Chapter 1

Alan:

The Pratt and Whitney missed a beat and Dad looked over at me and raised his eyebrow. Fortunately it settled down and seemed to be running smoothly so I just shrugged and smiled reassuringly.

The four of us, Dad, Mum, my sister Sue and myself, were flying over dense forest high in Alaska, heading for a camping and hunting holiday. My name is Alan Bain and I am a 26 year old with a degree in geology and a job to be envied. I do some oil and mineral surveying and some charter work, much as it suited me. I own a deHaviland Beaver Floatplane that is over thirty years old but that has been so completely rebuilt and overhauled that it is as good if not better than the day it left the factory. The 450HP Pratt & Whitney radial motor had only 25 hours on it since its last major rebuild and there was no way I was worried about it - the miss was probably caused by a drop of water in the fuel. I had become the proud owner of the plane courtesy of my grandfather, who had left substantial trust funds for both Sue and myself.

Sue was three years younger than me and was getting over a broken marriage that had lasted only 15 months - we all knew she was marrying an arsehole but she was immune to our warnings and was now quite fragile and vulnerable after her bad experiences. Unfortunately her arsehole ex had run off before I could get my hands on him, and all I could do was help to rebuild Sue's life. She had almost completed a law degree when she got involved and she now hoped to complete it when the new scholastic year commenced.

Dad was 51, owned three hardware shops and was almost retired. He had a manager who almost completely ran his business for him, allowing Dad and Mum to do just about whatever they fancied. Mum had just turned 49 and both of them were in 'real good nick' and didn't look or act their ages. They were both fit and active and enjoyed an outdoor life of sport and activities not commensurate with their ages.

We had enjoyed many camping holidays together over the years before Sue and I had left home and, to us, there was no better way to relax and enjoy life, than to get away from it all and live and play where it's stress free. We had often discussed a high country hunting and fishing trip, far from anywhere, and we were now finally embarking on it.

We all enjoyed fishing and each of us had brought along our favourite rod and equipment, and it looked as if it would turn out to be the usual family competition of fly rod versus thread line. Dad and I also enjoyed hunting and we had a couple of rifles and shotguns along. Mum and Sue didn't mind eating wild game but neither would kill it, so they used hunting cameras, getting as much, if not more pleasure from this than we did from shooting.

It was lucky that the Beaver was a six man plane as, with the only the four of us together with our gear, we were almost at it 550Kg payload limit. Three tents, sleeping bags, inflatable boat, clothing, food and kitchenware didn't leave a lot of room for a reasonable booze supply but we had managed to pack on board everything we thought we would need for an entertaining holiday far from every-one.

We had no exact idea on where we would go and had only advised our friends of the general vicinity that we intended to set up camp and advised them that we would contact them by radio every 5 days. I had also filed a flight plan along the same lines and confirmed to my charter manager that I would also contact him regularly as well.

There were many small lakes, and lots of secluded inlets and bays on larger lakes in the country that was unfolding below us and we finally spotted beautiful looking camping area beside a really nice looking beach and a quick vote decided that this was for us. I reduced power and lowered the flaps and headed down to check out the landing conditions. From high up the water looked settled and clear of obstructions and I did not anticipate having any problems in making a landing and driving the plane to shore for mooring.

I was just circling to line up for my landing run when the motor spluttered again and then cut out completely. Normally this would have been a bit of a problem, but I would have been able to glide long enough to set up for a safe if not copybook landing, but in this case I was so low and slow that my margin of error had disappeared and I had no choice but to splash her down and hope for the best. We hit the water no-where near where I had hoped to touch down but the plane seemed to be cutting through the rough water OK and I thought we were safe. Unfortunately, just as I was starting to relax a little, the offside pontoon suddenly hit a submerged log and, since we were still travelling relatively fast, ripped off and the plane nosed down on an extreme angle and we were all thrown violently forward against our seat belts.

When everything had quietened down, it turned out that we were in quite shallow water and in no danger of sinking. While the crash was sudden and extensively damaged the plane, it was not really violent enough to do much harm to the occupants, other than throw them hard enough into the restraint of the seat belts to cause major bruising. My enquiry got confirmation from Dad and Sue that they were all right but Mum made no reply and closer investigation showed that she was unconscious and bleeding from a small cut on her forehead. She had foolishly not been wearing her seat belt and I had stupidly not bothered to remind my passengers prior to commencing my landing run. It was obvious that Mum had been thrown forward and struck her head on the back of my seat and I hoped that she had not done any major damage to herself, There was a good first aid kit on board and, while I had received training in first aid, I did not really have the knowledge to carry out much more than basic care.

The plane had come to rest only a few feet off the shore and Dad and I gingerly climbed out and, after Sue had passed Mum down to us, we carried her to shore. Sue followed with a blanket and the first-aid kit and we taped up the small cut on her head and, after checking for other injuries, wrapped her up to keep warm. It seemed that somehow she had managed to twist her leg and seemed to have a major sprained ankle. It was certain that Mum would not be going far in the immediate future, even with the tight bandaging that we applied to support her leg and to help reduce the swelling.

Leaving Sue to keep an eye on Mum, Dad and I tied a rope round the tale of the plane and winched it to shore and tied it securely. We then emptied all the equipment from the plane and pitched the large tent and moved our patient into it. We lit a fire and made a pot of tea and sat around the fire and had a conference to decide our options. While the kettle was boiling I had clambered back into the plane to investigate the possibility of radioing for help. The radio seemed to be working OK but I could make no contact nor hear any traffic on air. It was as I had suspected, we were in the wrong place for any radio contact and a quick check of my cell phone showed that it would be no help either.