Logbook entry: leaving Anaktuvuk Pass, enroute to Wasilla - I missed the beautiful smile, but I did get the hand at the controls

My stay in Anaktuvuk Pass proved excellent all around. The only problem it was too short. I visited a good number of people, yet ran out of time before I visited anywhere close to all I had hoped to visit. I heard some good stories going back to the time before the modern world made much of a impact here - which, in this part of the Brooks Range, is not really that far back at all.

I took some reasonably decent pictures.

The weather had been good throughtout my visit. I checked the temperature just before I went to board this Wright Air flight: -22 F (-30 C), skies clear, a bit of wind blowing but I don't know how much.

All in all, pretty pleasant weather for this part of the country this time of year.

While I looked forward to getting back to Margie and family and my house and this office from where I now type, I did not want to leave Anaktuvuk. I wanted to stay.

And now I want to go back.

Just like I want to go back to Hawaii... back to India... back to Arizona... back to Montana... back to New York City... back to Russia... back to the Yukon Territory... Greenland... back to every place I ever go, it seems.

But I do plan to come back to AKP before much more time passes.

First, though, I plan to go to Wainwright and Barrow; maybe a few other places, too.

Just south of the village, we flew over this little creek gulch where the snow had drifted out in overhanging cornices. I thought about how easy it would be for someone on a snowmachine who was not paying strict attention to drive out onto the overhang and fall through.

It struck me as something I might do.

The people of AKP know well about such things, though, and would not likely do so.

Climbing out of Anaktuvuk.

A little peak cast a bird-beak shadow into a nick of light on the next peak.

In the south foothills of the Brooks - it was windy down there.

We flew almost directly over Stevens Village which sits on a big island in the Yukon River. When I looked down and saw the runway, the first thing I remembered was one time when my airplane was parked down there and I walked back to it and found a little girl beneath my wings playing with a lady bug.

Somewhere, I have a photo of the girl and the lady bug, but I have no idea where.

I thought about another time, when I landed in the village and then went by four-wheeler straight to a boat to go to a fish camp upriver. As we traveled through the village to the boat, I kept seeing cats, peering out of windows and doors. Cats tend to be rare creatures in the villages, but I learned a missionary had brought some cats in to live with her during her mission time here. The cats had multiplied, so she gave away many kittens.

Soon afterward, the pilot guided the Cessna Caravan down to the runway in Fairbanks. Even though it was "soon after," it was nearly an hour after we had originally been scheduled to land. This meant I would miss my 12:45 Alaska Airlines connection to Anchorage.

No big deal. Era had a flight scheduled to leave at 1:30. I rebooked myself on it.

Right about 1:00, Era announced there would be a short delay, but it turned into a long delay. We did not leave until about 3:10 or 15. Here we are, sitting on the tarmac as the prop spins and the engine warms. A flagman is reflected in the cone.

Pretty soon, we were flying south, toward Anchorage.

Thanks to strong back light, a dirty window and the fact that all but the tip of it was buried in clouds and that tip was pretty indistinguishable, I was unable to take a legible photo of Denali.

As we neared home, I did get this shot of the Talkeetna Mountains through the opposite window.

Our pilot. When we debarked, she smiled at me, just as she smiled at all her passengers. She had a beautiful smile and she herself was beautiful. I wanted to stop and photograph her beauty, but I had my computer case in one hand, my camera pack in the other and there were people crowded in line behind me.

It would been too disruptive. You will just have to try to picture her beautiful smile for yourself.

Just before that smile lit up the emptying plane, the pilot guided it over the wind farm on Fire Island as she brought us down on final to Ted Stevens International Airport in Anchorage.

Uncle Ted is gone now, killed in an airplane crash, but I always wondered what it felt like for him when he would be on a jet approaching Anchorage and the pilot or stewardess would announce the descent into Ted Stevens International Airport and remind everybody to keep their seat belts securely fastened and to prepare to shut down all their electronic devices.

Then I was on the ground, in the car. Margie was driving. Lynxton sat in his car seat, behind me. We would take him to his home, where Jobe would spot me carrying his little brother into the house and announce to the others, "Grampa's got our baby!" Margie and I would then switch places and I would drive home to Wasilla, where I am right now.

A black cat suns in the window above my desk.

Comments

[Cyndy E]

Beautiful!!!
I have an invitation for you and Margie. The 24th - Sunday. I'll post more by email shortly ;)

[Kera]

Awe! Glad you had a good time. I wish you could travel all the time and spend time with your love ones as well! PS: I've been on a plane before with Ted and Ben Stevens and wondered the same thing... that same year I was on the Tony Knowles trail and seen Tony Knowles walking with his dog. I had wondered what was next!

[panos]

:))))))))