My good friend Chris Miller posted Brian and Brandon’s slideshow to http://www.vimeo.com/2861913. With all that has been going on, I haven’t personally watched it yet, but it should look pretty good. I will try to embed this in the blog soon. I also need to burn it to a few more DVD’s for people – I have a list going. I’ll add a link for a 1 GB download here soon too…
Starting early on Friday August 8th, 2008, I visited Brandon at his office to use the printer, and he surprised me by suggesting and subsequently arranging a camping trip for my father and us to South Young’s Lake Cabin that evening. We coordinated with my dad, and divided the tasks necessary to arrange the trip. I went grocery shopping and laid out the gear we needed to take, getting ready for when Brandon and Brian finished work that day. The trip was meant to be both recreational and celebratory – a last outing before I moved to Anchorage for my new job as an Environmental Program Specialist III with the State of Alaska.
Because of the weight of persons, dogs, and gear going, we had to take two flights to the lake. I was on the first flight, with some camping equipment, and my dog Zeke. That flight was pleasant, and the weather hinted at an enjoyable evening. I unloaded the gear on the beach, and Brian turned around to go pick up Chief (his dog), the remaining items, and Brandon.
I entered the cabin, and noticed quite a bit of trash left over from previous campers. I sacked it up in a black plastic bag, and then laid out our gear and claimed my bunk. I started a fire to ward off insects and to burn some of the trash I’d collected. I arranged the area around the fire pit with rounds to sit on, etc. I noticed there wasn’t much wood left, which normally the Forest Service provides, and I found out later that the cabin was to be renovated and have an oil stove installed.
Brian and Brandon pulled up just after I got the fire going; they tied up the plane to the beach, unloaded the rest of the gear, and began to settle in. While they were doing this, I sat out on the porch eating a bag of peanuts, and watching Zeke and Chief fetch dummies in the lake. I tried to read my book. (Cheekily, I was 850 pages into Tom Clancy’s The Bear and The Dragon and now I doubt I’ll finish it).
We cooked some steaks, potatoes, and made a salad. I had some scotch and wine with dinner. The cabin smelled of butter, ground peppercorn, and soggy dogs by the fire. The cabin was warm, and warmly lit, with a cordial conversation about how good the food tasted, and, “who went grocery shopping anyway?”
Afterwards, the fire outside was burning pretty well and we all decided to sit around it. My dad and I talked about our upcoming trip – we were supposed to travel up the Alcan that Monday and then search for apartments in Anchorage for a couple of days. We had an after dinner drink, and my dad claimed that “it doesn’t get any better than this,” meaning camping in pristine S.E. Alaska with his two sons. He allowed himself to confess that he missed my mom who was visiting my sister in California that weekend and that he hoped I knew how much he loved her. I remember asking my dad when he got his first airplane, because at 28 years of age I was starting to feel a little behind the curve. He said age 30. It started to get dark and rain pretty heavily, which is what Brandon claimed it would do; followed by fog the next morning, clearing in the afternoon. We didn’t care, the fire was hot and it countermanded the cooling rain.
The next morning, we woke up early, about 6 o’clock, and had a simple but enjoyable breakfast of oatmeal, sausage, and coffee. Brandon and I went out to the boat (that stays at the cabin) and we put our little outboard 5 horse on it. We fished from about 7:00 to 10:00, catching a few little cutthroats, but not much else. A heavy layer of fog sat over the lake all morning, as Brandon said it would. My dad cleaned his floats and washed his plane. At one point, Brandon and I had circled around close enough to the cabin that Zeke thought he could come out and join us in the boat, so he chased us down the shoreline as we motored by, and then he swam out to where we were in the lake. Of course, when he got to us he couldn’t climb in, and Brandon and I nearly both got wet. We decided to pick Zeke up at the nearest shore – the whole ordeal was pretty funny.
When the fishing didn’t seem like it was going to pay any dividends, we went back to the cabin and I took a nap for about an hour. Brian and Brandon followed suit, both getting an extra hour or so. By about 1:00 PM, the exit drill began. The pilots, both Brian and Brandon, checked the weather about every 15 minutes to see how much it was clearing off. They motored out into the lake a couple of times with the boat, and once with the airplane to see if they could get a weather report by radio signal (although I think this was unsuccessful). I played a game of cribbage with Brandon and we discussed how our lives were going in general. Brandon said that he’d been able to put away about $10,000 despite a recent refinancing of his house, but he didn’t say how he planned to use it.
At 3:00 p.m. we made the decision to fly back to Juneau. At the time it seemed like a risk because we’d been checking weather all day and this was the first time it looked like we had a chance to get out of the lake without the fog being a problem. It was also unknown what weather lay beyond our visual range, so my father decided to load us all into the plane, including dogs. He asserted that “There’s something about being all together.” We taxied to the inlet of the lake and took off to the North. The plane was heavy but we cleared the trees and as soon as we gained a little altitude I could see that the weather was not going to be a significant concern across Stephens Passage. Thinking back on it, the weather didn’t seem that bad to me. As we began across the water towards the backside of Douglas the cargo door popped open for some odd reason and I had to hold both dogs to make sure that they didn’t poke their noses out for fresh air. I couldn’t shut the door from the inside, so I couldn’t really pay much attention to the rest of the voyage. I do remember thinking however, how ironic it was that Brandon was wearing a T-shirt that said 1-800-SKYDIVE on it. When we got into Juneau, Brandon gave my dad a hard time for flying into a cloud on approach. It was indeed the worst visibility of anywhere on the 20 minute flight, although the lake was closed (with clouds) behind us on takeoff. Brandon checked the cargo door at the dock and said it was working properly. I unloaded with the dogs (and took a gun and some emergency equipment off as well, thinking that they would have plenty of gear to load once they got back to the cabin. In hindsight I wished they would’ve had these items, however, it probably doesn’t matter that much as they made it back to the cabin and retrieved quite a bit of camping equipment anyway). I asked them sincerely, “You’re going back out?” And they both replied yes concurring on each other’s judgment.
As my dad and my brother departed from Juneau both seemed confident in their ability as pilots and cautious regarding the weather. I believe that both desired to return to Juneau that night (especially my dad) and that both knew that they would have to play-it-by-ear on the round trip to the lake and back. Further, I know that they left Juneau on visual flight rules and that the plane would have been much lighter both ways on this trip.
I dropped off the dogs at home and drove back to the airport to pick up my brother and my father. I expected to pick them up about 4:30. They hadn’t returned by 6:00, and by 7:00 I filed a notice with the FAA. I told them they were 2½ hours overdue, however, at this time, I expected them to be sitting in the lake under the weather. The FAA checked the radio traffic and other potential signals and contacted the Coast Guard who began the extensive search effort all the readers of this blog know about.
Many people loved them, but now, more than ever, I simply miss their presence deeply and continue to love both my brother and my dad. — BJ
