What Was It Like to Learn to Fly in Alaska?
The Lucky One is now out and it talks about my being a flight instructor and learning to fly, so I got to thinking about when I was a student pilot in Anchorage, Alaska in 1978.
When you took off from Merrill Field you were in the city and the busy airspace near Anchorage International with airliners from all over the world and Elmendorf Air Force Base with fighter jets and cargo planes. Numerous dirt strips and float plane bases like Lake Hood and Lake Spenard had airplanes flying everywhere, in all directions, at all times.
But as soon as you crossed the water of Knik Arm to the north and flew past Point McKenzie, you were over the wilderness. If you had to make an emergency landing ten minutes from the airport you couldn’t walk home. The good news was if your radio still worked, you could call for help.
One the other hand, you had to learn long range navigation in both short- and long-range cross-country flights.
Your instructor went with you for the first time, so it wasn’t so bad, then you had to do it alone. The short-range requirement was only 25 miles, but there were no airports that close to Anchorage. So, I had to fly to Kenai which was 75 miles away. When I flew that trip alone, after I was on the ground a cloud bank came in and turned the airport into an IFR only zone.
There was blue sky to the north, when I tried to ask for departure clearance, the tower told me “The zone is IFR, what are your intentions?”
I said, “My intentions are to depart to the north.”
Once again, he said, “The zone is IFR, what are your intentions.”
I said, “Does this mean I can’t leave?”
“The zone in IFR, what are your intentions.” He was limited as to what he could say, everything is recorded.
I was stuck and stumped.
A commuter flight had just landed and was taxiing in, they were listening to the conversation on the radio.
After shutting down and offloading their passengers, one of the pilots got out and walked to my airplane. We were the only ones on the parking ramp.
He said, “Didn’t your instructor tell you about ‘Special VFR?’
I said, “No, what’s that?”
“Ask the tower for a special VFR to the north, all you have to do is stay clear of the clouds and you’re good.”
Thanking him, I called the tower again and requested a special VFR clearance.
The guy in the tower, who had probably watched the conversation from his lofty two-story perch, replied with a chuckle in his voice. “Cessna 77233 cleared to depart northbound under special VFR, remain clear of clouds.”
Just like that, I was on my way again.
The long cross-country flights had to have three legs with at least 50 miles for each leg, a minimum of 150. There again nothing was that close, so my first leg was to Gulkana to the northeast which was about 180 miles. Then straight west across a glacier covered mount range to Talkeetna, about 65 miles, getting gas each time, then finally south again another 75 miles back to Anchorage. At 320 miles, it was a full day’s flying in a little two seat airplane.
As I was on final approach to Runway 6, two small aircraft behind me collided, killing three people including a flight instructor, a student and a mechanic that worked for Gordons Flying Service, my base of operations. We were all heartbroken. Aviation is risky and is sometimes fatal. It reminded me once again how tenuous life can be. 1978 was a bad year for aircraft accidents. One old pilot remarked to me, "It's as if someone sprayed a can of Raid.”
In Alaska, it was required to bring survival gear with you in case you found yourself spending the night in that great Alaskan wilderness. It had to consist of a sleeping bag, food and a firearm big enough to stop a bear. (They have to eat too.)
Most people chose a .44 Magnum pistol, mainly for its portability, but also because of the mistaken belief that it has enormous stopping power. A ‘little’ 30-30 Winchester has over twice as much muzzle energy.
My choice was a short barreled 12-gauge pump shotgun with more than three times the muzzle energy when using slugs. You can also bring bird shot in case you need to procure small game for food. A very versatile weapon.
Fortunately, I never needed to use it, but on those long flights alone over the endless muskeg and mountains, it was comforting to have it along. I imagine in the lower forty-eight states the only thing a student pilot needs to bring for those long flights is a credit card.
All this seems such a long time ago. Oh, wait a minute… it WAS a long time ago. Still, I hope you enjoyed my flashback reminiscing.
Clam digging at Katchemak Bay in Alaska
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