Dog Fish Studio

 

After dinner at the trailer I pack a few things for my morning departure to Juneau, then Seattle, then San Jose. I am excited to be going home for a week and reconnecting with everyone. At one time I could hardly imagine being away from my home and family and dogs in Santa Clara. Now, a scant 5 weeks after leaving I can hardly imagine having felt that way. My home, which is so much a part of me, now seems like a place I pay for to keep all the stuff I own... most of which I have not missed and probably don't need to begin with. How can that change of perspective happen in 5 weeks? Good thing I'm heading home.... I'll get some balance. But mostly what I want is to see Mum, Dusty, April and my granddaughter Elana, Jody, Maarten, Darrel, Morgan, and Mark, and have a good long cuddle with Calli and Charley.

Installment 6
Monday, June 7th
My nine days back home in Santa Clara flew by at mach speed. Time in Santa Clara moves at a faster pace than it does in Alaska. There is just not enough time in Santa Clara to reflect on anything. One moment leads to another moment and before you know it you're late for something or another. It started innocently enough with a desire to reconnect with everyone but once all the lines on my dance card were filled in I found myself racing to get from one dance to another. I did manage to see almost everyone and apologies to those whose visits I postponed till next time. In addition to seeing friends and family I took care of quite a bit of business, played a good gig with Jody and Frank at the Trout Farm, and had two belated birthday celebrations. One was a lovely dinner party at Struggle with a cake and everything (thank you Patsy, Tusa, Sue, Karen) and the other a lovely lunch hosted by Mum with Jody and Maarten. Jody's gift to me was a huge inspirational kick in the butt. When I saw the progress he'd made on his CD I increased the gearing on my create-o-meter and started pulling together graphics and liner notes for my own solo CD. Both CDs need to finish up around the same time so we can have a joint CD release party later in the year. Something that really registered during my visit home was how much my little Moo, Elana, has grown in the brief 6 weeks since I'd seen her. My adorable grand daughter is no longer a baby. At sixteen months she's now a little girl. I have had an excellent visit home. And... I will be flying home again for another visit in just two weeks. I hadn't planned to go home again so soon but it worked out that way. Terry needs to be back in Florida for a week in early June and there are two gigs in mid-June that I don't want to miss. So I will be back to see the friends I missed the first time around and maybe have a few outings with my Mum. All I know is that right now I am missing Terry and looking forward to seeing him in Seattle where we will start another sub-adventure passing through Minneapolis and Devil's Lake, N. Dakota. in an effort to fly the airplane back to Alaska. Finally.

Point of Interest: Devil's Lake, North Dakota, though not the geographic center of North America, is very close to it. Being about 50 miles east of center, a distance roughly 7x the magnetic variation at that longitude, Devil's Lake has the distinction of being the geographic 'black hole' of the Americas. By this North America I mean the gravitational pull in and around Devil's Lake is significant. You have to be careful because it will suck you in and draw you back repeatedly. My evidence for this is that we are about to make our third trip there in four weeks. The best part about Devil's Lake is that Greg and Chris live there and are always a pleasure to see and hang out with. But despite their hospitality and friendship we are ever mindful of the extreme escape velocity required to leave that unusual place. My observations were initially focused on the weather systems; Low ceilings and high velocity winds conspire to ground small aircraft, causing unscheduled overnight stays. But now I think there's more to it. As we are about to make our third trip I notice another strange quirk. I know from our experience less than a month ago that the Amtrak train (named the Empire Builder) heads east out of Devils Lake around midnight and arrives in Minneapolis around 7am. When I booked seats for us traveling the reverse route back to Devils lake I thought we'd have a nice daylight ride into Devils Lake. But no.... in a twist of devilishness Amtrak has the Empire Builder heading west bound from Minneapolis around midnight arriving in DVL around 7am. So regardless of direction, coming or going, a trip into or out of Devils Lake involves a hard night on an old train.

