Close Calls in Alaska, First Person Accounts

Another look at some oh shit moments

Our brain works in mysterious ways. Occasionally, you will read or do something, and a memory surfaces of a past event.

Some brushes with death, maybe? But on those days and those times, it fortunately wasn’t my turn.

In the late 70’s, while in the Air Force, I was transferred to Alaska. It would become my home for almost thirty years. During my assignment at Elmendorf AFB, near Anchorage, I became a member of the base flying club and obtained my license.

Soon after becoming licensed to fly solo, a squadron mate and I bought an airplane.

If you ever get a chance to fly, especially in a small plane, go for it! Some of my most fun experiences were in a small plane.

And to be in Alaska doing this, there were no greater thrills.

One afternoon in fall, I took a short solo flight to the Northwest side of the Cook Inlet. I wanted to fly by in and around the area of Mount Susitna, also know as Sleeping Lady.

It is a 4,400 foot tall mountain. Often, moose hunters travel to this area. I wanted to see if there was any hunter activity that day. It was a beautiful, sunny day. Temperatures in the 50's.

Because the distance by plane between Elmendorf AFB and Mt Susitna is only about 35 miles away, the flight time to get there was short. Maybe a half hour if I recall. It was a perfect day to sight see.

About 10 minutes into the flight, after arriving in the area, the engine began to sputter. It was doing this off and on, so I assumed maybe a little water had gotten in the fuel.

Shortly thereafter, the engine completely died, and at only about 300 feet above the ground. I needed to find a spot to land, pronto.

This area of overflight, at the time, did not have a landing strip. The terrain was mostly muskeg (mushy brush), and very uneven. My options on where to land or crash were limited.

My altitude, or lack thereof, reduced my choices quickly.

With the altitude now gone, the plane and ground soon met. It was not a pretty or smooth landing, but it felt ‘survivable’ if I could keep the airplane under control upon touchdown.

With a few bone jarring bumps and brush flying by, I was slowly coming to a stop, and right at the end of rollout, the tail pitched up and the nose and still turning propeller met the ground abruptly.

For a moment, there I sat, suspended, looking at earth through the windscreen, not a sight that any pilot want’s to see.

Within seconds, the plane shifted and down came the tail, restoring my view of the proper attitude, with relation to horizon. I had survived another crash landing (the other one, another story).

Death cheated, maybe? At least that day.

After climbing out, looking around at exactly where I ended up, and inspecting the airplane for damage, the “oh shit” moment came. The prop was bent.

No chance of getting airborne again and out of this predicament. What to do now?

Using the radio in the plane, I was able to contact the rescue unit at the base, and give them my location. Within an hour or so, the sight of an Air Force helicopter came into view. They circled overhead and soon hovered and landed nearby.

One of the PJ’s (pararescue/jumper) ran over to check and see if I was ok and we were soon airborne back to the base. Other than the damage to the plane, all ended well.

Another close call, for sure. I definitely felt “looked after.”

The next day, my partner had another pilot fly him out with a new propeller. They changed it out and returned the plane to Elmendorf.

Lastly, the day of my heart attack (yep, had one of those too), while in the ER, my teenage daughter arrived as they were prepping me for surgery. She appeared flustered in addition to her obvious concern for her Dad.

“What’s wrong dear?” I asked.

In her haste to reach the hospital on hearing I was there, she took my truck and got into an accident on the way. Another car t-boned ‘her’ truck in an intersection, while running a red light. Sarah was ok but the truck was totaled.

Close call for both of us, that day, for more than one reason. I still tease her about the truck to this day.

Man, I really liked that rig!

By the way, I drove myself to the hospital that day. Dumb? No doubt.

But, God looks after puppies and idiots, right? Or so I heard.

Gracias por leer.

A human, not an AI text generator, wrote this story. Enough said.