This week, for some reason, as I was going through Part Two of the latest chapter to my book sequel, I stopped and really thought about my years in Alaska. I moved there in 1981 to take a flying job, my first experience with passenger jets, and didn’t move out of Alaska until five years after that flying job had terminated due to the airline going out of business. That was Wien Air Alaska, which operated B-727’s, B-737’s and a couple of DC-8’s during my time there as a pilot. It started with Noel Wien, a bush pilot, in 1927 and grew into Alaska’s premier airline. At the time of its demise, it was the oldest airline in the world, as far as I know. What a blow that was to the people of Alaska and to me as well in a very personal way. Many members of the Wien family flew for the airline, and I’m still in contact with a few of them from time to time, including Merrill Wien (one of Noel’s sons) and his son Kurt, who now flies for American. Flying with Captain Merrill Wien was one of the highlights of my career at Wien Air Alaska. He was (and is) a gentleman, as smooth a pilot as I’ve ever known, and a part of aviation history. His son, Kurt, and his wife had a baby girl awhile back and they named her “Meryl.” The name is of course for Kurt’s father, Merrill, but I was told the spelling was with my own name in mind.

Although I was initially based in Denver with United, and later in San Francisco, I could just not bear to part with this wild, wonderful and beautiful state when I was first hired by United. So I commuted, as so many pilots and flight attendants do, for more than five years after I was hired.

A few years after I started to fly for United, I was in Anchorage on some days off. I was in the living room of a friend’s home and standing at a large picture window. Suddenly, I saw a large cloud of gray/black smoke materialize in the distance. It looked like a nuclear bomb had been dropped. I turned on the news and discovered it was Mount Redoubt, about 150 miles from Anchorage. Unbeknownst to me until then, Mount Redoubt was a volcano and it was erupting.

I had flown right by this volcano for months during times of furlough (there were many) at Wien. I had been hired as the Chief Pilot for the Nondalton Indian Tribe and their new air taxi service (about which I wrote a little in my first book, The World At My Feet). In fact, I passed Mount Redoubt almost daily on my flights back and forth to Anchorage. Often there was a cloud near the top, but there are often little clouds around mountains and I thought nothing of it. That was no cloud but rather steam from an angry, boiling interior I never suspected looking at its serene, snow-capped exterior.

As I watched the cloud of volcanic ash grow and grow and start to spread, I didn’t think about anything but the fact that I had never seen a volcano erupt before, and had never thought I would (other than one on the Big Island of Hawaii). However, as the cloud quickly blew toward Anchorage, I knew I had a problem. Flights into and out of Anchorage were quickly being cancelled and it was already too late to get out. I was stuck behind this wall of volcanic ash for the next week or so. I called United and surprisingly, their attitude was that it wasn’t my fault a volcano had erupted. They were very laid back about it and told me to just let them know whenever I made it back.

KLM Royal Dutch Airlines also knew it had a problem. One of their B-747’s, inbound to Anchorage, had experienced engine failure in all four of its engines in the volcanic ash cloud. Fortunately, just above 13,000 feet, the crew successfully restarted all the engines, but not before $80 Million of damage had been done to the plane. I was one of several pilots invited to Anchorage International Airport afterward to view the damage and learn from it. The whole airplane looked like it had been sandblasted, which basically it was. What a terrifying freefall for all on board in mountainous territory. You can read more about it here: http://pubs.usgs.gov/fs/fs030-97 . Volcanic ash avoidance by aircraft has been vastly improved since this and other incidents.

Living in Alaska was always interesting, to say the least. I’ll write a little more about it in the coming weeks. In the meantime, you’ll find Part Two of Keep Your Pants On, Please! here along with all previous installments Table Of Contents.