For years, I’ve been both inspired by and envious of all of those who have flown in Alaska, and dreamed that—someday—I would do it myself. My dream came true, ironically, when our son’s engineering internship with NAVAIR (the division of the Navy responsible for Navy aircraft) was cancelled courtesy of DOGE last March. He’s an instrument-rated pilot, and shares the love of adventure, backcountry flying, and the outdoors. The unexpected evaporation of his summer employment created an opening for us to pack up and go.
We departed on June 3 and returned home on June 27. The airplane is a 1975 U206F Stationair that I’ve owned for 21 years with a Continental IO520F. It has a Horton STOL kit, Leading Edge stainless headers, GAMIs for running LOP, Hartzell Voyager prop, 8.50 x 10 mains and an 8.50 x 6 nosewheel (AirGlas fork), nose strut bumper, and horizontal stab gravel guard.
I hope those who have lived in Alaska or made the trip to Alaska will enjoy this trip report, and that anyone who hasn’t yet made the trip will be inspired, as I was by Shaun Lunt and many others on this site. It must be experienced to be believed. What an extraordinary thing it is to live in a time and place where it is possible to do this.
We left Northern California on June 3, flew past Mt. Shasta and stopped at Prineville for fuel and to file our border crossing flight plan.
East Lake by Paulina Peak
After we cleared Canadian customs at Kelowna, we flew to Prince George via the East Thompson River, Kamloops and Quesnel. The lower half of the BC interior looks like a giant tree farm, with the occasional giant mine.
Approaching Prince George. Loving the long evening.
Next morning on the way to McKenzie for fuel before proceeding up the Trench.
A raft of logs coming down Williston Lake.
Williston Lake goes on forever. We surprised a herd of buffalo along the eastern shore of the lake.
The Trench
Out of the main gorge of the Trench, to the north lies Aeroplane Lake. Surreal colors, er, "colours."
Fuel at Watson Lake. The obligatory hangar shot.
The weather started deteriorating a little as we followed the highway towards Whitehorse. There was plenty of snow still on the ground (June 4).
We got fuel and overnighted in Whitehorse, enjoying the late evening along the Yukon River.
And now it was time for U.S. Customs. We called the night before to see if we could enter at Northway and were told that it was unlikely that there would be an agent available at Northway to clear us in the next morning, but to call again in the morning. We called in the morning at the first opportunity and the manager of the station asked how soon we could get to Northway, as there was another airplane that would be arriving around 10 a.m. The soonest we could possibly make it was 11, so he said ok. We doubled-timed it to McDonalds, and then took a taxi to the airport. Departing Whitehorse, the tower told us that we needed to have a border crossing flight plan for Canada on file in order to cross into the U.S. This was one of many times that having two pilots on board was extremely helpful. We quickly flew into really unpleasant moderate turbulence and were bucking 40 knot headwinds. No ice, but things ahead along the highway were not looking at all good.
While I was flying, my son filed the flight plan with Canadian Flight Service and got us all squared away. The GPS predicted that, at the current ground speed, we would miss our arrival time by significantly more than 30 minutes if we kept to our plan of following the highway to Haines and on past Destruction Bay. The view at the window was increasingly dark and nasty, and the turbulence was more than uncomfortable. I decided to abandon the highway and cut the corner up past Aishishik Lake to Northway. That spared us the direct headwind and, after a few miles the worst of the turbulence. After a few nervous minutes, the GPS estimated our arrival time once again at 11 a.m.
We followed the Nisling River drainage for a while. The sun through the clouds showed miles of vibrant new green growth. Nothing like nearly 24 hours of daylight to make things grow.
The shortcut worked, and we were able to avoid scattered thunderstorms crossing the White River south of Wellesley Lake.
We touched down at Northway exactly at 11. The temperature was mild, and we were greeted by the friendliest officer by far of our entire trip. He explained that they really are extremely short-staffed, but that he was able to be at Northway due to the misfortune of another pilot who had landed at Northway the night before without having made arrangements in advance. That pilot was made to return to Canada and spend the night in Beaver, returning the next morning to Northway. The officer checked our paperwork efficiently and wished us a good trip on our way.
We made the brief hop over to Tok for fuel, where we saw our first real Alaska ramp. We had come to the right place.
We walked over the Fast Eddy’s for lunch, and happily relaxed knowing we were across the border and now could enjoy flexibility in our route and timing to pick our way down to Lake Hood in Anchorage. The weather in Mentasta Pass looked pretty nasty, and the pilot who had preceded us into Northway had tried to get through but had turned around to wait at Tok. After a leisurely lunch and some time studying the FAA webcams along the Glenn Highway, we decided to give it a shot. There were some squalls around the pass.
It got pretty low along the highway passing north of Gulkana
But then it started opening up and we were treated to a beautiful tour down the Glenn Highway past the Matanuska Glacier, and on into the Lake Hood strip at Anchorage.
We changed the oil the next day and walked over to Point Woranzoff for some jumbo watching.
The next day, we left Lake Hood under low ceilings to fly down to King Salmon via Lake Clark Pass. There aren’t many pictures of this leg, as the weather was quite low. But between the FAA Webcams, the radio traffic with other aircraft, and ADS-B showing where they were and where they were going/coming from, we were able to pick our way to the entrance of the pass, and then on down to Lake Clark.
The rest of the trip down to King Salmon was under lowering ceilings, but there’s nothing to run into down there, and the views were interesting.
That’s our bear spray bungeed to the strut.
