Backcountry Pilot

To Minnesota

You may have noticed that it’s been some time since BCP has released a new short film — Well, that’s because I became a dad, and now these trips are a little different. That is to say, they're a pain in the ass. Photo and video gear is left behind in lieu of, say, a stroller. The last year has been challenging to say the least, as I've struggled to make time for being creative, but with only days to spare in 2016, I managed to get a long form "short film" finished up. Oddly, we have traveled more this year than any before, even with the added challenge of toting around a baby (now a walking/talking toddler) and all the extra luggage that entails, and thus the content on this site has suffered a little.

We visit our family in northeast Minnesota every couple years, and chose this summer to introduce our daughter to the fine land of abundant water, hot dish, and mosquitoes, where much of my wife's family is rooted. This is usually a great excuse to fly with some of the local pilots in a region known for incredible float flying opportunities, and I've been lucky enough to make several friends from the area over the years. We arrived in in the Twin Cities by commercial airline, rented a car, and headed north on highway 53 to my brother-in-law’s house on Long Lake in Eveleth.

Everyone loves flying low over the water at 4 kts

Day 1

My first stop in the area when I'm airport snooping is always Sky Harbor on Ely Lake, a storied floatplane base that’s a local favorite for the annual change from wheels to floats and back. It has a swampy grass airstrip across the road for the wheel arrivals and departures, and lots of dock space. While I was trying my hardest to put out the feelers and make plans with local pilots, Mother Nature had other things in mind. The weather took a turn for the worse and some big thunderstorms storms moved through the area making for some pretty unfriendly flying conditions. All I could do was watch the forecast and wait. And of course have fun with the family, boating the lake, fishing, and swatting mosquitos.

There's a good crew that hangs around these parts. A few years back during our last visit, I was invited to a mid-week BBQ at Eveleth airport, just spitting distance from Sky Harbor. There's a few shots in the outtro of the video from that time (my wife is riding in the Super Cub that lands), as well as a cameo from my friend Russ Hyppa, who flies a fire-breathing PPonk 182 on Aerocets out of Lake Vermillion, and does a pretty good tour of the seaplane docks at Scott's. We had some fun flying adventures, but my video footage back then wasn't quite as good.

Anyway, back to the story— Sky Harbor, rain, uncertainty— the weather was bad and stayed bad for a few days.

The old Sky Harbor float plane base on Ely Lake, Eveleth, MN

Day 2

On the tail of the thunderstorms was wind; days of sustained strong wind. No one wanted to fly. Schedules were busted. I kept working the internet to pad my chances of flying with someone. I left some irons in the fire and crossed my fingers.

Day 3

More wind. The news showed damage from a tornado that touched down in Brainerd just 80 miles to the west. People were calling to cancel flying plans, but that didn’t stop us from having fun on the ground with our family. Rural Minnesota living is just about the perfect pace of life, and there was certainly nothing to complain about at my brother-in-law's house where he lives with his wife and two girls. Their backyard is the lake and during the summer they enjoy cruising it on paddleboards and their pontoon party barge. It's one of my favorite places.

In terms of my hopes for flying though, the cabin fever was kicking in. I wanted to film something so bad that I found myself shooting profound close-ups of the decoy/scare owl at their dock that's meant to keep the ducks away. It doesn't work, there was duck poop everywhere.

Ryan stepped up to take me on a Wilga adventure

Just what does "the range" mean? There isn’t much for mountains here, which is what I initially thought it meant when I heard the term used, but it turns out it's something different. This is iron country, and the Mesabi range refers to the narrow vein of iron ore and taconite that stretches from Babbitt all the way down to Grand Rapids. It’s been continuously mined to supply American industry for more than a century and is a large part of the culture in this area of the Minnesota. Most of our activities in this area kept us on or around "the range."

And even though the wind continued to blow, the next day, day 5 of the trip, finally held promise of a perfect weather forecast.

This is iron country, that huge hole is the Laurentian Mine in Gilbert, MN.

Day 5 - Wilga and Jaranson's

On day 5, I woke early to the beautiful sight of fog. That may sound bad, as fog is usually a poor VFR experience, but it meant that the wind was calm, and it would likely burn off soon. I drove the rental west to the town of Hibbing, where my new friend Ryan Nelson, aka Skycop, got the day off to an exciting start in his Wilga.

Our first stop was the Jaranson airstrip in the community of Side Lake. We flew northwest for a few miles, then dropped down nearly onto the deck to fly an inbound "approach" along the river, no doubt introduced to Ryan by his late friend David Jaranson. I felt like at one point we'd gone knife-edge as we flew through some sort of chicane at...60 mph.

Wilga's are odd-looking but oddly comfortable and a pleasure to fly. Bring good hearing protection.

The legend of Super Cub pilot David Jaranson is known well beyond the borders of Minnesota, though my first visit to the airstrip he cut from the Minnesota brush sadly came 6 years after he lost his battle with cancer. So it was with a bittersweet excitement that I met the cast of characters that now caretake David's airstrip property: His wife Shelly, his mom Jeanie, and his lifelong friend Randy. Everyone was incredibly warm and welcoming, and even allowed me to shoot a short impromptu interview.

