Aviation stories told here

[Singlecoil]

Village Life Part Two March 26, 1995

“Flight 460, what are your intentions?”
With Nome weather down to 400 feet, I would have to shoot the gap between Army Peak, and Cape Nome, 600 and 800 feet, respectively. That asshole from the FAA is certainly going to ask how I stayed above 500 feet and out of the clouds; luckily I was alone, therefore no witnesses. Something in the tone of her voice on the radio...“Well, I guess I’ll head over to White Mountain and wait this one out, ETA 15 minutes from now.”
“Flight 460 roger, that sounds like a really good idea, Nome weather is not improving.”
A quick 180, a quick call on the radio to get the coffeepot fired up and I’m off to White Mountain, population 250. The weather was getting lower by the minute, the village popping out of the whiteness as I crept through 400 feet. A quick ride down the hill in Tom’s sled and I was in the village. Our agent Tom lives with his wife and three kids in a nice two story home, complete with computer, fax machine, VCR, etc. Hard working folks, they somehow find time to be agents for an airline and tend to their 1400 Reindeer.
Each summer, the deer get “horned,” as in having their antlers cut off. The antlers are then shipped to Korea where they are ground into a powder and used as an aphrodisiac by Korean men. Whatever turns you on...
Whenever you get stuck in a village, you always get fed extremely well. White Mountain was no exception. That evening we dined on spicy reindeer stew, which was outstanding. The next day the weather was just the same; very low ceilings and icing conditions. Feeling I should start earning my keep, I felt obligated to spend a couple of hours helping Tom shovel the three feet of snow off his roof. That evening was a special night: the one night a month that B.J. cooks “Eskimo Food.” Feeling not a little uneasy, I inquire as to the menu.
“Reindeer tongue, black meat, muktuk, reindeer stomach, and smoked strips, but if you don’t like it, I have some canned soup.” Black meat? This is none other than dried seal meat, and muktuk is whale blubber. These items are not your usual Eskimo cuisine; these are delicacy items, so naturally the whole extended family was invited. I put a little fingernail-sized piece of muktuk on my tongue and slowly chewed the rubbery substance. Feeling the bile rising, I turned my head and prepared to vomit in a fit of shame and embarrassment. Somehow, I choked back the vile fluids as the children laughed and sweat began to ooze out the pores of my forehead. The reindeer tongue provoked about the same reaction, and the reindeer stomach was safe from me. I saw a bowl of twigs on the table, some sort of root, and gingerly chewed on a small piece of wood. It had a subtle, strange taste, somewhere between cinnamon and spearmint. I probably ate a total of about two ounces of food, and was not in the least bit hungry for more.
Finally the weather broke overnight, leaving a thick coating of frost and ice all over my airplane. Armed with an ice scraper, I got off as much as I could and figured the rest wouldn’t have any significant effect on aircraft performance. Since the temperature was right around freezing, I knew I could find a patch of warm air somewhere and melt the rest off before I landed in Nome. At 2300 feet over the pack ice, the frost began to quiver and slide. Landing in Nome with a clean airplane, I was almost hoping the FAA would be there so I could show him how clean it was. But they’re never there when you want them to be.

 

[skyking1976]

What does a pilot do with thick chunks of ice from his wings? He puts them in a glass and pours scotch over them;

I hope it was cheap scotch...

SK

 

[Singlecoil]

It was actually Glenfiddich and as the ice was perfectly clear, quite tasty as I recall.

 

[skyking1976]

OK... I'll accept ice in Glenfiddich. Just as long as it wasn't older that 12 years or casked in sherry or port casks. Really good scotch is meant to be drank neat. No ice, no water, nothing added. To do otherwise is quite sacreligious.

 

[A Squared]

I put a little fingernail-sized piece of muktuk on my tongue and slowly chewed the rubbery substance. Feeling the bile rising, I turned my head and prepared to vomit in a fit of shame and embarrassment. Somehow, I choked back the vile fluids as the children laughed and sweat began to ooze out the pores of my forehead. [/B]

