Due Up

Final Thoughts on the Beginning

Three months, but a lifetime of memories and good friends.  It's been a better trip than I could've hoped for.   Best time spent in Alaska?  Time spent with God.  He is Good.  And the best things in life pale in comparison. 

I've received some emails and have enjoyed seeing where people are from.  Let me know where you are from:  Email is shaunlunt at yahoo.com.      There may be a book with select photos published, email if interested.

Blue skies and tailwinds until the next adventure--

Back in the lower 48, Mile Hi strip in Idaho.  Enjoyed meeting John Gregory in his Smith cub here.

Bryan flew his Cirrus SR22 up to Spokane, WA to pick me up.  We were headed to California.  It's been a few months since I plugged in a flight plan in the Cirrus glass panel.  These planes couldn't be more different.  Bryan wanted to race for pink slips-

While making my way southeastward towards the lower 48, I briefly met Patricia Collins, age 78, and Elizabeth Smith, 73, of Placerville, California, and their Mooney airplane adorned with flags from countries it's been piloted to.  I immediately recognized this was a special crew and aircraft.  An impending weather system hurried my short interaction with the two adventurous and intriguing ladies, but I made a mental note to contact them when I got back home.  I was sad to learn, that less than two weeks later, the two were killed in a tragic accident in Washington state.  I've learned that Patricia was a very accomplished pilot and flew as volunteer for the last couple decades for the Flying Samaritans, routinely flying to Mexico to transport medical personnel.  It sounds like they lived a giving life that touched many people.

Southeast Feast

Brawl for salmon fixins

"Leave No Trace" with my melting wheel chocks.   Supercub, stirred but not shaken, on the rocks.

The sun hit these glaciers right on cue

It took me 15 minutes of flying the coast before I found a spot to land where the brown bears weren't clamming.  It's rush hour with griz-lock traffic.

Had a bear visit me during the night.  I was in a cabin, but the problem was that it also wanted to be in the cabin.  It had a persistence of thought for my Famous Amos cookies, I suspect.  After about 20 minutes of my one-way conversation with it, it left.  The next morning wolves howling brought me out of a deep sleep.  Cool!

Time to land

PB & J sandwich hits the spot

Petersburg, a small-ish fishing island.

Further south along the coast equalled worse weather.  After clearing customs at Prince Rupert, I headed inland across British Columbia, eh.

Wrangellers

Telaquana Pass

If there are fish in the water, Bill will find them.  A couple of King Salmons on the Nushagak made for a fun evening for me.  Nick and Sheila of NWA Outfitters will get you set up.

Near Dillingham.

Spent some time with Paul Claus at his lodge, Ultima Thule in the Wrangells.  Experience Alaska at his lodge, and you won't be disappointed, guaranteed.  Here, he just dropped off some rafters.  The turbine otter was the first of its kind, and can truly carry a massive load and still operate out of unbelievably short strips.  It's a 1000 horsepower supercub, and Paul knows how to make it fly like one.  Ultima Thule Lodge is the home base for adventure.  The Claus family lives and operates out of the lodge, and has numerous staff to make it a full package deal.  Hiking, fishing, whitewater rafting, hunting sheep, sight-seeing, landing on glaciers and coastal beaches, and all kinds of other adventures are planned-- All in the heart of the Wrangells, boasting some of the most beautiful and diversified land in Alaska.  If you've been around Alaska or aviation, Paul Claus' name is no secret.  He works magic in airplanes, truly a gifted bush pilot.  Ultima Thule Lodge.

A couple of the cabins at Ultima Thule Lodge.  Nestled up on the slope lends to spectacular scenery all around.  The main lodge is out of frame and is the perfect place to finish the day with tasty food and good company.  Donna Claus infuses the place with warmth, and the whole staff is exceptional.  Spend some time at Ultima Thule Lodge, get to know the Claus family, and your life will be enrichened.

Bagley ice field is one of the largest sub-polar ice fields in the world.  I wonder how many ice cubes could be made out of this ice?!  Stretching over 125 miles, the Bagley measures from 4 to 15 miles in width and is thought to be about 3000 feet deep over most of its length.  Glaciers spill off it in many directions, including the Malaspina Glacier which measures roughly the size of Rhode Island. 

