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A day of trike flying on the Iditarod TrailOur expectations were low following a week of frigid Arctic winds and cold weather here in southcentral Alaska. It looked like the odds of carrying out our plan to fly the weightshift “trikes” out to the Willow re-start of the 2011 Iditarod were slim to none. Lloyd Hood and I had planned our intended flight route and timing with the expectation that if the weather was bad we were going to punt, wait a week and try it the next week. Sure, there would be no Iditarod dog teams but the idea was to finally get out and do some ski flying. Lloyd was already packed, fueled up and ready to go at 8 a.m. on Sunday, March 6. I had worked late on a magazine story the night before and overslept. The report from the Kenai Flight Service Station gave us a 50/50 chance that the winds would be calm. With a cup of coffee in one hand I checked the weather cameras and METAR data at Palmer, Wasilla, and Birchwood and -- to my surprise -- it looked good. We were on. I called Lloyd and found him having breakfast in Eagle River. The plan evolved… I would meet him at the Birchwood hangar, call up another friend who was launching with his backpack powered paraglider from Deshka Landing and we would meet somewhere on the Susitna River just above the confluence of the Big Su and the Yentna. Frank Sihler is a two time Iditarod finisher-turned-paraglider instructor with cabin “hide-outs” all over the Matanuska-Susitna Valley. We were to spend the night at his Yentna cabin if the weather went sour on us. After a bout of cold-weather engine starting, my Antares trike’s 64-horsepower engine came to life. The little aircraft was packed with survival gear, snow shoes, tools, food, sleeping pad, wing cover, extra radios and camera gear. We launched about 1:30 p.m. from Birchwood, climbed to 2,700 feet, crossed the inlet heading toward Big Lake and then made our way to the Big Susitna River. We crossed the Knik Arm toward Denali, Foraker and Mt. Hunter which loomed ahead. The day couldn’t look better, so long as the winds held off. As we approached the Susitna, you could hear Willow air traffic: plane after plane descending on the re-start with Iditarod well-wishers, musher supporters and wary pilots. The river was dotted with snowmachine riders -- thousands of them -- and the air was buzzing with aircraft in every direction. We flew lower than normal to avoid the traffic on either side of the river. Lloyd spotted Frank, who had landed as were letting down heading north up the river. We set up and landed next to the markers on the trail to check on him. Frank was re-fueling; he started the engine, took a couple of steps to fill his wing with air and he was off. We followed him down the river to the intersection of the Yentna, where we found a gathering of aircraft ready to see the dog teams head out on their way to Nome. Lloyd landed his Air Creation XE on the slough near a gaggle of tail draggers, as I flew up the Yentna towards Luce’s Lodge to look for a good vantage point to photography the front runner DeeDee Jonrowe. I landed just short of the river landing strip at Luce’s to talk to a group of snow machiners who were full of questions. How fast does the trike fly, what is the landing speed, does it have a parachute, how far can you fly it? The usual questions, happily answered. Frank and Lloyd showed up in about 45 minutes with a wave of aircraft behind them, landing one-after-another on the airstrip in front of Luce’s. The arrival signaled a wave of people followed closely by DeeDee Jonrowe and the rest of the teams who started behind her. The wind was blowing down the river in pulses and it looked like there was a chance that it would pick up. We loaded ourselves in the trikes, buckled up and took off, looking for Frank who had about 30 minutes lead time on us.
Awesome photos!! |
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