Jeez, singlecoil, you're not gonna admt that a little piece of Muktuk kicked your ass are you? C'mon, muktuk isn't bad, hell I acquired a taste for it. My first muktuk experience: 1993, I was surveying native allotments on the Wulik river (up by Kivalina) It was a nasty, wet, cold windy day. In the arctic sometimes summer just a word. We were all soaked to the skin. Doing that kind of work, you got a choice. you can buy that fancy high-dollar cutting edge raingear that breathes, and after a few days of cutting brush with a chainsay, the bar oil soakes through that gee-whizz polymer membrane and your raingear is about as waterproof as pantyhose (it still breathes good though) Or, you can buy the old standby Helly Hansen PVC raingear which doesn't breathe at all. It does however, reliably keep rain on the outside and your moisture on the inside. So it's midday, we're sitting in the boat with Caleb, a local we had hired to drive us around the rivers. The man was a god with a river boat. he could run up through shallows you'd think twice about in a canoe... without touching a single rock, this in a boat with a prop ....later that summer he got his first jet unit and then water seemingly became optional. There was however a learning curve associated with the jet drive. On several occasions we found ourselves crammed ungracefully together in the bow of the boat, a long, long way from water, wondering what we were going to do next ..... a come-along would have been useful. Oh yeah, this was supposed to be about muktuk. Right, where was I?.... wet cold, tired, eating soggy lunch... peanut buter sandwiches or the like. Caleb says in that distinctive native lilt: "A squared, that stuff won't keep you going, you need something that will last you" and hands over some muktuk. Me, I'm a try anything once type of guy so I saw off a chunk and pop it in my mouth. Hmmm, quite tender, but with a little substance to it, a slight fish flavor .. but very VERY rich. What I wasn't prepared for was rush of heat that flooded through me a few minutes later. I suddenly felt warmed from within and completely re-energized. Say what you will but that stuff is pure energy. When you're wet cold and miserable and a stiff drink by a roaring fire is a long, long way away, muktuk will warm you up and get you back on your feet like nothing else can. There was more than one day I was more than happy to share Caleb's muktuk.

Agutuq, now, that 's a different story, that stuff is nasty. Agutuq is the so-called "eskimo ice cream" it's seal oil and berries, whipped until it becomes lard-like. It's been almost 20 years since I had a mouthful of agutuq and it still makes me shudder.

 

[A Squared]

Oh yeah, this was supposed to be aviat

....alrighty then, same year as my muktuk debut. As I said, I was working on a large Native Lands survey in the North-west arctic. I wasn't employed as a pilot at the time, but I had my C-180 with me. Most of us were living in Noatak, with a few crews in Kivalina. We had Sundays off, and this one was a nice clear sunny one (you get good weather in the arctic too, just not enough of it) There's not much to do in the village, so a co -worker and I hopped in my plane and blasted off. Our plan was to hop over to Kivalina and visit with the crews over there for a bit, them continue on to Kotzebue, a larger town, large enough to have stores, and medical facilities (more about that later) So, there we are hanging out in the quarters in Kivalina, drinking coffee and telling lies when there's a knock on the door. Two women walk in and one asks "are any of you with htat airplane out at hte airport?" Immediately every head in the room turns toward me ... so much for pleading ignorance. "yeah, that's my airplane". Are you going to Kotzebue? I can see where this is headed and a little fabrication could easily have nipped this in the bud, but I tend to be honest to a fault. "yeah I'm going to kotzebue" "Do you have room for 2 people?" Errr, ummm, I hesitate. She quickly assures me that she could pay. I try to explain that I don't have a 135 certificate, that I can't do charters .... she doesn't care. this is the bush, she wants to go to Kotz, my plane is going to kotz, who the hell cares about some kind of certificate? ....sensing my reluctance she tries a different angle ... "It's a medical emergency" OK, my bullshirt detectors are on full alert, but it's a slow afternoon, so I figure I'll play along for a little malicious fun...."A medical emergency, huh? what sort of medical emergency?" " a toothache" " A toothache, eh? but you said there was two of you" " yes, me and my husband" "so you both have toothaches?" She initally said yes, but realizing the improbability of both of them having toothaches, said no, explaining that her husband had a toothache, but she had to go with him. I briefly considered trying to pin her down on exactly why the toothache required her presesnce in Kotz, but I relented and let it slide. What the hell I thought, I *am* going to Kotzebue, and I *do* have 2 empty seats... "OK", I told her, " meet me down at the airstrip in 15 minutes" and they turned tail and bolted. We finished up our coffee and wandered down to the airstrip, as I was checking the oil, a big cloud of dust, kids, dogs and 4 wheelers rolled up. Going to the big city is a big social event it turns out, at least on a warm sunny day. Out of the dust cloud emerges the woman from the earlier conversation. She has in tow a sheepish looking guy whom she introduces as her husband. Sure enough he's holding a hand to the right side of his face, wincing in pain. She holds up a backpack, obviously stuffed full, and asks if I have room for it. Sure, and I stow it behind the seats. when I turn around she's holding a large duffle bag, also stuffed full, How about this? Yeah, OK it'll fit, I stowed the duffle bag, and magically she was holding a large cardboard box when I turned back around .."how about this? D@mn, I didn't realize that a toothache required so much paraphernalia..OK box is stowed, at this point I notice that the husband is now holding the LEFT side of his face ...... Uh-oh-, it must be one of those migrating toothaches, those are the worst kind....better hurry and get this poor soul to medical help...... After getting all the boxes bags and people stowed and secured, the flight to Kotz was pretty uneventful. I briefly toyed with the idea of calling ahead to Kotzebue radio and having them call the ambulance crew and have them meet us on the ramp, but I decided that would be taking things a little too far. My medivac passengers were met be a group of family members who didn't seem too terribly concerned about the toothache and didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to rush him off to the hospital .... unsympathetic louts!

