North
by Northwest
By
Paul Nopper
Since an adventure
to Baffin Island last year, I’ve been infected with a serious case of
wantingtotravelbyairitis (I made that up) and see this land from the
perspective of a low flying bird. The far north has become a real fascination,
a much more gratifying experience than a trip to some southern locale
with so much sun, sand, and shopping malls. After months of preparation
and research, which can be just as much fun, our plan began to take
shape, with a list of points to explore between Brantford Ontario and
Fairbanks Alaska. When I say "our plan", I mean C-GMLT and
me, because although my wife Hughanne has looked at "My Little
Toy", she has never wanted to get on board, even when the Husky
is parked in the hangar (I guess some guys would call me lucky). Now,
when you layout a trip of this length, you must understand that you
won’t be able to go everywhere or see everything. The weather shall
interfere or your own time constraints will curtail those dreams … but
there is always the next time.
The hot hazy conditions
of June 2001 combined with cold fronts and related convective activity
delayed a launch ‘til late afternoon on the 12th. Northward
up the Bruce Peninsula with an overnight stop near Sudbury at "Belanger
International" where Gabe B welcomed me that first night. Next
morning was clearing as I departed, talking to Sudbury control tower,
advising my location to the northeast as I would be spending some time
around the Wanapitei meteor crater (N 46° 45' W 80° 45'). A word of
advice here, we often make the mistake of not taking enough pictures.
In the back I had 60 rolls of film, two cameras by my side, a digital
video which could also receive signals from a wing mounted "lipstick"
camera and of course tapes to record several hours of footage.
Stopping at Timmins
Flight Service, I began nibbling at some of the 3 plus weeks of provisions
brought for that "just in case" emergency; made a new flight
plan and then it’s off again. From just north of Cochrane you find the
rail line known as "The Polar Bear Express" into Moosonee.
That name is a misnomer since there are no Polar Bears that far south,
but you will find PB a few hundred kilometers north along the coast
of Hudson Bay. The railroad loosely follows the course of the Abitibi
River, slowly descending the Canadian Shield and across the James Bay
lowlands. This landscape is flat; the trees continue without interruption
as we cruise along low, past dams at Island Falls and another in the
Abitibiti Canyon. The rails head west to cross the Moose River, then
both rivers converge and in the clear air are Moose Factory, Moosonee
and James Bay in the distance.
The Hudson Bay Company
established Moose Factory, one of the oldest settlements in North America
in the 1670’s, but the Cree Indian aboriginal people have been here
much longer. While I waited to get fuel a young man came over to say
hello and mention that he recognized my Husky from a story in a magazine.
Small world, eh? "Watch-ee-ay" is hello and "Mee-gwich"
means thank-you in the Cree language. The words came in handy at the
Sakabaun (eating-place) Café in downtown Moosonee when I had
lunch.
The James and Hudson
Bay lowlands have a very striking look. For thousands of years, since
the last ice age, the land continues to rebound and as far as you look
there are countless raised beaches, which over eons have become covered
with vegetation. Did I feel alone, yes, but this is what I love about
the far north. This is reality - not "Reality TV" like some
network airs each week on the box. If you come, you are definitely on
your own. But the day was glorious and clear, the ride was smooth and
my eyes drank in everything, like the recent construction of a hydro
line to Fort Albany, bringing power from generators around the eastern
side of James Bay.
Through hours of
research on the Internet, I had made contact with Jim Leafloor of the
Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources (MNR). His invitation to "drop
in" for a visit led me over the cold waters of James Bay to Akimiski
Island and across flat tundra and muskeg to the northeast coast where
their research camp sits next to the beach. A rough gravel strip beckoned
and there we met along with a team of young men and women who were finishing
up two weeks of studies in ornithology and botany. The camp is surrounded
by several barbed wires reaching two-meters, which can be charged with
15,000 volts to deter the polar bears. In winter, snows drift high,
the land is deserted and bears walk unhindered over the now buried fence
to leave their calling cards in the form of damaged structures. From
mid-July until late autumn, you and your plane risk injury or loss,
since there is no protection afforded anything in the open. A helicopter
is parked inside the fence since they have been damaged on occasion.
