a hope of spring, and how nature tells the weather

When I first visited Alaska, I heard the tale that winter's arrival can be predicted based on when the topmost flower on a fireweed stock blooms. I never paid attention to how true that was, but its a fun tale to tell visitors as they admire the unique purple wildflower.

Another tale I just heard this week is the relationship of pussywillow's growth to the end of overnight freezing. When it grows to about an inch long, it shouldn't freeze anymore. Or so goes the tale.

It amazed me how fast everything has melted and dried up. We went from having a lake in the middle of the runway, and mud a foot deep, to having a solid runway that should be ready to use by next week. The band of water around the lake is several feet wide, growing every day. And there is a big spot of open water in the channel between the lake and the bay.

Can't wait for summer!

Spring conference

Last weekend, my sleepy winter village exploded. In addition to perfect spring weather, brothers and sisters from neighboring villages loaded up for a weekend of encouragement and refreshment. Sessions started Friday night, and ended Sunday morning with communion at Church.

Each session started with a few songs before the kids left for their program. The music continued, with testimonies interspersed, for a few hours. Then the last half hour, a preacher from Anchorage spoke. The music was somewhat foreign to me-- old hymns with a country-western twang to them, being led by a Native gentleman. At least everyone else was loving it. It was cool to hear testimonies from a huge variety of people. From young missionary couples sharing their struggles, to old natives telling their fishing stories, I was encouraged by the community of believers surrounding me.

Saturday morning, I helped in the nursery. A friend from Soldotna asked if I would help, to give the mothers an entire weekend off. My friend, in all of her wisdom and experience raising 4 boys, decided we should take the morning session on Saturday. BOY was she right! The kids weren't cranky cause it was past their bedtime, and there were less of them total. Of course we had our cry-ers, our trouble makers, and our escape artitsts. I had one little boy fall asleep in my arms for an hour or two. All in all, it was enjoyable to hang out with the little kids.

The session before dinner was shorter, less attended, and broke off into prayer groups toward the end. I was in a group with ladies from several different villages. We shared needs in our lives. After listening to some of the other ladies stories, I realize how small my problems are. One lady shared about the hopeless situation in her village with few jobs, and unemployment driving villagers to drinking. Another shared her struggles to forgive men that abused her in her past, and how she is opening her home to young girls who have faced the same abuse. Of the entire weekend, this prayer time had the biggest impact on me. I realized my need to not only pray for the villages in this region, but I need to find a way to visit and encourage my sisters in Christ that don't necessarily have good Christian friends to hang out with.

The entire weekend, I spent time with a really awesome friend from the area. I met her three years ago when I came out here for the first time. We instantly clicked, and have kept in touch over the years online. Its really awesome to get to hang out with her every once in a while when she comes through, and this weekend was no exception.

The weekend was so much fun, I didn't want to go to work Monday!

not a how-to formula

6 months.

I realized at work today that I have been employed as a mechanic for 6 months. When I was in school, that was longer than a semester. Its twice as long as I was in Kenya, and half the amount of time I lived in Anchorage. I worked at the kitchen store in Anchorage for 6 months. All those things seemed to be significant chunks of my life. But when I compare it with the quick breath that has been my time here, it seems so short.

Of course, the majority of my time is spent working in the hangar. The first three months we were working on our major overhaul project: the navajo. After it went on the flight line, we slowly worked through some annuals, as well as events on our active fleet. Even slower than the pace of winter maintenance is my learning curve. Weeks went by where I would complete routine service items, simply because that is all I felt confident doing. Then I would decide to branch out into more interesting projects, and feel like I was wasting everyone else's time asking them questions. But slowly, ever so slowly, I have started to feel like I know what I am doing. Not that I am an expert, but a bit of confidence is dawning. It took 6 months. I am sure in another 6 months I will look back on this point and see how much more I understand. It's a process, and it comes to everyone in different amounts of time.

I still make lots of mistakes, and I am sure there are plenty more for me to make. I'm terribly slow. I drop tools all the time (especially when someone warns me against dropping them in that particular location). You should see the mess I make whenever I try to change the oil.

I am looking forward to what the next 6 months holds.

the on-demand lifestyle

A week ago, I was washing dishes and just chilling at home. As there are few dishwashers out here, its a process done by hand. The phone rang, which isn't entirely usual. I washed the soap off my hands and reached for the phone.

"Hey, Liz? If you hurry, you can fly down to Nondolton and back with Glen," the dispatcher told me.
"Uh, sounds good!" I respond. I turn off the water, grab my headset, and head out the door.

We head to the other runway and help unload the three passengers staying here, fuel up, and load up. We have one passenger to drop off, as well as a bunch of groceries for 3 or so different people. We will also be switching from the Bonanza to the 207. We leave a plane stationed there with our pilot who lives there.

When we get close (about 5 minutes after taking off) Glen calls on the local frequency, indicating landing time, groceries, and a passenger.

