First of my Kind Read online

  After reading the message a second time, I was getting the uneasy feeling farm life may have been the way to go after all. The second message made me feel just like the weather blowing in from the mountains, what a bunch of crap! The job description had me shaking my head thinking unpleasant things about my decision to head for the great unknown. The job description entailed the following: Uncle Bill expects you to keep the runway clear and maintained at all times. He also expects you to keep all the hangers maintained along with any of the tractors, graders, snow cats and forklifts requiring maintenance. You will also do supervised maintenance on the aircraft when necessary. The backup generators must be maintained and in working order at all times. You are expected to help all pilots load and unload any cargo, baggage, or passengers as needed. You will occasionally man the radios, and satellite phones when necessary. Then the other boot dropped! In exchange for these services you will get free room and board in one of the heated hangers and $1500 a month starting wages. I was going to be a maintenance monkey, and a glorified gofer for the same wages I made on the farm. There was not one word about any guides looking for help. The living conditions were going to be a long elevator ride down from the cushy room and home cooked meals at my Grandparent’s house.

  Three days later, I was driving down progressively smaller two lane gravel roads until I came to a wide single lane logging road. The sign next to it said Seratook 93 miles and Kerney 166 miles. Karl assured me this was the most direct land route to Seratook. The dense heavily wooded forest on each side of the road and the occasional shallow water crossings got my adventurous spirit soaring again. At one point during my long uphill journey, the road narrowed to pass several very large boulders. I was beginning to think the rest of the trip was going to be on a goat trail. After about 500 yards, I came around a long sweeping bend. My narrow wooded view opened to a magnificent mountain valley. The clouds were a few hundred feet above me and cloud cover obscured the distant mountaintops completely. The breathtaking beauty marred only by the heavy power lines that snaked their way down into the valley. Karl told me when I was about 20 miles out I would be able to look down and see some of God’s best work. Now I knew exactly what he meant.

  I was about six miles down the road and slowly navigating a rather sharp switch back that would turn me back towards the valley. I had just straightened the wheel when I saw movement above the tree line in the distance. I quickly lost sight of whatever it was against the trees and mountainside below. I wrote it off as more of the amazing Alaskan wildlife I had witnessed on my trip towards Seratook. Then I saw a plane come from behind the mountain. I stopped the truck and got out to watch. It became apparent it was following the road up the mountain. I could hear it now as it came into my line of sight. I heard a change in the RPMs of the engine and saw it was flying directly towards me. When it was a quarter of a mile away, I could see it was the Puker. It had to be my best friend Karl. He was flying about 500 feet above the trees and was descending to make a very low pass. The 140 went flashing by at more than 100 knots. I could see my buddy wave and then pull the nose up until the airspeed bled off. He stood on the rudder, nosed the plane back down, and flew past me again waggling his wings. Karl came back, circled once, and then headed back down the valley towards Seratook. Seeing my friend again after more than a year made me smile. I took off driving a little faster than was sensible, but I made it to Seratook in one piece.

  2

  As I came into town I was greeted by a sign saying welcome to Seratook Alaska, population 169; I guess I just made it 170. The town consisted of a gravel road with a tavern at one end, and a general store at the other. On the main drag in between, side streets branched out in both directions. I saw 80 or 90 houses that ranged from relatively modern in appearance, to just plain run down shacks the further out you looked. The town folks I saw for the most part smiled and waved, but a few just stared at the big box trailer with Missouri plates. About 300 yards down the road stood my friend Karl. He was under a big drive through sign that said Larson’s Bush Service. I drove up to Karl with a straight face and said, “Who do I have to whip to get a decent job around here?” Karl just made a goofy face at me and said “everybody.” He plowed into the pile of trash in my front seat. We drove down to the main office to meet his Uncle Bill.

  Bill was not a spitting image of Karl’s dad, but you could definitely tell he was a Larson. He was the same height as Karl, with thick winter gray hair, and a deeply tanned weathered face from many hours in the pilot seat. His friendly smile and firm handshake immediately set me at ease.