Thursday, May 27th, Dusty arrives at 5:45am to take me to the San Jose airport for my flight to Seattle. I arrive there a few hours before Terry so I have time for a relaxing pedicure at an upscale salon on "C" terminal concourse. By the time Terry lands and walks to the salon to pick me up my tootsies are polished and raring to go. We hurry to board our next flight to Minneapolis and spend the entire time on board laughing and joking with each other. We have missed being together. While waiting at baggage claim in Minneapolis I meet a local woman who I ask for advise on where we can spend 5 or 6 hours in comfort until our train (The Empire Builder) departs. Her suggestion turns out to be the perfect solution for us. We take a taxi to a St Paul neighborhood restaurant called Bonfire where we share a leisurely dinner of BBQ ribs and salad. The waitress is a local who entertains us with hometown anecdotes and stories. By the time we need to leave we feel we've done very well by the airport woman's advise. Thank you airport lady whoever you are.

About 10pm the waitress calls a taxi and we are driven directly to the Minneapolis-St Paul train station, which, strangely enough, is completely dark and spooky. I initially think the station is closed but then see small groups of people milling about with luggage. A few have flashlights. We are told that a fire at a local paper plant has caused a power outage. Inside it is dark as a movie theater, the only light coming from a few flashlights beams twirling here and there. Behind the counter two Amtrak employees are using flashlights to issue hand written tickets to those who had previously been issued reservations online. No one seems to be in control and no one is advising passengers of anything. Three times an Amtrak man comes out and announces that all luggage previously checked on the recently arrived train was outside on the platform to the right. It was pitch back out there. No one could possibly see well enough to find and claim their bags. I whisper to Terry, "Invitation to looting..." Maybe I'm just a west coast cynic because no one else seemed to be thinking this. The Amtrak system is about 40 years behind the times. They still issue paper tickets that are hand punched by the conductor as he makes his rounds. So the power outage is not actually much of an inconvenience. One passenger comments that if the airport has a power outage things come to a standstill. But what's a little power outage to a train? Nothing. And in fact the boarding process is in progress when the lights suddenly flicker on. And suddenly the station isn't as gloomy and spooky as before. We are directed to a specific car and climb up the narrow stairs (similar to the stairs on a double decker bus in London) to find our seats. People traveling through Minneapolis/St. Paul are stretched out half asleep on seats designed for sitting, not sleeping. We quietly stow our bags overhead and sit down facing forward, holding hands, waiting for the train to pull out. It is going to be a long night on a lurching train but at lease the seats are solid and the leg extensions function. Terry is snoring before the train leaves the station. I occupy myself by pretending we are in a third world country traveling past exotic landscapes. In truth there is no view through the windows. All I can see are the reflections of the inside of the train car. Finally, I too drift off to sleep.

Clackety-clack. I wake up to find daylight outside and views of flat fields, some flooded and boggy, moving slowly past my seat. We are not going very fast. Terry is asleep. I shoehorn myself out of the seat and shake the wrinkles out of my clothes. Ahead I can see that people are drinking coffee in the next car. I lurch along the aisle, make a courageous transition between the cars, and buy a steaming cup'o'joe to bring back to Terry. We have just enough time to sip it down before the conductor comes through the car singing "Devils Lake, next stop, Devils Lake'. Clickity-click. At 7am we shuffle off the train and find Greg's truck waiting for us at the station. Bless Greg. What a haul! Devils Lake once again. This time yesterday we were both on airplanes heading to Seattle. My Mum says Terry and I are pioneers and I always say 'bourgeois' to that. But this morning I feel like a pioneer.

Our basic plan is to fly the airplane back to Alaska and finish the float installation up there. The airplane has been bolted to the floats but none of the hydraulic or electrical lines are in place to operate the retractable landing gear. It is not an ideal way to fly but can be done. To put it in perspective, putting an airplane on floats adds drag. A lot of drag. We have accepted (like all float plane pilots do) the high cost of decreased ground speed and increased fuel consumption in exchange for the ability to land on water. But flying with the retractable wheels down adds yet more drag, and consequently additional cost in performance and at the fuel pumps. But this is what we need to do so we devise a three phase plan for leaving Devils Lake in the airplane that afternoon; 1. Do mechanical work to secure the gear in a locked down position. Tie up (and secure for flight) various unfinished portions of the float installation. 2. Pack all the pumps, brackets, stringers, hardware, hydraulic tubing, tools, and fluids in the baggage area. 3. Pick up our stuff we left at Greg and Chris's a few weeks ago that we couldn't take with us on our commercial flight to Alaska. We go at it and at 4:30pm we are exhausted and ready to go.

