.

"Tri-Pacer November niner niner seven six delta, winds aloft along your route continue to be from the west or southwest, 15 to 20 at 6000 feet, so it does look like you will continue to enjoy that tailwind all the way to Whitehorse."

Hmmm.

I made the decision to go ahead, and as we passed Watson Lake at one hour and 45 minutes into the flight, I set my attention on the fuel gauge for the right fuel tank. We had switched to the right tank immediately after takeoff climbing out over Fort Nelson, so we had flown the entire climb and cruise on that tank. My calibrations so far suggested that we should have fuel in that tank that took us to 2 hours and 15 minutes into the flight, which would put us 30 minutes past Watson Lake. Accounting for the reduced fuel burn in descent, the left tank should also have around 2 hours and 15 minutes available, and Watson Lake was more than halfway to Whitehorse. It seemed like it all made sense.

Barely.

I confess I ran the numbers a bunch of times to see whether it made sense. But it all boiled down to the tailwind. And so far we had a nice one, and the forecast claimed it was going to continue. When I had asked about clouds, there was nothing particularly noteworthy in the reported conditions, so onward we went.

But we immediately encountered a decision point. Teslin and Whitehorse were both reporting ceilings at some level, with scattered layers below. We were looking, as we approached the mountains west of Watson Lake, at a layer of clouds right at our altitude. I was hesitant to climb above them, as I didn't know how solid the layer was or whether I would end up stuck above a ceiling. In Canada, VFR above clouds without reference to the ground is not legal. It didn't really look like that would be an issue, but now I had put myself in a situation where I didn't have extra fuel for getting up there and finding I needed to backtrak. In point of fact, it would have been wiser to just turn around and go back to Watson Lake for fuel so I didn't have that issue bouncing around every time I considered the flight.

But Cedric had fallen asleep again and I was left alone with my thoughts. And my thoughts were all about fuel, winds, and options. I opted to descend to 5500 to stay below the clouds, but I could see that there was a layer of clouds around the mountain tops ahead. So instead of the direct flight to Whithorse, I was going to get to fly at least the first part of the route between Watson Lake and Whitehorse by following the highway route. That added some distance, but I should still be landing with 50-55 minutes of fuel. Not my favorite option, but still well above legal minimums (can you hear the screaming in the back of my mind to turn around and go to Watson Lake for fuel?).

But as we neared the mountains, the 2:15 mark on the flight approached, and I had all these things going on, the engine lost power and I switched to the left tank, which was still basically full. But it didn't happen at 2:15, it happened at 2:13:36.

Hmmm.

Pretty close, but right there I was a minute and a half off on my fuel burn, so now I had 3 minutes less overall than I had been banking on. That put me down in the realm of closer to 45 minutes reserve. But while it would have been simple to turn and go to Watson Lake, despite the backtracking, there was another option along the way as well. Teslin has a nice strip and I would be there long before I hit my last hour of fuel, so I continued, now with Teslin as my backup.

But turning up the pass, it became clear that I wasn't going to be able to hold altitude at 5500 feet, as the murk was down in the pass. I slowed up and descended, holding the right side of the pass and keeping an eye ahead to monitor visibility. At the summit, I was a little over 500 agl with around 3 miles visibility, just at that point where I would decide to turn around, and then the visibility improved and the ceiling went away. I started a cruise climb back up, and looked at the GPS again...

We still had a tailwind, but it had dropped substantially.

Hmmm...

I continued to climb, heading back up to 6500 to try to recapture the magic tailwind, and as we got up there I noticed that we still had a tailwind, but less than the original rocketing assist.

Hmmm...

As we resumed a direct course to Whitehorse, I called in to Teslin Radio for an update. No real change, still a tailwind, still good ceiling at Whitehorse. In fact, I could see that the direct course was going to get me all the way there without issue, as the clouds were high all around.

With the tailwind at its current level, I opted to reduce power, surfing the tailwind a little more, and asked the Teslin operator a few questions...

"Teslin Radio, Tri-Pacer seven six delta, can you tell me if there is any fuel available on the field?"

"Tri-Pacer seven six delta, Teslin Radio, no fuel available on the field. The only fuel available is a couple kilometers down the road, car gas only."

"Car gas is okay, is it possible to get it to the field?"

"I can loan you my car to go get some, but we don't have any containers."

"Okay, at this point it doesn't look like it is needed, so I will keep going on toward Whitehorse, but if I need to turn around, I'll let you know."