In October, when ice forms, the bears will head back out to feed on
seals.
After leaving the
island, my route turned north along the coast to site # 415 of the Mid
Canada Line Radar (MCL). In 1955-56, during the "Cold War",
Canada’s Government constructed a line of radar sites from Labrador
to Dawson Creek BC between 55 and 56 degrees north latitude. Every 50
kilometers, a manned or remote site sprang up, serviced by temporary
winter roads or the gravel airstrips situated about every 150 kilometers.
In the mid-60’s, the line was abandoned, and now people of the area
would probably appreciate if this mess were removed and cleaned up …
maybe someday. The strips are not on any current navigation chart, but
for someone resourceful, who happens to know another someone who still
has charts from the 1950s, it did not present a problem. I walked among
arctic flowers growing in the course sand, wondering what it must have
been like 40 plus years ago. All around, hundreds of thousands of migratory
birds like Snow and Canada geese call this land their summer home.
Next came a detour
northeast around Cape Henrietta Maria with James Bay ahead and Hudson
Bay extending far to the north. The many raised beaches that overlap
each other give evidence to strong winds and storms. A small herd of
Caribou was looking for food as I swung around to a southwest heading
and began criss-crossing the tree line towards site 418 and then 421
of the MCL. All that remained at these installations were a couple of
fuel tanks, a small building that housed equipment and a tower lay on
the ground.
Jim Leafloor had
given me the location of one other MNR research station at Burntpoint
Creek, so back we go towards Hudson Bay, looking, but without a GPS
it would be very difficult to find. When the screen said I was over
the waypoint, I looked down and sure enough there were a couple of buildings.
Beside the camp was an overgrown raised beach, which made for a challenging
and bumpy landing. There were people of my age here, volunteers, and
scientists like Robert Stitt who told me he lives in a cabin in the
bush near Cochrane and along with a dog, tended traps during winter.
People often ask, "Why would you travel alone?" I don’t, there
are people at most every stop, but the truth is, in my Husky there is
only room for baggage, some extra fuel and the pilot. Besides, I like
being able to go wherever I want without having to worry about the wishes
or the responsibility and safety of another.
After bringing all
food in from the plane, the gate is closed to the compound and the fence
electrified. A spare bunk (sheet of plywood and foam pad) felt good
and the race was on to see who could get to sleep first (he who sleeps
last must endure the sound of others snoring). Being so flat, with the
bay just a few hundred yards north, this area is notorious for strong
cold winds and I was anxious to move on come morning. A hot breakfast,
a cup of tea from Robert and after exchanging addresses, and good-byes,
it was time to leave. Now I can say I’m the only traveler to date who
has visited MNR sites, Akimiski and Burntpoint Creek.
About seventy kilometers
west was the old settlement of the Weenusk First Nation people at a
site called Winisk, which had been heavily damaged by floods in 1987.
Across the river, MCL site 500 was an important staging point in support
of the Pine Tree Line, while dormitories and other buildings, not far
from the strip, are used today by seasonal hunting groups. Exploring
the remains of a control tower and hangar, several vehicles and equipment
that lay rusting, I wandered around again trying to imagine what it
was like long ago. Algonquian people lived here 1000 years ago, their
descendents, the present day Cree have relocated to the Peawanuck Indian
Settlement 30 kilometers southwest at a site where the Asheweig River
drains into the Winisk River. At Peawanuck avgas was available, $3 CDN
per liter, so after some calculations, I lifted off, and crossed my
fingers that tail winds would continue.
