Commuter . . .

Cessna 207 - Heading to Work

Cessna 207 Ceiling Falling In.

When I interviewed for my current job, I was asked by a panel about my comfort level flying in small planes. I answered in the affirmative. Truth is I prefer a small aircraft to a jet. ​

My family and I lived in an Aleut village in Prince William Sound back in the 80s. For the three years we fished and shrimped out of the area, each winter the pastor of our church flew my four littles and I to Cordova in his Cessna Skyhawk 172. My kiddos and I’d spend a week enjoying the hospitality of our pastor and his wife and the amenities of ‘town’ life. Then we’d all scrunch back into the 172 and fly home to Tatitlek.
​
I like the altitudes a Cessna flies and the views from that vantage point and the cozy feel of the craft as it soars through the sky. It is exhilarating to fly through the mountains; if I were able to open a window, I am sure I could reach out and touch their peaks as we pass by.

To get to work, if all goes according to itinerary, my commute to the Cape is a two day venture. On day one I settle into a Cessna Grand Caravan that flies me from home to my launch destination. The following day I board a Boeing 737-800 that drops me off on Alaska’s west coast where a small charter plane then takes me further down the coast. These charter planes vary according to cargo and passenger count.

A few weeks ago, the Charter company assigned a Cessna 207 for transport as I was the sole occupant and the only cargo was my small suitcase. I blithely walked out onto the apron with the pilot toward the plane. But when he opened the door for me, I hesitated! Inside the cabin strips of polyken 290FR and what looked to me like duct tape covered the inside.

The ceiling was falling in, seams were unraveling, molding was broken and missing in places, adhesive barely held the polyken and duct tape in place and the walls and cabin door were scarred and dented. My first thought at witnessing such neglect was that, “I hope the condition of the interior is not a reflection of what is transpiring with the mechanical features of this ominous looking commuter?”

 The pilot, who warned we may fly into rough air, took off into marginal winds. I sat next to the pilot and settled into prayer mode. On several occasions, the pilot flew off course in search of caribou; we saw two different herds along the way. 

I fly multiple times a year. One flight I may sit in first class where I’m pampered and served refreshments before the plane even taxis down the runway. And at other times, I’m bundled in winter gear and walk through a cold warehouse and across an apron in freezing weather where I climb into a small, beat-up commuter that bounces me through the sky. Each flight is a thrill in its own right and each flight always lands me safely at every destination whether I’m in comfort or in less than favorable conditions.

So, here is to the adventures of life that stimulate and grow us and sometimes scare the bejabbers out of us.