"Roger."

So I sat up at 6500 feet, flying a straight line, surfing a low power setting at altitude, leaned out...

"Teslin Radio, seven six delta, is there anywhwere in the area where you can buy fuel containers?"

"The store would be the only place, but I don't know whether they have them."

"Copy, thanks..."

So we could land at Teslin and I wouldn't have to stress about fuel, but we had more than the legal VFR reserve, we had a nice tailwind still going, and after landing at Teslin we would probably have trouble getting ourselves fueled to get back in the air. But I wasn't having a lot of fun.

On the way into Whitehorse, I called in 30 miles out to Whitehorse Radio.

"Seven six delta, are you following the highway?"

"Coming across direct from Teslin, but I see the highway."

"Seven six delta, when you get in closer the highway crosses the water on a blue bridge. When you see the blue bridge call tower, that is 15 miles out."

"Copy, call tower at the blue bridge, seven six delta."

I started scanning ahead, looking for where this bridge might be. As I followed the road with my eyes, I didn't see any visible blue bridges along the way. But up ahead, where the road crossed over the river, I spotted it. And it was interesting to note when I found it, that it was the exact spot we had been told to call in last time we had flown in.

As we got closer, the bridge got bluer. Boy is it ever a blue bridge!

By now, the fuel fretting had ended. I knew we had plenty of fuel to make the field, but I already knew I wouldn't be repeating that chain of thought processes. Next time, just land at Watson Lake and take all the mystery out of it. Realizing I had been so focused I hadn't taken many photos recently, I snapped a photo of Whitehorse. The town is surrounded by piles of dirt, it looks mostly like mining country, which I suppose it probably is.


We landed straight in on 31 L, taxied off, and were in the pleasant situation of being considerably ahead of schedule. So the bad decisions had reinforcement, as I was being rewarded by being early, which rarely happens. But that sense of reward would be pretty short-lived.

Taxiing off, the controller at Whitehorse directed us to park right below the tower and make contact with the folks in the blue building next door for fuel. Since we were well ahead of our intended 3 pm departure, having arrived around 1 pm, I figured there was no rush so we headed for the NavCanada offices below the tower to get weather, arrange a flight plan, and call customs. When we had passed Watson Lake, Whitehorse Radio had told me to stand by for an, "urgent message."

!!!Urgent message!!!

Of course my mind raced ahead to such notable things as somebody got hurt...or worse...

"Seven six delta ready to copy, go ahead."

"You need to call Northway Customs at your earliest convenience at the following number..."

They call that urgent?

Whew.

Well, here I was now at Whitehorse, so I figured this was the earliest convenience, so I was going to get things sorted out and give them a call. When we approached the base of the NavCanada building, there was a sign suggesting non-employees couldn't use that entrance. So we went over to the gate where the exit was, I wrote down the super-secret code so we could get back in, and then we went through and up the stairs.

Part way up the stairs was another door with a sign on it. I stopped to read the sign, and it said that they were no longer in the business of allowing pilots to walk in for briefings, but that if we went up the stairs to our right, and into the building, there was a planning room.

Okay.

We went up the stairs, and on our left was the NavCanada building, and on the right was the main passenger terminal. Seemed odd, but we turned right and went into the terminal building. I really didn't see any evidence of a planning room, but it was large and mostly empty, and fairly quiet except for the sound of a military jet landing that broke the silence for a moment. Seeing nothing like a planning room, I went ahead and called Northway to sort out our plans.

"Customs, Officer Sanders."

"Hello Sir, this is Troy Hamon. We filed eAPIS for arrival to Northway this afternoon and you requested I call you when able."

"Yes, that's right. When did you think you would be arriving at Northway?

"Well right now, it would be good if we could leave here at about 2:30 pm, which would get us to Northway sometime before 4:30 pm, which is what we filed last night."

"Yes, well that doesn't work for us at all. We have a shift change at 4 pm, and we can't get anybody to the airport there after that, in fact we won't. It is a long drive for us from our station, and the only way we can do it is if you can get there a lot sooner. In fact, if you can be there by 3:45 we'll try to accomodate you, but we've been explaining to pilots we really need them to arrive between 9 am and 3 pm in order for us to get there."

"Okay...that would mean we need to leave here in like 20 minutes..."

"Well if you can get in the air and be here by 3:45, we'll be there waiting for you."

"Okay, we will see what we can do."

