This winter

"Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in." ~ Robert Frost, "The Death Of The Hired Man"

Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,

As I've observed before, I started this blog to share interesting stories and observations about my travels with you. I did not travel much in January as my low level of seniority caused my Vacation bid to 'win' two weeks of vacation in one month - January. As you might surmise, few Anchorage domiciled pilots wish to have their vacation fall in the deep, dark, Alaskan winter. Therefore, I have not had a recent trip worthy of a post.

I have come to understand that one does not have to travel to see new and fascinating things.

The recent 'Snowmageddon' in the northeast US may have given some of you a taste of this. I realized this when my cousin - a frequent contributor and reader of this blog - sent me an email. He lives in a lovely location on the Chesapeake Bay - a locale one does not often associate with Winter Wonderlands. Here is his picture and email:

If you enlarge this photo, you will see a group of small birds near a large tree. It was snowing so hard their normal sources of food would be covered up. They are there because we scattered seed on the snow. But the snow buried that fairly fast too. The leaning metal disc you see to the right was a makeshift food shelter. It worked great. The birds shuttled, actually appeared to take turns, going down into the cavity where we put food that wouldn't be covered over. I like the picture enough (enlarged) it just might be our Christmas card this year. ~ Rex L. Fuller III

On the other hand, my wife and I do live in a place that is a Winter Wonderland.

Ann has been a provider of winter 'bird welfare' ever since we moved to Minnesota ten years ago. She learned this from her Mom and Dad who have had bird feeders for decades. Her feeders are on our deck just outside our dining room window and she loves to watch the birds. She gets special joy when the infrequent Pileated Woodpecker comes visiting.

The link to the Pileated says they are big birds. That is an understatement. This picture is the wallpaper on her desktop computer.

She also loves it when the Cardinals come to visit.

We are lucky enough to live on the edge of very large county park system and there is a wilderness very close by full of wild and ferocious fauna. Ann had been in the habit of keeping the bird seed outside on the deck in a galvanized 5 gallon aluminum can with a lid.

She went out one morning to replenish the bird seed and found this:

Mama Raccoon had discovered the mother lode of seed and moved her family right in. We still wonder how she managed to get the lid off of the can but it explained the loud thump in the dark of night. Mama was watching fearfully from nearby.

Ann says she got up one night when I was on a trip, flipped on the lights and caught the Raccoon standing on the rail, with bird feeder tipped up in both hands, pouring the seed into its mouth. Note how fat the Raccoons are.

On that happy note, I remain,


Dad / Geoff

Dogs

"Money may buy you a fine dog but only love can make it wag its tail." ~ Kinky Friedman

Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,

Many of you love dogs but often wonder about their behavior. I know I frequently find my dog, Ricochet, fascinating.

Recently, I flew a trip to Oakland, California. Near the hotel was a Barnes and Noble. As is true in most B&Ns, there was a bookshelf containing staff recommendations. On that shelf was this book:

Intrigued, I picked it up and began skimming it. The author, Alexandra Horowitz, is a cognitive scientist who has studied Gorillas and such in the wild. She claims that one day she looked at her dog and realized she did not need to travel to wild and exotic locales in search of rare animals to study. Her dog was an easily available subject for study.

This book was the result. I have yet to read it in it's entirety, but I have ordered a copy from my local county library. I look forward to getting it.

Click here to read a review.

I remain,

Dad / Geoff

Polar Bears with Hockey Sticks

Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,

You may or may not recall this post where I linked to the Fairbanks Nanook's Opening video.

The Polar Bear is back here and here.

Frankly, I still find a Polar Bear with a hockey stick very frightening.

I remain,

Dad / Geoff

Turnagain Walkabout

"When you're doing real research, you never know what it will cost, how much it'll take, or what you will find. You just know there's unexplored territory and a chance to discover what's out there."