The ship has taken on sand, every man for himself

Checking out some glaciers, pedestrian-style.

Swim lessons with mama bear

The Woodsen Factor.

Mt. Sanford at 16,237 feet along the western border of the Wrangells.  I could swear there's a cold draft coming in from somewhere-

Yeah it's a little blurry, but gimme some slack-- I'm trying to fly a plane here

Chisana.  Home of a huge gold rush in the early 1900's.  Now just beautiful.

Devil Mountain's Lodge, the Ellis' lodge.  Chatted with Kirk, Cole, and Terry for awhile.  Personable and fun to talk with, and owners of a very cool museum that's worth the visit.   Ever seen an albino moose?

Kirk Ellis is a master welder and mechanic, and the "Hulk" is his handiwork for the ground up.  He has the STC for this creation, and it's comprised of two PA-18 supercub fuselages cut and welded together to make a 4 place supercub that can fly in and out of the stuff supercubs can, though with more room.  He's been flying it through the spring, and with fall hunting starting up soon, will be getting a lot more experience with it.  The Ellis brothers have lived here their whole life, and know the area accordingly.

 

Summer in full force

Atop a sloping ridge in the Alaska Range at 6000ft Elevation, this was the front row view at the drive-in theater

Revenge is sweet.  Bug-smashing all the way home...

Does soap get dirty

Destination Marabou.  I planned to meet with Loni Habersetzer for some flying for the week.  This area is one of Loni's playgrounds, and he's always looking for a challenging new spot to land.  He's got the capabilities of his plane dialed in, and is one smooth operator.  Marabou Landing is operated by Nick and Sheila of Wasilla for 20-some years.  Approximately 55 miles northwest of Iliamna, it's beautiful country, and a great place to keep in mind if you want some top notch guiding for fish and game.  Good people, good food, good times.

Supercubs ready for action.  Fuel runs were made every couple days.  Alec, me, Loni. 

Loni and I play around on some hills near camp

 

Alec winds up the 90 inch prop

This was a fun spit of land.  The glassy water made for an interesting, if not a little disorienting, touchdown just before the sandbar.  Lined up for takeoff with my tailfeathers in the bushes.

Rain showers over Iliamna Lake.

This little harbor seal was the sentinel scout, and brought more friends a few minutes later.  Coastline of Alaska Peninsula.

Loni, Alec and I stop for no reason at all.  Seems like a good enough reason in a supercub.

Cool one-way canyon landing with a waterfall at the end.

Alaskan Bushwheels has their new 35 inch light weight tires certified now...   Hmmm...

Aleutian chain of mountains stretches a long ways down the peninsula.  Mountains, ocean, beach, river, and this lone wolf tractor-beam my lens into position.

Entrance to Merrill Pass from the west side of the Alaska Range.  In 1927, Merrill became the first pilot to cross the Alaska Range and fly over the Kuskokwim River area. He made an attempt to cross Rainy Pass, further north, without success, so cut this swath further south for a more direct route to the Kuskokwim area. Later that same year Merrill received a Signal Corps radio message to fly to Ninilchik and airlift a schoolteacher, near death from a gunshot wound, to Anchorage.  Merrill, upon returning in the dark to Anchorage with the teacher, found the pitch black a formidable barrier to seeing his landing spot.  When people realized he couldn't see well enough, they set bonfires around the field and used automobile lights to illuminate the strip. Merrill brought it in with a landing, and make the first night landing ever in Anchorage.  In September of 1929, Merrill departed in his plane for the last time.  Some fabric from his plane was found in the Cook Inlet a month later.  Four years later, Anchorage's first airport became named after Merrill, which is where my cub lives when I'm not out roaming about.

Some glaciers have ice-caves.

Loni and I pull our chances on the groaning ice cave.  The odds favored us.

HIll hoppin'

Clams beware of bear

The Big Loop

Spent the last week roaming a loop from Anchorage.  Norm came up from Spokane, WA and we headed north towards Fairbanks through Windy Pass.  Denali was visible from the North side and it was quite warm.  Above is Usibelli Coal Mine in Healy, the state's only operating coal mine, sitting on a ton of coal--100 million tons to be more accurate – and is the largest open pit mine with the largest earth mover that exists.  Check out the size of the trucks next to the mover.