The weather forecast is touchy. A low pressure system is heading our way and looks like it will impact our route going northwest. De Ja Vu. This weather system looks suspiciously like the one that haunted us a few weeks ago. We decide to make a run for it and get out of Devils Lake while we can. So our test flight becomes our escape flight. The ground run is kind of long, as we expected it would be, then a bit of a lumbering feeling as the airplane hauls the floats up off the ground. Terry is very, very busy on climb out. He's monitoring the cylinder head temperatures, winding the trim settings, and coaxing things into place. I am quiet as a mouse as I register how differently the airplane handles now. The climb attitude seems very steep and the cylinder head temperatures are higher than usual. I feel the drag of the floats as a weather-vane effect. I'm thinking about all the weight we are carrying. The air is slightly turbulent too and adds to the overall experience. Terry monitors radio transmissions for our route and when conditions in Regina, Saskatchewan worsen he asks me to dig up the instrument approach plate in anticipation of having to file an instrument flight plan in-flight to be concluded with an ILS approach in Regina. Hmmmmm. I also noticed that not once since we'd taken off had he made any comment about the floats, the weather, the change in performance, the weight. Nothing. At 36 minutes out he turns to me and says simply. "Baby, I'm not happy". I feel the tension in my shoulders lessen as he makes a wide 180 degree turn and we head back to... where else? Devils Lake!

Plan B. We call Greg and Chris then meet them for drinks and dinner. Then we check into a local hotel. Boy, nothing like a good night's sleep and a new day dawning. Unfortunately by morning the weather has predictably deteriorated and there's no chance of getting out today. Instead Terry heads to the airplane, unloads every single thing, and brings it all back to the hotel room along with a stack of Priority Mail boxes, shipping tape and bubble wrap. We set up a packing station operation and thank the US postal service for coming up with that "if it fits it ships' campaign. One box gets filed with aircraft hardware. Nuts and bolts, washers, fittings, etc. I can't lift it but Terry can. I empty my roll-on bag and remove weighty craft materials. We create three piles. One hundred pounds to be shipped to us in Haines by US Post, one hundred pounds we'll leave with Greg for him to bring up in his Mayflower moving van next month, and the rest we take with us. In the end what we take is very little and can be carried by us easily. We spend the rest of the day packing the plane for an early morning departure, and make a grocery run for food we can eat in the air over the next two days. This will probably not be a leisurely flight back to Alaska. More like haul ass and quick-turn fuel stops.

The departure from Devils Lake ends up to be fairly anti-climatic considering all the previous attempts we've made. The plane handles better with less weight and the air is less turbulent this time. We have a dreadful headwind but that can't be helped. I start to imagine the fuel gages as dollar indicators... But the weather, although not beautiful, is cooperative. We make our first fuel stop in Rugby, ND, only an hour northwest and go through Canadian customs in Regina, Saskatchewan. From there we visit our old stomping ground N. Battleford where we discuss stopping for the day or pressing on. The ceilings are okay but there are some weather cells father ahead towards Alberta. We push on and find the weather conditions improving as we fly northwest. By the time we get to Edmonton it is a beautiful late afternoon. We land at City Center airport which is smack-ka-dab in the middle of the city and walk to a Ramada Inn, scoring a room on the 10th floor. Dinner in the hotel restaurant. We're tired. It's an early morning departure and we have gorgeous weather the rest of the day. Hot Damn! We stop for fuel in Fort St. John, Fort Nelson, Watson Lake, and then cross the White pass into Skagway. We follow the White Pass and Yukon Route narrow gauge railroad as it winds through the lowest places this pass has to offer. The railroad was built in 1898 during the Klondike Gold Rush. Looking down I can imagine what a hardship it must have been for the people who crossed this pass prior to the railroad's existence and for those who built it. We land at Skagway to clear US customs around 7pm. This time of year the sun is high in the sky and at 7pm and it feels like 3pm to a Californian. The 15-minute flight from Skagway across and down Taiya canal is the day's final reward. We fly over the water, along side the steep sides of rock, carved out of glaciers, that form steep walls on each side of the canal. Waterfalls are everywhere. As the canal broadens we make a shallow turn to the left and there sits Haines. It's a tiny-jeweled necklace strung along a rugged shoreline, snuggled at the base of dramatic snow topped spires. I can see the changes that have taken place in just the two weeks since I've been away. There is more green overall. Fireweed and other wild flowers paint transparent dribbles of color here and there. Terry makes a perfect landing and we taxi to the ramp in the sunshine. It takes but a moment to fetch the truck, unload the plane, pick up some milk, and come home to our cozy little trailer overlooking the Chilkoot Inlet.

