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Cheechako On Wings

by Brian Fortier

245 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); black and white photographs; catalogue #03-2104; ISBN 1-4120-1727-0; US$19.99, C$22.99, EUR15.59, £10.33

A fond look back at the adventures of a Cheechako who took flight training in Alaska, and his experiences from Port Heiden to Wiseman.

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About the Book      About the Author      Excerpts      Catalogue Info

About the Book This is a biographical and sometimes whimsical account of the experiences of a young student pilot, in the developing territory of Alaska. At a time when WWII was over, and flying in Alaska was just beginning to come into its own, every flight was an adventure. The author was privileged to become acquainted with some of the bush pilots who, as the years went by, became famous for pioneering the air routes from Bristol Bay to Umiat. The story is being told fifty years after the events took place, and is illustrated with many historical photographs of people and places as they were in that slice of time. Many of the chapters are developed from personal pilot flight log book entries, and they describe the life and people, as Alaska was entering into the modern age of aviation. The art of Arctic flying is gained through painful experience, and this account describes the misadventures and mistakes which the author was lucky enough to survive, and is detailed enough to be instructive and, hopefully, useful to inexperienced pilots who might fly in that great North country someday.

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About the Author Brian Fortier was born in Proctor, Vermont in 1924. After serving overseas in WWII, he went to Alaska to work in Electronic Aids to Air Navigation for the Civil Aeronautics Administration. He returned to Vermont after five years, and finished out his career with the FAA. He is now retired.

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Excerpts

PREFACE

    Just as the American West had its heroes, so does Alaska, and the four decades from 1930 to 1970 are sprinkled with them. From Noel Wien and his kind up to Ray Peterson, John Walatka, Don Sheldon, James 'Andy' Anderson and many others, these air pioneers went about their business with competence and skill. It is only in retrospect that we look back and realize what giants they were. They would have scoffed at the description.
    While the development of air service in Alaska was the product of corporate planning and investor interests, its establishment was not. In every case it was the foresight and determination of an individual, starting on his own, that triggered what grew into todayís impressive service.
    Recognizing that among the potential readers of this book there may be some of the aging survivors of that time, it is written in larger than standard type, so that they and their descendants can all enjoy it.
    Most of the photographs were taken by the author, and the fifty plus years since they were taken has not been too kind to them. They were left mostly untouched, and it is hoped that some readers will find themselves or their parents in them.

BROWN BEAR LODGE

    The whole airbase was U. S. Government property, and the CAA only occupied the area in the apex of two runways, and bordering on the Naknek River. The Civil Service people and the Army seldom interacted, and had little to do with each other, and the Army was by far the biggest population.
    A stranger came to King Salmon, and asked if he could use a boat to do a little surveying along the river. Without disclosing his real intent, he floated about a mile downstream, and filed a claim on a small triangular piece of land which had not showed up on the Territorial Land Office records as belonging to the Army.
    His claim was granted, and he set about putting up a huge wall tent, and installing a small dock on the river. He put up a sign announcing the opening of the 'Brown Bear Lodge', had his stock of beer and whiskey brought up from Naknek Village by boat, and went into business.
    Before long he had a thriving business going, and, just to make things even more pleasant and to pretty the place up a little, he brought in three lovely girls. Business spiked.
    Two of the bachelor Communicators decided to take a look, and to see what the Brown Bear Lodge had to offer. They took a motor boat from the Base dock, and headed downstream shortly after supper, with the promise that they would bring us an interesting account.
    The river is wide, and the current quite swift, and when they didnít show up that night, we were all worried. A very heavy fog rolled in, and it was decided that it would be futile to try a search before morning. When morning dawned, the fog began to lift, and just as we were about to start the search, they came rowing up to the dock.
    They were one bedraggled, sorry looking sight, and the boat was a mess. They had stayed quite late at the Lodge, and when they started home the fog had blanketed everything. They could not start the motor, and decided to row home against the current. After an evening of imbibing, neither their judgment nor their abilities were at their best.
    They each took an oar, and pulled against the current, making very slow progress. After about an hour, they decided that they must be almost home, and checked out the shoreline.
    They found themselves back at the Brown Bear Lodge. They had rowed against the current and the tide, and had barely held their own. Back into the boat, and try again. After another hour they beached the boat and tried to start a fire, but everything was too wet.
    When dawn broke, they were astonished to find that they were almost directly across from their home dock. The tide had turned, and had brought them upstream even faster than they could imagine.
    The people who had remained at the Brown Bear Lodge, after our two stalwarts had left, told a tale of hearing two ghostly voices singing, 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat', out in the dense river fog that night.
    Before long someone found a pathway between the Radio Range access road and the Lodge on the river bank. This was a dim trail through woods and brush, and was seldom used. It was necessary to walk through the antenna farm to get to the path, and that was considered to be trespassing.
    One young airman ignored the rules, and walked down to the lodge one night, got very drunk, and started home up the path. Along the way, he grew so tired that he laid down on the soft mossy ground, and fell asleep.
    When he woke and looked around, he found a complete set of dentures lying on the ground beside him. From the looks, they had been there since long before the Brown Bear Lodge had even existed, and nobody ever found who they belonged to.

PEACEFUL ALASKA

    The Alaskan landscape was ever changing, and sometimes in the peaceful summer evening, with the sun still bathing the flower-carpeted tundra, it appeared to be gentle and inviting. The atmosphere then was one of friendliness, and the dangers of the remote wildness hid quietly in the beauty.
    I sometimes took the Cessna up for a twilight flight, when the wind was absolutely calm, and the many small ponds and pothole depressions were covered with fog, so that the flat surfaces of the fog shone in the luminous twilight like silver dollars.

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Catalogue Information

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