Something special to share
As I sit and ponder the reasons for taking to the sky, I realize that airplanes mean different things for different people. For some people, an airplane is just a mode of transportation— a big heavy thing with rows of seats, crying kids, and sneezing adults that you deal with in order to get to where you are going. For other people, airplanes are a tangible part of history that give us insight into the entrepreneurial spirit of the industrial revolution, and for others, the technology that swayed battles in wars of men.
Airplanes are those things for me, but they also feed my sense of adventure, and my desire to share my adventures with other people.
Late this last year, my wife and I got a call asking if we would host a foreign exchange student from Italy. The young man was brought to our house so that he could see the establishment, and so that my wife and I could meet him. I suppose we were all interviewing each other in a way, and it didn't take long for all of us to realize it was a good fit.
Matt and his wife Corissa introduce their Italian foreign exchange student Max to the magic of Alaska flying.
Max came to stay and it wasn't long before this young man was subjected to Alaska's cold and dark, American high school, and the few experiences our little town had to offer. My wife and I carried on with our normal grind, but part of that normal grind is exploring south-central Alaska in a small airplane, as well as building an experimental aircraft in our garage.
Max was curious. He spent some time in the shop watching me weld parts together with my TIG welder and machine parts on my lathe, but being a teenager, he was also pretty interested in Netflix and sleeping.
Matt giving Max (behind camera) a lesson in keeping wings free of snow loading during a storm; standard Alaska aircraft owner stuff.
A few months passed, and we learned that Max's family wanted to come to Alaska to visit, so naturally we invited them to stay at our house over the holidays. Max's family are very kind and generous people, and his dad, who teaches architecture at a university in Rome, was especially interested in the Cessna 170A we have. He was excited to see Alaska from the air.
I promised I would take him, but we had been getting a bit of snow over the last few weeks, so getting the airplane flight ready was going to take some effort; especially when I have a day job competing for my time, and still had some lingering black plague lung disease from the prior week. I kept an eye on the weather, and finally a small hole opened up on Jan 3rd that just happened to coincide with the 6 hours of daylight available to us.
The incurred overhead of Alaska winter flying
I got up, drove to the local Three Bears store for some RV antifreeze, then set out for the airport to install my length of extension cord which powers my oil pan heater and hair dryer laid atop the engine. Now that the engine was warming up, I went back home to heat up my antifreeze and instruct my guests on dressing warmly.
When I got home, I tossed a gallon of antifreeze into an old rice cooker I have dedicated to the task and started going over some safety guidelines. David was totally on board and ready to go, but his wife Cristiana and their daughter Camilla seemed a little hesitant. You see, I never claimed that flying in Alaska in the cold is safe, but I did claim that it was worth it. The language barrier and David translating probably didn't help much. I could tell there were some doubts.
No worries, I'm not going to force anyone to be uncomfortable, so a plan was hatched to take David to the Knik glacier area, and upon his return, we would make another offer to the girls. David and I left for the airport and started on the long road to getting a cold, snowy airplane ready to fly.
The standard encumbrance of winter flying in Alaska: Hours of preheat, then wing deicing at 3°F.
First, we removed the wing covers and found that there was some light patchy ice on top of the wings. I started hosing everything down with my warmed antifreeze as I knew I didn't have a lot of time before it started to cool off. It worked well and before too long the airplane was wet, but without ice. I did a quick ground check, pulled the cowl cover, and instructed my guest on how to help move the airplane from its spot to where I could start and taxi.
Setting out
Once David was again briefed on safety, the engine was started and we began the taxi to the runway.
Taxiing was tough because the taxiway was a sheet of ice with a 1/4" of snow on it. That, combined with my slick Goodyear 26" tundra tires basically meant that there was no traction. The A-model 170 isn't known to turn super well, and typically requires differential braking, so getting it to go where I wanted it to go was a challenge. Thankfully it didn't take me that long to figure out that a blast of air over the tail timed with a shot of brake was just enough to persuade Sherbert into a new direction.
After getting to the runway, doing a quick sliding run-up (the traction wasn't sufficient to hold the airplane stationary with 1700 RPM), I massaged Sherbert to the runway and slowly applied full power.
Getting airborne in -2000' MSL density altitude is super fun, even in an underpowered airplane. Climb rate was about 1000 FPM, and after 2000 ft we leveled off on our eastward heading.
Destination: Ice world.
David was having a great time. With camera in hand he went to work taking pictures and taking it all in. For me it was pretty typical Alaska winter flying. Lots and lots of work, then lots and lots of white, with just enough heat to convert the sharp cold into something that's...more of a blunt cold.
