Farewell Lake -- Part II (Read Part I first...)

I'm not sure which pass we entered to cross through the mountains. When I asked the pilot just how far we were going, his response was a vague, "Oh, we're going a long way...". Hmmm. I took another Dramamine just before we lifted off.

As we entered the mountains, we had to increase our altitude to about 5300'. And once in the mountains, we encountered a few pockets of turbulence (which in a single engine plane can make you feel like you're holding the tail of a kite). The combination of turbulence and higher altitude started playing a number on my motion sickness tendencies.

After being in the air for almost 2 hours, we arrived over the Remote Recreation Cabin Staking area we were supposed to be observing.

The headset I was wearing was not wired for sound. So I could not communicate with the pilot or my colleague. But they could communicate between themselves.

We circled the staking area several times. I could tell the pilot was sizing up the larger of the lakes nearby to determine landing feasibility. The lake is named Stony Lake... and you could see why from 2000' up in the air. It also appeared pretty shallow. I was not surprised when the pilot pulled away and started heading further north. My colleague had snapped some photos and we were apparently just going to head back to Anchorage. Back through those lovely, turbulent mountains.

Panic.

I tapped them on the shoulder and, using sign language, asked if we intended to land. No. Not possible on that lake.

I indicated that I was feeling only so-so as opposed to my repeated thumbs-up earlier in the flight. We flew on. We apparently weren't going to return via the route we had come. But we'd still need to follow some pass through the mountains. There was no way around that short of flying up past McKinley and around to Fairbanks. Sorry... not nearly enough gas for that!

After about another 15 minutes we started into a pass through the mountains. More panic. I again tapped them on the shoulder. I motioned a strong need to land... right now.

We circled back out of the pass, looking at the map to locate a suitable lake. There are surprisingly few lakes of suitable size in that area on which to land a floatplane. You'd think in a state with 3 million lakes, you could certainly find one where you needed one to be!

Enter into view -- Farewell Lake.

By the time we landed, my arms, hands, and fingers were in a state of complete dead-weight. Like they were asleep and starting to contort (hands & fingers) into strange positions. My torso around my rib-cage also had this sensation of constricted numbness. I've never experienced anything like it.

We dropped down onto Farewell Lake and made our way to one end where the map indicated a lodge existed. We found a girl named Julie from Wisconsin who was the lodge caretaker. She was the only human around, probably for miles... No roads lead there, only floatplanes, except in the winter when the Iditarod passes within a mile of the lodge.

The second the plane touched down, I had my colleague open the side door and was relieved to feel the rush of fresh, ground-level air flow past me.

We rested with Julie for an hour. And we discussed our options for getting back over the mountains. Thankfully, we decided on a quicker route through what would hopefully be a less turbulent pass.

I reboarded the plane and we bid adieu to Farewell Lake at about 4pm. The return flight was indeed shorter and somewhat smoother. But my body was already primed to be ill. So I went through the whole body numbing queasiness again on the way back through the mountains.

The pilot had instructed me to find a place on the horizon and focus on it. I picked a distant mountain peak and glued my eyes on it until it moved from view. Then I picked another one and kept up with the process until my eyes burned with exhaustion.

We ended up touching down on Willow Lake briefly so the pilot could gas up before shuttling us to Lake Hood in Anchorage.

The last leg of the flight was not bad at all as it was very flat, low altitude, and a pretty short hop. Nonetheless, I was never so happy to get off a plane. (Well, except that one TWA flight back in 1992, but that's a whole other story...)

If you're in the area, pop in to the Farewell Lake Lodge and give my regards to Julie. Her hospitality was much appreciated -- but I'm not sure I could stomach a return visit to her pretty lake.