 

 

Point of Interest:
I like my Friday morning ferry trips. Hours spent on the ferry are like a dreamy interlude where time is suspended. There is no accounting for the hours spent gazing across the water at the nearby narrow shorelines. I search the places where streams empty into the canal hoping to see a bear or a moose but no critter ever reveals itself. I found a favorite nook in the ferry’s aft lounge where I spread out my beads, yarns, and embroidery threads and find true creativity in this place where time has no meaning and beauty surrounds me. It often feels like an intrusion when we arrive in Juneau and I pack up my stuff and return to the real world. Sometimes Terry comes with me on the Friday morning ferry and shares my experience. On those occasions we spread out in the aft lounge and let the hours drift by talking about the airplane project, or what we’ll buy in Juneau at the ‘big box stores’. He comments on my beading or embroidery progress and we usually end up eating popcorn or napping.

While in Juneau Terry keeps his nose to the grindstone. He woks all day, taking few breaks, and keeps at it till late in the evenings. In the mornings he's up early and back at it. The pace is brutal. I have it much easier since I am free to come and go, shop in Juneau, work on my crafts, and make meals in the hotel room kitchenette. I love the problem solving that presents itself during the project. The logistics. We walk through schematics and wiring diagrams together, until we both reached the same conclusion on how to proceed. Terry always outthinks me. My engineering background pales in comparison to his. I’d ask, “Know what I think”? And he’d respond with “Baby, Yes, I do want to know what you think” and off I’d go with a limited observation that often triggered a new thought in him. We worked that way the whole month of July massaging N4999T from a gangly signet into a beautiful swan. Finally the day arrives when I watched Terry lift off the Juneau runway, the floats lifting right along with the airplane, like two large canoes that someone forgot to un-strap. I watch spellbound as the wheels rise up into the floats and know Terry is watching too to see the red-painted metal tab slide as designed from the DOWN position to the UP position. He flys the airplane back to Haines and I take the truck back on the ferry. Before the ferry even departs the dock in Juneau Terry has flown 70 miles up Lynn Canal and phoned me from Haines letting me know the flight went perfectly. By the time my ferry arrives in Haines 5 hrs later Terry has made three landings and takeoffs on Chilkat Lake! So we now have a seaplane. A beautiful seaplane. Finally.  

In July we also start looking around Haines. We use the long evenings of daylight to make drives up Mud Bay Road and out the Lutak Highway. To call it a ‘Highway’ is a bit of an overstatement as it is really just a two lane road with some gravel sections here and there. We fell in love with that peaceful drive the first time we made it last September.  We wind along the Lutak Inlet and veer beyond it up the beautiful Chilkoot River that flows from Chilkoot Lake. We park up there and watch the plentiful bald eagles soaring at low altitudes. We watch the fish jump. One night we happen upon a mama grizzly bear and her three cubs grazing along the Lutak Inlet at the mouth of the Chilkoot river.  She brings her cubs down in the evenings to munch the tender stalks in the delta region. Since then I’ve made it a priority to drive up fairly often, sometimes going out there during the week while Terry is at the clinic. I love to catch a glimpse of one of the three mama bears with cubs. It’s hard to tell them apart but one has three cubs and the others have two each. Seeing these beauties is one of the highlights of the summer for me. 

August in Haines starts off with the South East Alaska State Fair! It is the big extravaganza of the year up here and everyone gets into the act. The Alaska Marine Highway increases their ferry schedule to accommodate the people who travel here from villages all over South East. I heard the fair draws six to eight thousand attendees over the 4 days but I don’t think it was that many. 