Luis Alvarez,

The Cuckoo's Egg (Cliff Stoll)

Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,

This post is from an email I sent on Oct 11, 2007. I hope you enjoy it.

Howdy All,

I'm in still in Anchorage, but I leave tomorrow am for a quick Pacific trip to Korea, Beijing, Shanghai and back. I got here last Wednesday and I had two days off. So I rented a car and explored Alaska a little. Mostly I drove up the Turnagain Arm of Cook Inlet.

The Turnagain Arm experiences some truly amazing bore tides. I didn't see the bore tide since it wasn't the right part of the lunar cycle.

On the other hand, The Arm also has some truly awe inspiring views and I'm going to share some with you.

The weather looked like it was going to be bad: temps in the low 40’s or upper 30s and rainy and drizzly. But when I got out on the Arm, it cleared and I had some truly panoramic views of the mountains on either side of the arm with low hanging clouds blowing around them. The road runs up the northern coast of the arm and along the southern border of the Chugach Park. At its eastern end, the road forks. You can continue to the southwest down to the Kenai Peninsula; but, instead, I went southeast through the Portage Glacier Park then the Anton Anderson Memorial Tunnel over to Whittier. A railroad track closely parallels the road all the way to Whittier.

As I drove down the Arm, the first place I saw was the Chugach Park HQ. Outside the HQ is a static display of the engine / snow blower they used to keep the railroad clear of snow and in many cases, avalanches.

The red rotating circular blower fan of this train is about a foot taller than I am. You would not want to have gotten caught in that bad boy. There is a little covered board walk along the side of the snow blower and park HQ that looks out over the opening of the Arm. The clouds broke about the time I arrived here and the view was just awe inspiring.

These pictures are scenes I shot as I drove along the road to the east. It rained on and off, and I would either snap pix through the windshield or stop at turnouts, jump out, shoot the shot before the camera could get too wet and then jump back in the car and dry the camera off.

About half way up the arm is a turnout called "Bird Point". It is well named. Just as I drove past it, I caught movement from the right of the car and looked to see a white headed Bald Eagle fly over. It's an awful picture, but I thought I'd show you my laughable attempt to get a picture of it. Driving and fumbling with a camera is not a good idea, grasshopper. I saw lots more eagles as the day progressed, but I didn't get close enough to get a good picture. This one is as good as it gets.

Just past Bird Point, I passed a train on a siding waiting for another train. I thought it made a striking picture.

Just past that is another turn out that has signs explaining that the sound is full of Beluga Whales and how to search for them. So I did, but didn't see any then because the tide was almost at it lowest point and the water was too low for them.

That afternoon - as I drove westward back to Anchorage - I stopped again as the tide was flowing in furiously and sure enough, there were Belugas everywhere. You could see their wakes in the water, highlighted in the low sun and then they would sound and blow big jets of foggy breath. I really wished I had a pair of binoculars as they were way out in the arm. About all you could see of them was a white flash as they stuck their heads out of the water to sound. I did catch a quick flash of a fluke one time. I probably sat there watching for an hour. This picture was the best of the pictures I took and it is not so good. The white speck in the middle right is the whales head. They all looked to be pretty busy eating fish.

Over at the far east end of the arm, I took the road to Whittier. The low sun was really lighting up the mountains and water. These are two of the best pictures I've ever taken. This one is looking southeast into the sun.

This one looks back to the west. The sun really lights up the grass and the dark gray sand and mud that is the trademark of the Turnagain.

Several hours later when I passed this same point, the tide had turned and the water had covered up the sand almost all the way to the grass. There are signs all up and down the arm warning you not to go out on the mud. It is very soft and sticky and if you get stuck in it while the tide is roaring in, you will probably drown. Evidently this happens fairly frequently.

The road and railroad to Whittier follows Portage Creek to the southeast. There is a relatively low mountain range with a pass that separates Whittier from the Turnagain Arm Valley. In this pass is the Portage Glacier and Portage Lake. As I understand it, in the old days, Voyageurs traveling from Prince William Sound to Anchorage would have to cross the Portage Glacier and the pass. Now it is the site of the Portage Glacier Park. This is me in the parking lot.

