Alaska P 19

We had a special treat today, but I’ll get to that in a minute. We only had about 150 miles to drive to our destination. The weather was a bit overcast when we departed and the temperature in the 50’s — a bit dreary. As we drove down the broad river valley, we saw some low clouds clinging to the sides of he mountains in long straight strings making it very picturesque.

The T’s and all the other cars had started out earlier than the Smiths and Olsons. Since we hadn’t far to go, I set a leisurely pace of about 45 miles per hour. Somewhere, about halfway to Talkeetna, we overtook the Grahams in their camper and trailer. We were glad to see that there were no cars on the trailer. Ahead of them were two Model T’s. We passed the Grahams so we could get some pictures of the T’s. Then we passed the T’s. We saw many of our friends in gas stations and at roadhouses as we caught up with them. We had a few sprinklings of rain, which made us change our minds about a picnic lunch. However, by the time we reached our destination, the sun was shinning.

Talkeetna., a village of less than 1000 people, has become a tourist town and has some nice facilities mixed with the old businesses that have served the area for years. The bush aviation operations at the old emergency field established before WWII, have blossomed with the tourist trade and support for the sportsmen and mountain climbers. We were all booked to take a flight and land on a glacier. Some, such as we, were scheduled for a flight the next morning. Knowing the changing weather in these parts, I changed our reservations to that afternoon. Even though there were plenty of clouds around, I figured it was probably better than it would be tomorrow.

After a big lunch at an historic roadhouse, we strolled the village and then went to our very modern and well appointed hotel, which had a grand view of the mountains and their veils of clouds. We couldn’t check in at that time, but waited around for about an hour to do so. One T came in on the trailer, a victim of a discharged battery. Once we had our luggage in the room, we drove to the airport to see some of our companions off on their earlier flights.

Having spent two years flying in this part of the world, I was not about to fly up in the mountains without some supplemental clothing, so I packed some warm things for myself and Joann in my “day bag.” I was joshed a bit, but was not deterred. I had “camped” for three nights on the ice covered shore of the Bearing Sea in February of 1950. The temperature was 35 below zero and the wind was blowing at 35 knots. I learned then to take extra precautions and I would rather be safe than sorry. We finally were ushered to our plane, a turbo prop DeHavilland Otter, which held about 10 passengers. The pilot, who had been flying the Alaskan Bush for 20 years, invited me to ride in the copilot’s seat on the outbound trip. I readily accepted. Soon we were off the ground and climbing to 10,000 feet as we headed towards the mountains and the glaciers. I don’t accurately remember the extent to which the glaciers in this area extended into the valley when I was up here in the 1950’s, but my impression was that there had been significant recession of many of them. Their long soil deposits looked fresh, with no vegetation growing. Ample evidence that we are well into a warming cycle.

Broken clouds hid the major mountains like McKinley. Lesser mountains and the glaciers were clearly in view. We circled right and left a number of times to give everyone a good view from “on top,” then descended into a valley above a rugged looking glacier. At this point I couldn’t see our intended landing point, but trusted that the pilot knew his business and relaxed while he maneuvered for a straight-in landing approach. When he straightened out I saw what appeared to be a wide field of snow. Then a small dot on the snow field took the shape of a cross and I realized there was an airplane sitting on the field. Soon the pilot flared the plane and the skis rumbled on the fairly smooth, soft slush composing the surface. The plane slowed down quite rapidly and swung around. By the time that I was out of my seat, the other plane had gone and our companions were alone on the glacier to explore its surface and the surrounding area. We spent about 20 minutes there in the melting ice, our booted feet dry, but a bit slippery beneath us. It was a lonely feeling and only the sound of our voices could be herd and the soft surface prevented any echoes. We took lots of pictures and then were away for the airport in Talkeetna. The flight back was under the still broken clouds and down the wide valleys formed by the rugged mountains and over once advancing glaciers. Older areas gave a soft green appearance from the plant covering and streams and rivers cut circuitous paths in the silt and greenery.

Our path took us at a right angle to the Talkeetna Airport’s runway and as we turned onto the final approach, I could see wide swaths of brilliant pink fireweed lining the runway on both sides. Too soon we were on the ground and excitedly exchanging our impressions of this wonderful flight. Some of the members had been dubious about taking the flight. Their minds were full of the news of a recent sightseeing plane accident in Alaska. Many of the pictures taken will adorn 2007 Christmas cards, I would guess.

With the Olsons, we discovered an unexpected French restaurant and had a good diner. We passed on their desserts and went to another less fancy place for pie and ice cream. We returned to our very nice hotel and turned in well before the sun had set behind Mt. McKinley. Our day ended on a satisfied note.