The Wilga parked at Jaranson's

If you're near, or even a few states over, join in the annual Fall Colors Tour flyout event, which originates from the Jaranson strip. All are welcome, and if you're lucky maybe some of the magic that was David's infectious love of flying will affect you by way of his friends' stories and memories.

After a little visiting and shooting video of the Wilga sitting still, Ryan and I could think of no better way to celebrate David’s memory than to burn some gas through that Russian radial.

The Wilga parked at Jaranson's

An insect-like import from Poland, the 1983 PZL-104 Wilga 35 is simply a beast standing on plush-ride trailing-link gear legs. Armed with a 360hp Vedeneyev M14P supercharged radial (upgraded from the Ivchenko 260hp radial), swinging a massive 94 inch Yak prop, the 4-seat STOL machine is really a sweet-mannered flyer, likely thanks to its leading edge slats and massive flap-coupled drooping ailerons. Ryan let me take the controls for a while and I put it through a simple series of steep turns. What a great machine!

About to set off for our next destination, Ryan swung the prop through a few times to clear any pooled oil, before climbing in and bumping the Wilga's compressed air starter. The prop started rotating with a kind of anemic effort, but she quickly caught and fired up, billowing smokey exhaust and singing a special kind of throaty music that so many of us love.

Lee Anderson at his Bear River airstrip home

We said our goodbyes to the nice folks at Jaranson’s and flew west to visit another of Ryan’s friends— retired airline captain and J-3 Cub pilot Lee Anderson.

Lee Anderson is a gentleman pilot— the first thing he did was offer us a cold Coke and gave us a short tour of his beautiful Bear River airstrip property, even offering it to me at one point for what seemed like a pretty fair price. I often think that this is the dream, fully lived, out here on your own spread. Until I’m reminded how amazing water flying is. I don't think I can afford both.

Lee Anderson's Bear River airstrip home

Day 6 - Flight of 3 to Crane Lake

Our final full day on the range saw a crisp, clear, and sunny morning. I’d talked Gary into flying his Husky up from Montevideo to pick me up at my brother-in-law’s dock on Long Lake, so I walked down with my radio on and just barely missed catching him land. I managed to shoot his unrushed taxi into the dock, and when he stepped off the float we both scratched our heads as to how to tie up to such a small spot. Some docks just aren't designed for floats and long wings. We loaded and took off for the quick hop to Sky Harbor on Ely lake where we’d meet Patrick in his Skywagon.

What to do? There was a big splash-in going on about 100 miles southwest, but I wasn't really in the mood for a fly-in. I wanted to get out and film these guys in a location that was off the beaten path.

Rallying at Sky Harbor, ready to head anywhere.

Even without a solid plan in place, we blasted out of Sky Harbor, and after getting our bearings, we joined up en route with Andy in his Husky. We dropped down to follow the beautiful Vermillion river, winding our way north. We settled on Scott’s Seaplane Base on Crane Lake, about as far north as a person can go in Minnesota before crossing into Canada, but it was only about a 30 minute flight from where we were.

Flying to Crane Lake, on the US/Canadian border.

We set up to land Crane Lake. Fairly calm winds allowed a final approach almost due south into the bay with Scotts’ dock, and it seems like we kind of just straight-in'd the entire way. Mixed boat and floatplane traffic though can be dicey. The key, as always, was to keep a vigilant eye for boat traffic because we get no special right of way for being an airplane— it’s just see and avoid, and wait for your opportunity while expecting boats to do something dumb.

The bridge to the docks at Scott's.

Scott’s is a charming spot with more float traffic than I’ve ever seen anywhere else. I mentioned that in the video, but only after uploading did I realize the folly of my statement. Maybe I should have said "...in Minnesota." If you've ever visited Lake Hood in Anchorage, or been near Kenmore Air on Lake Washington in Seattle, you know real float traffic. Still, it’s a popular jumping off point for those headed north because of the fuel, and there’s a US Customs and Border Patrol office here for those coming south from Canada.

After taking on a little fuel, we set course for home, but decided that the real fun was down on the Vermillion river. I talked Gary into landing in the middle of Lake Vermillion so I could shoot Andy and Patrick doing some takeoffs and landings.

I talked the guys into landing in the middle of Lake Vermillion and then doing some takeoffs and landings so I could shoot shakeycam video.

Arriving back at Sky Harbor, I pondered having sat out on the float with my camera— the sound of lapping water combined with the screaming/whirring props of the guys flying by is about the most relaxing thing I’ve experienced. Sorry, I have to strike that again, because now that I think of it, it's not relaxing at all to shoot action video when people are burning gas and you're swapping expensive lenses over lake water. It's a damned lot of fun, though.

Blue and green for as far as you can see-- Lake Vermillion.

The northwoods of Minnesota are a beautiful and amazing place, if after 6 months you can bury the trauma of being eaten alive by mosquitos every evening, as it appears I have. Exploring as a watercraft opens up endless possibilities, and it's probably the thing that currently excites me most about backcountry flying. There truly is nothing like exploring the waterways, and going further, the mountain lakes of regions like western Canada. A pilot can dream...

Gary was a great pilot and I enjoyed my time riding with him. I bid him farewell and watched his takeoff, as I considered how to return to the land of 10,000 lakes for more adventures like this. Thanks to all who helped make this possible.

More photos: