Flying North

To say that airplanes are the lifeblood of Alaska is no exaggeration. Whether on wheels, floats or skis, or some combination of the three, there is much of Alaska, particularly in the interior, that would be difficult to reach. In the course of our trip we've heard tales of medical evacuations by plane, of flood area rescues, of commuting between work and home much like one would catch a bus or hail a taxi. Need to get to Fort Yukon, 8 miles north of the Arctic Circle? No problem. Catch a ride on the regularly scheduled mail plane, or maybe grab a seat with an itinerant plumber or electrician (many own their own airplanes).

And while we in the Lower 48 like to think we understand the concept of remoteness, I'm not sure we do. The next couple of photos are of our flight from Fairbanks to Fort Yukon.

An aerial view of the Yukon River. 

The land is so flat the river picks its own path, becoming what is known as a braided river. What I mean is clearer in the next photo. And what might look like golf courses or subdivisions are only illusions. In reality, there is no evidence of man anywhere. No roads, no power lines, nothing.

The Yukon River

The tundra where the river is not.

And here is what Fort Yukon looks as we were coming in (it's a crushed gravel strip). We followed in a cargo plane carrying aviation gas to be used by planes headed even farther north. As we left, the mail plane was coming in. While we were there, several pilots and locals were getting lunches to go from a tiny little cafe on the airport, which was really more like someone making sandwiches in her kitchen for the neighbors than a real restaurant.

And finally, a few more photos of the absolutely gorgeous countryside as we fly out over the White Mountains toward Talkeetna and Denali National Park.

(I'm sorry the photos are so dark, but it was pretty much raining or thickly overcast the whole return flight.)