To the west are
more MCL sites and I do a "touch and go" at one. On a course
towards Fort Severn are many wild fires, started by lightning but in
this remote land they are left to burn. The tea that Robert had offered
early this morning had made its presence known at each stop and although
I carry a relief bottle, I have yet to use that device. Taxiing up to
the terminal building, I see several faces in the windows of a building
close by, then a half dozen young men came out to say hello. Their appearance
was not overly comforting, but their smiles, some missing teeth, and
friendly greetings put me at ease.
Into Manitoba are
three more MCL radar sites ending at the community of Bird and although
there are many more to the west, they were beginning to look much the
same. The radio at Gillam MB was a remote relay from Winnipeg Center
so after advising location and intentions I circled to land on the gravel
strip. There is no fuel truck or tanks but a gentleman drove up and
assured me he would be back shortly. A 205-liter (54 US gallon) drum
of avgas soon disappeared into the jerry cans and wing tanks of the
Husky. After getting a picture of poor weather coming from the west,
I found a couple of cement filled tires and secured the Husky. The next
three nights were spent at the Aurora Gardens Motel & Restaurant
and each day I walked, usually backwards, to the airport with 30 to
40 knot winds and heavy rain at my back. Temperatures dropped below
10 Celsius and the ceiling was but 400 ft at times. The two ropes on
each wing and locks on all control surfaces had to be repositioned and
tightened several times. The bright spot of this layover was a 48 hour
marathon of "Leave it to Beaver" reruns on the TV.
On June 17th
the ceiling had lifted to 1,200 feet and Winnipeg Center requested "advise
when airborne". Because of a very strong crosswind from the north,
I asked, "permission to use taxiway?" Winnipeg replied that
it was my option. Within 50 meters I was in the air and heading southwest
towards Thompson MB, a fuel-stop at Lynn Lake then on to the Deep Bay
Crater Saskatchewan (N 56° 24' W 102° 59'). Listening for traffic advisories
on 126.7 the local pilots make references to lakes and landmarks, but
I was just passing through, the places they spoke of were foreign. Over
400,000 lakes in Quebec and Ontario, and countless more across the northern
prairie provinces makes this a floatplane pilot’s heaven. It’s even
more important to always scan the skies when you are far from home.
I attempted to find
a couple of sites that may have been left over from the western end
of the Mid Canada (DEW) Line but the search was unsuccessful so I carried
on down the Clearwater River into Fort McMurray AB. A bite to eat, another
fuel bill, a chat with the lineman, a flight plan down the Athabasca
River and of course that important call home to tell my understanding
wife how much I am missing the dog. Not too far north is the unmistakable
presence of Syncrude Canada’s oil sands project. Some time was spent
capture images, trying to comprehend it’s size and then onward. For
a while now a latch that secures open the right window was not holding.
First a stop at Birch Mountain and yet another at Embarras to secure
this annoying problem … thank goodness for duct tape. It’s necessary
to have the window open in order to capture unobstructed images and
that means wearing many layers of clothing.
The next waypoint
was northeast, Carswell Crater (N 58° 27' W 109° 30') and this meant
a return to Saskatchewan and the Athabasca Sand Dunes Provincial Wilderness
Park. Unfortunately the weather was not cooperating with large bands
of showers and imbedded thunderstorms. If it’s not good enough to take
pictures then it’s not good to fly so I swung around, crossing Lake
Athabasca and down the Athabasca River until it was time to stop at
Fort Smith, just inside the Northwest Territory border. The weather
office had been vacated a couple of weeks earlier so I got permission
to sleep on the floor but spent the evening watching a rented video
in the new weather office. At least the weatherman had someone to keep
him company.
Heading north towards
Great Slave Lake, I wandered over Wood Buffalo National Park looking
for wildlife, staring at the many patterns and colors of the ponds and
streams below. The north seems to be much bigger than I could have imagined,
with forest, rivers, lakes, plains and mountains that are enough to
keep you exploring far beyond any one lifetime. Departing from Hay River
on the shores of its’ namesake, a Bald Eagle sits atop a tree and not
far away the Mackenzie River empties Great Slave Lake.
