Our little Piper PA 20 is sort of the “Honda Civic” of planes. It is great for flying the two of us around, but its meager pay load means that delivering seasonal quantities of food, mail, and accumulated Amazon purchases from our Post Office box in Anchorage necessitates three round trips.
|Laura with a warm cup behind the cabin|
For all flights, we balance and triage our cargo. Perishable food wins prize of place on the
first flight home. So on my lap, I balance a box of
eggs and right behind me I stow a gallon of water and a net bag of
ingredients for the first three meals. That way, if Bryan's return
flights are delayed overnight by an unexpected weather system, I have
at least a day's worth of fresh food.
|Kitchen, a few days after settling in|
On this year's homecoming day, the sun rose at 9:30. We loaded the plane and then Bryan did three “touch and goes” to test the plane's systems before I climbed in. At about 11 am, we lifted off into the clear blue sky, heading toward the jaw dropping view dominated by Mts. McKinley, Hunter, and Foraker. The air was windless, but the throbbing of the engine caused the windows to slide ajar to minus 10 degree air. I tugged futily on the knob that promises “cabin heat” but can't deliver at these temperatures. Anticipating this, I had waddled into the plane swaddled in three pairs each of socks, pants, and tops, plus a hat and two layers of gloves.