  "Nathan," Bill said, "my brother and your granddad have been friends since before you came to live with them. Your granddad has spoken well about your work ethic. My brother was very impressed with your ability to operate and maintain all the equipment on your granddad’s farm. That is the reason I told Karl he could extend an invitation to you to come work for me. You can see we work hard to keep this place in good condition. That by itself is a full time job. Karl said he e-mailed you the job description and here you are so you know what I expect from you. If you meet my expectations after the first month and you can handle the job, by the second month. I’ll give you a raise that should keep you interested in staying around for the long haul. If things work out, we will get the room in the hanger more like a real apartment. My wife Callie runs the kitchen behind the office. She generally feeds all my employees and some of our clients. You’re a little late for lunch, but I’m sure that there is something to eat if you’re hungry. Karl will get you squared away because I am getting ready to fly supplies to one of the hunting camps. Two part-time pilots also work here. One of them is Will Wisener he’ll be back in about an hour in the Helio. He will need you to help unload supplies for the local store. My advice is to eat while you can and get to the flight line because your job starts now."

  My granddad told me the Larson’s were the sharpest business minded folks he knew. He also said they didn’t screw around when it came to making money. I was going to find out if my granddad knew what he was talking about. I hurried around behind the office and almost collided with Callie Larson as I rushed through the lunchroom door. She was petite and maybe 5 feet tall with shoulder length black hair that was starting to gray. She had a pretty face and dark brown eyes that I am sure came from native heritage. If she weighed 100 pounds, it would have surprised me. What did surprise me is when she reached out and hooked her arm in mine. She easily turned my tall 180 pound frame around to face her. She looked up at me and said with a big smile, “Unless there’s a bear behind you slow down and let me get a look at you.” I was quick to say, “I’m sorry ma’am, Mr. Larson told me to grab a bite and then get out to the flight line because supplies are coming.” When she let go of my arm she said, “That would be just Bill, unless you broke one of his favorite toys, and I’m just Callie all the time because I don’t care about Bill’s toys. So you are the Nathan Myers Karl yaks about all the time?” I smiled back at her and said, “yes ma’am; I mean Callie, me and Karl grew up together.” She hooked my arm again and steered me towards the dining room. She turned and said, “I’ll tell you what Nathan; you sit down at the table because I’ve got some ham left over from breakfast. I’ll put it on some bread for you. Later on this evening, you’ll get a proper meal when we serve supper at 6:00.” I thanked her again and sat down at one of the two long tables. I thought to myself, I sure hope I’m never on the receiving end of the can of whoop-ass that gal could probably dish out. A few minutes later Callie returned with a sandwich piled high with ham slices and a piece of cheese along with a can of soda. “Take your time eating,” she said. “Will won’t be back for at least another hour or so. He’s bucking a pretty stiff head wind on the other side of the mountains. I was just headed over to the office to give him a shout on the radio when we ran into each other.”

  I quickly finished my sandwich and soda and headed out the door. I saw Karl had pulled my truck and trailer down to the second big hanger of t
he four that lined the edge of the taxiway. As I walked towards the hanger, I looked up the hill at the big log cabin overlooking the whole compound. I wondered if Karl would trade his room at his uncle’s place for the luxury suite I had waiting for me in the hanger. Karl opened the back of my trailer, looked in at my collection of toys, and just laughed saying, “you sure don’t believe in traveling light, do you?” I just chuckled and said, “If we hurry we can get about half of this crap unloaded before I need to get to the flight line.” I was wrong. We were about a quarter of the way into the trailer, getting ready to unstrap my ATV. I started hearing the faint sound of an aircraft engine progressively getting louder. Karl said, “Come on I’ll show you how to unlock the warehouse where we keep the tractor and lowboy trailer.” When we got to the warehouse Karl unlocked the steel entry door. We walked by a large selection of pallets loaded with goods to another steel door that opened into the machine shed. Karl unlatched the big sliding door, pushed it open, climbed into the cab of a 4 wheel drive tractor, and told me to jump on the trailer.

