In the front seat of a Navajo...

An update on my weekend travel arrangements and my new friend - Mark.

Clear but cold skies on Sunday morning for our departure and Bering Air radioed in to the Selawik principal that we'd be delayed a while because the pilot turned back to Kotz with mechanical issues. Although I was ready to be back at Senior Housing on the Rock, I felt it was more important to tend to those "issues" before I hopped my next flight.

The delay was about an hour and a half but it gave me more time to hang out with Ben. Gave us some time to take our Pine City Pioneer picture as well... Where in the world is the Pine City Pioneer, you ask? - Today it's in Selawik, Alaska on a -15 degrees mid-November day.

At about 10:45am we got the call that the plane was 10 minutes inbound and we quickly loaded the trailers for the four wheeler ride to the airport. The Selawick Bridge proved to be a bit of an obstacle for the second "Honda" in the convoy but we managed to make it up and over with nobody's pride being hurt too bad.

When the navajo touched down and taxied in - I was pleasantly surprised to see Mark in the Pilot's seat.

He reciprocated when he hopped out and said he was happy to see us again. He asked if we'd like to take the same seating arrangements we had on the way down and again, I jumped at the chance. He loaded the plane.

I threw on the headsets like a trained professional. I knew exactly which output each input connected to. I even adjusted my seat a little to give the steering column a little more clearance and to  spend my pre-flight checklist time doing something besides just praying for another safe flight. And just like that we were up and in to the friendly skies. It was another Navajo again but a different one. This one had fancy on board Garmin GPS navigation. So when Mark pointed out the Kiana Hills and the Baird Mountains, we could see them out the windshield and see them on the screen. When it was clear enough, we could see the Brooks Range too. 

Mark and I politely went through the small talk again. He explained a few things about the GPS and I listened. He radioed in some ETA's to Base and Kivalina and I listened. He asked me if I had any questions about the airplane or any of the instruments and I let him know that I was just drinking it all in, trying to consume myself with the beauty outside and the power inside. With the plane on auto pilot, we took a few moments to ourselves in silence.

Mark started talking about this bird and that bird and I asked him if he was licensed to fly the Caravans. He used to be but he let that license slip this past August. He was happy with that decision though because as he explained, when you fly the larger Caravans you can carry that much more cargo and the pilot is ultimately responsible for loading and unloading all of that mail and miscellaneous stuff that gets hauled in and out of the Bush. 

"At 66 years old, I'm not as strong as I used to be or think that I am," he said. 

"I'd rather fly people than cargo and I really enjoy these Navajos."

A few more minutes of nothing but the humming of the engine and the crackle of the radio followed.

Then Mark caught me looking at the instrument panel.

"You ever take any flying lessons?"

And I started to tell him about growing up in Northern Minnesota on the Canadian border flying around in Beavers and Cessna's on a big lake.

"Really?" What Lake?

LAKE OF THE WOODS.

Mark is from Baudette.

Luckily the plane was still on autopilot and luckily we were flying the fancier Navajo with the shiny new GPS because for the next several minutes my new friend and I laughed and joked, shook hands and shared stories like we'd known each other from way back.

36 miles separates Warroad from Baudette. 

At 7,500 feet elevation over the Arctic Tundra - it was as if we had grown up together. 

I can't wait to fly with Mark again!

(Maybe next time I'll take the wheel.)