Last day in the widerness, our float plane is due to arrive at 2pm to take us back to Kotzebue.  The prospect of leaving is bittersweet.  I'm excited for other opportunities, and a hot shower, but I love it out here.

We decided to get up a little early, get packed up and ready early, and then try to have a last little hike around, not going too far so we could race back if our plane came a little early again.  So, up at 8am, we packed a few things and brought a first load down to the lake.  Headed back inland I headed to the kitchen for breakfast while Tyler went for another load first.  While at the tents he decided to do the morning check-in early, and a good thing!  The dispatcher said "it looks like you guys are headed out so we'll talk to you again."  Tyler responded with "yep, at 2pm."  The dispatcher came back with "uh...about that.  You're going to be pulled out a little early.  There's some weather moving in, so we have a message to let you know your plane will be there at oh-nine-thirty."  Tyler said "9:30, like in an hour 9:30?"  He came straight down to let me know and the scramble began.  We threw stuff together, not worrying as much about organization.  Since we know who our pilot is and know he tends to be a little early so we can leave at the arranged time, we figured we had maybe 30 minutes.  We made it, had things packed up well enough just after 9am with time for a handful of trail mix, some exploring along the mucky shoreline, and a few last photographs.  As we waited the rain began.

We heard our plane coming just after 9:30 and watched him fly north, then circle back to land.  We got loaded up very quickly this time, we know what we have and how to fit it in the plane's storage areas.  Our pilot told us he was concerned that if he didn't get in to pluck us out early this morning, we'd have spent a long weekend out there before they could get back in for us.  We have plenty of food, but it would have been a little boring to stay in wet tents for days.  As we climbed in the rain was steady, though light.  Armed again with several plastic bags for potential air sickness, we took off for our  hour and a quarter to hour and a half flight back to Kotzebue.  It was great to see the land from the air after having learned it so well from the ground.  We flew south along the Nimiuktuk to the Noatak, west along the Noatak a little ways, then we cut south along a creek to the Omar River, west across the North Fork and Squirrel rivers, then over Hotham Inlet to Kotzebue.  The low clouds kept us along the rivers and creeks with fantastic landscapes below.  Wish I could have captured it accurately on camera, but the rain, windows, and airplane body were all in the way.

It's fun listening to the pilot chat with air traffic control as we come to town.  The layout of the airport is fascinating; it's right next to town (easy walking distance) with the road south from town crossing the runway twice.  We flew right over the runway to land on the south lagoon, definitely an unusual thing.  After taxiing to shore, we waded in and got gear unloaded.  The water level is high today, due to the incoming storms, so care was taken not to pull the plane so close it would be stranded when the water goes down again.  There was a park truck waiting for us with a welcome home note.  We brought a bunch of gear back to the storage rooms right away, then went to Tyler's house to unpack food, clothes, and other gear.  Another trip to storage had us largely cleaned up, though we left some things out to dry.

Showers were marvelous, of course, as were the Old Fashioneds I made that evening.  Dinner was stroganoff made with caribou, a staple food up here that I'll talk about more in another post.  Tyler's awesome girlfriend recorded the Olympics for us so we watched some of that before crashing for the night.

It feels strange to be around people, roads, and loud machines.  The smells of civilization: laundry detergent, soap, etc. are overwhelming, as always happens after some time away from such things.  We get so desensitized to smells.  I loved these past eight days and would do it again in a heartbeat.  I wish that someone would come tomorrow and say "hey, we'd like you to head back out but to this other area.  We need photos and reports of plants and wildlife."  If I weren't working as a full time artist, I would love being a ranger.  I would still need something that gets me out to these places.

I hope you've enjoyed the stories and photos.  I hope to manage time for an interactive sort of experience to give these images more depth and context.  Even the park rangers here rarely, if ever, get out into the back country.  The main visitors are subsistence hunters; the general public rarely visits these parks.  Tyler has great stories about people and organizations such as National Geographic calling to ask questions and plan a trip.  They are confused by the lack of roads, and even more confused that the visitor center for these three National Park Service units is located so far from any of the parks.  There are no roads, and travel by boat and plane is limited, expensive, and challenging.  The artist-in-residence program allows artists an inside look into these amazing landscapes and the chance to interpret their experiences for the public, to construct a window into this vast unknown.

Mostly packed and ready for our flight with the float plane uniform: hip waders and aviation survival vests.

Gear ready, just the tents to come down.  It feels like taking down my home.  I'm not sure I'm ready.

Gear assembled, ready to explore until the plane arrives.

A close look at the snail shells littering the mud between the grasses.

The south shore of the lake.

Looking north, one last time.

First glimpse.

Flying overhead.

Losing altitude

Turning to come land.

Almost...

Landed.

All these float plane pics are for my kids.  Redundant to the rest of you, I know!

Pulling in.

Starting to load, time to put the camera away and go help haul gear, assembly line fashion.

Instrument panel.  I now know where the ELT is and which nobs to push or pull if something happens to the pilot, for two different planes.

A last look at our shoreline.

Starting to move.

Almost lift-off.

Airborn, looking at the Nimiuktuk, west of camp where we hiked a couple days ago.  The colors in the tundra from this distance are really lovely.

Mouth of the Nimi, entrance to the Grand Canyon of the Noatak, which we will not have good views of today with all these low clouds.

Flying along the Noatak.

Lots of tundra.

I'm not positive I know which waterway this is, so I won't label it yet.

Same for this.  Maybe the Omar?  But likely the one I can't recall the name of now.  I don't have a map here and the internet is failing me, so I'll have to look it up later.

I don't have images to show it, but this stretch had incredible, bald, super colorful mountains that were breathtaking. I want to go here!

Coming up on the North Fork.

The North Fork.

The Squirrel River.

The Squirrel.

Cutting west to Hotham Inlet.

The colors, the clouds, it was magical.  Wish the photos were able to even begin to do it justice.

More and more lakes as we get closer to the inlet.

Mouth of a couple rivers/creeks into the inlet.

More lakes and creeks.

Distant view of Kotzebue, in the center.  Chukchi Sea and Arctic Ocean beyond.

I already forgot the name of this little spit at the top of the peninsula that Kotzebue is on.  I'll update later.

Pretty much all of town.

Flying over.

Crossing the airport runway.

Unloaded and securing the plane.

Our pilot.  I'd happily fly with him again.  Smooth and steady, and turns on the vents so you get some fresh air!