So much for a nice little break out of the airplane. I had been having fantasies about going to sit down for a quick lunch or something...NOT!

I called and got a weather briefing and filed a flight plan while dragging my poor confused son back out toward the airplane. Got that done just in time to stick my head in to ask the folks at the blue hangar for fuel...couldn't find anybody there until I rounded up some fellow that was in the maintenance bay...

"Is he not in the office there? Let me have a look."

The gentleman looked into the office and saw something I didn't see...

"He's out fueling another plane, he'll be back in a few minutes."

Okay.

This can still work.

No, really.

I walked out to the plane, and my phone rang. It was Becky calling.

"So are you guys going to be able to fly today after all?"

"Huh? We are in Whitehorse already!?"

"Oh, well the SPOT must not be working, it showed you in Fort Saint John this morning and nothing since then."

"Really? I turned it on this morning!"

"So are you guys going to make it into Alaska today then?"

"Well, I thought so, but right now the customs time frame is pretty tight, so we aren't sure yet we'll be able to make it."

"Okay, well let us know how it goes."

I went back to the airplane and checked my SPOT device...it was on.

But tracking was not on.

I have the second generation SPOT. If you turn it on, the power button flashes. Then if you press the tracking button long enough, the tracking button flashes at the same time as the power button. The tracking function will then stay on until you tell it otherwise. But if you press the OK button, an OK message interrupts the tracking messages, but the tracking messages resume after the one OK message. It is pretty slick. So I always turn on the device, then put on tracking, then start the day by immediately interrupting tracking with an OK message. But that morning I had failed to hold the tracking button long enough to get the tracking function turned on. As a result, I had sent one OK message, then it reverted to waiting for instructions...so nothing had been happening. Turned out I had a few folks wondering what had happened, including my mother. Tracking devices are only as good as the operator...and I was failing in tracker operations on this day.

I shook my head, turned on the SPOT device, and went back to worrying about fueling.

Another couple guys walked by..."You looking for fuel?"

"Yes I am."

"Well, it looks like he's off fueling another plane, because there should be two trucks parked here and there is only one so he must be off somewhere delivering fuel."

Great.

I walked back and forth from the hangar to the plane, and then we saw a military jet down at the other end of the apron, past the passenger terminal. The jet we'd heard had apparently landed. The other guys noticed it too.

"Hey, it looks like he's down fueling that fighter jet, I'm sure he'll be back as soon as he finishes."

Double great. I checked the time, and time was up. I called Northway again.

"Customs, Officer Sanders."

"Yes, hello again, we had made arrangements for customs at 3:45, but we have been unable to get any fuel on the field here so I wanted to let you know that we are going to be unable to make that time frame."

"Yes, well that will make it so we can't help you."

"I understand that. Could you tell me what my options are at this point?"

"Well, customs at Northway can be arranged tomorrow morning after 9 am."

"Is that really the only option?"

"No, there is one other option. If you are willing to fly to Anchorage International for customs, I can authorize a fuel stop in Tok."

"Okay, if we did that, what are the hours of operation at Anchorage? We would be arriving after 8 pm if my quick calculations are correct."

"Hours of operation are not a problem, but you will need to file eAPIS again, then call to alert them to your planned arrival."

Okay...back to planning.

Cedric and I climbed up the stairs outside the secure area again. This time I looked at the sign, and again it seemed to say to go right, but I ignored it this time and turned left. Entering the NavCanada building through the main door, a lady passed by. She pointed the way to the planning room, apologized that they no longer do walk-in briefings, and went on her way. I called for a flight briefing, and explained the changes from the flight plan I had just filed a little while before. We arranged to depart at around 2:30 pm, when I had originally hoped to leave, and filed eAPIS yet again. I called customs at Anchorage International, and the gentleman was interested in our arrival time, explained the terminal layout a little, and told us if we got in before 8:30 pm we should be there before his other arrival.

With that settled, we went down to deal with fuel. This time, the gentleman was back and was available to fuel us. While he did that, Cedric and I went for a quick shopping trip back to the main terminal. This time we went into the little shop and bought three 20 oz bottles of Coke. Pure Canadian gold, that. We really should fall in love with water, but we really both love Coke. Probably could be worse, but definitely not the healthiest thing.

The fueling was done when we got back, so I paid for the fuel, preflighted the airplane, got in, and fired up. We had a clearance to taxi almost immediately, then takeoff, and we were in the air on the dot at 2:30 pm.

