Try again tomorrow

The wind blew through False Pass all night long, whipping Isanotski Strait into frothy whitecaps. By Wednesday morning, it was rattling the windowpanes at the school and pushing gusts of rain down the valley, and word came by cell phone from an agent at the airport in neighboring Cold Bay: There would be no plane coming to False Pass that day.

Maybe it would come Thursday, he said. Maybe Friday. Call back tomorrow.

In Alaska, travel plans can change in the blink of an eye, and catching a flight is all part of the adventure, no matter your destination.

Weather conditions delay or cancel about one in four scheduled flights to certain remote parts of the state, according to federal reports and local airlines. Most small, rural communities are served by just one regularly scheduled commercial air service, many just a few days a week. When wind or rain or snow or fog delays flights for days, sometimes weeks at a time, there's nothing to do except sit back and enjoy your stay.

My February journey to False Pass began in Anchorage in the back of a crowded PenAir turboprop. As the plane took off, the sun rose over the left wing and passengers napped and read books and talked about basketball with their seatmates. There were parents and children, an insurance company risk assessor, a Russian Orthodox priest, all on their way to destinations up and down the Alaska Peninsula.

It's impossible to book a direct commercial flight from Anchorage to a place like False Pass—or King Cove or Nelson Lagoon or Port Moller, or dozens of other places across Alaska. Traveling to those places from Anchorage means increasingly smaller planes, and stops in small communities along the way. To get to False Pass, you have to fly to Cold Bay.

First, my PenAir flight headed for Sand Point, a town on the west side of Popof Island, some 550 miles from Anchorage. As the plane gained altitude, the Kenai Peninsula glistened in the early morning light below, but as we glided south, the clouds thickened. When the plane dipped back below them on the descent into Sand Point, the weather had changed. Rain fell from steel-colored skies, showering gray-green cliffs and choppy waves. The plane touched down on wet, empty tarmac. Half the passengers climbed off, clutching coats and backpacks. The plane taxied away.

At the Cold Bay airport, PenAir and Grant Aviation share the only counter in the tiny passenger terminal. One of the two ticket agents handed over a brochure:

PLEASE READ THIS

You need to know…

You must "check-in"

with our village agent

to return to Cold Bay.

From Cold Bay, Grant flies to King Cove, Port Moller, Nelson Lagoon and False Pass. Traveling to these parts is unlike flying to most other places in the country.

"Checking-in" with the village agent starts with finding them. Sometimes, the people in the community you're visiting will laugh and tell you that the best way to find out when your plane is coming is to call the pilot directly. Here is his cell phone number, they'll say. Other times, word will come through on the radio: The plane is heading your way. You'll know it's landing when you hear the familiar buzz overhead. Get ready to board.

But planes don't come to False Pass when the wind blows hard from the west. The runway stretches north and south along Isanotski Strait, and the wrong gust could threaten to tumble a plane off the airstrip, city employees say. Driving rain and 40-mile-an-hour winds mean no flying in or out.

That's the thing about the Aleutian Islands. Austin Engebretson, Grant Aviation's vice president of flight operations, said bad weather affects approximately 30 percent of his company's scheduled trips in the area.

"Geography plays a big part of it," he said.

In the Aleutians, winter storms give way to summer fog, and the islands' location along the Ring of Fire means Grant flights are affected by volcanic activity every 12-18 months, Engebretson said. Pilots learn to weigh chances; avoid risks; adapt to changes.

"You just do what you can do when you can do it," he said.

Two of the most challenging places Grant flies, according to Engebretson, are False Pass and Atka.

I left for Atka four days after I returned from False Pass.

This trip began the same way, with a morning flight out of Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport, but this time, the PenAir plane was filled with men bound for the Aleutian port of Dutch Harbor. Three hours later, we stepped off the plane into the sparkling sunlight bathing the island. From there, it was another two-hour flight to Atka over more than 300 miles of mostly open water.

