Capturing a DC-6, in Alaska, on camera…

My brother exclaimed: “Oh no, here he comes!”, pointing at the orange sky and walking down the icy, mirror-smooth road. I grabbed the camera from the truck’s passenger seat and partly ran, partly slithered after him. But, we were so blown away by the frozen Yukon River and the rising sun that we completely missed our mission.

Captain Rob Everts was already floating in with his DC-6 – and we were still a good 250 metres away from the agreed spot for the photo.

Only a few days earlier, on the snowy Airport Industrial Road at Fairbanks Airport, a not-too-large sign indicated which company is based there: Everts Air, along with its subsidiaries Everts Air Cargo and Everts Air Fuel.

The company fly old Douglas DC-6 and Curtiss C-46 aircraft, connecting sparsely populated villages in Alaska with the outside world.

In thinly populated, and structurally poor Alaska, the aeroplanes connect countless small towns and villages with the outside world.  But what makes Everts Air Cargo and Everts Air Fuel unique, is that cargo and fuel of all kinds are transported primarily with Douglas DC-6 and Curtiss C-46 aircraft. In short, with aircraft which were partly built during, or shortly after, WWII. 

“So you want to make a portrait of our company?” The friendly woman repeated our ‘request’, after my brother and I turned up at the office – unannounced. 

I nod. 

“That shouldn’t be a problem,”  the woman replied, much to our delight. “However, I think the boss insists on speaking to you personally.”

This was just getting better and better. 

“Today he is not here. How about tomorrow at 12?” 

Sorted.

And indeed, the next day at 1200 sharp we were in Rob Everts’ office. The boss – himself a captain on the DC-6 and C-46 – was sitting behind a large desk.

Behind him, the large windows give excellent views over the airport. And, all the ‘old sweethearts’ are barely a stone’s throw away on the runway. 

Then, as if Everts had ordered it, a DC-6 is about to land at that very moment. It roars and hums, snow whirls up – and we are delighted. 

“So you guys want to write a story about us. In Europe they love old aeroplanes, don’t they?” We nod, eagerly. 

He continues: “But I can tell you, this is not a museum. We make our living off these old planes. And we use them because they are very suitable for our purposes.” 

He continued, “I have a business lunch right now. You can walk around the site with an employee, look at everything and take photos. We can meet again later, then I’ll show you the north hangar and maybe a few other things. By the way, you can call me Rob.”

Later, another Rob, Everts employee Robert Ragar, quickly finishes his soup, puts on an orange warning vest, throws us two more and starts a little tour with us. 

The first thing that catches our eye is the old Fairchild C-119, tucked away behind some stacks of tyres in a corner of the company’s premises.

A winged-skull adorns the machine’s snowy bow, with ‘Know Fear’ written underneath.

Ragar says: “This aircraft flew for us until the mid-1990s, then we retired it because it no longer made economic sense – too high maintenance costs, too little capacity.” Years later there was another attempt to reactivate ‘Know Fear’. But it was in vain. 

“I’ll never fly this thing again!” said the pilot after the test flight, quite loudly and clearly. 

So that was the end of those plans.

In addition to the Fairchild, there are countless other decrepit aircraft, mainly DC-6s.  Some are still intact, others are without propellers or engines – some minus wings.

“I have no idea how many of these half planes we have here. But we keep them all, they are our spare parts store.”

There are also a few C-46s out on the tarmac – airworthy and still in service – and we climb into one.

“Actually, you have a very nice all-round view here in the cockpit,” says Ragar. Unfortunately not today – thick snow lies on the panes and envelops everything in a dim light.

In the hold we can take a look at the permanently mounted special tanks in which the fuel is transported – the machine is used for Everts Air Fuel. We are told that the first C-46s were brought from Japan in the late 1970s – the Americans had delivered them there after WWII for the country’s reconstruction.

On one of the machines, this history is manifested in the form of a geisha, underneath it says ‘Maid in Japan’.

Another aeroplane, a DC-6, bears the likeness of Howard Hughes, a pioneer aviator whose life was celebrated in the 2003 film The Aviator, starring Leonardo DiCaprio.

“This machine belonged to Hughes. When we bought them, there were still tons of personal belongings on the plane,” says Ragar.

After lunch, his boss takes over. We look at the very first C-46, which has since been retired and is rusting away behind a site fence and between tall bushes.