As we fly close to the airport environment, I can see the ripples on the water, indicating a strong northwind. I feel it too. Usually we land straight in at Nondolton, but the sun is low on the horizon, so a straight in landing would mean we wouldn't be able to see a thing. So we circle around and land back toward the east. When we land, several people are waiting for their groceries, as well as the pilot with wing covers for the bonanza.

Unloading was a fairly painless process, as we piled groceries in seperate piles. Everything going to Nondolton has bright yellow stickers on it with their names scribbled on in sharpie. After we got all the groceries off, we helped cover the plane and load up in the 207.

I crawled in the left seat, and Glen watched from the right. Take off was a little squirrely with a strong, slightly gusty left crosswind. He didn't have a headset on, so he shouted instructions into my right ear, and I tried to make radio calls and listen to the world outside the airplane in my left ear.

We arrived back in PA, tied the airplane to whatever we could, and headed home. All in all, the episode took about an hour, and I logged .2 in my logbook. While its not a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, I didn't have to pay for that flight time. I am looking forward to more adventures of the same nature.

Float plane annuals

My company has 3 float planes, 2 206s, and a 180/185 cross breed. The operate part 91 (different rules than the other airplanes, less intense maintenance requirements) so during the busy summer, the often get the bare minimum so we can focus on the part 135 planes. So now that it is winter, we work through more thorough inspections, fix the problems that we discovered over the summer (instead of just preventing symptoms) and take extra time to show them some TLC.

The 180/185 was first in. We changed the struts this summer, but put on a loaner pair since we hadn't bought our own yet. They got painted, and then we realized that they weren't the same strut. The length was teh same, they were just a much wider, beefier, strut. So instead of wasting 1500 dollars worth of new parts, we called the FAA up to ask for approval to put them on. The inspector agreed, and we attached the new struts. We also re-painted the leading edges of the wings, and the front spreader bar. It wasn't to the point that the airworthiness was in question, but it prevents it from getting to that point. Plus passengers feel much more secure in a plane that looks pretty, regardless of its actual airworthiness.

Before we pushed that one out, we brought in the next one, a 206. Major projects on this one included a leaking fuel tank, and replacing seat rails, plus a couple spots that needed sheet metal work. I ended up working on the seat rails, and discovered the rollers on the seats were also really worn out.

The last one to come in needs the floats changed. I wasn't around when the issue happened this summer, but from what I hear, running a float plane up the shore tends to poke holes in the floats. I am looking forward to that project! We are waiting until its a little warmer outside, so planes don't need stored inside overnight.

The float planes are keeping us busy, but work is still slow. I am looking forward to this summer when it will be a bit more fast paced.

time change

Who's brilliant idea was daylight savings time? Losing an hour of sleep was not awesome. Its made this week pretty rough, getting up at a time that my body feels is an hour earlier than normal.

It's just surreal to watch the sun set after 8, and not be really dark till after 9. It certainly gives more daylight to enjoy the evenings.

I enjoy watching the sunrise in the morning, and occasionally will get up early on Saturday to watch the sunrise with multiple large cups of coffee.

Benjamin Franklin, I am unsure of whether to curse you or thank you.

80 degrees of teperature change

Perhaps the most enjoyable aspect of my trip was the warm sunshine. When I pulled into the Anchorage airport at around 11:30 PM, the welcome sign indicated an outside air temperature of 7 degrees. Better than the -20 registered at home.

The first stop on my trip was Seattle. I had a really quick layover there. So quick that I basically walked off one airplane and on to the other. As I boarded, I could feel the cool damp Seattle air. There were piles of mostly melted snow from their weird winter weather as we taxiied for the runway.

Even though I slept through both flights, I found this detail interesting. The flight from Anchorage to Seattle is 4 hours, while only 3 hours from Seattle to San Diego. Not only is Alaska really big, its really far away. This detail baffled acquaintances throughout my trip, and contributed to the "hardcore Alaskan mountain woman" reputation I gained.

When we landed in sunny San Diego, I was in heaven. It was around 60 degrees, not too hot to melt, but warm enough that I could remove layers and soak up some sunshine. I managed to get sunburned twice during the week, but both times faded into a tan. I remember looking in the mirror and being surprised at how nice I looked, even before makeup. I realized it was mostly to do with the fact that I wasn't the ghastly pale Alaskan that I am used to seeing.

On the day I left, the weather couldn't have been more beautiful. I kept asking myself why in the world I was getting on an airplane and leaving. Especially after I read the weather observation from home. -15. I did what I could to enjoy the last rays of warmth before we ascended into the subzero temperatures of 757 appropriate cruising altitudes. I'm pretty sure I moped all the way to Seattle, my entire layover while observing the gray drizzle, and the entire flight into Anchorage. I was redeemed some the next day by sunshine, but it was not warm. I could feel any color I had gained during the week being sucked out as I covered every inch of skin with layers. As much as I want to absorb some more rays, I realized that frostbite isn't worth it.

Sunny San Diego, I will admit it. I am smitten with you.