That's part of the adventure.

The weather might be clear in Dutch Harbor, but when a pilot spots a concerning-looking wall of clouds miles to the southwest, the flight is put on hold. There are no alternate runways on the trip out to Atka. If something goes wrong between takeoff and landing, there's nowhere to turn.

That's why Grant makes the trip with a twin-engine Piper Navajo, Engebretson said. While the extra engine adds a measure of security on long flights, the 7,500-pound plane has its drawbacks. It can be too heavy for rural gravel runways softened by spring melt, he said, and when that happens, there's no choice but to delay the flight until landing conditions improve.

Grant keeps several planes in the region: There's one in Cold Bay, two in Dutch Harbor and a spare aircraft in King Salmon. Those planes, along with PenAir's fleet, are responsible for the majority of passenger flights throughout the Aleutians. They're no match for Mother Nature.

On the Wednesday I was scheduled to leave  Atka, the sky over the island was dappled with clouds. Meanwhile, Dutch Harbor was socked in by wind and rain. The airport was closed, I learned, sitting in a classroom at the community school, hundreds of miles away. The students are skeptical. According to the flight-tracking website they follow religiously, the plane is still on its way. The weather in Atka looks fine, they said.

But when it comes to flying in Alaska, consumer flight-tracking software is often ineffective, and good weather on the ground means nothing.

"It takes pretty much the perfect storm for the weather to be good all the way through [the Aleutian chain]," said Clare Ross, Grant Aviation's vice president of community and business development. "We realize that traveling in Alaska isn't always on schedule, so we really try to be flexible."

The plane didn't come Thursday. By the time the flight arrived late Friday morning, there was a cluster of trucks and ATVs waiting for it on the Atka airstrip. In most parts of Alaska, planes bring more than just passengers—they also come bearing mail, food, prescription medication and other essentials. The longer the delay between flights, the more people meet the plane when it arrives. They told me about the time there were no flights out of Atka for 29 days. I counted my blessings.

Two hours later, we touched back down in Dutch Harbor, minutes too late to connect to a departing standby flight to Anchorage. Weather delays have a landslide effect. When storms close one airport for a day, stranded passengers are thrown into confusion, jockeying to book a spot on the next available flight. When there's another delayed flight involved, expect the unexpected.

The next available plane to Anchorage was set to leave Dutch Harbor a full 24 hours after I arrived from Atka that February afternoon. Luckily, there was a hotel to stay the night. On Saturday, the airport was full of people who had spent extra time in the Aleutians, and we sat in the terminal as our scheduled departure time came and went. Eventually, we filed across the tarmac and found our way to our seats, just one flight from home.

Sleet stuck to the window as the flight attendant made her safety announcements. The pilot's voice came over the cabin intercom: There's a medevac jet waiting to take off, he said, so our flight will have to wait.

Minutes passed. Sleet began to cover the runway, and I chatted with the woman in the seat next to me. She told a story about the unplanned week her sister once spent on a nearby island, courtesy of that famous Alaska weather.

The pilot's voice came back over the intercom. Finally.

"Well, folks, we're next in line on the runway," he said. "But the weather is just not cooperating."

*

BEATING THE BAD-WEATHER BLUES

Don't let flight delays get you down: Pack these, and prepare for adventure.

Shelf-stable foods, like oatmeal, instant noodles, beef jerky, granola bars and dried fruit. Think about three or four extra meals.

Card games: What better way to pass the time and make new friends?

A good book. This might be the perfect opportunity to learn a new language. How about Unungam Tunuu, Inupiaq or Yup'ik?

Extra medications and toiletries: Where you're going, there might not be a pharmacy.

Important phone numbers. Write them down before you leave; if your plane is delayed, you might need to make alternate arrangements for a connecting flight or a hotel room.

This story first appeared in the June 2016 Adventure Issue of 61°North. Contact the editor, Jamie Gonzales, at jgonzales@alaskadispatch.com.