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boarding. However, on this trip, not knowing how successful our passengers were going to be, we stopped by a fish wholesaler located in an industrial area near the airport to buy an assort- ment of the local catch, all of course packed with ice in a fish box.
The flight up to Alaska two days before was interesting. Our departure airport just north of Seattle, had 1-2 miles visibility with an indefinite ceiling due to smoke and haze from an epi- demic of forest fires that extended from British Columbia down to Oregon. From FL400 on the east side of Vancouver Island, we could just barely see into the fjords and valleys due to the amount of smoke. In addition, the GPS units (on a Lear 40, there are two separate systems) kept intermittently displaying a loss of satellite signal. And the two units were not doing this simul- taneously; one would show a yellow MSG sign about the loss of GPS, then later would go off and the other side on. This mild irritation continued as we descended over the Sisters Island VOR (SSR) which is the initial approach fix for the RNAV approach to Runway 08 at JNU. This was a problem because JNU was reporting 1,800 overcast with 2-mile visibility in light rain and fog, which are the minimums for the approach, and it obviously requires a good GPS signal.
After some discussion, we decided to set up the panel on the right side with the LDA approach, with its green needles as a backup, while keeping the GPS approach on the left. The problem with this is that the LDA minimums are a 3,200-foot ceiling and 4-mile visibility, meaning if the GPS went out on the approach, it would probably be an automatic go around. To cover our bets, even though it was just 1 o’clock in the afternoon, we asked the tower to turn their approach lights up high. JNU has an unusual situation in that because of mountains out to the north and east, the final approach course heading is 070, while the runway is 080, a 10-degree offset to the right. Fortunately, whatever was causing the GPS to go offline, held off during the approach and just as well, because we did not see the approach lights we asked for until the altimeter hit exactly 1,800 feet.
Now ready for the return flight, we have been lingering around the FBO for a couple of hours, while our passengers text us from their cell phones asking about the location of the float
plane. We inform them that between the layers of fog rolling in, we can see the float plane pond from the FBO and that there are a whole flock of Beavers still tied up to the dock. It does not look too hopeful. Finally, the fog lifts to barely VFR and we hear the characteristic radial engine sounds as those airplanes hastily depart to pick up their isolated passengers. We text our people that transport is on the way, and not too worry if they are late, because the Lear will not leave until they are ready. They reply that is a good thing, but other guests out at the lodge are now going to miss their scheduled Alaska Airlines departure.
Lunch time arrives with still no Beavers in sight, so we drive to a bakery near the airport well known to flight crews, grab a bite to eat and return with a large bag of fresh apple strudel. We stash it in the passenger compartment of the airplane, while also making sure the coffee container is filled and fitted into its slot. Finally, our passengers appear in the van operated by the float plane company. They have not shaved since we last saw them and are wet from standing on the dock in the rain, looking thoroughly miserable. It is clear they are anxious to get home. The van disgorges a stack of fish boxes near the airplane, and while the line crew loads them into the crowded baggage compartment, we all work to stuff the personal luggage into the cabin. When we are done, we hurriedly close the door, and get the airplane started.
While all this has been going on, the rain has increased and the fog returned, reducing visibility down to less than half-mile, with indefinite ceiling and a 6-knot wind from the east. We
30 • TWIN & TURBINE
November 2018