Way off airport

AOPA Alaska Regional Manager Tom George organized an Airport Support Network (ASN) volunteer breakfast at the Turkey Red restaurant in Palmer, and I introduced myself as a Cessna 170B owner who pretends to fly backcountry, mostly landing at grass strips in the eastern United States. Wasilla Airport ASN volunteer David Roper was sitting to my left. “If you want to land off-airport in Alaska,” he said, “we can go flying tomorrow in my Cessna 180.” He’s a longtime friend of Cliff Gurske (who won the AOPA Sweepstakes Cessna 170) and flew to Arizona to check Cliff out in the airplane. Good enough for me—I was in.

We met at 7 a.m. the next morning. David’s polished aluminum and red-trimmed 1953 Cessna 180 is largely unmodified except for the requisite 29-inch Alaskan Bushwheel tires. He’s owned it for 22 years, and his mastery of the aircraft was evident from engine start.

It was spring in Alaska and the ice had finally broken on the rivers; large chunks floated in the swift current. David was looking for a sandbar to land on, but the melting snow and ice had raised the water level and reduced our potential landing spots. We flew at 500 feet; I was looking for moose and bears, David was focusing his trained eyes on the length and quality of sandbars. We had a satellite-based tracking device onboard and there were plenty of emergency landing areas nearby.

Sixty miles south of breathtaking Denali—glaciers creeping down its 20,310-foot-tall peak in every direction—David spotted a promising sandbar at the confluence of the Yentna and Skwentna Rivers. We flew a low, tight pattern and approached the sandbar from the southeast. One hundred feet above the river on short final David said, “This isn’t going to work.” His discernment has been honed by decades of backcountry experience. “See those ridges in the sand? It’s not smooth enough to land.” We performed a low approach and go-around, and immediately set up for an approach to another sandbar. “I saw it in my peripheral vision as we were approaching the first sandbar,” said David, “This one looks better.”

Most sandbars are a combination of sand and gravel, and the proportions can be crucial. Gravel is generally better than sand, as long as the rocks are not too large. Sand will work if it’s firm enough to keep the tires from sinking in. We landed on the sandy part of the bar and David kept some power on until we rolled onto the gravel portion. He pulled the mixture and the engine shuddered to a stop. I jumped out and was immediately aware of the silence, the cool air, the huge chunks of ice drifting down the river, the sight of the airplane that had made this moment possible.

It’s this ability of a properly equipped airplane flown by a well-trained pilot to land in a natural setting that has made GA such a staple of Alaskan life. During my too-brief stay, I visited Lake Hood Airport (PALH), Merrill Field (PAMR), Birchwood Airport (PABV), Palmer Municipal Airport (PAAQ), Wasilla Airport (PAWS), and several private fields and was stunned at the quantity and variety of airplanes on the ramps. Some 2,457 aircraft are based at just these five airports, according to the AOPA Airport Directory. It was a bountiful sight that would make most airports in the lower 48 envious: airplanes on floats, skis, and big tires actively flying to airports, lakes, rivers, fields, and any other surface flat enough to land. These aircraft serve as transportation, supply chain, and emergency services—missions difficult or impossible in Alaska using land-based vehicles.

David and I walked the sandbar to make certain no hidden obstacles or soft sand would hamper our takeoff run. He shared a lot of hard-won backcountry flying wisdom during that walk that will benefit my “backcountry” flying in the future.

We jumped back in the 180. David taxied to the end of the sandbar in a wide arc to prevent the main tires from digging into the sand and upon lining up for takeoff pushed full forward on the control wheel to lift the tailwheel out of the sand (just two of many tips he shared that morning). Too soon we approached Wasilla Airport and landed on its shorter gravel runway to preserve David’s bush tires.

I asked David how we did transforming the AOPA Sweepstakes 170 into a backcountry beast. He loved the performance, and only thought we should have removed the hat shelf and added an extended baggage area. Oh, and the tires were not big enough. I can’t wait to fly my own airplane to Alaska—once I get the big tires.

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