We spent the next 5 days fly fishing for rainbows at Naknek River Camp.
This is an excellent, no nonsense fish camp with good, clean accommodations, excellent food, and serious fishing. We were right at the opening of the season for rainbows. The salmon were not in yet, and there was no evidence of bears. The fishing was on the slow side, but my son caught several terrific fish. This was a small one.
And a bigger one. "What bugs?"
We left King Salmon on an incredibly clear and beautiful day, taking the high road at 13,500’ to Willow for fuel, then on to Talkeetna.
In Talkeetna, we met up with a wonderful man—a master guide and life-long bush pilot who willingly shared his knowledge, enthusiasm, and love for Alaska and its people with us. We had been introduced through mutual connections, and had only corresponded by text to coordinate our meeting. He invited us into his home, took us on quads to visit the incredible cabin he homesteaded with his family outside of town, and shared a lifetime of experience and insight with us. I asked him to take the left seat to fly us on a tour of the Ruth Glacier and Denali environs, and he flew us on a voyage that makes IMAX seem pale in comparison. Flying Alaska with my son was the greatest trip in my 64 years. Making his acquaintance was one of the absolute highlights of our trip.
From Talkeetna, we flew up the highway to Fairbanks. Along the way, we did another tour of the west side of Denali, and got a great view of the NPS repair project on Polychrome Pass on the Denali Park road. There's a huge landslide that the road crosses. For years, the NPS kept filling and grading, but with the road sinking at an astronomical rate, they finally had to close it and are in the process of putting a truss bridge in place.
The view north of the Alaska Range on the way to Fairbanks.
The airplane campground at Fairbanks is as excellent as advertised, with clean bathrooms, showers, firewood, and outlets for recharging devices. The only drawbacks currently are the lack of bikes, which would be very useful for getting to the store, and the road noise from the nearby expressway. There are also jets departing at all hours, but hey, it's an airport! Fairbanks served as our base for explorations for the next couple of days.
The next day was my day to fly, so we went east up the Salcha river, looking for strips that were mapped on Tundra Pilot to see if there were any good prospects for camping. We made a few low passes on a couple of strips, but they appeared to overgrown with saplings or otherwise in dubious condition. We kept going Northeast until we crossed over into another river drainage and arrived overhead a little airstrip, which we had also seen on Tundra Pilot. After making several inspection passes, the length appeared consistent with the 750’ noted on Tundra Pilot, the saplings didn't appear to be too tall, and the surface appeared ok. I was a little hot on landing, though, and, even with heavy braking, we used about 730 of the 750 available feet of runway. Pucker time.
The surface was also quite a bit narrower (just the width of the mains), with some ruts, and some of the saplings were tall enough to reach the wings. Fortunately, there was no damage done, other than to my ego. We spent a couple of hours with loppers and shovels from the cabin filling in ruts, moving rocks, and cutting down brush and saplings. Finally, we turned the airplane around by the tail and blasted out of there. It was a true maximum performance operation, on a narrow, rough strip, and in tight quarters that required maneuvering down river between trees immediately after liftoff. In a nutshell, the airplane will do it, but I would not do it again without more experience, and I dearly wish that I had called around to some of the local air taxis for real information on the condition of the strip before attempting it.
We then flew over to Central on the Steese Highway. This is a typical village strip, which looked like JFK after our last adventure.
We got a satisfying burger lunch at the Skookum roadhouse, then took off to tour around the Yukon basin.
The Yukon basin is an incredible expanse of wild wetland and forest. You can see the forces of nature, from floods, to fires, to massive blowdowns.
The White Mountains north of Fairbanks.
We had talked with a fellow pilot at the Fairbanks campground about our desire to visit the sand dunes in Kobuk Valley National Park. As luck would have it, he flies tourists into the dunes in his 185. He generously shared his current information on landing sites and conditions, and we were all set for the next day. We took off after breakfast and soon crossed the Yukon River, landing at Rampart.
It was my son’s day to fly, and he took the opportunity to sharpen his short and soft skills on a number of village strips along the way. We soon got our first view of the Brooks Range.
Soon, the sand dunes came into sight. My son flew a couple of low passes on the landing zone, which was conveniently marked by the tire tracks from our friend’s landings a couple of days prior. Finally, he set us up for a perfect short/soft touchdown on the sand.
The weather was perfect—mid ‘70s and just a light breeze. We took off our shoes and enjoyed exploring, just trying to get our heads around being above the arctic circle, barefoot in the sand, with snow drifts and ponds of ice water in the folds of the sand dunes. It is a magical place.
After spending a couple of hours wandering and eating some lunch, we took off for Kotzebue and fuel.
Soon, we were seeing sea ice and the town.
We got a big dinner at the Bison, which was the only restaurant in town that was open, then headed back to the airport for the long flight back to Fairbanks. Thunderstorms were kicking up in the Kobuk Valley, so we deviated to the south and dodged around some cells. The downbursts created gust fronts of pollen, which made a surreal sight along with the dark clouds and rainbows.
Even after such a long day, the flight back was mesmerizing.
The next day, we slept in and ran some errands while thunderstorms continued to build. After taking a tour of Everts Air Cargo and hanging out at East Ramp Pizza (see the next installment), we took off around 6 p.m. with hope of finding someplace to camp in the Romanzof Range on our way to the Arctic.
Storms were building over the mountains as we approached Artic Village.
Well, I've hit the limit for photos I can download today. The best are yet to come! I hope you're enjoying the trip so far.
CAVU
, it's epic. 