  We drove out to a large tarmac at the end of the taxi way and watched a bright yellow Helio Super Courier fly over the distant tree line. As the Courier turned for final approach, Karl walked up close to me. "Will Wisener is a decent pilot but he can be what my Uncle calls abrasive. I just call him an asshole. I think he resents me being here because I guess he thinks I’m stealing his job. If he starts acting like a dick to you, don’t take it personal that’s just the way he is." I just nodded as the Helio taxied up and shut down. The pilots door of the plane opened as I walked up to the cargo door and before I could say a word Will Wisener jumps down and says, "oh great! I have two Missouri hicks to put up with." I just turned my head, rolled my eyes, and thought yep what a dick! I turned back and took in the short, curly haired man with the round face, and corny mop of a mustache. He looked to be in his late twenties, or early thirties. His fireplug physique said I love to eat but I’m fit. His dirty hat and coveralls said he worked for a living but was too lazy to do his laundry more than once every couple of weeks. The big oversized aviator sunglasses said I’m a dick with a capital D!

  I thought, what the hell, I’m going to have to work with this guy and stuck out my hand and said, “Hi I’m Nathan, pleased to meet you.” At first, he looked at my hand as if I was offering him a turd or something. I had just decided to pull it back when he reaches out, grabs my hand, and gives me what I guess he thought was a good hand crushing shake. All I can think is, Missouri farm girls can squeeze harder than that. So I gave him my best Missouri farm boy howdy. He had his high school ring on the hand I was currently trying to pulp. My bigger hand had the fingers on each side of his ring in a really good bind. I could tell by the way he jumped he was not expecting it as he tried to yank his hand away. I smiled and let go. Karl was trying not to bust a gut laughing because when we were young we did silly crap like that all the time. Wisener turned away and said, “You clowns start getting the plane unloaded I’ve got to go to the john.” Karl hollered after him, “I know you're going to sit in there until we’re done. You can forget about it if you think I’m going to fuel the Helio and park it in the hanger.” We heard him mumble something unrepeatable under his breath as he walked towards the office. Just as Karl predicted we unloaded the plane and Wisener was a no show.

  That night at supper I got to meet the other part time pilot, Tom Butler. He was in his mid-fifties and balding on top with a big bushy gray beard. To my relief he was the complete opposite of Wisener. He always had a smile on his face and was openly friendly to everyone. I instantly liked him because he reminded me of my granddad. He was always telling a humorous story or a bit of wisdom I’m sure came from knowledge or experience. Tom lived just outside of town and judging by his ample girth never missed one of Callie’s home cooked meals. Tom also supplied all the firewood that was the primary heat source for most all the buildings and hangers. Tom had piled eight or ten cords of wood on the flatbed trailer he pulled behind the big blue tractor that he drove for transportation. It was no mystery figuring out whose job it was going to be to unload the wood after dinner.

  The first month went by quickly. Because everything was in good shape when I got here, maintenance ended up being the easiest part of the job. The weather was starting to change, and we already had a couple of light snows. I spent an hour and a half each morning filling the huge fireboxes on all the wood stoves and emptying the large ash collectors before breakfast. After breakfast, I would meet Karl and help him preflight the aircraft that needed to fly that day. Then I was off to the runway on one of the tractors with a blade attached. I made sure it was clear of snow and any ice that may have formed overnight. After finishing the runway, it was off to maintain the small solar farm about 100 yards off the edge of the runway. This entailed making sure no critters were running around inside the fence and to make sure the panels were clear of snow or ice. At lunch, Bill made it a point to say I was doing a great job and to keep up the good work. When I got up to put my dishes away, I heard Wisener ask Bill when he could get some more time in the 208. The Caravan was Bills baby. Most of the time when he went somewhere in the 208, he took Karl with him if he was not scheduled to fly one of the routes. I know for a fact it severely pissed Wisener off, but he didn’t dare say anything to Bill about it. Wisener probably had enough hours in the 208 to be qualified to fly it, but for some reason Bill hadn’t cut him loose in it yet. I secretly thought it was because Callie overheard him being a real shithead to me because I forgot to put away the cargo straps in the back of the Helio. I saw Callie come around the corner and stop when she heard him yelling and cussing about it. I purposely did not say anything except sorry Will, which really caught him off guard. I usually gave him the stink eye and do not say a word.

