Homeward Bound

Day 15: Fairbanks, Alaska to Watson Lake, Yukon Territory

In recent weeks my vigor to complete the Alaska trip narrative was disrupted by additional adventures that involved riding in airliners rather than flying myself there. Still, the route and experience remains as etched in long term memory as crisply as the rush of mid-latitude fall air against one's face after adapting to the heat of the tropics.

Our last day in Alaska began with clearing skies to the south. Denali's summit, now 153 miles away, is plainly visible from our mountain-top campsite northwest of Fairbanks. The prominence of the peak versus the broad Tanana river valley in front of us is magnified in analytical reminiscence. Looking at the distance plotted on a chart after the trip, I paused to wonder if I'd ever seen a natural landmark from that distance, on the ground, from any place else. I had not.

Denali from my campsite... 153 miles distant!

Before the trip I'd committed myself to a family obligation that would require me in California with a few days' buffer to prepare for. I'd learn, in hindsight, that making such obligations is something to avoid. Life is best lived without regrets, but not with the wisdom of hindsight: If you take a trip to Alaska, try your best to have a flexible return date!

Back in Fairbanks a weather check using our smart phone revealed ideal conditions for a trip back to the lower 48 states over the next couple days. After that, it became questionable as low pressure systems were progged to push past the barriers of the coastal mountains into the Yukon. The weather delay on the trip north entered my mind. Make no mistake, heading south and east was not something I wanted to do, after barely a week in Alaska itself.

We also pondered other possibilities.. what about heading north, past the Brooks range, the last trees, and the tundra, to stick our toes in the Arctic Ocean? Would it be worth the fuel cost? But if not, would we ever have the opportunity to do so again? Such dilemmas are the signs of a truly lucky and blessed life, rather than something to fret about. Ultimately the conservative option won out. We would start the trek south today, leaving Alaska behind after only an apéritif of what it had to offer.

By the time we returned the car, made border crossing preparations via iPhone, and loaded the airplane it was noon; one P.M., Yukon time. We left town, staying relatively low this time, along a course that meandered between the Richardson highway and Tanana river. This was relaxing flying, without concern for adverse weather, turbulence, or airspace as the massive military areas near Fairbanks were "cold" for the day. The occasional ridge-top and river rapid provided pleasant distractions along the relatively civilized route. The winds were slack. In two hours' flying we passed a single airplane heading in the opposite direction.

A taste of the Wrangells, mostly obscured by cloud

After giving a position report to the flight service man in Northway we crossed once again into Canada. My intent was to give my wife a shot at the splendors of the magnificent glaciers in the Wrangell-St. Elias range that I'd seen on the way north. I carved a mirror of my trip north, hoping first to meander up the Donjek, or some other mighty glacier and do some new exploring. As we drew closer to the range, however, a layer of solid overcast was visible obscuring most of it, allowing only the dirty tongues of a few glaciers to peek out beneath the layer. Going underneath was not a safe option. Further south and east, instability produced  broken altocumulus castellanus clouds, though visibility and ceiling below were still excellent. We would end up pushing on to catch the very downslope edges of various glaciers ending at the Donjek, which I'd glided down on the trip north. It was unfortunate that I could not give my wife the transcendent views I'd previously enjoyed.

Turning to cross the huge St. Elias "foothills" to Haines Junction, I heard an exchange on the common Canadian advisory frequency between a military aircraft identifying itself as "Canuck 1" and flight service in Whitehorse. Apparently the Canadian Prime Minister was paying the region a visit and had requested a low-level aerial tour of the countryside between Whitehorse and Haines Junction. As in about 300' off the ground low, if the pilots happy to boast the achievement were to be believed.

Some fun, dare I say artful, dodging of the medium sized cumulus clouds to get underneath brought us again to face Lake Laberge before making the gentle turn to land at Whitehorse in a gusty, crisp breeze. We were directed to park in the customs box beneath the tower but no officers were there to meet us. Inside the base of a tower, a phone direct-dials Canadian customs which cleared us back into Canada. Simple, trusting, and efficient. Inside I spoke with another friendly flight briefer about continuing down the Alcan to Ft. Nelson, which we had just about enough daylight to reach.

Short final for Whitehorse, PM's Airbus next to where I get gas

While we were chatting, Canuck 1, a Canadian forces C-130 transport landed and taxied past, over to a waiting Canadian forces Airbus parked next to my next stop (the self-serve fuel station); the P.M. was returning to Winnepeg. I asked the briefer whether there would be any problem getting fuel while the Prime Minster was there, changing airplanes.
"No not at all, go ahead and get fuel".

Canuck 1... just in from a low-level tour

Let's pause and compare and contrast for a moment. In the U.S., a 30-mile temporary flight restriction would encircle the President's every move, in which the likes of me would be prohibited to fly unless I were flying IFR. Only airliners with TSA screening would be allowed within the innermost 10-mile radius. Getting within a mile of the man within clear sight on the ground? I don't know but I'm guessing not. Now here I am -- a foreigner no less -- and can not only share the airspace with the P.M., but am welcomed taxi my airplane over next to his to get gas with a shotgun in the back (and yes, they still knew I had it per my customs arrangements). Call me crazy but I was really starting to warm up to Canada, at least until I remembered fuel was $2.22CDN/liter at Whitehorse. (Full disclosure: By the time I got in my airplane to taxi for fuel the PM's Airbus started its engines and departed as I was starting up).

The golden hour illuminates the Yukon

We departed Whitehorse soon after the PM's Airbus, and continued down the Alcan - more or less - climbing to 9,500' to enjoy a nice tailwind. I let my portable GPS calculate the wind direction & speed and gave the same Whitehorse briefer a pilot report of over Teslin as the wind was stronger than forecast. It was a continued game of dodge the cumulus buildups -- they were not threateningly large, but would certainly be bumpy and ice-laden -- until a point where it was too questionable to continue, calling for a slight deviation and spiral down below the bases to once again follow the highway. At this point, it was getting late in the day and we decided to make it a short leg and stop at Watson Lake for the night. Darkness came decidedly sooner than on the trip up, with twilight ending about 45 minutes earlier than it was on my trip north some two weeks prior. We set up camp under the little gazebo where I'd slept before, to enjoy the howls of the Yukon Wolves one last evening.