Yellowknife, on
the north shore of Great Slave Lake was on my "maybe" list
of places to visit but the thought of air traffic going to and from
the Ekati diamond mine site made me reconsider. Instead the trip down
the Mackenzie was an experience I will not forget. Past a ferry carrying
supplies across to the Yellowknife Highway at Fort Providence and a
stop at Fort Simpson to transfer fuel, have lunch and call my insurance
company to endorse a 72 hour trip above the Arctic Circle. A pilot came
over to chat and he mentioned sandbars a plane like a Husky could land
on but I found none, the water level of the river was 8 feet above normal
this year.
Try to picture islands
of green in a wide smooth river with billowing clouds above reflecting
off the waters. Along the river in all directions many shades of green
forest carpet the land to a distant wall of mountains. That’s the best
I can do, you have to go and experience it for yourself. The Camsell
Range, McConnell Range, Carcajou Range, Dahadinni Range, Franklin Mountains,
Ebbutt Hills, Bear Rock and the list goes on. The Mackenzie River is
not as long as the Mississippi but if you tacked on the Slave and Athabasca
Rivers, there would be no contest. The Mackenzie Valley is unchanged
yet changing, no levies, no dams and very little evidence of human influence
except for the long straight lines cut through forests to allow for
seismic exploration of minerals and resources. It might as well be eons
ago; what you see is timeless. Into this river flows water from Great
Slave Lake, Great Bear Lake, and countless other creeks, streams and
rivers. The settlements are few but their history beckons. Past Wrigley,
Tulita (meeting place of two rivers), Fort Norman and then on to Norman
Wells.
Ah, Norman Wells.
When I first heard that name, an image of a man came to mind. Some famous
explorer whose first name was Norman. The ancient Dene People have lived
in the McKenzie Valley for thousands of years and they knew about the
black liquid that oozed from the riverbanks since the beginning of time.
In 1920 this oil began to be recovered. Manmade islands in the river
pump the hot liquid from far below and although it is no longer refined
nearby, it must be cooled before being piped to Inuvik on the arctic
coast. We are not far from Fort Norman … so that’s why they call this
place Norman Wells. The early 1940s saw a need for infrastructure in
Alaska to wage war with Japan. The U.S. Army Corp of Engineers recruited
over 30,000 to lay a four-inch pipe across rugged hills and along the
bottom of rivers and streams to the west. Yes, you read that correctly
"along the bottom of rivers". After two years of struggle
under some of the worst working conditions on this earth, the pipeline
to the Alaska Highway was complete. A few months later, the spring thaw
would wash away sections of the pipe. Who would have figured? Be sure
to visit the museum down by the river at Norman Wells.
I went looking for
a quart of oil and met Warren Wright, the president of North-Wright
Air. Later on I came back to ask Warren if it was all right to park
my Husky beside his hangar and could I sleep under the wing. Instead
he invited me to stay in a dormitory for pilots and mechanics that worked
there. I accepted immediately. The young men and women shared a large
kitchen, recreation room, washers, dryers, bathrooms etc. They pay no
rent or utilities but buy their own food. This was a lot of fun for
me, surrounded by kids who could have been my daughter or son. One young
man was from my hometown, and his fiancé managed a restaurant
back in Ancaster ON. On my suggestion, he wrote a letter which I was
more than happy to hand deliver when I got back. Warren drove me around
and told me the history of Norman Wells. Several log buildings he explained
were built by a craftsman friend who took trees from the river. What
a great way to recycle a tree. The only caveat was that he must fill
out a form and report to the government each tree he removes from the
river. Hey, you’ve got to give the bureaucracy something to do. I was
stuck in this town for two nights but I would have been happy to stay
longer, these memories are forever.
