Hi friends!
Sunday, observing the weather map I noticed a high pressure, moving to the Aleutian. I immediately started my preparations for my voyage. Monday at 4 pm I took off.
My flight service in Fairbanks gave me a very good weather briefing. They advised me to fly west of the Alaska Range instead direct via Anchorage to Lake Iliamna. I entered a marvelous CAVU weather with up to 30 miles favorable tailwinds at Kantishna via Farewell and Sparevohn. I took a shortcut over the mountains at 8-9000 feet competing my flight with the eagles, soaring together along the high slopes. No joke! I was surprised how close they let me come before they turned away. On my way to Lake Iliamna I could soar with them for 10-20 seconds at the slopes or the thermals in a distance of 2-400 feet and because I was faster than these birds, I left them behind. I enjoyed this kind of flying in formation with these great aviators, even it was only for a short time.
Late in the evening I landed at the western beach of the huge Lake Iliamna and set camp. But what a camp: CAVU, just a not to strong wind, to chase away the bugs. And next morning it was just a dream. Slight ripples, jumping salmons, purring ptarmigans and on the other side of the lake a nice thin band of fog coming from the Bristol Bay.
It became late 3 pm before I took off. It was clear not to fly direct to Naknek for refueling. So I followed the Kwichak River at very low altitude down to the sea. At its mouth I investigated out of the air the old rotten down canneries.
Naknek 6.88$ per gallon 100ll. They bought it expensive, now they have to sell it expensive.
Following an almost endless landing strip, the beach, for hours, I ran into a huge fog bank. Well fog! I still had a ceiling of 30-40 feet and visibility of at least 2 miles up. So I called this a kind of very low clouds. Two hours later it cleared up and finally became quite nice.
When you fly for hours this way you become bored. So I entertained myself with zigzagging over the breakers while cruising over the beach in 2-10 feet elevation and zooming up and down the dune banks. With 80 miles an hour this was fun and still safe. And there were in addition some rivers and bays to investigate. After a while I had to satisfy my bladder and made a short landing on the nice beach. When I was on ground I was surprised to see three people walking along the beach about 1 ½ mile away. Where did these people come from in this remote place? Well, when I took off I realized that these people were a big sow with it’s two adult cubs beach combing for food.
Finally after six hour flight all together, I arrived at my walrus place. The little tiny 350 feet “strip” between the dunes was merely signed by a few fishnet balloons in the grass.
With the VGs on my wings I dragged my cub under power in with an extreme high nose. In the moment of flair you have absolutely no visibility over the nose. You really have to get used to that. When you think, now you are above the threshold you shove off the power and pull the stick all the way back and when the cub plops and hops on and over the ground you retract the flaps and apply appropriate braking action. But this landing practice you have to adapt to the certain surfaces. Power, flaps, brakes these are the things you have to work with, under the different conditions instinctively. Well, sometimes if you mess it up, or make a mistake, you go over the nose. So I stopped my “ton cub” after 300 feet ground roll. But this place between the little heights is petty good protected against the elements.
Next day the wind was blowing with 25 knots and the sea produced heavy breakers so my place proved its protectiveness. Now I walked up to the walruses. Even if they have very poor vision they notice movements. So I stalked them very slow and tried to be covered by the background. They like to panic and in a panic fleeing to the water sometimes, they may kill each other, what I do not like. I tried to be that way, that they didn't notice me. It is always ever interesting to observe these stinking, farting, burping, snorting monsters. They do see nothing, when they lay on their back in a deep sleep. But on the outside of the herd there are some walruses which have the eyes open and these are suspicious and when they become alert the whole herd is on its “feet”.
I spend some very nice days at my protected camp,beach combing, walking and observing the fight of the fisher boats with the waves, while netting for salmon. I saw many fresh big bear tracks but no bears. So I was happy.
After breaking camp it became a very leisurely flight to Cold Bay. There I refueled, picked up the weather from the FSS and flew south to Cape Sarichef. There I landed on the old supply gravel road and started a very thorough investigation of this old coast guard and former Loran station. Man what a mess can bears do. Nothing was in a usable shape. Even the drywall was part torn off.
In duty times, I guessed, 20-30people must have served here. In summertime it must have been quite nice, but in wintertime, with heavy cold wet or icy storms and weather, it must have been a hard time, even with the great comfort in these buildings.
Well, now I took my all braveness and turned my ship to the southwest over the sea into the gray of the low clouds, with a visibility of 1-2 miles, to cross the waters of the Unimak Pass. I flew for a time in a gray bowl, looking for the land on the other side of the straight, which finally emerged ghostlike out of the gray.
