As any true reality show should, “Flying Wild Alaska” has no story arcs. This isn’t “The Bachelor” or “Teen Mom” or even the series that was the run-up to “Flying Wild” for several weeks, “Gold Rush: Alaska.” There are no loose ends to wrap up and no winners or losers, just the everyday experiences of Era Alaska and the pilots and employees who operate the company.

Every episode was a different blend of real-life flying problems, a look into larger social issues like teen suicide and Arctic exploration, with a dash of the lightheartedness and bits of fun that are almost necessary when you live in locations cut off from much of the outside world, shrouded in cold darkness for much of the year.

I was admittedly hesitant about covering the show for Bush Pilot, but within two episodes, I was hooked on the crafty editing and enjoyable personalities of the show’s stars -- I won’t call them “characters,” because they’re very, very real people. Jim, Ferno, Ariel and Ayla Tweto represent possibly the most functional television family I’ve seen in a very long time, full of sarcasm, good humor, and fondness for each other, their employees and their community. They have cameras following them, but there doesn’t seem to be any theatricality to their actions, only that which the situations demand.

So I’m a little sad to see it go. I’m helped somewhat by the knowledge that the show was really quite successful, not only among the American public in general but also among those who the show depicts in such detail -- the residents of rural Alaska -- and that it will be back for a second season that has already begun filming. Ariel, Ayla and pilot John Ponts were spotted along the Iditarod Trail, camera crew in tow.

And so, with an optimism for continued excellence in programming, the final episode of the first season of “Flying Wild Alaska” doesn’t break from the formula the show has painstakingly crafted over the other nine episodes. We start off, as with many of the other episodes, in Unalakleet with DJ Sam.

The last busy day

Winter has been making itself quite comfortable across western Alaska for a few weeks now, but the daylight is fading fast, and the narrator tells us that the Era hub in Unalakleet is preparing for its last few busy days as people try to get out before the darkness arrives. They have numerous charter flights scheduled, but Jim and Ferno are characteristically underwhelmed.

“It’s gonna be a busy day,” Jim says, before he gets a call to fly out to pick up some hunters he’d dropped off weeks before on a remote ridgetop north of the village of Koyuk. The hunters have bagged a moose and need a lift back to civilization with their kill. It will be the last flight for Jim’s beloved 1969 Cessna 180, an Era staple since Jim took over ownership of the company.

“The 180,” he says with a sense of admiration, “it’s more than an airplane. It’s the heart of the company.”

He doesn’t equip the Cessna with skis, instead relying on his Super Cub for its lighter winter versatility -- but it’s too light for the trip he needs to take. He’s also debating whether or not to install a larger engine in the Cessna for next season, to get a little extra power in the tail-dragging Bush plane. He heads for the ridgetop, and looks for a good landing spot upon arrival.

“It’s not like going to the grocery store,” he says as he circles the ridgetop where the hunters are camped out.

He touches down, and the hunters -- already a week overdue on their original trip -- anxiously load up their kill and their gear. Jim’s Cessna has a cargo capacity of about 1,100 pounds, and between the hunters, their gear, and all that moose meat, he’s close to 1,000. There’s a soft layer of velvety snow on the ground that will make accelerating for takeoff difficult.

Jim opens the throttle, going uphill, and the Cessna chugs along at a snail’s pace. It isn’t long before Jim stops the plane and decides they won’t be able to get off the ground. They toss out some non-essential gear, and take another run at it.