Home Sweet Home

My Big Backyard



The Bush Plane



A view of the cockpit


After a month and a half of living out of a suitcase, I’m finally home. My stomach turned yesterday afternoon as we left Dillingham, knowing full well that it would be the last time I would be able to get the necessities of life with little consequence.

We were shuttled to the airport in a big blue van that pulled directly up to the plane. No security, no tickets, no checkpoints, nothing. It was a $60.00 per person “taxi” ride, which we paid upon arrival into Manokotak. No tip expected or even accepted. I asked.

Bouter, our pilot, and "the best pilot around" (only gone down once) met us on the runway. He was all business...wearing old tennis shoes, sweat pants that hung a quarter of the way down his full moon, and a dirty t-shirt. He hurried us into the plane calling out orders while unloading each item from our box of food into the front compartment of the plane. I didn’t ask questions as he ranted about the “idiots” at the grocery store who put the food into a box that was too big. Cans of tomatoes, noodles and dried milk were all flung into the small compartment. Once we were loaded (or overloaded), all six of us, including Bouter piled in. As we speed down the runway, Bouter yelled back, “Everybody know the safety procedure?” “No,” I yelled from behind. “Follow me!” he cackled. And we were out.