On June 20th,
under low clouds I headed north, past a tiny waterfall just south of
Fort Good Hope. Over thousands of years this cascade had cut a distinctive
U-shape into the vertical walls of The Ramparts. These limestone layers
of a long ago sea-bottom are cut in two by the Mackenzie.
Next came Thunder
River, a challenging landing at an abandoned strip and an introduction
to a ferocious attack of black flies and mosquitoes. Not far ahead,
the Mackenzie River Delta has to be one of the largest water mazes;
stretching far into the horizon. When I asked the lineman at Inuvik
"how long have you been up here", he replied that he’d left
the Maritimes twelve years ago to fish. "Have you caught anything
yet?" I asked. A one way taxi into town was $28 CDN but I was able
to hitch a ride each way. Inuvik lies at the terminus of the Dempster
Highway with tourists and locals frequenting stores that could just
as easily make you think you were back home. The aboveground water and
sewage pipes give evidence to a solid rock foundation on which the homes
are built. I talked with a couple from Alaska and their dog while waiting
for a store to reopen so I could buy a "University of Tuktoyaktuk"
baseball cap – or "Tuk-U" for short.
Some 1,500 Pingos
dot the arctic landscape around Tuktoyaktuk (Eskimo for "It looks like
caribou"). The Pingos (Isolated, conical, ice-cored mound occurring
in areas of permafrost) rise 25 to 75 meters and look like big pimples
on the tundra. Now southwest, back across the delta, to Aklavik, climb
across the yellow-brown shaded mountains of northern Yukon, then Old
Crow Flats to the Porcupine River and the town of Old Crow.
Graham Lavery, a
bush pilot working for Sifton Air had brought two couples north to experience
community life above the Arctic Circle. After they left and I had supper,
it was 21:00 hrs; the sun was still high in the sky but I must lie down
and rest. A warm breeze blew from the southwest when I rolled out my
sleeping bag below the overhang of the small terminal building. My wife
says I can sleep sitting up while the TV is blaring; that’s true, but
now I awoke to a cold wind. It had reversed and was now coming from
the northeast with temperatures dropping 15 degrees Celsius in just
two hours. It was 23:00 hrs when I called Whitehorse Flight Service
to get a report and after describing the conditions, decided to depart
for Dawson City. That three-hour midnight flight was probably the most
memorable of this trip. The rugged landscape, headwaters of the Porcupine
River, Nahoni Range, O’Brien Range, Ogilvie Mountains, were all washed
in the pinkish glow coming from the sun on the horizon behind my right
shoulder. In the cool smooth air I took dozens of pictures and lots
of video.
Finding the unlighted
gravel strip at Dawson was easy in the twilight at 02:30 June 21 and
I slept under the wing, protected by the bug jacket. When Graham came
to work, he offered a ride to town and pointed out the Bunkhouse motel,
several good restaurants and a jewelry store. Oh yes, you must buy your
honey something special when you are away, lest you not be let out again.
We husbands can always use some extra "brownie points". I
would recommend you stay awhile in Dawson City, exploring the dusty
streets lined with wooden boardwalks, a museum, restaurants and of course
Diamond Tooth Gerties bar and casino.
From Dawson airport
I called US Customs and followed the rivers and valleys over to Northway
AK. Several others including a contingent of Piper Tri-Pacers were on
their way to Anchorage and we all lined up to get cleared. The smoke
from forest fires was getting thicker, the tower person said that VFR
was not recommended but I departed to have a look. Although the visibility
was reduced, climbing to 4,500 ft and following the Tanana River valley
into Fairbanks was the safest route but the visibility was obscured.
The airspace around
Fairbanks was busy but I called 30 miles out and after landing, slowly
taxied past the floatplanes, looking for a specific parking address.
