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.