Pilotage

Aviation journalist Mark R. Twombly flies corporate aircraft from southern Florida.

I had to travel from extreme southwest Florida to extreme northwest Washington state — a corner-to-corner cross-country. A couple of Delta jets accomplished most of the mission, depositing me late one night at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. The next day would be devoted to getting to my final destination, Roche Harbor Resort on San Juan Island.

Although part of Washington state, the San Juan archipelago is situated a few miles east of Canada's Vancouver Island. I had several transportation options available. One, I could rent a car, drive north on Interstate 5 and then west to Anacortes to catch the ferry to Friday Harbor on San Juan Island, then drive the final few miles to Roche Harbor, an old lime-mining town on the northern tip of the island that evolved into a charming resort.

Option two was to catch a Kenmore Air seaplane. Kenmore's scheduled route structure includes a stop at the Roche Harbor marina. Hmmm, drive several hours through Seattle traffic or fly in a floatplane over some of the most beautiful water in the country right to where I wanted to go. I'd get there faster and at about the same price as that of renting a car. Sold!

I spent the night in an airport hotel, and early the next morning met a Kenmore van at Sea-Tac. In 15 minutes we were pulling into Kenmore's terminal at the southern end of Lake Union, which lies at the northern foot of downtown Seattle.

The van driver checked me in for my flight, and I settled into a seat on the lakeside deck to watch boats and seaplanes come and go. A big white-and-yellow de Havilland Otter descended steeply across the southern shore of the lake, tiptoed onto the water, and approached the Kenmore dock.

With practiced timing the pilot killed the engine, stepped out onto the float, and hopped onto the dock to guide the big airplane as it gently nudged up against the dock. After tying up to a piling, helping passengers exit the Otter, and then retrieving their bags, John Gowey came to fetch his next clutch of travelers, me included. No marshals to guide him in, no attendants to tie him up, no gate agents to herd his passengers, and no baggage handlers to lose their luggage. Perfect!

I asked for and was rewarded the copilot's seat. Didn't even have to mention my solid credentials — single-engine sea rating and about 20 hours logged, maybe 20.5. If called upon in an emergency, I was more than ready to assist. ("I got 'er, Cap'n. Go ahead and troubleshoot that rotating-beacon problem.")

When we were safely strapped in, Gowey did his do-it-yourself routine in reverse: Push the airplane off, hop onto the float, climb up into the cockpit, ignite the Pratt & Whitney Canada PT6-135, and taxi smartly away from the dock.

Soon we were cruising northbound at 1,000 feet over Puget Sound. While he hand-flew a GPS course and pointed out the sights, Gowey explained that he is one of Kenmore's newest pilots — he's only been there 15 years.

Kenmore Air was founded in 1946 by three friends who set up shop in a small hangar on a swampy lot at the northern end of Lake Washington north of Seattle. Tom Munro, who came into the partnership as a mechanic, eventually ended up as the sole owner/operator, and the chief pilot. Kenmore became a dealer for the Republic Seabee, and earned a reputation for performing expert Seabee maintenance, repairs, and modifications.

Next came a Cessna dealership, and in 1963 the company bought its first de Havilland Beaver. As with the Seabee, Kenmore became identified with the Beaver — flying the aircraft, repairing them, and modifying and rebuilding them. That expertise continues today under Munro's son, Greg, and daughter, Leslie Banks. The dry ramp at Kenmore's Lake Washington base is replete with pristine Beavers the company has restored for private owners.

Like vintage collector race cars, these rugged former Canadian and Alaskan workhorses are serving out their retirement years as gentleman floatplanes for wealthy sportsmen. But make no mistake, a Beaver on Edo straight floats — Kenmore also owns the rights to Edo, and manufactures and rebuilds them — is still very much in play as a revenue-generating mainstay on Kenmore's daily scheduled service throughout the watery U.S. and Canadian northwest.

Happily, my return flight from Roche Harbor to Seattle was in a Kenmore Beaver. I stood waiting as it approached the dock, the P&W R-985 loping over at idle. The prop slowed to a stop, the door popped open, and a young woman popped out. She stepped onto the float, then hopped onto the dock and lassoed the big airplane to a piling.

She introduced herself: Jocelyn Warrick. During the flight I learned she is a Purdue University graduate whose husband also flies for Kenmore. After loading my luggage she invited me aboard, motioning to the right front seat. I guess the word got around the pilots lounge about my copilot qualifications.

Warrick poured the coal to the big radial and the nose reared up, then settled down as the Edos planed. She lifted the right float off the water and waited for the left to break free. As we climbed away from Roche Harbor I took a minute to familiarize myself with the cockpit (just in case), and admire its beautifully restored retro look. They just don't build them like this anymore. Fortunately for us passengers, they still fly them.