.
I lay on the bunk propped up against a pillow , feet crossed , boots on.
The small two bunk contractor's cabin was not trembling now as it had through the night as swirling blasts of cold air came up the strip from the Iskut and swished amongst the huge trees near the frozen creek.
This rare demon wind had done one thing for sure in cleaning the air of low snow clouds and ragged wisps with only a milky sky above. Clearing rapidly to the East ... towards B ob Quinn Lake airstrip , two thousand feet higher , and thirty miles upriver... up the frozen Iskut flanked by several seven thousand foot peaks.
As Rob , my co-pilot , dressed I explained my position about crew duties. I wanted to give him more take off and landings but felt I was still feeling my own way , and we always seemed to be on the edge
It made me feel better when he laughed it off ... "Hell man , I'm still learning my right seat job."
It was to be his lucky day as we were to fly to B ob Quinn empty , a very rare event and a perfect opportinity for a full hands on leg for Rob to fly . I had never been there before so I had the chance to survey the scene and come up with escape routes in the event of rapidly closing weather , a far too frequent event in this area. My gloved finger traced the river on the chart. Past McClymont Creek , and Forrest Kerr.
I mentioned to Rob that I had left instructions with the First Aid bloke in Bronson ... he was puzzled. I stayed silent on the matter.
The milky sky and the snow covered flats made the strip difficult to locate at first but appeared by the highway that went hundreds of miles south to Smi thers.
The trucks sat waiting after a long trip from the South.
As we taxiied toward the dozed out parking area we tried to determine which way was downhill for take off. Rather , it seemed , that it was uphill , both ways.
We winched the shrink wrapped palets uphill and herc strapped them down and filled in the gaps with individual boxes of explosives that are humped up by hand.
During this process we talk as we labour.
"We have five tons of dynamite on board. I don't know what it takes to set this sh*t off but here we are strapping it close to the temperamental heaters under the floor that are fired with high octane aviation fuel. MMMM fired by igniters. Don't think so mate! .. its gonna be a cold flight back." says I.
We had lots of fuel on board as we could only refuel in Wrangell.
The first three flights were uneventful , if not , very satisfying as we ran the engines at reduced power on the descent down to Bronson Creek. We can only do one more flight as the weather in Wrangell is down.
Upon return to B ob Quinn we load a few palets and I notice the size of the boxes changes. They are now smaller and lighter.
I question the driver who casually informs me that those fifty boxes are caps.Blasting caps!
Sh*t!! The very devices with which to anger the dynamite god and KA-F*CKIN-BOOM and I'm the first Aussie on the moon.
Darkness stalked us.
"I don't want to take caps and explosives on the same flight" I implore him.
"You"ll need this bulkhead" he says as he hands us up a four by four sheet of three quarter inch plywood.
"Use it to separate the two , everybody else does." he matter of factly exclaims.
"Besides ," he informs me , " We can't sleep in our truck , we would have to go all the way to S mithers and return here tomorrow , maybe , IF you can get in. We have already made one fruitless trip and you guys never made it yesterday. We are nearly broke now , over this contract."
I started bleating like a sheep but quickly re-gained composure.
The cargo door thumped shut as I slid behind the frozen yoke. The sky was darkening. A 31,000lb grenade to be flown to the mine and its savage appetite for GOLD.
They blasted their way into Johnny Mountain. There was gold alright. Flown out in its purest form by a Beech 1900. Ingots.
In its dirtlike form , we flew the bulky bags in exchange for GOLD. Were we bargaining away our safety for GOLD?
"I wanted the gold and I got it
And somehow the gold isn't all"
Rob settled into his frozen position. We tried not to aim a breath near the frozen windshield.... there would be no heater.
The pressure of the mission was building.
"By the way," quizzes Rob , "what instructions did you give the First Aid guy this morning?"
I turned to look at him, slowly, so the gravity of what I had to say seeped into him
I paused.
"I told them that in the event of a crash , I want them to look through the wreckage and retrieve the nine inch d*ck and put it in my box so I could be identified."
We exploded into a laughing fit .....
..and took off.