August has also been a good month for visitors! Dusty and Mum make the trip together and have a wonderful 6 days with us. The first morning we take the drive up Lutak Inlet and are treated to a first row seat as mama bear brings a salmon up onto the road 20 feet in front of the car. Mum is amazed to find this kind of wilderness just a few miles from where we live. The mama bear slaps the salmon down in the road and puts her foot on it so the cubs can get a feel for the rewards of fishing. Quite a sight! While they are here Dusty takes the fast ferry to Skagway for a hike up the pass while Mum and I tour downtown Haines. Terry and Dusty take the kayaks out on Chilkoot Lake one afternoon and the next day Terry takes him flight-seeing in the C-185. We drive to 33 Mile House, which is (not surprisingly) 33 miles up the highway from Haines. We all had whopping huge hamburgers and the boys had pie too! Then we drive up the road another 6 miles to the Canadian boarder just for fun. The day before their flight home I accompany them on the ferry to Juneau. Dusty hiked up to the waterfall at Mendenhall Glacier while Mum and I hung out with my friend Cheryl Wilkenson whose husband Mitch works for the same Native American dental clinic as Terry. Cheryl knows Juneau better than I do and gives us a good tour of Juneau highlights while Dusty hikes and takes photos. It is hard to say goodbye to them the next day at the airport and I feel a little sad as I drive out to the ferry terminal and park in the boarding line for the return trip to Haines. I spend the time on the ferry crocheting a hat and drinking coffee thinking about their trip and how happy I am they came up to Alaska to see us. By the time the ferry docks in Haines Mum and Dusty have already arrived in San Jose and are in a taxi heading home.

The following week Linda Wilkins comes up to visit. I take her to see many of the same sights I’d taken Mum and Dusty to see. There is only so much to see and do in Haines and now I feel like an official tour guide.

By now we are enjoying the plane and have made several flights to Chilkat Lake, landing on the water and taxiing to a friend's cabin. There is no road to the lake so people who have houses there must use seaplanes or small boats to get back and forth. There is a remote landing 30 or so miles from Haines that leads from a river bank to the lake. Many of the homeowners keep small boats there but it is not an easy lifestyle. The people who live there are hearty and adventurous. We enjoy being on the edge of this lifestyle.

Installment 8
October 3rd

Labor Day weekend already? Terry’s Uncle Jerry and Aunt Kathy fly up to Haines for a visit with us. Jerry is a physician who, after retiring from his Georgetown, SC practice, now works part of the year as the medical director for the Alaskan Native community of Metlakatla. On their way back to South Carolina they make a detour north to visit us here in Haines. We have a blast showing them around and Terry outdoes himself cooking up a seafood feast with the local bounty of goodies we’ve become fond of. We fill plates with; smoked-salmon-cream-cheese spread. Big chunks of king crab legs. A low country’ish’ shrimp boil. BBQ salmon bellies and tempura fried halibut! We sit, the four of us, in our little trailer kitchenette seats and pig out like nobody’s business. Only, now that I’ve written this I guess it’s everyone’s business! Anyway, the weekend flies by and I am sorry when it comes time for them to go but we made a plan to visit them in South Carolina in December for Georgetown’s sing-it-yourself messiah. Hallelujah!

Friday the 10th of September, a few days after Jerry and Kathy’s visit, Terry and I pack up the airplane and head east across the Rockies toward Florida. We have to backtrack a bit north and west to Whitehorse, Yukon Territory in order to go through Canadian Customs. Backtracking north and west plus the time it takes for the customs officials to process our entry to Canada cuts into our daylight. We continue on but don’t get too far before making our first overnight stop in Watson Lake. This is not a great place to stop overnight. The airport is miles from town and the town is miles from anything resembling a town. Basically, it’s a rough, dusty collection of uninspired buildings strategically located along the Alaska Highway. We were offered, and accepted, a ride into town by a bitter young man who talked nonstop all the way into town about his sensational piloting ability and experience. He was quick with his opinions and pretty much non-charitable towards everyone who wasn’t himself. He never asked us where we were from or where we were going. Apparently he had been stuck in Watson Lake for a few days due to unflyable weather conditions. I whisper to Terry, “Next time let’s just pay for a cab. This guy is a real buzz kill”. He dropped us off at The Big Horn Motel where we hurriedly check in and walk next door to the Belvedere Bar and Lounge. This place is exactly as you might imagine it. A dark, empty room, pretty big, with a large screen TV blasting sports from the far wall. We order drinks and the Belvedere Hors d’oeuvres sample platter. It turned out to be a large round pizza tray covered with an array of fried things topped with two handfuls of various sauces pre-packaged in little rectangular plastic tubs. I was slightly embarrassed that we’d ordered something so unhealthy and so… huge. So I daintily picked up a few celery sticks. Then a few buffalo wings. The chicken fingers were quite crispy. I never knew you could deep fry ribs. Or nachos. We ate it all.