Getting late in the day and time for camp.  Sitting here on the sandbar for the night, tent up and admiring the glow.

I've had a few emails asking what camera I use.  I'm using a Canon 20D with 3 lenses.  16-35 f2.8, 28-105, and 70-210 f2.8.  The latter lens belongs to James Christianson of James Christianson Photographer, seen in my links section.  Check out his site for any friends that may be getting married.  He's an extremely talented and sought after wedding photographer.

It's 1AM and I'm too energized to sleep.  Went up for a quick tour of the area, checked out a nearby cabin, and coming back in to the sandbar for good.  Norm snaps a pic of a little sunset waterskiing back to home base.

The next morning, my canvas bag became a metamorphic stage for this transition from crawl to wing sprawl.  The old shell is in the foreground.

Fairbanks was a little too much concrete, so it was north to Bettles, permanent population of 25. Located 35 miles north of the Arctic Circle, Bettles offers some of the best Aurora viewing in Alaska.  According to the National Weather Service, Bettles has the most cloud free days of any town in Alaska, increasing the opportunity to see the Northern Lights.  Of course, without any nighttime, we weren't going to see the lights anyway.  The Arctic circle changes with a complex pattern, but as of 2000, was at 66 degrees and 33 minutes.  Anything above that line has at least one full day of sun and one full day without sun every year.  If one gets technical though, there's twilight-- civil, nautical, and astronomical-- each progressively darker.  Bettles this time of year has full civil twilight, which is enough to carry on any usual task all "night." 

Above photo is the sandbar chosen for the night in the Brooks Range.  The plan was for Barrow and Prudhoe Bay, but the weather didn't permit passage beyond Anaktuvik Pass at the northern-most point of the Brooks Range.  Leaving here, a large grizzly stood on its haunches and sniffed the air as the airplane passed over.  I've been using a portable electric fence lately, and I like to think I sleep better in griz country.  Duckbills anchor the plane for a storm that passed over during the night-- love sleepin when it's stormy out-

Beach off southern side of Seward Peninsula 30 miles outside of Nome.  Good sleeping spot, and with a tide that only rose 1.5 feet from low to high tide, quite safe.

The next morning it turned a little nasty.  I love all kinds of weather, so I guess "nasty" is a relative term.  Nonetheless, the 30 mile trip into Nome for fuel turned into a 3 hour trip.  The beach was a great landing spot, which was good since my shortest leg was 2 miles before I had to set down once again and wait for enough visibility to see beyond prop.  Hey, it's the Bering Sea.

Fueled up at Nome and off to Serpentine Hot Springs.  Beautiful cabin with natural hot springs flowing through.  Good sleepin'

Serpentine Hot Springs lies in the Bering Land Bridge National Preserve, which is one of the most remote and least-visited areas in the National Park system.  It's western border is 42 miles from the Bering Strait and International Date LIne.  No roads to access this park.  Where are all the Winnebagos...?!?

Flying the coastline eastward with Kotzebue off the left wing.  Kotzebue Sound, Arctic Ocean.

Gotta stretch the legs and this hilltop was just the ticket.

This huge expanse of island is dwarfed only by the water that surrounds it.  The Yukon.

Entrance to Rainy Pass on the northwestern side of the Alaska Range.

Landed for the night at Rohn Roadhouse which sits near the gates of Rainy Pass.  The Iditarod Sled Dog race is from Anchorage to Nome, each team of 12 to 16 dogs and their musher cover over 1150 miles in 10 to 17 days.  Rohn is a checkpoint along the way, and a nice one at that.  The entire route from Nome back to Anchorage in the supercub nearly traced the Iditarod Trail.  It's tough to comprehend the distance that is raced with dogs in such unforgiving weather.  The Iditarod Trail, now a National Historic Trail, had its beginnings as a mail and supply route from the coastal towns of Seward and Knik to the interior mining camps. Mail and supplies went in. Gold came out. In 1925, part of the Iditarod Trail became a life saving highway for epidemic-stricken Nome. Diphtheria threatened and serum had to be brought in.  The mushers and their dogs saved the day.

