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A Wilderness OrdealIntroduction free porn video
Alaska is a popular destination for vacationers. Tourists, hunters, fishermen, backpackers, white water enthusiasts, and other eco-tourists visit the 49th state every year. North of Anchorage, the largest city, and to the north and west of Fairbanks, lie vast areas that are mostly unexplored and uninhabited by man. It is a harsh unforgiving land far from the comforts of civilized life we have evolved into. It is beautiful country, and a well-educated outdoorsman can do well there. By doing well, if he has a commercial pilot's license, the necessary ratings and permits, and a reliable plane equipped to fly sportsmen and women around the state; he can make a decent living during the summer months. Of course it is dangerous work. Some have called it the third most dangerous job in Alaska!
Griffin Walker was a former A-1D Skyraider pilot with the Air Force in Viet Nam. He knew about dangerous work, as the A-1D was used for Close Air Support and as escorts for the Jolly Green Giant helicopters sent to rescue downed fliers. When the war ended, Gary came home to find a country that had no appreciation for the military, and the men who served their country.
He found work with Northwest Airlines, then Delta Airlines as a commuter pilot flying the twin-engine prop planes that shuttled passengers to and from the bigger airports. Eventually a career change brought him to Seattle where he was a co-pilot on an Alaska Airlines 727 that flew from SeaTac to Anchorage International on a shared American Airlines route from Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport.
It was after one of these flights in mid September that he met Rudy Smith in the Airport lounge. Rudy had also been in the Air Force, but as an aircraft mechanic. After getting his private then commercial pilot's licenses, he flew in the winter for Ryan Air on their flights from Anchorage to the outlying villages of King Salmon, Bethel, and Unalakleet on the Bering Sea. In the warmer months Rudy had flown for one or the other of the many fishing lodges that dot remote Alaska. He flew a DeHavilland Beaver of World War Two vintage, a Cessna 185 on floats, and a Piper Super Cub for landing on the volcanic soil or on the tundra.
Rudy had come to meet the Ryan Personnel representative to arrange his schedule for the next six months. That having been accomplished, he decided it was time for a brew, and headed for the Pilots Lounge. Sitting on the corner across from Griffin, they were half watching a delayed play of a Rams football game, and the bartender muted the sound for a phone call. Rudy asked Griffin, "You do any fishing?"
Griffin said, "Nowhere as much as I'd like to."
Rudy asked him. "You are a pilot right?"
Then Rudy explained how he had to fly back into some nameless river slough off of the main Yukon and replace a prop on his Cessna 185, and fly it out before the ice came. To do this, he needed another pilot. Griffin had a three-day layover between flights, and he kept most of his fishing gear in the apartment shared with six other Alaska Air pilots in Anchorage. Rudy told Griffin of the monstrous Pike they caught there, and he was welcome to fish while Rudy changed the prop. Griffin told him that wasn't fair, and that he would help with the prop and they could both fish.
Thus started a friendship, and business partnership that lasted beyond that fateful journey two years later. Grif, as he preferred to be called, would fly for Rudy during the summer, ferrying tourists in and round and back out of the backcountry. Sometimes they served as guides after Rudy helped Grif get his license for that. They had a lot in common, and became very good friends.
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