After about 30 minutes we got to the Knik area, and it had a lot of snow. There wasn't too much texture to the ground, but the mountains are beautiful and amazing, and I'm always surprised that the river flowing out from the glacier is open due to warm springs in the area.
Surprisingly, the Knik river continues to flow due to some warm spring tributaries.
Even after hundreds of flights in this area, it still takes my breath away, but even better than that, my new friend was just glowing with excitement.
Once we arrived at the Knik glacier you could really see the deep blue colors that don't seem to exist in any other object on Earth. Even after hundreds of flights in this area, it still takes my breath away, but even better than that, my new friend was just glowing with excitement. I couldn't hear the shutter from the camera due to my headset and the noisy cockpit, but I knew it was doing its job.
The Knik area also has several other glaciers nearby, a few short strips, and Lake George. I decided to continue on south around the river's gorge and check out the lake and Colony glacier. It was stunning. While flying over the lake and doing my normal scouting for "plan B" landing zones, I realized the lake was well-frozen as it had spots of bare ice with small snowy drifts. I decided to do a very low flyover and evaluate my options for landing.
Everything was looking good, so I started an approach, kept the airspeed up, and just let the tires skim the surface as I felt just how much drag the 1-3" snow drifts would impose in the future required takeoff roll. Everything continued to feel good, so I slowed a little and let the weight of the airplane settle on the remote and frozen lake.
Italian architect/foreign exchange student dad David poses with a massive chunk of blue glacial ice frozen into the surface of Lake George.
When we came to a stop David was just beaming. We got out of the airplane, and he mentioned he'd never been on a frozen lake before. The language barrier prevented him from relaying his raw emotion, but I could tell. He had never seen anything like it and was amazed.
One thing I love about backcountry flying is the photography. I mean, if you are going to go where few other people can go, and see what few other people can see, then why not snap a picture or two? You might even get lucky and get something worthy of hanging on your wall, or even better, something worthy of hanging on someone else's wall.
Orange airplanes definitely have their advantages from a photography standpoint.
What I mean to say is that the camera came out and we did our best to document the experience, but the flat light, the creative enemy of the photographer, was in full effect. We were able to grab a few cool shots, but as they say, the pictures don't do it justice.
While snapping a few shots of my beautiful orange steed, I stopped for a second and wondered what he had seen. Being 70 years old now, I'm sure he's seen a lot. How many times had Sherbert seen this glacier before? I know I've landed here at least once before, but what about those who've come before me, those stewards of this airplane from 1949?
At only 145 optimistic horsepower, the Cessna 170A performs quite decently with a climb prop and at extremely low denstity altitude. Few other aircraft types match the value for cost and utility.
I took a few more pictures and motioned to David that it was almost time to go. We climbed into the airplane and started up.
Author Matt prepping to depart for home. The day wasn't over yet.
The return...and round trip
I wasn't worried about being able to take off as I had previously tested the waters...I mean ice, while landing, but I did want to make a good STOL short-field takeoff so I applied full power, and as soon as I had 35ish MPH indicated, I popped the modest flaps. The airplane got very light then climbed into the air. I lowered the nose, grabbed some speed, and pointed Sherbert north back towards the Knik.
The flight back to Wasilla airport was uneventful and David was back to snapping pictures, so I turned on some music and enjoyed myself. 30 short minutes later we were on final for runway 4, so I set up a normal approach. I was pretty diligent about keeping it very straight as I knew there would be no brakes on the ground.
With a glowing report from husband/father David, Matt returned to Lake George for a second flight with the girls, mom Cristiana and daughter Camilla.
The stall horn signaled our arrival, and a second later we felt the light thump of a perfect three-point landing (which surprised me because it violates the laws of flying physics which state: Perfect landings to be reserved for only when no one is around to witness them.) I applied the brakes, but the tires immediately locked up and we just kept sliding. I gave up and just let Sherbert slow without the brakes. I then resumed my massaging-the-throttle and cycling-the-brakes technique to get him off the runway.
We slowly taxied back to Sherbert's spot, shut down, and got out. David expressed his thanks as we climbed into the truck and headed back to the house.
Upon arrival David launched into what seemed like 5 words a second, in Italian of course, expressing his delight with the experience. Moments later the two girls were more than willing to jump into an old airplane with someone they barely knew and could barely communicate with.
So we drove back to the airport ready for round two. Sherbert did his job, and did it well, with another round of lake landings and delighted guests who will never forget their experience flying with a new friend, halfway around the world, in a piece of aviation history, into a jewel of Alaska's amazing backcountry.