I guess in retrospect, this isn't so much an aviation tale but look at the bush village culture .. ok I still owe you a flying story.

 

[Singlecoil]

I don't know what it is about muktuk, but it wasn't for me. I've had "bear butter", black bear fat that was hard like cold butter and didn't mind it so much. It was the same way as you described muktuk, very rich and full of energy. I have heard that some arctic expeditions were unsuccessful until they discovered the need for much more fat in their diets. Foods high in animal fat have been a big part of the natives' survival up north for sure.

As for the scotch on the rocks deal, you're right. Forgive me, I was in my twenties...

 

[mar]

Dining out Eskimo Style

Yes, garcon. I'd like to start with the roots for the first course. Muktuk as an entree and Aqutak for dessert. But I'll take my Glenfiddich now please.

Yum. I've also tried Muktuk. And herring eggs with seal oil. But I guess I got the gussak version of akutaq because it was made with Crisco and lot's of sugar and berries.

I didn't find it too bad--just like really bad frosting. But I suppose when made with bear or caribou fat it probably has a different flavor.

I'm glad to see the Alaska contingent chime in.

And I've really enjoyed the other submissions too. It's good to see what life's like back in the world.

I gotta think of a Lower 48 story. But in the meantime I hope some of the old timers decide to contribute as well.

Til then.

 

[sky37d]

Okay, You asked for it
A few years ago, I was dating the lady who is now my wife, and was taking flying lessons. Sometimes she would ride along during flight training. She had had some surgery a couple of years prior at a clinic in the middle of Michigan, near the town of Brooklyn. She needed to go there to get her records. I talked to my instructor, and the airport manager at the Brooklyn airport. The airport manager said he'd run us over to pick up the records. The day we were supposed to go, we couldn't. I called the airport manager, and re-scheduled with him. Day comes, (a Sunday) off we go. Brooklyn is a tiny airport, grass, just north of MIS (Michigan International Speedway). We landed, taxied over to the airport manager's house. No answer. No one around. We taxied up to the end of the runway, because it looked like a store was there. No store, it's an Moose lodge. I ask the bartender if we could use a phone to call a cab, she explains the closest cab is 15 miles away. A guy over hears us, asks what's wrong, and we explain. He hands us the keys to his brand new Dodge Ram Pickup truck. We drove over, got the records, refilled his tank, got back to the Moose thing, and he's there. Now his wife is there giving him a bunch of trouble, as is everyone in the place. We say good words about the good samaritan, buy a round for the house in his name, and headed back.
Nice folks.

 

[rumpletumbler]

Once upon a time I flew for a fractional in Kennesaw. I flew SIC Part 91 Citation flights and on some non SIC required Grand Rennaisance Commander flights. One day on a maintenance test flight the head "goober" who I'd never flown with before took me with him for said maintenance test flight. He was normally a Gulfstream boy (wow) but today he was being required to fly a slowtation. Because the trim had been worked on extensively I checked it pretty thoroughly during prefilght and said it looked fine. During the taxi he slammed the a/c from one side to the other and pointed at the fuel flow meters while the low fuel annunicators were lit. I explained his error and he was angry that his trick did not work. Shortly after takeoff he asked for some "forward assist" on the yoke. I pushed on the yoke and it was obvious the autopilot was engaged so I let go and just kind of rolled my eyes. He wrestled with it a minute an then declared everything ok. Never once did I tell him that I knew what was up and never once did he tell me what he had done. He was and is an idiot and is no longer ops manager for this company. Not a great story I know but maybe his dumb lard ass will read it one day and realize how stupid he looked.