Ever since I earned my floatplane rating in Moose Pass in 2008, I knew I would move to Alaska. Last fall, I finally made the move to Juneau, with one goal: to fly. Soon after I arrived, I was hired as a ramper/customer service agent for Wings of Alaska. This was followed by an extraordinary opportunity when a friend pointed out a Craigslist ad seeking a ferry pilot. This was the type of experience I had only dreamed of and never thought I would actually get the chance to do myself. By its end, the journey had forever changed my perception of flying, as I encountered decision-making challenges in a new and ever-changing environment with unfamiliar weather and terrain.
One would be hard pressed to think of a better aircraft to make their first continental ferry in: The Piper PA-12. While it's not that windy here at Juneau, it's blowing 50+ just south of Ketchikan.
The assignment was to ferry a PA-12 from Juneau, Alaska, to Ozona, Texas. The PA-12 is a small aircraft: two tandem seats, very basic instruments, and a 150 horsepower engine. I was planning on the trip taking 10 days; however, as is typical with general aviation travel, what I planned and what occurred were very different. It took me 21 days to complete my mission: 11 days of flying, 7 days on weather hold in Ketchikan, Alaska, and a 3 day pit-stop in California to see my family.
On board, I carried a survival pack that I made with the advice of more experienced Alaskan pilots. Above all, they made sure I was ready to camp if the need arose: waterproof matches, sleeping bag, knife, emergency dry food, flares, wax, rope, fishing line, jet fuel, and a life jacket being among the many necessities to keep me alive and warm. I also had my SPOT, a satellite tracking device that allowed my friends and family to follow along with me as I moved south. I take it on adventures as it allows me to drop a "pin" of my location on a map for anyone watching and includes "help" and "911" buttons, which will send emergency alerts to anyone who is in a position to help.
A modern must-have: The SPOT tracker
I needed at least two days with decent weather to provide for safe passage through Southeast Alaska and Canada, as the weather in Alaska can be both unpredictable and unforgiving. When I finally saw a window, I knew I had to take it or I might be stuck in Juneau for a few more weeks until another opportunity arose. So I grabbed my friend (an ex-air traffic controller, who needed a ride down south), who I deemed to be my navigator, and off we went! While my desire was to get to Prince Rupert, I only made it to Ketchikan. I could not move on for an entire week due to a low-pressure system on the coast pulling air from a high-pressure system inland down through the valleys and inlets, thus creating 50+ MPH winds that could tear my plane apart! I have always believed there is a reason for everything that happens and while I was in "stuck" in Ketchikan, I had a chance to meet some amazing people who provided me helpful local knowledge. The layover gave me plenty of time to regroup and prepare for what I would be facing next.
Sun is up, time to go! Finally leaving KTN after a week of sitting, this is definitely the best way to watch the sunrise.
Not knowing how the weather would act the next day was frustrating. I could look at the weather for hours and make a plan, but the conditions kept changing and the planning seemed pointless. When I called a briefer, it was not uncommon to hear laughter as I asked for the forecast along my proposed southern route; due to a frontal system, the weather seemed unpredictable for anything more than an hour ahead. If it wasn't the ceilings, it was the visibility, and if it wasn't either of those, it was the wind. My 150 horsepower aircraft could only cruise at 70 MPH because it had both a flatter-pitch climb prop and draggy tundra tires, which made my journey slow. There were only six hours of light available in which to negotiate this new terrain, and an hour of delay could leave me in the dark before I would reach my next airport. There are no options when flying through Canada; I either made it to the next airport or turned around before my halfway point. Most of the legs were almost three hours long, giving me little cushion for things to go awry.
The unlandable beaches of British Columbia.I had two route options to get me back into the States. Plan A-- the coastal route-- was warmer but with temperamental weather and few airports. Plan B was to go inland where there are more airports and historically better weather. Unfortunately, when I left Ketchikan and cleared customs in Prince Rupert (my crossroads for plan A or plan B), I knew I only had one option. I would have to fly the coast because my gate inland was blocked by low clouds through a tall mountain pass.
To clarify, each airport I flew to along the coast was the only choice. There is absolutely nothing in between the airports, only miles and miles of untouched land. There are very few people (if any at all), no roads, and lots of trees along islands with rocky cliffs for shores. This silent majestic beauty took my breath away; however, with this amazing landscape came grave dangers. If anything went wrong, I had only two options: trees or water. This left me feeling on edge, as I have a great respect for nature and know it should rarely be trifled with.
My route after leaving Ketchikan led me to Prince Rupert, where there was no aviation fuel. I chartered a boat to bring me three cans of fuel to put into my plane, as the public ferry deemed jugs of car gas hazardous. To complicate matters even more, I had to take a shuttle to get to the ferry dock since Prince Rupert’s airport is on an island.
The magestic maze of islands and inland waterways that is western British Columbia.
Rain is okay to fly through, just keep following the light. South of prince Rupert enroute to Bella Bella.
My next destination was Bella Bella, where I was able to get fuel. Bella Bella is out of the way for most travelers, and if I was not flying a small plane I would not have ended up in this small native town to enjoy the friendly people or a warm place to stay for the night. In the morning my plane had a little bit of frost that I had to get rid of before heading to Campbell River. There, I would fuel up to make it to Bellingham, my entry point back into the USA. Flying through Canada was probably the most dangerous segment of my journey, but it was by far my favorite and most memorable. I flew through many rain showers and even a few snow squalls, which made me rethink ever flying anywhere near a snow storm again!
