Suffice it to say that I spent this summer working at the Bear Creek Winery in Homer and packing and shipping plastic tubs to Kwethluk. So, that pretty much sums up my summer (except for the mini-vacation we took to Seward which I will blog about separately).
We (me, two daughters, a dog, a cat, and 9 checked bags – 3 of which were coolers) flew from Homer to Kwethluk on Friday, July 30, just over a week ago. I had called Alaska Airlines ahead to make sure that we really could take three checked bags per person for free – Yes. I also double checked to make sure they knew that in addition to all of those bags, we were bringing a dog in a large kennel and a cat in a small kennel – would they have enough room – Yes. So, of course, we arrive at the Homer airport to check in and they immediately inform me that the plane is too small to accommodate all of our luggage, so I need to prioritize it and let them know which ones “have” to go now and which ones can wait for a later flight. Flustered, I began making decisions between saving my frozen Halibut and Salmon or having a change of clothes. The fish won out and we prioritized our bags. My bigger concern about this was the fact that the bags would be coming on a later flight and we had a charter scheduled to fly into Kwethluk from Bethel and I’m not sure how the rest of our bags are going to get to Kwethluk at a “later time.”
My carry-on... I babied those fishing poles on three planes!
It was about then that the weighing of the coolers revealed that my “fish” cooler was 10 pounds overweight, coming in at 60 pounds instead of the require maximum 50 pounds. I paid the extra $120 for an overweight bag, vowing that next time, I’d make sure that cooler weighed 100 pounds if it was going to be overweight (same surcharge)! Yes, in hindsight I know that I should have just given the ticket lady 10 pounds of fish (I’m thinking there is some kind of a scam running there…).
We board the small plane bound for Anchorage (open seating) and I sit in the very front seat nearest the door. Just before they shut and lock the door, the ticket lady sticks her head in the cabin, locates me, and, with a big smile, informs me that all of my bags, coolers, and pets made it on the plane. I am relieved.
Shortly after arriving in Anchorage, we head to baggage claim where we have to claim our pets and re-check them in at the Customer Service desk. Both animals are scared to death and have soiled their kennels. … remember, we’re only an hour into our adventure at this point… deep breaths… deep breaths… I remove the soiled towels from the kennels and throw them in the nearest trash bin, while April takes Nali outside to the patch of grass near the car loading/unloading to do her business. Keep in mind, Nali has never been to the city before, ridden in a plane before, been in an airport before, seen so many cars or people in one place before, and on and on. She has already emptied her bladder on the plane and cannot figure out what the point of the grassy patch is supposed to be. April brings her back in and we head to Customer Service.
There, they discover that Nali’s dog kennel is missing one of 10 bolts. After three consecutively more important Customer Service agents cannot make the decision of whether or not the kennel is “safe,” CSA #4 determines that it is not. She tells me that I’ll have to get a new kennel before Nali can fly on one of their planes. After a pregnant pause, I am flabbergasted wondering how on earth I am going to get a taxi, go to a pet store, purchase a new kennel, get back to the airport, and check in for our flight that leaves in 75 minutes. The air in my lungs is gone and I can’t catch my breath and don’t even know what to say. Then it comes to me and I ask, breathlessly, “Where can I buy a kennel?” to which she calmly replies, “Oh, we sell them here for a hundred and five dollars.” Well, why didn’t you just say so!!! These people! So, they bring out a new kennel and I gladly leave our soiled one beside the counter for them to take care of. We got the pets checked in and were ready for flight #2.
Sarah checks out the aerial view of Kwethluk in the Bethel airport.
Arriving in Bethel was like landing in a foreign country. The mountains and most of the trees were gone. All signs in the airport were bilingual – in English and in Yupik. The airport was small and crowded – one large room was the entrance, exit, baggage claim, and check-in. And, on this last Friday afternoon in July, it was bustling! We collect all of our bags, coolers, and animals (Yay! Everything made it!), call for our charter (Hageland Air) and head outside to wait on the curb for them to come pick us up in their van.
The girls board the puddle-jumper headed for Kwethluk.
Once at Hageland, they are surprised to see us and have no record on file of a reservation for a charter despite the fact that I called them earlier in the day to confirm. No worries – it’s 8:30pm and they rustle up a pilot, get our things loaded, and we’re off! As we walked out toward the plane, I called Mr. McCalla (my new principal) to let him know we’re on our way so that he can meet us at the airport. Cramped into a “207” with four seats (I’m suddenly the co-pilot), we weeble-wobble off the Bethel runway and into the sky. The noise from the engine is too loud to allow for any conversation, so we all sit in silence with our thoughts as the plane barrels into the sky. It’s beautiful and we even see a couple of moose bedded down in a field during our 10 minute flight to Kwethluk. The land is all shades of green – grasses, shrubs, an occasional stunted tree, and water everywhere – ponds, rivers, streams, marsh. We watch the winding river below us, the Kuskokwim, and notice the occasional house. Roads are noticeably absent.
The broken "OH SHIT" handle added to the ambience!
Suddenly, we can see a group of buildings on the river to the left of the nose of the plane – that’s it! That’s Kwethluk! No roads lead in or out. The plane rapidly descends to a short, gravel runway. The wings tip this way and that just before the wheels touch down and we go into a full skid – the pilot has the “steering wheel” turned as far right as it will go as we slide straight forward and eventually come to a stop.
It's an adventure, girls!
As I let the air out of my lungs, I don’t even realize that I was holding my breath. There is a 4-wheeler parked by a mountain of gravel and a couple of kids playing in the dirt. They stop to stare. There is also a Honda Pilot parked on the side of the runway and Mr. McCalla gets out to greet us. After unfolding ourselves and crawling out of the tiny plane, we greet our new principal, load the vehicle, say our goodbyes to the pilot, and make the first of two trips to our new house to unload and settle in. In the distance, we can hear the tiny plane headed back to Bethel and it is once again silent on the tundra.
Our first view of Kwethluk...
Saturday, August 7, 2010
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