Bob, The Pilot

Bob, the pilot, reminds me of one of the figures you might see in a Tommy Bahama clothing catalogue.  I can picture him standing in front of the magazine’s photographer next to an obviously attractive (I mean this is fashion we are talking about here), but elegantly older woman, adorned in a subdued colored tropical shirt that in no way looks gaudy, matching khaki shorts, boat shoes (Sperry’s to be more specific), and topped with a tightly woven straw hat.  For some reason this image was the first thing that popped into my mind upon initially meeting Bob.  I guess I mostly thought this because of his calm, almost regal, yet at the same time grandfatherly demeanor that oozed pilot; but not the kind of pilot that is overly cocky, because well, they can indeed fly planes, but the kind of pilot that is sure of himself in an almost tranquil manner.  This explanation must be the reason why I instantaneously liked Bob.

Dinotopia-esque: The Flight

As stated in my previous post, Mimi, Evan, and I had set up shop at the Mach household for the entirety of June.  Bob, the pilot (who has spent the majority of his life flying for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and who is close friends with the Machs), one fine Monday, pulled his pickup truck in front of the Machs and pronounced he was headed off flying and wanted to know if anyone wished to join.  Ummm yes please!  I threw on some clothes, grabbed a granola bar, and was out the door in a flash.  Not only was I extremely stoked to go flying with Bob, the pilot, in his small plane, but it just so happened to be a gorgeous clear day out as well (something that, much to my displeasure, does not happen that often in Homer).  I jumped in his pickup, with my pre-AK bought most favorite/seriously necessary purchase: my b-e-a-utiful Canon EOS Digital Rebel T3 SLR Camera (for real photographers that’s lingo for rookie, but for me it’s lingo for awesome), locked tightly in my hand ready for a REAL Alaskan experience.  In meaning “REAL” Alaskan experience, float/small aircraft planes up here are pretty much considered part of the standard transportation procedure.  In order to make it to a decent amount of places in this gargantuan state it requires the use of these handy little flight tools.  They are necessary not only for the tourism business, like MOI going flight seeing with Bob, the pilot, but they are also necessary for the oil industry, the fishing industry, the townships in the bush that lack road access, the fishing lodges, the already stated U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, etc. and so forth.

Bob, the pilot, and I drove over to the airport, readied his plane for take off, hopped in, placed aviation necessary head phones on our heads, started the engine, and zipped into the air.  We really did just zip into the air owing to Bob’s plane being so teensy (only a four seater).  It’s nothing like commercial flight take offs where the pilots really have to rev the thing up and gain a colossal amount of speed before they are finally able to slowly heave their massive metal plane into the air.  One second we were on the ground, and the next second we were quickly gaining altitude, light as a feather, zooming up and over Homer.  Such an exhilarating feeling!

As we gained more and more altitude, Bob, the pilot, pointed us in the direction of Kachemak Bay and in no time we were humming over the lapping sea watching as the distant mountain range shrouded in snow began to broaden it’s magnitude in front of our eyes.  Peacefully, we continued our flight seeing adventure over the small inlet town of Halibut Cove.  This little village across the Bay is only accessible via boat or plane and consists solely of a few scattered ocean front homes, a nice restaurant called the Saltry, a few lodges, and a handful of little shops/galleries.  After passing over Halibut Cove we found ourselves surrounded by the majestic Kenai Mountain Range blissfully cruising through towering majestic peaks set a shimmer by the predominant AK solstice sun.  The view was just absolutely stunning.  I honestly felt like I was within the pages of one of my favorite childhood books, Dinatopia, owing to how surreal it was to be flying not OVER but IN these gorgeous mountain peaks.  As I perused the skyline outside the plane window I was not looking DOWN on these rugged peaks, but rather AT them.  Continuing on with our flight we veered up and over a mountain pass to the breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean looming in the distance.  I was now looking out upon the vast sea where boats such as The Time Bandit (one of the Deadliest Catch ships that is based in Homer, AK) head out each season to test their skills as well as their wits against some of the deadliest waters in the world.  It looked rather calm at the moment as Bob, the pilot, and I glanced into the horizon.

Bob, the pilot, then veered us back in the direction of Homer, and much to my pleasure, I noticed a black bear waddling down a mountain face.  I exclaimed into the headset, “Hey check it out there’s a black bear down there.”  Bob, the pilot, couldn’t see the little black fluff ball so he decided to loop back around and fly in closer so we could take a better look.  Talk about our own personal flight plan!  As we moved in closer, sure enough, there he was just cruising along, sniffing around for insects….you know being all bear like.

After our little encounter with Mr. Bear, we flew over the, visible from Homer, Grewingk Glacier and then turned right towards the head of the Kachemak Bay.  A river came into view looking much like a human vein fanning out into the bay’s waters as we continued our flight up the coastline.  Then, Bob, the pilot, all of a sudden pronounced we were going to touch down on a small gravel runway just barely visible amongst the many bushes and trees……you know just for fun.  I stated excitedly, “Roger that…sounds good to me,” attempting my best impression of “pilot” lingo.  Bob, the pilot, gracefully landed his plane on the dusty runway, slowed down, rotated us around, and took off again.  No big deal!

After about ten more minutes of flying we hit the head of the Bay, circled around to the left, and started to head back towards Homer along the opposite coastline we entered in on.  I glanced down upon an exceptionally steep zig-zagging road that led to a small town on the shoreline.  Bob, the pilot, stated through his headset, that the town is one of about three Russian Villages located outside of Homer on East End Road.  This was not a new fact for me, since I had already had quite a few encounters in say, the grocery store, with the silken dress clad Russian Village ladies, but nevertheless it was still very cool to see their village from up above.  After we had cruised away from the Russian Villages, Bob, the pilot, told me to take the wheel.  I just kind of stared at him, because I wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not.  He then nodded at me, again, and said go-ahead take the wheel.  Ummm ok…..I did as I was told and gripped the wheel.  Bob, the pilot, then said, “Ok now turn to the right.”  Mmm alrighty then…I slowly turned the plane to the right.  “Now turn to the left,” smiled Bob, the pilot, so I slowly turned the plane to the left.  “Ok now go down and then try going up,” said Bob, the pilot.  I did as I was told and HOLY BANANA CAKES I was flying!  Tucker Vest Burton was flying an airplane!  He then just told me to keep’er steady.  Wooohoooo!  Taking the wheel of a small airplane in Alaska….check!  As we neared the Homer Airport, obviously, Bob, the pilot took over, and again, gracefully touched down on the runway.

All Good Things Must Come to an End

Talk about a one of a kind Alaskan adventure!  Thank you Bob, the pilot, for such a fantastic day!