Friday, February 3, 2012

Float and Ski Planes - No Roads, No Cars

A Cessna 185
(I welcome your comments and questions through the "comments" option below any entry. --Laura) 


Because Alaska is so vast, and because any arbitrary straight line intersects more mountain chains and bodies of water than people, it is sensible that Alaskans rely so much more heavily on air transportation than roads. A look at a map reveals very few highways, with numbers like Hwy 1 and Hwy 3!   Since the capital, Juneau, is squeezed in between mountains and the sea, it is accessible ONLY by air or water (and that is true for many communities).  Its grand total of 42 miles of road lead nowhere outside the municipality.  To drive elsewhere, Juneauans load their vehicles onto the Alaska Marine Highway ferries in order to depart at Haynes or Skagway for highway connections to the rest of the continent.  It is no surprise, therefore, that Alaska has the highest per capita ownership of private planes in the country, most of them small, old, beaten up, and beloved.  


With about 280,000 residents, the largest city in the state, Anchorage, contains about half of the state’s population. Logically, the city also hosts several airports for private planes.  The ones that visitors are likely to encounter for flight tours are Merrill Field, primarily for wheeled planes, and Lake Hood, the largest float/ski plane airport in the world, adjacent to Ted Stevens International Airport (ANC).  We fly in and out of Lake Hood on float planes and ski planes to get to our bush cabin, because we have no roads or grass strips for a runway. 


What is it like to commute by float plane?  What would your experience be?




Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Building a Log Cabin 40 miles from the Nearest Road

(For specific details, on plumbing, solar and wind power, furnishings, and storage, see other articles on this site)

Building a home in a remote location without road access is a long, slow process with very careful planning.  You can't run to Home Depot when you lack a bolt or tool.  Fortunately, our only full time neighbors had constructed a few kit cabins and were willing to tackle a "real cabin" from spruce trees they could harvest on our property, as well as a small 8x10 dock and two sheds.  They did a great job, but the simple box structures took 2.5 years to finish!  

The first was an 8x12 plywood shed on the high point of the property. Its most important function was to hold the battery bank for the solar panels and wind turbine, that were installed the first winter by my husband and two nimble, brave people who climbed the 120 foot power tower they assembled in -10 degree weather.  This little shed also provided much needed storage for the ever increasing number of hand and gas powered tools we needed to accumulate for future projects.   During most winters, the snow on the roof eaves touched  the “ground” level and we have to dig down another five feet to open the door. 

Another initial outbuilding closer to the cabin is the outhouse/storage shed.  Our strong teen neighbor dug a 5x5x6 ft outhouse hole (which was awfully large just for the two of us, but he was a human steam shovel), over which was quickly built an uninsulated, unheated 8x12 building that serves as an outhouse in the front third (4x8) and a storage shed in the back (8x8) for items we needed close to the small cabin.  It contained dry goods, seasonal clothes and supplies, a propane refrigerator (that unreliable purchase and its low tech replacement "cold hole" form another story) and chest freezers, powered by solar/wind.  In a fit of pique to exert some control over something, somehow, I firmly announced the rather ridiculous demand of two stained glass windows for the outhouse, and I hired a friend to design them with Alaskan flowers.  

Before

Embarking on this construction was a complicated logistical puzzle, since there is no road here.  By that I don't imply even a gravel path.  We fly 20 minutes over three rivers or snowmachine 3.5 hours to get to the nearest road.  So every tool that our neighbors did not have and every part we needed to buy, had to be scheduled for delivery by plane (small and light parts) or by snowmachine during an 8 week hauling season when the rivers were frozen hard enough to serve as an ice highway.

Glass windows, plywood, polystyrene insulation, trusses, 2x4s, log screws, roofing metal - all was triaged and delivered over two winters in the order the builders thought they would get to that stage of construction.  And during the summers, we hacked at alders, devil's club and downed spruce and birch to clear small spaces for these structures, disrupting millions of mosquitoes and thousands of wasps and bees in the process. One summer, we encountered a nice big, steaming pile of bear scat almost every morning near where we were working, just to let us know that he/she was watching us through the high grass.   It was hot, dirty, buggy work.  I, for one, was not a happy camper, although my husband was thoroughly enchanted by each day's exertions.      

Once my husband finished the power tower and determined that he would be able to work by Internet and phone from that location, construction on the cabin commenced.

We positioned the cabin exactly where the old homesteader had built his shed, on a little elevation about 50 ft from the lake’s edge.  Our 750 square foot home has two stories, with one room up and another down, subdivided into functional areas, but not rooms.  It is 16 x 24 feet, plus covered decks (10 x16) for all those days when the temperature is pleasant enough to be outside except for the multi-day light drizzles we get here.  The front of the cabin faces west, with views of the lake, two close mountains beyond and a more remote, higher mountain range to the north.   The front door is a sturdy 3 foot wide, 4 inch thick door outfitted with a cast iron bear bar that looks really impervious to intruders until you glance left to the 5 foot picture window next to it! (which we cover with bear shutters when we leave).  (Note: for human intruders, most hingers are on the inside of doors.  To deter bears, the hinges are on the outside, so they can't push a door in as easily).