The time had run while investigating the station buildings, so it became evening and I was again in search for an overnight site. At Unalaska I flew into the Beaver Inlet and saw a little red roofed cabin at a narrow but long beach. Because the end of this inlet didn't look inviting with it’s gray solid clouds, I decided to land here. Also because there was a nice little creek which promised excellent fresh water. But landing was a little bit tricky. Only the part nearby the cabin looked wide enough to land safe. But I had to make a bend approach along and near the steep cliffs, to have a little bit headwind. What I realized on the landing run and didn't see out of the air were the sand waves, generated by the sea (it was almost high tide). So I hopped along over the beach like a rabbit, afraid to nose over when I would apply brakes. Still the landing run was not longer than 600 feet.
This night I was to lazy to set up my camp and slept in this little about 40-50 years old cabin, which started to rot, on a hard wooden bench. But I had not to work for to set up a camp. And what a top quality water I had, available from the little sprinkling creek coming down the rocky slope.
When I flew next day into the bay of Dutch Harbor I got confused. I could not find nor see the runway. I saw the city, I saw the harbor, but no runway. So I strictly followed the GPS once more at higher altitude and look, nicely hidden snug behind a high hill cone, there was the short paved runway.
The people here in Dutch are a whole different to other sites in Alaska. Open minded, friendly
(even compared to the old time Alaskans), helpful and last but not least interested. I needed oil for my engine, which I could not get from the fuel truck. Steven and Jason, pilots from Pen Air, gave me some, that I could continue my flight southwestward. The news about the cub and me traveling the chain, spread around fast. And after my sightseeing for a few hours, also getting an unplanned walk through the power plant, which is still in the original build concrete bunker from 60 years ago, many people stopped by just to talk with me. So I got many useful information fur my further trip. But I tell you how became my eyes big when I looked at the big hanger when it was open. There sat two to brand new condition restored Grumman Goose and two damaged Goose in the back. Airplanes that fly and serve the Chain by Pan Air! I also met Lonny the rancher from Umiak who manages the 6500 cattle on the island.
Finally at 7 pm I took off direction Umnak Island along the northwest side of Unalaska. What a scenery I flew along. High vertical cliffs here and there a stranded vessel at it’s feet witnessing the severe storms they occur here. About this, I was especially afraid, but the pressure gradients were so shallow that I didn’t expect more than 30-40 knot winds somewhere local. After crossing Umnak Pass I flew like a lonesome cowboy (except I have 180 ponies up front and sit in a for this time very sophisticated machine) over the wide open grassy slopes and plains of Umnak in search of a campsite into the slow upcoming night. I landed at the northwest side of that island on a wide open flat beach. Ah yeah, while landing, a fox sat no 40 feet from my landing pass away and slept. But he took off when I wanted to have a look at him.
Next morning I was fogged in, thinking to stay for a time here, to sit out that dense fog. Visibility was less than 500 feet. But this seems to be one of the characteristics of these islands, fast changing unpredictable weather patterns. Two Hours later I had a visibility of 4-5 miles ceiling somewhere at 4-700 feet and up, broken. So I took off again and followed the east coast.
Well the Aleutians are a real challenge worth. As the lady at the FSS Cold Bay said: If you do not like to fly in that kind of weather, at absolute low ceilings, miserable visibility, heavy gusts, crossing big open water stretches in a gray cloud bowl, stay away from the chain. But what do you miss!
There is not always bad weather. Many times I had good to marvelous weather. But like here, cruising to Nikolski at the south end of Umnak, I entered within a few miles ceilings of zero feet and visibilities of less than a mile and in the next moment the sun shone! If you have an on-land wind it generates on the rising surface clouds and fog and on the other side of the island a Chinook with good flying weather. Except of the lee off-land turbulences, which can be quite nasty! But again what a different world you are experiencing.
Flying along the Umnak coast I had to use immediately developed personnell flying patterns to avoid getting lost and crashing head on into the rocks of the many little fjords. But how nice is it to fly a slow cub in this environment. Hey friends, try this in a Mooney!!
Nikolski, with a former Air Force gravel strip, laid in a nice calm sunny weather. On its ramp sat an old stranded DC-3 from Reeves Aleutian Airways. I had just stopped my Cub on the apron when the first four wheeler arrived. Within 10 minutes half of the village came out on their little carts as a welcome committee. I was the first airplane since three weeks. This village is really remote, but it has a nice hunting and fishing lodge. They catch regularly 150 to 200 pound heavy Halibut. Here at the Aleutians Alaska is still as it was 50-80 years ago. Except of the modern equipment like Internett etc.
