Flight-seeing in Alaska - Module 7

C1 Advanced · Gapped Text · Advanced Expert Student's Resource Book, Pearson Education

You are going to read a newspaper article. Six paragraphs have been removed from the article. Choose from the paragraphs A-G the one which fits each gap (1–6). There is one extra paragraph which you do not need to use.

Flight-seeing in Alaska

In the wilds of America's largest national park, the best way to get around is by plane.

'Hey, don't panic,' says Paul. 'We fly you to the top. Easy! From there, you hike for a couple of hours to the edge of the rock face, where we come and pick you up again, two by two. Deal?'

It grows, its buzzing becoming audible as it veers left and right following the curves of the Chitina river, until, after several minutes, a shiny red De Havilland Otter swoops down and lands before me on the gravel.

Meanwhile, other family members are cooking dinner, a large salmon caught locally by one of the team. As she chops vegetables from the garden, Ellie tells me that as well as flying planes here, her husband Ben is also a helicopter pilot.

Planes are central to the activities on offer for guests too, providing an easy way to reach the best locations for walking, skiing, wildlife-spotting, sightseeing or simply having a picnic. There are five in all, ranging from the nine-seater Otter, to a three-seater Piper Super-cub that weighs less than 450 kg.

Since then, five two-bedroom cabins accommodating a maximum of 12 guests have been constructed on it, and the whole family is involved with the business. Paul's daughters Ellie, Logan, son Jay and son-in-law Ben all work at the lodge. Like their grandfather, now retired and living in Anchorage, all are skilled bush pilots.

Then he learnt to fly and found the doors to the wilderness suddenly thrown open. He continued teaching but used his spare time to explore by air, landing on plains and river sandbars where no one had touched down before.

When he spots a good piece of grass, Paul circles and prepares to land the tiny aircraft. Then, after only a few bumpy metres on its gigantic rubber tyres, the plane comes to a halt. 'Out you get,' he says. 'I've got other guests to pick up!'

My taxi has arrived, with Paul Claus at the wheel – aviator, adventurer and owner of Ultima Thule, a lodge 100 miles from the nearest road, where I am to stay for the next three days. We board the plane and leave civilisation far behind. Paul's father, John, was a teacher in Anchorage, eager to climb in the Alaskan mountains but frustrated by how hard it was to access them.

John staked a claim to a patch of land beside the Chitina river, and was granted five acres, where he and his wife Eleanor set about building a modest wooden cabin and landing strip. Decades later, when the Wrangell-St Elias National Park was established, the Claus family were allowed to keep their land, one of only a handful of private properties within a park the size of Switzerland.

When the lodge runs out of supplies, one of the family hops into a plane and flies out to get them. 'Lots of celebrities like coming because they can be absolutely sure that no paparazzi can get up here,' says Paul, as the Otter passes miles of mountainous nowhere. He tells me about the time he took the actor Jim Carrey, a regular guest, on an emergency flight to carry diesel to some stranded trekkers. 'I'll never forget their faces.'

'How do you fancy a hike up the mountain behind the lodge tomorrow, weather permitting?' asks Paul, over dinner on the first night. I look up at the peak apprehensively.

Flying in the Super-cub, as we do this time, turns out to be an experience in itself. It has no electric motor, so the propeller has to be manually spun to start it. Once airborne, the featherweight plane skims low across the river and then soars upwards, as nimble as a buzzing bee.

While he flies off to fetch them, I stand waiting beside my guide, enjoying the silence. Around us there is nothing but wild Alaskan nature; snowy peaks and glaciers disappear into the far distance. We walk for several hours over mossy ground, with no trees, occasionally snow, a few wild sheep and, according to the guide, a brown bear in the distance.

My rendezvous with the wilderness is set for 6 p.m., on the edge of a remote Alaskan village with a population of just 150. 'Park alongside the log cabin and wait, but stay away from the stretch of ground beside the car park,' were the instructions in the email. I've driven four hours from Anchorage to get to the village of Chitina and stand staring at the cloudy sky. In the distance, a red dot appears. ___ My taxi has arrived, with Paul Claus at the wheel – aviator, adventurer and owner of Ultima Thule, a lodge 100 miles from the nearest road, where I am to stay for the next three days. We board the plane and leave civilisation far behind. Paul's father, John, was a teacher in Anchorage, eager to climb in the Alaskan mountains but frustrated by how hard it was to access them. ___ John staked a claim to a patch of land beside the Chitina river, and was granted five acres, where he and his wife Eleanor set about building a modest wooden cabin and landing strip. Decades later, when the Wrangell-St Elias National Park was established, the Claus family were allowed to keep their land, one of only a handful of private properties within a park the size of Switzerland. ___ When the lodge runs out of supplies, one of the family hops into a plane and flies out to get them. 'Lots of celebrities like coming because they can be absolutely sure that no paparazzi can get up here,' says Paul, as the Otter passes miles of mountainous nowhere. He tells me about the time he took the actor Jim Carrey, a regular guest, on an emergency flight to carry diesel to some stranded trekkers. 'I'll never forget their faces.' ___ 'How do you fancy a hike up the mountain behind the lodge tomorrow, weather permitting?' asks Paul, over dinner on the first night. I look up at the peak apprehensively. ___ Flying in the Super-cub, as we do this time, turns out to be an experience in itself. It has no electric motor, so the propeller has to be manually spun to start it. Once airborne, the featherweight plane skims low across the river and then soars upwards, as nimble as a buzzing bee. ___ While he flies off to fetch them, I stand waiting beside my guide, enjoying the silence. Around us there is nothing but wild Alaskan nature; snowy peaks and glaciers disappear into the far distance. We walk for several hours over mossy ground, with no trees, occasionally snow, a few wild sheep and, according to the guide, a brown bear in the distance.

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