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Adventure Girl: The Flying Tigers
Author: Monica McCabe
Original Publication Date in Love Notes: December 2007 At
long last, spring arrived in King Salmon, Alaska. And with it came a drastic
dose of northern reality. Sitting a stone’s throw from the Arctic Circle, April
and May aren’t months of softly blowing breezes and frisky crocus or tulip bulbs
baring their splendor. Oh no, spring in Alaska is better known as 'Break-Up'.
Now, those of you at the top of the Lower 48 will know what I mean. But at
that point my experience with spring existed south of the Mason-Dixon Line.
Nothing had prepared me for the relentless sea of mud, broken ice, and gritty
slush that drenched the entire outdoors. The only upside of the big-thaw was the
fact that it heralded the onset of the fishing season and everyone looked
forward to the promised change in pace.
Once the last traces of snow finally disappeared, all 500 diversion-starved
residents hovered on the edge of anticipation. Fortunately for me that year,
excitement came early in the form of a Flying Tiger cargo plane enroute from
Japan to Anchorage. She was losing fuel fast and options for an emergency
landing were limited. King Salmon was it. This was big news.

Credit:
http://www.centennialofflight.gov/index.cfm
There was one small problem, however. The airport wasn’t built to handle a
plane the size of a 747. Air taxis, charters, bush pilots, and the occasional
mid-grade cargo plane, all ran the economical runway just fine. But a Flying
Tiger guzzled clearance faster than jet fuel, and King Salmon was in short
supply. A minor detail that didn't stop the distressed plane from landing.
That daredevil pilot dropped his wheels onto the concrete runway and slammed
every brake he had. Smoke billowed as rubber tires disintegrated and the plane
skidded to the very edge of doom, only to stop with her nose punched through a
chain-link fence used to keep the runway critter free. And that was just the
beginning of the adventure.
For three days the pilots stayed at the King Ko. New parts were flown in to
repair the tires, the fuel line, and the fence. They also needed a special piece
of equipment to turn the 747 around. And at one time or another, the entire town
of Naknek and King Salmon made it out to watch the progress. They discussed
every aspect of the plane’s features, grilled the pilots, and best of all, began
a betting pool on the likelihood of the plane clearing the runway when it came
time for take-off.
And that day finally arrived when a crack team of specialized pilots landed.
Now, word on the street about Flying Tiger pilots – they’re fearless. Their
cargo line was formed in 1945 by a group of returning WWII pilots and they
adopted their name from a renowned fighter unit. Their motto - Anything,
Anytime, Anywhere – made them the air cargo industry’s foremost carrier until
bought out by FedEx in 1989. And on that late spring day in Alaska, they proved
their reputation.
An enthusiastic crowd had gathered on the street in front of the King Ko and
last minute bets were soaring. You see, the Inn sat directly in the path at the
end of the runway. The odds of that 747 having enough concrete to get airborne
before taking out the Inn, well, let’s just say they weren’t in the Inn’s favor.
We were evacuated. Not that anybody was still inside. We were all out in the
street with the rest of the town, anticipating the train-wreck that was sure to
happen.
And when the plane’s engines fired to life, a ripple of excitement surged
through the crowd. Within minutes the engines were wound tight and screaming,
but the plane refused to move. The pilot had the brakes locked as he strained
the engines to a deafening fever-pitch. When he finally let go, that quivering
plane blasted into action and rocketed toward a sure-fire collision. The entire
crowd held their breath as she ate up the concrete.
Then a miracle happened. Just as the 747 ran out of runway her nose lifted.
The new wheels scarcely cleared the fence as the big plane hurtled over the top
of the Inn. Cheers and cat-calls erupted from the crowd as the Tiger shot
skyward with a mighty roar. We all watched in fascination and not one person
left the street until that plane vanished from sight.
But the party had just begun. Drinks were in order and many headed for the
still-intact King Ko lounge. The celebration that followed lasted well into the
night as bets were paid and stories rehashed. We toasted the expertise of the
pilots, the endurance of the Boeing 747, but mostly, we toasted the fact that
life had returned to that little corner of Alaska.
You see, that daring Flying Tiger did more than energize the town; it set the
tone for an eventful summer. Within days of the plane’s spectacular feat the
first fishing boats arrived in Bristol Bay and the population of King Salmon and
Naknek began its annual climb. The seemingly endless winter was over and the
days were swinging into action.
At long last, things were finally getting interesting.
Next article: Tundra, Whales & Beavers, Oh My!
***
Monica McCabe writes adventure columns for her website,
www.monicamccabe.net, and has
graciously allowed us to duplicate some of them here. Got a
request of an adventurous location? Contact her through her website and
let her know!
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