The park HQ was closed but I could wander around a little. I'd never seen the glacier and I still haven't as it was covered in clouds. These are scenes of the Moraine Pool that is formed by melt water from the glacier.

This pool the source of the water that flows down Portage Creek to the Arm. The water itself is very interesting. Because of the over cast sky, the water was a very dull gray color and opalescent. This is because the glacier takes up a lot of dust from the rocks it flows over and when the water melts it carries this very fine dust with it. On a bright sunny day, the water turns a very striking milky blue color that is characteristic of glacier caused moraine pools.

It was very pretty. More on the Portage Glacier here.

Past Portage Glacier Park, there is a one lane tunnel carved out of the mountain for several miles that services the town of Whittier. The Anton Anderson Memorial Tunnel carries both auto/truck and railroad traffic. When you pay the toll, you get a schedule and a firm briefing. The tunnel runs one way into Whittier for an hour and then back the other way the next hour so you have to plan your trip carefully.

I never realized this before, but train tracks are exactly the same width as an auto wheel base. Driving through the tunnel required some attention to keep from getting caught in the train track. There was a firm 25 mph speed limit and even a radar gun halfway through to make sure you obeyed. The bare rock sides of the tunnel were very close. Having a blowout at a high speed in this thing would be Princess Di stupid.

Whittier is a pretty little place. It is at the end of a long arm of Prince William Sound and striking mountains rise on either side. They are much closer and much tighter than on the Turnagain.

It looks like there is a busy harbor there in the summer; but this late in the season, many boats were out of the water. Whittier is also a ferry terminal to points south like Cordova, Valdez and Juneau and a busy tourist stop with tour ships doing glacier tours in the summer. None of these operations were on-going on my visit and there was only one restaurant open for business. All the kitschy tourist places were closed and boarded up.

I started writing this travelog in Anchorage but now I am writing at 34000' - 10600 meters to be precise - over Siberia and the Sea of Okhotsk as we cruise to Seoul. I finally found a way to plug my computer into the airplane's power system.

I enjoyed my two days off, I guess, as I saw a lot of new stuff, but it was kind of bittersweet. I hate giving up my time at home with my family and I really wish Ann could have been with on this trip as this is exactly the kind of trip she likes to take. One day, we'll do it together.

In any case, I remain,

Dad /Geoff

A Little Scotch and Perspective

"The way to get really stressed out is to go mountain climbing over molehills." ~ Unknown

Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,

It has been an interesting week in the World of Aviation. We live in a wonderful world full of marvels. Too often we forget this. I just saw this interview with comedian Louis C.K. Please stick with it, the link to aviation comes at the end of the clip.

Click this to see video

You gotta love: "You're sitting on a chair in the sky!" and "Did you partake in the miracle of human flight, you non-contributing zero?"

I have been looking for an opportunity to include this email I sent to friends and family back in January of 2007 and watching that interview clicked with me.

Jan 19, 2007 from N619FE

Howdy All!

When I wrote about this trip earlier, I truly did not expect that I would see or do much that would merit reporting to my loyal readers. I was wrong. Several things of merit have occurred.

Nothing much happened to report up through start and taxi at Anchorage departing for Indianapolis. As we approached the hammerhead for takeoff, Anchorage Tower told us we were to "Follow the Alaska 737." Sure enough, off to the left was a 737 approaching the same hammerhead as us. So, I stopped the airplane, set the brakes and let them pass in front of us to take the runway. As it got close we noticed it had a really interesting paint job, especially when taken in juxtaposition with the snow, ice and gray wintry conditions predominating at the Ted Stevens International Airport. Here's a picture:

Pretty cool we thought.