From a distance I knew the guy walking towards me in some oversize turned
down hip waders had to be Mike Vivion. We had met via email, like many
others and I looked forward to a new friendship. After tying down, changing
oil, topping the fuel, Mike’s wife Gina and their dog Patch took me
to their home just outside Fairbanks. Mike had some obligations so Gina,
Patch and I went for a walk along the Alaska Oil Pipeline and later
we all enjoyed a quiet evening. It had been over a week and a half since
leaving home, and although there were many places in Alaska I wanted
to see and visit, I was getting homesick. If the weather turned ugly,
I might not get home for another two weeks, so on Saturday morning under
a beautiful sky I said goodbye and departed southeast. The Alaska Range
was visible many miles ahead and the Husky purred along the northern
slopes until a valley pass appeared and we turn south to Gulkana.
I have to come back.
The southeast of Alaska, Wrangell Saint Elias National Park and Preserve
joins the southwest corner of the Yukon Territory and Kluane National
Park. This has to be some of the most spectacular country in North America.
Today I had to move on; to keep a date with Canada Customs necessitated
backtracking out of some steep mountain passes, connecting up the oxygen
cannulas and climbing to 16,000 feet across the Russell Glacier. I descended
beside the Alaska Highway along Kluane Lake and then a lazy flight into
Whitehorse. It was late, the fuel dealer had gone home, but the pilots
lounge is unlocked and I found a bed. In the morning after settling
the bill, I walked over to the weather office.
Up in the control
tower I knew the man at the computer screen must be Rick, you guessed
it, another acquaintance from the Internet. Rick Saunders has been a
weather briefer for many years and he explained that flying to the southeast
was not a good idea that day. So I decided to go back to Kluane Park
and Rick invited me back to meet his family and stay at his home that
night. Today I would retrace my steps from the day before and fly up
to Mount Logan. From Whitehorse I went west to Silver City alongside
Kuane Lake then up the Slims River to the Kaskawulsh Glacier then on
and up for another 30 miles until from 14,500 feet the huge rock peak
of Mt. Logan stands covered in snow another 20 miles distant. Talk about
feeling insignificant. My fingertips were getting numb in the minus
15 Celsius air but I circled around, drinking in the views before descending
several valleys to Haines Junction. Heading back to Whitehorse, along
Haines Road past the dark blue waters of Kathleen Lake, this would be
another memorable day.
On June 28th,
cloud cover was lowering as I neared Watson Lake so the safest track
is along the Alaska Highway. Because weather was still marginal to the
south and east, I followed the Hyland River Valley north. The hills
and mountains were sugar-dusted in snow from the previous night and
puffy white clouds match the bright white peaks of the Nahanni Range
as I cross into the Northwest Territories, landing at Tungsten. A rusty
old truck came over and the couple introduce themselves as Tungsten’s
total population. I had to decline an invitation back to their home
for a cup of tea. When will I learn to extend my flight plan or better
still, use a flight itinerary instead. Those times we pass up can never
be recaptured.
The Flat River runs
south through a steep sided U-shaped valley, the Ragged Range to the
left rises to 8,900 feet, until you come to "Hole in The Wall"
where a turn to the east opens up to the South Nahanni River Valley.
Nahanni National Park must be a Kayaker’s dream destination. Although
Virginia Falls stands in the way, a landing and boardwalk is in place
to allow travelers an easy portage. I took a side trip north to Prairie
Creek, another mining settlement, stopping for awhile and wishing again
that I had time to stay awhile.
Soon I was through
the last pass heading south over the Liard River, past Fort Simpson
and arriving at Fort St. John. The Shell dealer said I could sleep in
the lounge and in the late morning when ceilings lifted I got special
VFR clearance to depart the control zone. Continuing southeast, the
open plains to the left and through the clouds and haze the mountains
stood on the right until I reached Entrance. That’s an appropriate name
for a town at the gateway into Jasper National Park. Past successive
mountain ranges, following the Athabasca River towards the Columbia
Icefields, the clouds were thickening and conditions for photography
were not as good. Turning right to follow the Chaba River, passing several
turquoise lakes so far from the highway, that only a bird would see,
up higher beside 12,294-foot Mount Columbia until I was on top of the
ice cap. Over the edge and far below, the tiny dots beneath where actually
the huge "people movers" with those giant tires. I circle
down and wave at people, wondering what they must be thinking.