Saturday, September 11th. I guess we all remember where we were the morning of 911 nine year ago. Has it been that long? We head to the airport early. The weather looks okay locally but there are no weather reports up here in the Yukon Territory. We have only information reported by other pilots in route. We take off and fly south along the “Trench”, a huge geographic indent running for about 300 miles in a southeast direction from the lower edge of the Yukon Territory down into British Columbia. The ‘trench’ is a good news - bad news kind of formation. As a trench it is useful because it is free of tall peaks and other vertical hazards. But since it travels through completely undeveloped, unpopulated, and isolated country, there is nowhere to land and no services. Before too long the visibility gets mucky. Then muckier. After about 15 minutes flying in the clouds on instruments we turn back. We deviate east a bit to take a look at the Alaska Highway but that route too is kind of nasty and although the highway offers a good backup place to land it also goes through a few high and tight passes. So back we go to Watson Lake where we wait around the airport poised to go but holding off till things look better. And they do look better later that afternoon. We finally take off and head east along that friendly ribbon of grey highway, noting that each lake in our path is also a potential landing spot now that we are a float plane! Near the place where the Liard River crosses the Alaska Highway we go ‘off road’ by leaving the highway by following the Liard River over slightly lower terrain, thereby avoiding the narrow pass near Toad river that the highway goes through. It is exciting flying over such wilderness. I wonder how many people have looked at what we are seeing now. Some, certainly…. but not all that many. The Liard is a river on a mission. It carves its way through rugged terrain leaving sheer, steep walls of stone each side of narrow gorges, one of which is named Hell’s Gate. I imagine the bears and moose that are down there, unseen by us. As we cross this rugged section of beautiful terrain the ground drops further and further away from us as we leave the Rockies. We are happy to find clearer and clearer skies as we pass over the wide high gentle foothills east of the Rockies. The Alaska Highway exits the Rockies south of where we do but it is easy to pick up again. We initially planned to go to Fort Nelson but by now we are riding a pretty good tail wind and it seems a shame to quit it. So we forge on to Fort St John, and, because we’re feeling good and have plenty of fuel onboard, we push on to Dawson Creek where we land for the night.

Sunday, our third day of the trip we have fantastic tailwinds that give us ground speeds up to 175 mph. We sail across Alberta and Saskatchewan watching as the Canadian prairies roll by beneath us. We make one stop for fuel at North Battleford, a mostly unremarkable airstrip that we seem to stop at every time we fly this route. It is a quick pit stop then off we go again on the next leg south. We cross into America at International Peace Garden in North Dakota with no incident. Last May when we passed through this boarder crossing we were disgusted by the officer’s poor behavior and lack of knowledge of their own policies and procedures. We had been delayed and subjected to an incompetent inspection. So this time we are prepared for the worse and are pleasantly surprised to be greeted by officers who act professionally. They tell us they are aware of inconsistencies in their homeland aviation security system and even work with us to understand which details in their system make it hard for pilots to be compliant. Our experience is so different from last May I leave wondering what might have taken place to change this border crossing so significantly.