The 'drive' down to Indy was uneventful. The sun set a half-hour after takeoff and we droned in the dark for 6 hours. The route took us over Edmonton, through Northwest Montana, just south of Fargo, ND, just south of Minneapolis, over Rochester and into Indy.

I have often heard that flying long haul is a lot like sitting around an electronic campfire. Instead of staring into the flames, you stare at the gauges, get semi-hypnotic and occasionally conversation springs up. Just west of Fargo, we had what I hope you will find an interesting exchange. But first I have to set the scene.

(Note: When I sent this out as an email, I included the name and history of my FO. I am uncomfortable with including names in this public venue. So he is ‘Bob’.)

A new hire, 'Bob' is a recently retired AF Lt Col who spent his career in the AF. He's a really fun guy to be around and joy to fly with.

About the Canadian border we flew into the core of the jet stream and we easily had a 120 knot tailwind, which means our ground speed was 600 knots (nautical miles per hour) or roughly 660 mph. That means that I and the 200 plus tons of metal, plastic, freight and kerosene strapped to my butt are moving over the ground at about 10 miles every minute. That's really "hauling the freight."

I had the Nav Display set to the 640 mile range so that I could see how our track into Indy would progress in relation to all the airports within a 600 mile circle of us. It also meant that I was looking at all the stuff we would fly over in the next hour or so. Most of the time I'm pretty jaded about how fast jets move, but that night I could see where the Minneapolis and Rochester Airports fell in relation to our track. And, I could see that the distance between those two airports only took up about 1/6th of the distance we would travel in the next hour. That's when the scale of the thing hit me. I takes me a little over an hour to drive my car from home to Rochester and I was about to fly 6 times that distance in the next hour.

I mentioned this to ‘Bob’, one thing lead to another and I wound up pointing out how awed I am when I fly from Memphis out to Oakland, CA. That route of flight takes you over the California and Oregon trails for a short 4 hour flight. There in my air-conditioned cockpit, sitting on a sheepskin covered seat with 5 way comfort controls that I have adjusted to my precise requirements, drinking chilled bottled water and eating a catered meal, I look down on that rough terrain and am in awe of the struggle and hardships the pioneers who made their way in wagons out to California and the West underwent. Those guys were tough.

This prompted ‘Bob’ to tell a really cool "It's a small world" story.

The next piece of background info is for my non-family readers. My family's ancestral home lies in the upper northeast corner of Oklahoma with the surrounding environs of Kansas, Missouri, and Arkansas thrown in, centered on the little town of Big Cabin - The Hay Capital of the World. Bob's home is just across the OK/MO border in Neosho.

His grandmother just turned 100. When she was a little girl, her parents loaded her in a wagon and made a several month trip from Ohio to Neosho. The hardships and boredom of being in that wagon for months, bouncing on the trails, evidently made an impression on the little girl.

Imagine:

"Are we there yet?"
"No, not for another month."
"Daddy, Jaime's bugging me!"
"Am not!",
"Don't make me stop this wagon!"

Convinced that world travel was not for her ever again, she stayed in her little town for the rest of her life - never leaving.

Well, until recently. There was a family reunion in Ohio last year and the family finally convinced her to go. Being the Matriarch and knowing this family legend, they got her a first class ticket on the flight up to Ohio. After the short hour and half flight, the standard question: "How was your trip?" was answered with a very enthusiastic: "Boy, that was a lot nicer than the last time!"

I remain,

Dad / Geoff

Beauty and the Beholder

Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep. - Scott Adams

Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,

My goal as I write in this blog is to find things that tickle my fancy and to share them with you. Those of you who know me, know that I am not an artsy kind of guy. Yes, I enjoy good art, but I would be hard put to describe to you what I think constitutes good art. Were you to force me to describe good art, I would choke out words like 'beauty' and 'higher truth' and 'transcendental' and such in the hopes that you would go away and leave me alone.

Often I am presented with 'objets' that someone obviously considers to be art - and that may in fact be art - but they just beat heck out of me.

