Alaska Civil Air Patrol: Search and Rescue Training

 

The Civil Air Patrol is the civilian auxiliary of the US Air Force. Its missions, since formation in 1940, are emergency services, aerospace education, and cadet development.  Throughout the country, its squadrons are often the first people in the air to photograph damage from floods, hurricanes, and tornadoes, and to assist in locating lost hikers, boats, and planes.  Among the states, the Alaska Wing of CAP (akwg.cap.gov) performs many search and rescue (S&R) operations.  These emergencies require both practice and coordination among pilots, ground crew members, and communicators.  Lectures and simulations are useful, but nothing is better than real experience.

 

That’s where I fit in.  Although I am not a CAP member myself, my husband is.  Several times per month, I receive a call to “put out the beacon.”  This means that one of CAP’s seasoned check pilots has decided to train another flyer to detect and home in on an emergency locator device that we keep at our remote home This gives the other pilot more than half an hour's flight over largely uninhabited land to find us.  

Summer or winter, I flip the switch and position the yellow box and antenna on a nearby tree stump, where its signal will not be obscured by our metal roof.   Pilots flying north from Anchorage eventually detect the distinctively annoying tone.  To determine the direction from which the signal is emanating, the pilot engages in one or more wing nulls, which is a circling maneuver in which the wings block the transmission from the source location, enabling the plane to skew closer and closer to its destination.   Most of the time, after flying directly overhead, the pilots give us a wing wag of thanks and then fly back to base.

 

Other times, we mix it up.  In the summer, I sometimes take the beacon with me in the kayak and head out to some spot on the lake, simulating a submerged plane or a floating pilot or emergency bag.   This winter, the check pilot asked us to incorporate ground to air signalling.  What a great idea!  We considered laying out a blue tarp (known as a signal of emergency) but because of winds, I decided to try a signalling mirror and a ground indicator made of logs.  Because the afternoon was sunny and beautiful enough that a few recreational flyers were in the vicinity, I chose not to use a symbol of true emergency, like an F, which means “need food” or two parallel lines, which indicate injury.  Rather, I formed on the frozen surface of the lake in front of our cabin, two large L’s out of logs, each one about 12 feet by 7 feet.  The CAP pilot, flying at an altitude of 500 feet discerned both the signal of “Lima Lima” which means that “All is well,” and my random flickers of the signalling mirror, before returning home from successful S&R mission training.  For higher planes, a bigger shape would be important.

 

This signalling practice was as useful to me as it was to CAP.  I had to think about the relative positions of the plane, sun and mirror to make effective use of a simple hand mirror.  I also saw how much the logs sank into soft snow, obscuring a lateral view. I recommend that anyone who spends time in remote locations practice familiarity with these symbols.

In future, I look forward to additional signalling practice with the CAP pilots, pleased that I can enhance their ability to detect and interpret audible and visible emergency indicators... before they are called out for a serious situation.  

     

 

Alaska February Midnight Evacuation + Snowmachine Deliveries

 The biggest excitement, if that is the word, in February required evacuation from our cabin at 3:30 am one chilly, dark night.  We experienced exceptionally high and gusty winds for two days, and in the middle of the night, the wind forced  chimney smoke back down into the woodstove and out into the cabin!  Because, as you may imagine, we keep a robust fire going this time of year, we couldn't just put it out.  After a half hour of open doors and windows in an increasingly smoky house, letting in temperatures below zero, we bundled up, grabbed two canvas chairs and headed over to the shower house, which has a propane heater (the heater in the guest cabin is broken).  

Hauling firewood

About 4:30, Bryan, bless his heart, ventured back into the smoky building wearing his N-95 mask to heat the coffee I prepped the night before. The warmth, comfort, and caffeine were welcome.  

When the fire in the woodstove died out, and light started bleeding out of the eastern sky, I ventured into the cabin myself to start the two day task of cleaning the ash, soot, and smoke that coated and scented every single surface in the building.  First I hauled outside every pillow, cushion and rug to air out, along with any outerwear that hung on hooks inside the doorways.  Then I grabbed a pile of rags, filled a bucket with soapy hot water, and started damp dusting from the ceiling on down.  About every five minutes I had to dump out black water and switch to a fresh rag.  I smelled like a fireman.  The second day, I did it all over again, as well as damp dusting the draperies.  Even today, a month later, I occasionally come across some item that I did not clean, like pillow cases when I changed the bed.  We called a friend who is a retired fire captain, to ask about anything else we should do in the future.  He recommended a product called Ozione, which one can spray in the air to “grab” soot particles and clear the air faster.  It is on the list for a spring purchase. 

