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Introduction

I never went looking for adventure but my early interest in flying brought adventure to me. Born into a family of aviators, I suppose I was somewhat destined to become a pilot. My father, Noel Wien, was one of the first pilots to fly in Alaska and his life was full of firsts, including making the first round-trip flight between Asia and North America in 1929.

My mother was not a pilot but she was notable in aviation in her own right, as she played a big role along with my father in the founding and development of Wien Alaska Airlines, the second-oldest scheduled airline in the United States and territories. My uncle Ralph, who died young in a tragic plane crash, was the namesake for the Ralph Wien Memorial Airport in Kotzebue and also contributed much to early aviation in Alaska. My uncle Sig, who eventually led Wien Airlines, was an automobile mechanic when he went north with my dad in December of 1930. He worked for the airline as a mechanic until 1937 when he got his commercial license. He then started flying for the airline out of Nome until my parents sold the airline to him in 1940.

So flying is in my blood and though my father never encouraged me to become a pilot, it was all I wanted to do from a very young age.

Except for the early years when I was building time for additional ratings, I didn’t keep a logbook again for quite a while until I was required to as a Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) examiner. I cannot tell you how many hours I have to the nearest 10,000 hours. My father kept a very accurate logbook with comments about each flight but I could not imagine that I was doing any flying that would ever be noteworthy, since in my view all the historical and interesting flying had already happened. But as the years have passed, I’ve come to realize that I’ve been part of something that might be interesting to pilots, and others, today. I’ve told my sons: log your flying time with comments about each flight. I sure wish I had. Aviation keeps advancing so today’s doings will be history tomorrow.

There is a lot to be said about the “good old days.” Some of my fondest memories are from the piston engine days when I was scheduled to depart Fairbanks on a cargo flight about 3:00 A.M. on a midsummer day with not a cloud in the sky or a breath of wind. The still in the air is almost deafening. Your senses take on a very different perspective when there is not a sound to be heard except for some occasional birds.

I always felt that I was overpaid because I loved to fly. If I had had other income I would have paid to have the opportunity to fly. Even though this perhaps was less true in the later years when much of the flying was delegated to computers and flying talent was more about computer programming than seat of the pants flying, I still thought it was a great job. I feel very lucky to have had an occupation that I looked forward to every day. It was also an excellent opportunity to see many parts of the world that otherwise I would not have seen.

Part of the joy of flight for me and pilots like me comes from trying to master the airplane and complete a perfectly executed flight, an all but impossible challenge that consumes those of us who are passionate about flying. We can come close but I guess it is like golf. No one has been able to complete a whole game with every shot a hole in one but people are still addicted to golf like I am to airplanes, always trying to get close to the perfect game.

I think more people would travel by air if they realized that it is so much safer to take the airline than go by car. I am basically scared of heights but it is different in an airplane. I can’t really explain why except to say that in an airplane I feel safely enclosed but in other high places it feels like it is just a matter of one false step.

I am a person whose mind has been in the clouds most of my life, staring out the window of study hall as a high school student, hoping to see an airplane fly by on final approach to landing at Weeks Field in Fairbanks, Alaska. I can’t tell you why I have always been drawn to flight any more than I can tell you why the ancient mariners were attracted to the sea and the ships. I am reminded of the poem Sea-Fever by John Masefield, “I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky.…” I guess the explanation would be that at some point in time, I came down with sky fever.

My dad very often brought back toy airplanes made by Alaska Natives in the outlying villages.