Tara took in the rolling hills and streams leading from Fairbanks into the wilds of the Interior. The endless landscape displayed contrasting shades of velvety, green forest and gray, glacial-scoured rivers winding through faraway valleys. Yup, Alaska was a show-off, all right.
She let out a long breath after the effortless takeoff as they floated higher.
Ryan ascended to cruising altitude and powered back the engine to a smooth, steady hum. Once she became accustomed to the sparkling waters and endless black spruce moving below her, she calmed. She caught his occasional glance. His surety and relaxed manner slowed her pulse and settled her nerves.
The late, afternoon skies had cleared, leaving few scattered clouds. Her breath caught as the majestic, blue-and-white Alaska Range rose into view.
Ryan banked the Cessna to the left, heading south. “Alaska has thirty-nine mountain ranges and seventeen of the twenty highest peaks in the U.S. You’ve heard the cliché that everything’s bigger in Texas, right? It’s five times that up here. Pisses off Texas.” He gave her a lopsided grin.
She acknowledged with a smile and peered down to see how tree spires would look like a bed of upside-down nails to a smokejumper. “I don’t know how you jump into this stuff.”
“Very carefully.” He lifted his water bottle and took a sip. “Help me out. Watch for planes and helicopters. Lots of air traffic this time of year.”
“I’m all over it.” Scanning airspace made her feel useful. No aircraft would pose danger on her watch, by God.
Hills morphed to mountains separated by glinting rivers. The timberline reached as high as it dared. Slate-gray granite formed saw-toothed spikes, ready to spear even a Cessna. Endless, snow-capped mountains rolled all the way to the horizon line.
“This is unbelievable. Will we circle Denali?”
He scanned his airspace. “No, but you’ll be close to her when we land on Ruth Glacier.”
“These peaks are massive.” Tara was thankful for Ryan’s piloting ability so she could take in the grandeur. The plane didn’t bounce, though it dipped and rose now and again. She liked how he operated the controls, confident and relaxed.
They flew over white, rugged peaks, where cerulean ice cascaded down and formed U-shaped valleys. And then Denali, The Great One, made her grand entrance. Tara found it hard to believe that land could rise this high from the earth.
“This is Ruth Glacier, thirty-five miles long.” Ryan banked to the right.
“It’s breathtaking.” Tara thought the glacier looked like the world’s biggest, craziest toboggan run. Ribbons of snow, ice, and rock, flanked each side as if landscaped by design.
“Talkeetna Mountain Traffic, Cessna T84, destination Ruth Glacier, five thousand feet," radioed Ryan.
“Cessna T84, stay on Talkeetna traffic 123.65 frequency, listen for aircraft entering from Moose’s Tooth,” came the rapid reply of a woman’s voice.
“Copy that, fifteen minutes from glacier landing on Ruth Amphitheater. Cessna T84, clear.”
“Mountain Traffic, clear.”
Ryan pointed. “We’re entering The Great Gorge of Ruth Glacier at thirty-two hundred feet.”
“This is incredible,” she murmured. Buttressed on either side by solid granite cliffs, The Great Gorge reminded her of a stairway to heaven; each proud landform outdoing the last, a grand entrance leading to Queen Denali.
Ryan tracked the aircraft to the right and pointed to a towering metallic-looking cliff on the western side of the Gorge. “The Moose’s Tooth. These are foothills. Denali is a system of mountains with lesser peaks all vying to be champ of the Alaska Range.”
“And you said you didn’t have a way with words.” She stared ahead, smiling into her mic.
He raised a brow. “I can turn a phrase now and then. Time to land. You ready?”
“Uh-huh.” She tensed. How can he land without plummeting them into a crevasse? Her body became rigid as she braced for descent and landing.
Ryan throttled back. The Cessna floated down, and the wheeled skis touched, bounced, touched, bounced. Once down, the plane jiggled through uneven snow.
She folded her arms firmly against her chest to stop the girls from jiggling. Her hair shook loose from its bun and landed on her shoulders as Ryan brought the plane to a halt and cut the engine. The propeller slowed and became still. Sudden quiet.
Tara’s relief welled into joy at landing safely on terra firma. “Nice job, Captain O’Connor.”
“Welcome to Denali. Grab your jacket and camera and stay close.” He pulled on his leather jacket and opened his door.
“Okay.” She pulled on her North Face, then tugged the pins from her collapsed bun, letting her hair fall to her waist. She’d fix it later. Grabbing her camera, she stepped from the plane into a winter wonderland topped by a brilliant, azure sky.
They stood in front of the nose, taking in the magnitude of mountain and rock reaching skyward. The clouds drifted apart, revealing the mighty mountain.
“Get photos of Denali while you can. She’s making a rare appearance.” Ryan held out his hand. “Better yet, give me your camera. He took several photos of her with Denali in the background, then handed back her camera. “So, what do you think?”
She spread her arms, turning in a circle. “It’s fantastic.”
“No, your flight. How was it?”
“Tremendous. You’re a good pilot. No, a damn good pilot. I can say this now that I’m back on the ground.” She meant it.
His face broadened to a grin and he shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “Technically, no, you’re on ancient ice. But good, mission accomplished.”
A K2 Aviation plane landed and pulled up next to the Cessna. “O’Connor!” yelled the bushy-haired pilot, exiting the aircraft. “Fancy meeting you here. Shouldn’t you be jumping out of these things about now?” He gestured at the Cessna as he strode toward them.
“Curly, my man. Fine day for flying.” Ryan extended a hand.
Curly shook it and turned to Tara. “You couldn’t find better company than this guy? Curly Thomas, K2 Aviation. I shuttle climbers in and out of Denali.”
“Hi, I’m Tara. Stuck my thumb out and he gave me a ride,” she teased back.
“You have good taste, O’Connor.” Curly pointed at her