Further into Banff
National Park, past Peyto Lake and Lake Louise, then west through Yoho
National Park and stopping at Golden BC. After calling another email
acquaintance I departed, climbing hard over the Dogtooth Range and Purcell
Mountains, finally down Kootenay Lake and into Nelson BC. Dr. John Dale
and a friend pick me up and along with their wives we have dinner before
going back to a beautiful log home overlooking the West Arm of the Kootenay.
John and his wife organize and guide pilots on pre-planned adventures
to the far north.
The weather was
worsening in the morning, low clouds and rain from the south approached
quickly when I refueled at Creston BC. Following the recommended VFR
route past Yahk (You could fly to Yahk and back!), from just a hundred
feet above, I passed by the cars along the Moyie River. A position report
to Cranbrook Flight Service then into breaking clouds a climb over the
Lizard Range and through Crowsnest Pass toward Lethbridge AB… it was
all down hill from here.
From the air I tell
Lethbridge Tower to close my flight plan and continue east. The controller
mentioned a large area of low cloud cover ahead and I thanked him. The
southern plains of Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba are not too inspiring
after the splendor of mountains. Staying below the clouds, a few hundred
feet above the ground is a real rush but remember to keep your eyes
ahead looking for towers. After a couple of rest stops, I decided to
call it a day and turned towards Brandon Manitoba.
Next morning, fog
closed the field, but there was a museum nearby and by early afternoon
I was off, staying well south of Winnipeg I would try to make Marathon
ON at the top of Lake Superior. That was not to be; the low clouds rolling
off the Lake was not something I wanted to cross so I turned towards
Thunder Bay. The tower asked where I was coming from and I said "Brandon
MB". When he asked why I was now coming from the northeast instead
of the west I explained my recent decision to turn back. He said that
was a good idea. June 29th was a long and tiring flight in
the haze, not my kind of flying weather, but I did stop at Killarney
Mountain for their famous fish and chips and was home in time for dinner.
Such a big land,
from 35,000 feet you do not realize. So many places are yet to see and
many that I must return to experience and savor some more.
Here’s hoping you
catch the fever!
"Dream about
living forever, live like there is no tomorrow".
June
12 - 29, 2001 | Airtime: 95.5 hours | Fuel: 2340 liters or 618 US Gallons
From almost 1,400
images and 3 plus hours of raw footage I put together a 30-minute video
EAA, RAA, and
several other audiences have all enjoyed the show.
Internet links:
http://www.canadianparks.com/ Canada
Parks
http://www.flynorth.com/ FlyNorth.com
– John Dale
http://www.flyalaska.net/ Alaska
Flight Operation
http://www.alaska.faa.gov/fai/airports2.htm Alaska
Airports
http://www.canairradio.com/ Canadian
Radio Frequencies
http://newsminer.com/ Fairbanks
Daily News
http://www.faa.gov/avr/news/ASPinAK.htm Flying
in Alaska
http://www.inuvik.net/index.html Inuvik
Travel Information
http://www.magma.ca/~lwilson/mcl.htm Mid-Canada
Line Radar
http://publish.uwo.ca/~kapatton/ Ornithology
on Akimiski Island
http://www.airphotona.com/index.asp My
mentor in Colorado
http://gdcinfo.agg.nrcan.gc.ca/crater/world_craters_e.html World
Craters
Paul lives in
Ancaster, Ontario Canada about 40 miles from Toronto and is married
to an understanding wife who has him on a very long leash (stated at
her request). They have a grown daughter and son and a German Shepherd,
named Kayla, who will probably never grow up. Paul enjoys photography,
golf, squash, and the company of fellow pilot adventurers.
email
,