After a short sightseeing trip through the village, I flew back to Dutch Harbor along the rolling grass slopes of Umnak with its remains of the last war and later along the steep rock walls of Unalaska.
Here I refueled again and continued my flight to Unimak Island, crossing the straight again this time in nice weather. Because thewest sidee of the Islands was fogged and clouded in, I flew the eastern side with it’s better weather. I flew into a more and more clear sky admiring two volcanoes one like asugar loaff with a little vertical smoke flag the other with wild sharp rock fins. I wanted to fly up to this nice “little“ into the blue sky rising volcano to look into his crater. But a view into the map showed me, this “little” thing is more than 9000 feet high. Well, not today!
While flying again into the oncoming night, it was 10 pm and short before False Pass, I decided in a snap to land on the sand beach below me, in a little sheltered spot for the night.
I had off-land rolling turbulent winds. And again, as ever in such moments, starting the flair along the dune banks of the beach, a little gust shifted my cub horizontally about 15 feet left to the dunes. It was a short reflex working the ailerons and the rudder and I was back on my narrow runway pass. I myself was really amazed about my instinctive reaction. But I guess flying that way sharpens your senses and reactions.
Next morning CAVU at the east west side of the island, on the west side IFR, I guessed from the ugly clouds they came crowling over the mountains and disapearing on descend. High waves came in from the Pacific despite the off landing wind. They came roaring in seven in a row and every twentieth or so was an eight feet monster breaker, generated from a far to the east blowing gale.
False Pass, I wanted to fly to my bear lagoon. But this narrow was a solid lead gray wall. So I took the next pass to the west to fly to Cold Bay. And again just 20-25 miles north passing through a different pass to the west, in good visibility, was really nothing.
I got fuel and weather again in Cold Bay. My destination this time was somewhere around Lake Iliamna. It is interesting that they give you a good weather briefing from certain observing points but almost nothing trustable from between. That is like in Canada. That kind I had to learn fast here with the chain. You experience fair flying weather at the reporting points but ceilings and visibilities on the ground between them. In sometimes adventures flying conditions I followed the endless beaches, sometimes almost touchnig with my wheels the water. But still I could land anytime if I wanted. There were really only few places you had to be careful. And I had 20 knots favorable winds. Again a cheers for the cubs.
I arrived at Lake Iliamna late at night 11 pm. I was always endeavored to sleep away from civilization. So I tried two approaches on the beach. But because of my VGs, I had an extreme high nose attitude on my landing flares and saw nothing to the front, I gave up and flew to the nearby airport of Igiugik and landed there at dark night.
Here at the village it was so quite that you never would believe that there are many people asleep.
Next day again Iliamna airport IFR, but I could get a special VFR. The FSS gave me some questionable weather for the Lake Clark Pass, but on arrival I had 2200 feet broken ceiling and good visibility.
I got some good turbulences while flying this pass in very low altitude. But I wanted to see how this pass looks alike when you have to fly it in marginal conditions. Well, now I believe the stories. There is a short one mile but narrow part with little hill kind obstructions, which will get you. So it is wiser to turn around soon, when you cannot see beyond. It may be that you are not able to turn back in this narrow and crash. I landed in Anchorage for a short shopping and refuel and also to visit Dan’s.
The weather map said ¾ miles visibility 500 feet ceiling and fog at Chulitna River Lodge. As ever flying to the north to Fairbanks this is the gorge. If you can’t make it here, can’t make it nowhere. Well, I tried it. I always could land on the nice smooth gravel bars of the Chulitna River and could sat camp. And it turned out flyable. 1-3 miles visibility and a flyable ceiling of 100-300 feet above the trees, I followed the river above tit’s channel. So I had an escape into the riverbed in case the ceiling should go down. The worse part was between Hurricane and Igloo than it became “better”. Once around Windy it became good and so I landed at 10:30pm at Fairbanks International finishing my latest adventure and learning something new to my trick box.
Well, for sure I want to return to this, not much known and advertised, site of Alaska. But next time I take 20 days time, at least, in case I get caught in bad weather. And I’ll get and learn far more about the weather patterns, weather phenomenas of this part of Alaska and the sites to visit.
C-M
P.S.: This what I show and describe here, is my own personnel flying style and for sure not recommended to duplicate.