  I finally met two of the three guides Karl had told me about. Both were native Alaskans that lived in the area all their lives. They smiled and said they might need some help some time but not at the moment. Karl burst my bubble when he told me they used members of their families for any help they might need. So much for my dreams of being a hunting guide! I met the last guide two weeks later. He happened to be a French Canadian immigrant. I had such a hard time deciphering his broken English, and couldn’t understand a word of the French he would switch to if he got excited. I usually ended up just smiling and nodding at him and say I am needed elsewhere.

  The second month rolled by and winter started setting in with a vengeance. Bill and Callie sat me down and told me how impressed they were with the way I have handled the job. They were going to give me a $1000 a month raise. They said next spring I would finally get my own personal indoor plumbing. I wasn’t the hunting guide I thought I would be by now but I did like working at the airport. The big boost in my income was awesome. When you add free meals along with room and board it makes working for the Larson’s a very respectable living. Indoor plumbing was going to be the icing on the cake. I currently took my showers and used the toilet in the office about a 100 yard walk from my hanger residence. In bathroom emergences, I had an outhouse behind the next hanger that was only a 40 yard walk to the tree line. Needless to say, it was miserable outside now that the temperature hovered around zero. One night just before turning in, my guts were protesting the second large helping of Callie’s elk steak and potatoes. I threw my coat on over my long johns, pulled on my rubber boots, and started out for the office. I had not taken 10 steps and my guts said, outhouse or else! I turned around and headed for the outhouse, trudging through 10 inches of recent snow hoping not to have any more arguments with my innards.

  With my business done, my posterior frozen, I stepped out of the outhouse. The biggest wolf I had ever seen greeted me, and I had seen a few in the two months I had been working at the airport. I stopped in my tracks and let out a yell I thought would scare him off. Nothing doing, he gave me a huffing bark and a low growl that raised goose bumps on me you could not mow down with Bill’s brush hog. I knew it was time to back up,
and besides, I suddenly had an urgent need to use the outhouse again, anyway. I took the six or so steps backwards to the outhouse thinking it would not be smart to give him my back. I felt the door behind me as the wolf dropped his front shoulders into a stance that let me know he was getting ready to do some wolf stuff I’m pretty sure Red Riding Hood bitched about in her storybook. I jerked the door open and fell back on the crapper seat holding the door closed by the little screen door hook that passed for the privacy lock. It was six below zero and I could feel a trickle of sweat running down my neck. This was not good! It was late and nobody would come looking for me. I swore if I lived through this, I would never be caught again without some way of protecting myself. About 150 feet away locked in my safe was all the protection I ever needed, and right now I would have traded it all for a big sharp stick. My hand was numb from holding the door catch. The sub-zero temperatures where finally letting me know that long johns and a coat were not the preferred late evening attire. I quickly switched hands on the latch and pulled my hood on tight with the strings. I stuck my semi-frozen hand into my pocket in hopes of thawing it enough to be able to change hands again. I knew every single item in the outhouse because I put it there. As far as I knew, no one else used it. I had a large smelly candle, a box of kitchen matches, two rolls of cheap toilet paper, a year old hunting magazine and a five gallon plastic bucket half full of lime with a sand box shovel in it. None of these items had wolf-away stamped on them.