Stopped by Rainy Pass Lodge before exiting the mountains, and met Dick and Sharon at the lodge, who caretake through the wintertime.  What a job!  Sharon helps out with the Iditarod (which passes by the lodge) every year.  She makes the best cookies of anyone I've met that totes around a .44 Magnum.  The only other airplane at the lodge's airstrip belonged to George and Dorothia Murphy.  George is well-known throughout Alaska as a bush pilot.  Their Aeronca stood proud as witness to many hours of flying.  Dorothia is 81 years old and has more spunk than you'd imagine.  She was a passenger in a car accident last year, breaking her back.  That didn't stop her from hiking a nearby mountain while at the lodge on this visit.  About 3 years prior, she had decided it was time to kick the caffeine habit.  The plan was to avoid caffeine.  She had George fly her out and drop her off in a remote camp by herself, and told him not to pick her up for a few days.  When George returned 3 days later, Dorothia was ready to load a caribou she had shot, dressed and packed back to the camp by herself.  George and Dorothia live 5 miles north of Willow, Alaska.

My master plan of becoming one with the animals is almost complete.  I landed in this field 10 minutes outside of Anchorage and the sun was too inviting.  Forecasters had all of us expecting rain and 40's, but it turned out sunny and warm.  Hey, 60's is warm around here.  It always amazes me the temperature swings this environment can handle.  Take Fairbanks for example-- in 1961, a record low of minus 66 degrees F (put the shirt back on).  The year 1991 brought a record high of 94 degrees F (off with shirt and pants).  (Hey buddy, this is a family joint).  If one does the math-- remembering to carry the "1"... that's an extreme of 160 degrees!!   Hmmm...  what's colder,  minus 60 degrees fahrenheit or minus 60 celsius?  The scales cross at minus 40.  So minus 60 celsius is colder.  Not that it really matters since the nose hairs have frozen so much earlier anyway.  What else freezes?  Fairbankians... Fairbankanese... Fairbanksssiissnns... and their tires.  Rubber tires will freeze and roll like a block of cement.

Eklutna Lake in the Chugach Forest.  The Chugach borders and melts into Anchorage proper.  This paradise is only minutes outside of a street light, and offers year-round recreation.  I'm headed to the far end, where "Bold" airstrip lies.

The mix of greens in the trees are all over Alaska.  Alaska Birch and Black Spruce.

It's been a relaxing afternoon close to home base.  Tomorrow, if mother nature's weather smiles on us, it will be time to head out for some more exploring, likely for the rest of the week.  I'm hoping to make it up to the Brooks Range, towards the North Slope of Alaska.  The Brooks Range has been called the Serengeti of Alaska.  Tons of wildlife.  It's a little early in the year, and it's still winter up there, so we'll see how things go.  How cold and wet could it be?! Quoting one of the most famous travelers of all time, Marco Polo: "An Adventure is misery and discomfort, relived in the safety of reminiscence."

Denali

Another gorgeous day and I made my way north from Anchorage to Talkeetna.  This is the airstrip famed bush pilot Don Sheldon used for many years.  Known for exceptional piloting and daring rescues of distressed and lost people, Sheldon has received the highest civilian honors ever presented by the military.  His book, "Wager with the Wind" is a fascinating read.  A museum in Talkeetna features much of his life.  The federal government approved naming an "amphitheater" after him on Denali years ago.  He died of cancer in the 70's, and his daughter still flies and keeps his plane in Talkeetna.  So is it "McKinley" or "Denali?"  Same thing, but McKinley was the name of a politician, and Denali means "the high one" in native tongue.  Easy choice for me...

Main street in Talkeetna.  I'd been here once a couple years ago, but fell in love with it all over again.  Very small, but is the jumping off point for all the alpine excursions to Denali.  It's a little drinking town with a climbing problem.  So the town, which is relatively "young" by old town standards, continues its calling as a goods and services center.  Originally for mining gold and trapping, and now as a sleeping/eating/pub spot for adventurous climbers.  Supper was a nice treat, and I enjoyed chatting with a group who was leaving the next day for 3 weeks on Denali.  It's a fun town to walk around-- everyone is full of positive energy and hope for their big climb.  Statistically, 50% will summit.  Guided groups average slightly higher than solo groups.  At 20,320 feet, temperatures can reach minus 40, even in the popular climbing months of April-June.