The last flight of the day is a short one from the U.S/Canadian border due south to Devils Lake, North Dakota. This land surrounding Devils Lake is undergoing an unprecedented water crisis as the lake levels rise slowly flooding the surrounding farms and roads. We see many paved roads disappearing into the bloated lake and, following the course of these roads with our eyes, we see house and barn roofs sticking up in what looks like the center of a lake. But it’s not supposed to be a lake. It’s a farm. And, more importantly, it’s someone’s home and lifestyle now sitting under water. Trucks and farm equipment are out there too. Abandoned for lack of enough high ground to store them. It’s a heart breaking sight. As set up our approach to Devils Lake airport we easily locate Greg and Chris’s farm off highway 2. We note that although only about a mile from the lake it is still above ground as evidenced by the raised arms waving below us in their yard. They have left the truck for us at the airport. God bless’em. We drive directly to our favorite motel, check in, and race out to The Ranch Steakhouse to meet them for drinks, dinner and a social evening of recounted stories and adventures.

Monday morning Terry gathers all the stuff we left with Greg last May and packs it into the plane. I think the only thing we are not able to take with us is the old landing gear we flew in on way back in February. At some point we need to relocate it to Florida but it’s too heavy and huge, and awkward to carry with us now. We fill up with fuel and take off. We both shake our heads at the flooded farm lands below us as we climb out on a long, long, downwind departure to Florida.

We pick an eastward altitude to cruise at that gives us the maximum tailwind benefit as we cruise across the golden waves of grain. We watch farm life from high above North Dakota, across the corner of Minnesota, and into Iowa, making our first fuel stop in Independence, Iowa. We calculate we can make it to Effingham, Illinois for the night then dissolve into laughter at all the jokes we can think of that involve a play on words for Effing Ham. Like “I ain’t eating no effing ham”. We are delighted to find a friendly FBO (Fixed Based Operator) on the field who offers us a courtesy car. It is just getting dark as we drive down motel row and select a Comfort Suites located next to the freeway. The desk clerk recommends a local restaurant that turns out to be pretty good. The thing is… we are now used to Alaska restaurant prices which are the highest I’ve seen anywhere. An enchilada in Haines will set you back $18. A hamburger is $12. Here in Effingham a steak dinner is $11 and most entrees are in the $7-$9 range. And that included a salad bar! Yeah! Let’s all move to Effingham and eat cheap.

Tuesday, our fifth day of the trip, we have it in our hearts to make it the rest of the way to Kittyhawk, Florida by sundown. We fly a long-ass leg (4.2 hrs) to La Grange, Georgia and land for fuel. It’s not until we go inside the terminal building that we recognize we’ve been here before. And the thing that sparks our memory is the free popcorn machine in the hallway. We load up on popcorn and fuel and take off one last time. Believe it or not the terrain between Illinois and Florida is now becoming familiar to me as this is the third time we’ve crossed over it in N4999T. The beautiful green of Kentucky and Tennessee and the scramble of development that is Nashville gradually give way to the forested gentle hills of Northern Alabama and Georgia. We cross into Florida in late afternoon and Terry’s practiced eyes find the tiny private airfield called Kittyhawk where his parents live. It is a narrow grass strip cut out of a thick forest of pine trees. Narrow taxiways lead off it to small houses and hangars nestled in the trees. A beautiful setting made even more beautiful by the sight of little airplanes parked here and there. Like jewelry laid out on a field of green and brown. Terry’s parent’s place is closed up tight while they spend the summer in their home in Alaska. We unlock the door and make cool drinks. I’ve forgotten how hot it gets in Florida in the summer. Wooo Eeeey. We take our time tying down the plane and unloading all our gear. What a pile of stuff! Terry’s Dad’s truck starts right up and we hold hands over the center console as we drive through the little towns of Live Oak and Branford on our way to Terry’s house in Old Town, Florida.

Wednesday, the 15th. It feels good to wake up back in Terry’s house. After living in a 29’ trailer it is a bit of a shock to have so much space to Rattle around in. I can’t help noticing that his bathroom is a quite a bit larger than the trailer! We spend one entire day just moving things from here to there. I focus on a small alcove off the living room and rearrange the furniture there into a sitting area. The living room is so huge I can’t think about. We walk through the house, many times, and lose ourselves in the sheer volume of space. We go through the kitchen panty and toss out-dated cans and food stuffs until it is organized with the new food we just bought. Terry sits down at the trap set to play the drums while I read. Then he moves to the piano and plays a beautiful set of songs. I close my eyes in the alcove and let the music, Terry’s music, flow over me. We drink cups of tea and watch the birds as they fly over the front meadow and land near the lake in front of the house. We enjoy the day and evening in a slow relaxed mode knowing tomorrow we have many things to do in Gainesville to get positioned to return to Alaska in only two days.

