“He was born in the summer of his twenty-seventh year, coming home to a place he’d never been before…”
– John Denver
As the de Havilland Beaver lifted off Lake Hood, I left my past behind and began the journey toward a new life. It was my first time in a small plane, and I was fascinated with the choreography of flying. The Boss seemed to be doing three things at once; he turned away from Anchorage, climbed to altitude, trimmed the plane, and headed west across Knik Arm, all the while talking to the tower. I sat in the right seat alternately staring out at the landscape below me, and pondering all of the engine and flight instruments. I had a thousand questions, but it was impossible to talk comfortably over the roar of the big radial engine. As excited as I was, I drifted off to sleep.
“Do you know how to fly this thing?” The Boss yelled over the roar of the engine. I was instantly awake. I don’t know how long I’d been asleep, but the gentle rolling hills and boreal forests below us had changed into craggy, wind swept mountain tops covered in snow; seemingly right off the wing tips. Broad glaciers twisted away as far as I could see, and a silted and boulder strewn river braided it’s way through the sterile and tortured valley below.
“I said do you know how to fly?” The Boss hollered again.
The look on my face must have been answer enough. The Boss rolled his eyes as he moved the yoke in front of me.
“Just keep it at this altitude and don’t hit anything,” he yelled into one of my ears as he released his seat belt and turned around to rummage in the cargo.
God damn it, I know it’s here someplace!” I heard him say, as he slithered deeper into the boxes and bags stuffed from floor to ceiling.
I didn’t dare take my eyes off the mountain that seemed to loom ever closer in front of us. All I could see out of the corner of my eye was his hip boots.
He reappeared. “Just aim for that mountain”, he said, and was gone again.
The Beaver towered straight up like a high-speed elevator. “Just an updraft,” he yelled from somewhere behind me. “Keep your attitude straight and level.”
Keep my attitude straight and level? Is he telling me not to panic?
A box of groceries shifted and hit me in the back of the head. “I’ve got it,” he said, as he turned and flopped back into his seat in one fluid motion. A deli tray from Carr’s was balanced on one knee as he snapped into his harness.
“I just love their sushi!”
We left the mountains eventually and followed one river’s meandering course to its source, and over high ground to another. Occasionally we’d break away from whatever river we followed to cut across country, always working south and west. In the distance, a wall of mountains marked the horizon and we headed toward them.
“Almost there.” The Boss called out, nodding toward one of the most beautiful lakes I’d ever seen. “It’s just around the corner.”
We banked around a mountain, which jutted out into the lake, and followed a short river that joined another, smaller lake.
“That’s the Wind River,” he said. “It empties into Mikchalk Lake. And, there’s the lodge.”
He turned sharply and pumped in some flaps. Welcome home. I thought to myself.
Once on the water, we glided silently to the dock where one of the guides explained to several others, with wild gestures and animal noises, that they weren’t working nearly fast enough. The others left, staggering away under their weight in groceries and disappeared into the lodge. The old guide deftly caught the plane and secured it.
“Hi Rusty!” The Boss called out in greeting.
“You have fresh meat, Boss?” Rusty asked, looking at me, and not at the groceries in the back of the plane.
“Yup, meet the new guy”.
Rusty looked like a slimmed-down version of Hagrid, from Harry Potter. He had long and bright red hair that stuck out stiffly, and at odd angles, from under his ball cap. The brow of the cap was emblazoned with “Ketchikan Bar”. Underneath, was the silhouette of two bears in the act of procreating. His beard was full and wiry, and an even brighter shade of red. His mustache was nicotine stained. He looked me straight in the eyes as we shook hands, and then grabbed one of my duffels and tossed it onto a shoulder. He turned to leave, obviously intending me to follow him, and cackled maniacally, “So… you wanna be a fish guide?”