Speaking of purchases, the end of February/beginning of March is when Roger delivers nearly two thousand pounds of supplies that we have stored on our trailer at Deshka Landing and/or asked an expediter to buy and deliver to him.  His arrival is the equivalent of Santa Claus.   Between hauler Roger and expediter Miranda,  their excellent organization and labor saved Bryan more than 50 tiring hours (7.5 hours x 4 round trips with his smaller sled + 2-4 hours of trail grooming before EACH trip + 10 - 14 hours of shopping, driving from Anchorage/Wasilla to Willow, shoveling off the trailer and loading the sleds.  Plus, they saved us fuel and wear and tear on the snowmachine and car and an occasional overnight visit when the weather changes. Their charges of about $800 / 50 hours = $16/hr.  Does Bryan values his opportunity cost more than that?  The answer is YES!  He was able to use that time for business, pleasure and exercise here.  We are very grateful for their services. Obviously we live a lifestyle of doing many things ourselves, but it is prudent to evaluate what can be outsourced. This is one that others can do better than we. 

In order to deliver everything in one 7.5 hour trip instead of two, Roger hauled two 11 foot long sleds filled with 10 big totes full of food supplies, plywood, gasoline, and propane tanks, and hired a man to haul a third sled similarly loaded.  He thought of several clever time/cost benefits, regarding the fuel. I love creative time management solutions like his!

Many of the supplies, like 150 lbs of flour, will last us for a long time.  Others were treats that we were out of, like yogurt and bacon.  Sadly, the expediter was not able to send out any fresh produce on that trip.  I miss crunchy veggies.  Those that I have canned and pickled for winter are pleasant, but...  To Roger and his wife I gave a box of books and videos that they might enjoy.  My home is small enough that I operate on the logic that “for anything new that comes in, something old must go out.” So maybe that delivery will be fun for them to open, too.   

Roger's arrival was well timed, because prior and subsequent weeks delivered white-out snow storms.  Heavy winds followed his visits and swept away evidence of trails other than our only neighbor's prescient trail stakes. 

Here the wind blew down at least one dead spruce tree (which ejected two 3-4 foot sections of top trunk dozens of feet away from where it fell).  Smaller branch debris litters the pristine snow.  For the first time in a decade, we found a layer of snow inside our outhouse (not from boots) and even blown between the screens and glass of our windows.  The food shed door is STILL buried by three feet of the white stuff.  Wind whistled between logs upstairs, creating a 13 degree temperature difference from bed to kitchen table.   As I write, I see snow blowing across the lake, etching and carving the surface until it looks like the craters and dunes on the moon.  

When skies are clear, it is a treat to notice the days getting longer.  Each afternoon we observe where the sun drops each day behind the mountains as it crawls north.  A date we mark with delight is when the sun is high enough in the sky that it crests above the mountains to the west of us, rather than dropping behind them.  Suddenly, we have longer days.  In mid-March, we have enough light at 7 am and 6 pm to see across the yard - quite a contrast to January, when daylight started at 9:30 am and ended at 3:30 pm.  

In February, I start seedlings under grow lights on shelves in our south facing windows, mostly slow growing herbs and cool weather greens.  By March I can start snipping small quantities of mustard leaves and cresses to top deviled eggs and sandwiches.  Because of our short growing season, I start hundreds of plants, with the goal of setting them out in the greenhouse and gardens after our last frost date, in mid-May.  The longer days, warming temperatures, and high winds all mean that our solar array and wind turbine provide all the electricity we need for our modest uses.  

A spider hole on the lake

One  intriguing weather phenomenon we have been observing up close is a large spider hole in front of our cabin.  If I understand correctly, the central hole is formed by a vertical tube of warmer water arising from a methane seep of decaying leaves in our shallow lake.  Snowmelt and overflow form long “arms” that drain into the central hole.  We see these on the lake every winter, in different locations each time, but this year one is so close that we have been able to watch it change.  We see the arms lengthen, and watch snow fill in the center hole after which the water warms and opens the hole again. Despite four foot thick ice all around it, the central hole is liquid as far down as I can reach with a seven foot avalanche probe.  This is obviously unsafe for people or machines, but it is an interesting reminder of of vigorous acts of life and decomposition beneath a frozen landscape.