Those two days go fast as we do errands, pick up a rental car, and return Terry’s Dad’s truck to Kittyhawk. The distances between things in rural Florida are measured in hours, not minutes. On Friday we leave the house in the early afternoon and drive to Charlie and Brenda’s house in Titusville. We are greeted at the door with much fanfare. Charlie and Brenda hug us and we dance in the entryway while Brett (who has just returned home from four years in the Marines) stands on the balcony above us playing a kick-ass rendition of Hotel California on his guitar. Brenda gives me a tour of their beautiful home before we dash off to dinner at a place called Dixie Crossroads where they specialize in a type of shellfish called Rock Shrimp. These shrimp, about the size of a man’s thumb, are sliced lengthwise, grilled, and served in their spiny shells like miniature lobsters. What a treat! The company, conversation, and food made for a great evening.

In the morning we creep about as silently as church mice and are on the road by 6:30am headed for Orlando Airport. Our first class flight to Seattle is wonderful. We arrive in Seattle 11am local time and settled ourselves in the Alaska Airlines Board Room for a day-long wait till our flight to Juneau boards at 8pm. But even the long wait is okay in this place with comfortable chairs, snacks, drinks, and free WiFi. By the time we get to Juneau it is too late for a ferry or an air taxi to Haines so we check into a hotel room and sleep hard. Our air taxi to Haines the next day is via Skagway so we are treated to a beautiful scenic tour of the Lynn Canal which is a great homecoming and a great way to complete our excursion to Florida!

Things are a little different now that we are back in Haines. For one thing we know we are leaving in just three weeks and that our wonderful summer in Haines is coming to an end. But more obvious changes are upon us. Within days of being back the sun retreats behind slate-grey clouds and the temperatures drop to below freezing at night. When the sun shows itself a few days later the nearby mountaintops are dusted with the first snows of winter. The last week of September is rainy, windy, and stormy. We take down the awning and disassemble our patio things. At night the winds rock the trailer and spruce cones rain down on our tin roof making a racket. The daytimes are darkish and I find myself staying in the trailer while Terry is at the clinic. I spend my time reading and painting little watercolors totem poles and grizzly bears. I sew up a school of fish using the red heel socks usually reserved for making sock monkeys. The sock monkeys I made last December love them and enjoy the ‘sock company’. I start painting the gillnet floats my friend Jill has given me from the 1917 cannery she and her boyfriend Hugh own. Meals are mostly soups and stews and cold weather comfort food which keep the trailer rich with the smells of garlic and onions. In the evenings we snuggle under the covers to watch old episodes of Larry David in ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm’. Winter is coming. The restaurants in town all have handwritten notices on their doors announcing their last nights for dinner for the season. Some will reopen for the holidays but most will not. Most noticeable to me is the absence of all the pretty flowerpots and baskets around town. During the third week of September they were pulled down and put in storage until next spring. The town is shutting down for winter and nothing can stop it.

We are down to our last two weeks in Haines! We carefully study maps and ferry schedules and calendars and come up with an escape plan. We discover that putting the truck and trailer on a 45 minute ferry ride across Lynn Canal to Skagway will save us driving 200+ miles north to the Alaska Highway just to get access to the Highway going south to Smithers. Going to Skagway cuts a corner off the route. The ferries are running on their less frequent winter schedules now so our options are limited. Another factor is our desire to reach Woodland, Washington while Terry’s folks are there visiting Terry’s brother Earl and his wife Mary. We hatch a plan to leave Wednesday, Oct. 13th and arrive in Santa Clara around October 21st. We’ll stay in CA only a short while before driving to Florida where Terry has clinic business to take care of in November and December. Someone please let Callie know that she’s going to join us for the road trip from Santa Clara to Florida and that there’s a huge beautiful house waiting for us all alongside a lake!

            “And the road says come follow the sun
             And my feet say rest you’re doing your best
             And my heart says fly beyond the sky
             And my soul knows all the reasons why”      Written by Jody Calcara

Stay tuned for further Elize and Terry adventures.....