Leaving Talkeetna and flying towwards the Alaska Range.  Denali is obscured in the clouds.  I'm flying at around 500 feet off the ground, which is close to sea level.  That puts the top of Denali almost 4 miles above me in a short distance.  Not surprisingly, it takes a pretty clear day to see the top.

Flying up the Ruth Glacier towards the Ruth Amphitheater.  Winding through the moutains is surreal.  Even the "foothills" are big.  There are 7 "little" mountains around Denali that are taller than 12,000 feet.  Denali is the tallest peak in North America.  While there are other peaks that are taller, none of them have the height from floor to top that Denali has.  The atmosphere is also irregular on the planet, with more atmosphere "stacked" at the equator, so the poles have less height to the valuable insulated and oxygenated air so vital under strenuous climbing.

Poing and shoot and the colors are wild.

Building in Denali park is off limits.  Don Sheldon built this in the 1940's and it has been grandfathered in.  "Mountain House" is situated in Ruth Amphitheater and has windows on all sides, while reportedly sitting on ball bearings that allow it to rotate.  Want to spend a night there?  It can be arranged.

Landed on a gravel bar to refuel from my 5 gallon can.  Alaska range in the background.  Somebody pinch me.

Kodiak Kenai Valdez

Saturday morning was gorgeous, and good weather was promised for the weekend, so I headed south from Anchorage.  Here, the Homer spit on the south end of the Kenai peninsula, is a popular camping/RV spot for tourists.

Looking back on the Kenai peninsula and the Kenai Fjords.  I'm climbing high for the miles of open water I need to cross to Kodiak island.  That way I'll have more time to reflect on how cold the water will be when my engine quits over the ocean.

Kodiak Island airport.  All fueled up, heading south on the Island.

These eagles were the overseers of Seven Mile Beach, Kodiak.

Heading back north after a day of exploring Kodiak.  The sun was getting lower, and cloud decks and reflections made it interesting.  The land in the background is part of the Alaska peninsula which merges into the Aleutian islands, extending nearly 1000 miles southwest.  The Aleutians are the weather capital of the world, turning out some of the nastiest weather the planet has known, but you wouldn't know it today.

I'm racing the sunlight for Montague island, where I've heard a cabin sits on a bay.  A cabin is sounding real good after a long day of flying.  It's about 11pm.

Made it to Montague island, but the sun had set and I wasn't exactly sure whrere the cabin was, so I retreated here to Evans Island, which I had overflown 15 minutes prior and had seen a landing strip.  I was prepared to throw the tent out, but found a backdoor unlocked to a building and set up camp on the couch.  This is the next morning, and in a few minutes the sun will hit the airplane, melting off the frost and persuading the engine to come to life.

Next morning at Montague island-- found the cabin.  A huge expanse of beach made for a nice landing spot.  The tides around here can change drastically.  My tide tables put high tide at 3:45AM, and the water was now 15 feet lower than that.  The tides in the Knik arm change an average of 33 feet, putting it second only to the Bay of Fundy for the world's biggest tide swings (up to 50 feet).  Misjudging a tide can be costly for a cub parked on a beach.

Coming to an understanding with each other before another water crossing

More bears than humans on the island?

Shelter Cove on Hinchinbrook Island, as viewed from the beach.  Another hike to check out a different cabin.

Valdez, Alaska.  Lunch was a homemade treat from a nearby cafe, owned by a lady who moved to Alaska many years ago for solitude.  She lived in the bush for 9 months and then decided running water and electricity might be nice, so moved to Valdez.

The dark line in these merging glaciers represents the different speeds and erosive turbulence of each glacier.

I flew to Soldotna on the Kenai Peninsula to meet up with Gregg Motonaga and his wife Amanda.  We flew around on the western half of the peninsula for a couple hours.  Gregg making a low pass after I landed at a gravel bar.

More pics in the "Archives", such as "May 2007 Archives" at top left.