Hello tasty Rumiano cheese! Crescent City, CA, a safe and warm place to stay with friends.
Once I passed through customs on the US side, I was lucky to have good friends all along my way back home to the Bay Area, California. Family friends picked my navigator and me up in Bellingham and fed us for the night. In Portland my sister took care of me. A friend flew up to meet me in Portland to go to a Backcountrypilot.org Christmas party and share the ride the rest of the way home. My route took me to McMinnville to see the Spruce Goose and then on to watch the sunset over Crescent City. I saw the tallest Redwoods and ate the most delicious cheese. When I finally flew into terrain that was familiar it felt surreal, as I was realizing how far I had made it in this journey already and yet I was only halfway there.
Yosemite, CA off the wing.
The plane is tied up just in time to watch the sunset over Bishop, CA. Time to hit the hot springs?
With a storm to my back, I headed for Bishop, California, where I was hoping to find someone who would be heading to a hot spring. I had no such luck and instead slept in a shady motel. At the airport, I met a fellow tailwheel pilot who took an interest in the plane and he informed me of where I could find a dirt strip right next to a hot spring! I now have a new destination the next time I am flying in California.
Another important spot I chose to pass over was Death Valley, where I spent a couple weeks in high school on a vision quest (a longer story for another time). Flying over my solo location where I spent three days and three nights without food made me remember how, without thinking about it, I can so easily be caught in a cycle that allows me to take for granted my surroundings and the experiences that are commonly are overlooked. This reminder made me reflect on how far I had come on this journey and how much can change in eight years.
The great river that divides... Landing in Bullhead,AZ and sleeping in Laughlin, NV. I was almost run over by a man in a wheel chair, a great change of pace from peace and quiet.
Next I landed in Bullhead, Arizona, and slept in Laughlin, Nevada, as the only thing that separates the two is the Colorado River. I was very happy to leave Nevada in the morning at sunrise, climbing high above the fog that gripped the valley floor below, and I made great time to New Mexico. After flying low on Highway 40--passing a massive crater and red rock plateaus and cliffs--I made it to New Mexico with winds blowing 20-25 knots directly across the runway! I was nervous, but I decided to view it as a good challenge because at least I was on my toes the entire time. I came in with my right wing down into the wind and my left rudder kicked in as I put that beautiful plane on the ground without a scratch. I taxied off the runway and tied it down facing into the wind, afraid that the plane wanted to take off again. At this point I had too much adrenalin pumping through my system, so I knew I needed to stay in Alexander for the night. I got gas, a crew car, and a good night’s sleep. I tried to take off bright and early... but frost covered the plane! With no help available, I turned it so the most surface area was facing the sun and waited. The sky was clear and the sun was warm--I just needed time and luckily I wasn’t far from my final destination. So I waited and turned the plane a couple more times, plugged in the small heater I had for the engine, and waited some more. Once I was finally ready to go, I noticed the radio transmitter wasn’t working but the receiver was. Luckily I had made some great friends at Alexander who lent me a push-to-talk button (which I would mail back) so that I could make it to Texas with communication.
A snow-dusted highway winds through Gallup, NM
The help that I found along the way amazed me! There were so many people interested in my story and that wanted to be a part of it. I had forgotten the extent to which strangers are truly friends and that this world is a lot smaller than we care to believe. Someone that I met for even the slightest amount of time can be the biggest help on a journey that I may take many months later. Or the people you meet along the way might be inspired to do something they hadn’t thought of doing before because they are encouraged by a random act that you are passionate about. I am perpetually inspired by the people that flow in and out of my life (whether or not they are on a grand adventure), but I often forget how much I can inspire others when I pass through their lives. I push myself to learn as many new things as I can, and I do my best not to take for granted the people I meet along the way; after all, it’s amazing what you can learn from a stranger.
Enjoying the sunrise while leaving Nevada in my wake and climbing high and eastbound.
I finally made it to Texas, with a couple more hair-raising crosswind landings. The scenery changes dramatically from Alaska to Texas and as I left New Mexico, there were no more mountains, no more grand bodies of water or coastline, just very flat oil pumped land with windmills that seemed to be endless. When I got to Texas I felt exposed. I missed the mountains and rivers that you couldn’t see past, I missed the lush trees that gave me a sense that the air is fresh. I was ready to go back to Alaska and continue to learn about the dramatic weather and the unforgiving terrain.
Flat! I miss mountains and water. I can't wait to get back to Alaska.
I will never forget the freedom that I felt flying 64CW across the country. I flew low and slow knowing I would do my best to make it as far southeast as I could. I learned from the beginning to have patience, as I should always be ready to go if I can or wait the weather out if I can’t. That helped give me the freedom to enjoy my trip south and enjoy the present area I was in, while still providing enough motivation to keep me moving forward to see what the next place had to offer. The adventure was in not knowing where I would sleep or what I would see and encounter along the way. I could not assume anything and I had to expect everything. Life is limitless and my time in the PA-12 was addicting. I want to get back in the air again and fly to an unexpected destination to learn the lay of the land and meet the people there. I want to hear their stories. I love the feeling that life is unexpected and anything can happen, that it is all a great adventure. I need to remember not to get bogged down in a daily routine. Life is random and this trip helped remind me of the freedom there is in aviation with all the different decisions I can make, giving me insight into why I became passionate about flying in the first place.