Between the stress of pushing my fuel limits, then doing the two-step customs tango, I hadn't really been worried too much. My intent had been to get to Northway for customs, then fuel at Tok and go to Palmer or Wasilla for the night. This wasn't much different in theory, so I hadn't stopped to think about it. But I hadn't been in the air too long when I started to realize that I was going to be in the air a long time on this day...an awfully long time...

Troy,
Great story. We ran into the same issue with Northway customs last summer and ended up spending the night at Beaver Creek and then doing the 9am the next day. Pretty cool they cleared you for Tok to get fuel and then into KANC, although that is a long day in a short wing!

Last year when we were in whitehorse we used the 24hr self serve that is down past the terminal from where you were parked.

The self-serve is run by the same outfit, and it was out of service until late April according to the sign. I had read about it online somewhere, so I was looking for information about it, and the information was posted in the fuel station office, along with the out of service note.

We had an offer from another kind forum member, BCT, to meet up and if I had been a little less focused on getting home I would have tried to contact him and leave the next day. Would have been a better plan...although this plan did work...but it made for an absurdly long day...

I am loving this story!

Glad ya'll made it safe, but I'm on the edge of my seat for the next installment!

Cedric didn't last long. The first few days of the journey, he slept the first leg, then was awake after that, occasionally taking the controls, learning how to run the Garmin 295 (at least as well as I knew how to teach him), and keeping me entertained. Most of the discussion centered around Runescape. A few years ago, I had decided that I really needed some way to connect with my increasingly disconnected son, who spent hours on the computer and had less and less interest in physical activity. Or at least in the random brownian motion physical activity that characterized him a few years before. So I told him I would play one game with him of his choosing, and he chose AQWorlds. And that is how I came to enter into a realm in which he was the expert and he led me around, showing me how to do things and beat monsters.

Now AQWorlds is a truly crummy game, like most all video games, and after a while there are really no redeeming features to the main design, as pretty much all the challenges are the same. You have to go beat up somebody or something repeatedly, then do it again, then again. Although sometimes they do weave in entertainingly bizarre storylines, I'll give them that.

Nevertheless, the game is so mundane after a while that even Cedric had become a bit tired of it, and we had pretty much perfected the two-man attack on even the most powerful opponents, so there wasn't much left to do there but just spend time and look for new stories. Cedric opted to divert his attention to other games that he had been playing all along anyway, and started trying to talk me into playing one of them...but I always reminded him of our deal...I would play one game with him.

Not too long before we left on this adventure, my wife actually sided with him...

"You might like one of those other games better, they look more interesting anyway, maybe you should give it a try..."

Which is how I agreed to play Runescape.

The fact that I had agreed to it kept Cedric going on at length about Runescape. If I had been more attentive, I probably could have learned all I needed to know during these flights, and I wouldn't even have to play because I would have known everything. Alas, I obviously didn't pay any attention, as I am, it turns out, a rank amateur at Runescape, despite having started in on it after our return...

But on this day, Runescape, and my potential introduction to it after we returned home, wasn't even exciting enough to keep Cedric awake and talking. He had slept all the way to Fort Nelson, slept the second half of the leg to Whitehorse, and here we were departing out of Whitehorse on our way to Alaska...make that...!!!!!ALASKA!!!!!...and he started nodding off again. Luckily I don't mind flying alone, as I basically was. Except he was snuggled up against me, probably the most lovely feeling you can have as a dad anyway.

As long as this day was looking to be, I didn't want to make it any longer than it needed to be, so we climbed straight up to 8500 feet and set in a direct course to Tok. On the climb, we found ourselves close to some snow and rocks...


We hadn't been at 8500 for too long when there was a scattered layer straight in front of us right at our altitude. Flying this plane, with its improved climb capability and increased power in comparison to the previous steed, I had found myself appreciating the experience of flying over the tops of scattered clouds, as the going tended to be so much smoother, so at the point when I positively identified the need to make a change in altitude, instead of going down, I went up. In fact, I went straight to 10500 feet...here's proof...


Probably wouldn't even merit discussion in another plane, but that's the highest I have ever been in a PA-22. (Actually, don't tell my instructors, but I had a lapse of concentration and found that I had busted my altitude by 100 feet...so I've actually been to 10600 feet...but that is poor performance so I won't let it happen again, and don't tell anybody...)

