Trapline Chatter by Nancy Becker

Author:Nancy Becker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Publication Consultants

A sample page from Bob’s logbook – this one lists dogs and the years Bob had them.

Bush Pilots by Bob Harte

You need to depend on pilots in Alaska, sooner or later. Pilots fluctuate on ability, experience, and reliability. Some I’ve had are excellent, all the way. Like the time I chartered a flight weeks or months earlier. The pilot arrived:

Pilot: Sorry I’m late.

Me (Bob): What? Late?

Pilot: Yeah, it’s 12:07. I said I’d be here at noon.

But then, the charter I had from my main cabin to another cabin up river, on floats. The pilot was new-ish to bush flying. And his glasses were thick. It was a short, 20-minute flight. The plane was loaded so much that I had to lay prone on top of the load. I know better today, but back then...

He pulled into the river (can he read a river, I wondered?) and was checking the plane instruments, etc. Two minutes later we were on a riffle going downriver fast. I woke him up and told him he better pull over. He did, into the rocks. Then he pulled out and accelerated. One quarter-mile went by, then a turn, missing a gravel bar (just under water). I was worried by then. Did he notice the gravel bar just beneath us in the shallow water? If he hit the gravel and we flipped, I’d be under water, under my gear!

He pulled over on another bar, checked the floats, and found a lot of water. The float was punctured. We unloaded and he flew to get it fixed. He was back the same day, and I finally got north.

Then there’s John, my first pilot who flew me out to B.C. during the first five years or so. A 180 with ten dogs thrown in, loose. I was the top-dog. Big freight dogs, mostly malamutes. John carried a 357 and said, “Any fighting, and I shoot!” I told him, “Okay, no trouble.”

The dogs were so close, they wouldn’t even look at each other. Never had trouble.

John would occasionally fly over to see if I was okay. I’d just wave from my cabin. The landing spot for floats was half-mile down the river. I sometimes couldn’t hear a plane landing. Once, he flew by, I waved, and got back inside cooking rice for the dogs. They knew they’d be fed soon. I’m talking to them from inside. Then, there was a knocking on the door! Scared the hell out of me! First time someone ever knocked at this door (still, to this day, the only time someone has knocked in almost 40 years!). It’s John. He walked half-mile up to check on me. Not an easy trail. From then on, he would choke the engine over the cabin if landing. You have to have bush pilots! It’s your skin. Your life. Charter outfits hire pilots. Some pilots only know paved runways. Some pilots never drove a boat and don’t know rivers. Good luck with that!

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