The Incheon International Airport is a case in point. If you click that link and look at the pictures you will see what I mean. The airport structure is very flowing and aerodynamic. I don't find it particularly aesthetic, but your mileage may vary.

Being a freight dog, we don't get to go through the main entrance that the passengers use. We go around to the east side of the airport to the teeming and busy cargo ramp. For those who do enter the airport normally, there is a large sculpture that greets them at the entrance. As us freight dogs taxi out to take off this work is very easy to see out on the horizon. At night, bright lights illuminate it - you can't miss it. It has elicited more than a few comments over the years in what is supposed to be a 'sterile cockpit environment.' I give you this picture:

As I have said before, good art encourages the observer to impose interpretations upon it. I suppose one could say that the sculpture engenders the soaring promise of aviation to the hopeful souls on the globe below.

You are looking at the front side of the sculpture as the artist intended you to first see it. Us freight dogs usually see this thing from the backside and trust me, it looks different from that side.

Personally, I think the artist is having a giggle at our expense. I offer this blog as evidence supporting my viewpoint. Feel free to agree or disagree in the comments section.

As always, I remain,

Dad / Geoff

Gooey Ducks

"Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic." - Frank Herbert, Dune


Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,

On Hanukkah, (Dec 12, 2009) we 'operated' from Anchorage down to Seoul, Korea. It is not often that a freight dog experiences whimsy professionally and I feel compelled to tell you about it when it does.

The last 'cans' to get loaded before we close up the jet are the 'Haz Cans'.

We make a lot of money flying Hazardous Freight that the people carriers are not allowed to have on their jet. 'Haz' is closely regulated and monitored by the FAA and the EPA. There is a huge 40 page or so chapter in our Flight Operations Manual giving me detailed guidance in how handle this sort of freight.

'Live animals' are included on the Haz paperwork because the proximity and location of the two needs to be considered and planned for. Usually, the First Officer goes back and inspects the loading of the Haz, does a 'bufoonery check' on the paperwork and brings it to me for approval and my signature.

On this flight, he has a goofy look on his face as he hands me the paperwork. He says something that sounds to me like:

"There are gooey ducks loaded on the main deck."

"Say whut?", sez I, somewhat stupidly.

"Gooey Ducks".

"Whazza Gooey Dux?"

"I think they are burrowing clams. They are a delicacy in Asia."

At this point, I am intrigued. However, there is a time and place for everything, and learning more about gooey dux ten minutes before push-back, start-up, taxi and takeoff is not a good idea. What is important is knowing what we have to do to maintain an environment conducive to delivering the gooey dux to the customer in the desired condition. So, I ask:

"Whaddawegoddadoo for the gooey dux?"

"Looks like it says keep the temperature at 60 degrees or so."

I can do that, so I sign the haz paperwork and we blast off into the long, delirious, burning blue and cruise for 8.5 hours to the mysterious Orient and Seoul, Korea.

Safely tucked away in the Seoul Hilton, I made it a high priority to begin researching the novel new concept of gooey dux. I found this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geoduck

So....a geoduck is a very large clam prized in asia as a delicacy. Ugly critters - although they may be genesis of the phrase: 'As happy as a clam.' On the other hand, maybe not.

I can now add geoducks to lobsters, seafood, baby chicks, horses and live turtles to my personal menagerie of animals I've flown with.

I ain't doing 'snakes on a plane.'

As a conclusion, I discovered this link:

http://dsc.discovery.com/videos/dirty-jobs-gooey-ducks.html

I pity da fool who ain't seen Mike Rowe's, Discovery Channel show, 'Dirty Jobs'. I post this link with some concern as I am not allowed to view this video in mysterious Asia. I have heard from reputable sources that the show plays off the prurient nature of the geoduck reproductive process.

You cannot say that you have not been warned.

On that happy note, I remain,

Dad / Geoff