To the south of us, the highway wound through the valleys that appeared to have a little more solid cloud cover, but we had a wonderful view of the remote Yukon country as we sailed along. I am, of course, using the term 'we' rather loosely, since Cedric was pretty much out. I know he wasn't totally out though, because he did help me to drink the first of the three special purchase Canadian Cokes.


The line of scattered clouds didn't persist long, and as we made our way on toward Tok, Cedric woke up long enough to take some Coke and to let me in on a little secret...

"I like Canada. It reminds me of, like, a mix between Washington and Alaska."

"So Washington and Alaska are both good?"

"Yeah, I like them. And I like Canada."

Good we sorted that out.


On the last trip, in October, we had been facing similar temperatures. So although many folks (not from Alaska, but most everybody I got input from elsewhere) told me I should wait until June or July for this trip, I wasn't too intimidated. In point of fact, when I checked the daylight hours, we had more than two hours more daylight to work with in late March and early April than in late October. That significantly improved the trip logistics right there. The other variable that I hadn't really considered was all the frozen lakes. Sailing along at 10500 feet, I had a lot of emergency landing options, even though I was nowhere near the highway. Some of the lakes were particularly huge, but even where there weren't huge lakes, there were a fair number that were more than sufficient. Which I was happy to see. I'm not planning to have an emergency, but it is a good thing to have floating along in your subconscious when you fly...where am I going to land if something goes wrong right now? Sometimes there is no really good answer...but when the lakes are frozen it adds a lot of options.

Approaching Beaver Creek, I called Whitehorse Radio to check in and see if there were any messages. Apparently not. They seemed unsure why I had called, so I just told them I wanted to give a position update. When I approached the border, I told them I would be crossing over, and we said our farewells. Thanks Canada!

The border is unmistakable. To the south, it is not quite as distinct, but if you blow this image up enough you can see the highway and the border station where our venerable Northway agents are generally stationed. But the border is a long cut line going as far as you can trace it through the woods.


To the north, the line is even more distinct.


As we were now in the US, I called Fairbanks Radio and asked for updated information on weather along our route. It turned out that there were a few nasties. First, the wind in the Tok area was apparently pretty gusty. That part was not in the briefing from before. But the wind in the Copper River Basin had been in the briefing, as well as in the Anchorage Bowl. Those forecasts weren't any better. The forecasts were fore occasional moderate turbulence below 6000 feet in the Copper River Basin, and occasional moderate turbulence with low level wind shears below 5000 feet in the Anchorage bowl, mostly east of the city. I had pretty much determined that I would be just climbing up and flying over all that, but now as I descended down through 4000 feet, I realized that getting back up above 6000 feet after filling the tanks was likely to involve some pretty exciting times through Mentasta Pass.

Passing Northway, I waved out the window mentally at the runway...but kept on going.


I lined up for a long straight-in to Tok, as I had been on frequency from 30 miles, and announcing from 20 miles, and nobody was talking, I couldn't see anybody flying, and I was happy to make fewer turns in the increasing bumps that we were taking.

As I settled into slower speeds, brought in flaps, and started examining the alignment to the runway, I found a lot of slip was needed to maintain the same directional alignment in the airplane. Up ahead, I could see the wind sock beating back and forth at some horrible angle to the runway, but still favoring 25, so I continued in, working to keep straight in the rather narrow runway, supposedly 2500 feet long by 50 feet wide. As we settled below the trees, and the air racing over the trees started tumbling and rolling, it was pretty exciting down to the last second. I was active on the rudder and ailerons all the way down, and we got down and stopped before midfield. But there was a big patch of ice at midfield, and as I brought in some gentle brake pressure to slow us just enough to allow the turn, the tires locked and started to skid, and we were weathervaning with the wind...off the brakes, let it run...we stopped just at the point where we could still make the turn by turning hard. But we had definitely been served notice that we were in the land of ice on the runway now.

To that point of the trip, that had probably been my favorite landing. Definitely got to see what we could do with that one. And after three long legs, I was still getting better! And I was feeling great! And I still had two more Canadian Cokes to help us along! Surely it was all going to be totally spiffy! Anchorage International, here we come!

Thanks Troy- this is great. Keep it coming!

-DP

Troy,

Another option would have been Customs in Fairbanks, then direct AKN, or fuel in McGrath. Less mountains and two less passes.

Great travelog,

MTV

No doubt, one of the best TR's we have seen on here!

Keep it coming please!

AKT