Rob Everts shows us a DC-6 simulator. “It still works. Must be pretty unique. But we don’t actually use it. It’s more of a curiosity,” he says. 

We also take a look at the apartments for pilots and mechanics that Everts makes available if required. “If you are unhappy with your accommodation, you can also stay here with us,” the 61-year-old suggests. 

Too bad, we have already paid our bill in advance to stay in a guest house.

Rob gives us an insight into the engine workshop and introduces us to some hard-working employees. And he shows us two seaplanes that spend the winter here. “My toys.”

Outside the north hangar there are still a number of snowbound and decommissioned aircraft, including a DC-4 and a DC-7. But primarily DC-6. 

“Our parts store,” says Rob. “Everyone always thinks that missing spare parts is a big problem,” says Rob.

“But that’s not the case. We have enough spare parts. And if I’m really missing something, I call Joe McBryan at Buffalo Air in Canada. We are friends, and share a lot of things,” he says. “What we really lack are pilots and mechanics who know about these machines – or want to learn how to use them.” 

It seems that if, after their training, they had the choice between a major airline and Everts Air, they would almost always choose the major airlines.

“We can’t keep up financially,” says the company boss and shrugs his shoulders.

I seized the opportunity.

“Well… as for me… I’d like to fly a DC-6. At least fly with me. Is there something that could be done…?” I ask cautiously.

“Unfortunately not,” says Rob, shaking his head. “Really not. At least not in the short term. We are not allowed to take passengers on these planes. There would be trouble. You would first have to apply for a special permit – and then wait a long time.” 

OK, maybe next time.

At the end of the private tour Rob asks, “Do you guys actually like beer?” And, again, we nod.  “Anything else would have scared me. I mean… you are Germans. So… for a beer tonight?” 

But of course, no need to be asked twice.

After dinner together at a restaurant in downtown Fairbanks, Rob takes us home and presents us with his own bar – Cloud 9 – a large, covered counter in his garage, decorated with all sorts of aviation paraphernalia. 

A big television hangs in a corner. Rob turns on a video, showing the transfer of a former Everts Air DC-6 to Norway.

On board is the Norwegian, Thomas Waerner, winner of the Alaskan ‘Iditarod’, the toughest sled dog race in the world, together with his 24 huskies.

And, of course, Rob Everts as pilot. The story had caused a sensation worldwide in 2020. 

“Nice story,” says Rob, turning the TV off again.

After the second beer he muses: “Maybe I should get potential pilots and mechanics drunk first and then let them sign the contract with us…” 

Not a bad idea.

After the third beer, Rob comes up with an even better idea.

“Tomorrow I have to fly to Galena, a small town on the Yukon River, in a DC-6. You could fly up in a small plane. There are still two places left. And then you could stand right next to the runway and take a picture of the DC-6 approaching. What do you think?” 

Fabulous. “OK,” says Rob. “But dress warmly.”

The next day it’s actually already early morning, but it’s still dark, the sun hasn’t really risen yet. When we climb out of the Pilatus PC-12 at Galena Airfield, our nose hair freezes after just two breaths. 

“Damn cold here,” agrees another passenger. “It’s 29° below zero,” says our pilot. He means Fahrenheit. The conversion to Celsius doesn’t make it any better: minus 34°. In Fairbanks it was ‘only’ minus 18.

We retreat to the tiny lounge in the Everts building. An employee introduces himself as Chris and serves us a hot coffee.

He’s already in the know: “If Rob is about to come in his DC-6, grab our old truck outside the door, drive around the airfield from the outside, and then stand at the beginning of the runway with your camera.” 

OK, got it. A little later the time has come. 

“Rob will be here in 20 minutes. Just spoke to him. Get on your way,” says Chris, putting the radio aside. 

No sooner said than done.

“Look at that,” I say to my brother as we drive along the Yukon a little later.

The wide river is almost completely frozen, and there is steam in the few places that are still open.

The forest on the other side is covered in deep snow, above it the rising sun envelops everything in a mystical orange light. We get out and are completely blown away.

The cold is forgotten at this moment. “Hopefully Rob doesn’t come too early,” I say, looking anxiously at the clock.

As soon as the sentence is spoken, we hear a suspicious noise in the freezing cold air: Rob is already approaching and we are not yet in the right place.

We try everything. We still manage to take a few shots. But not in the way it could have been.

We’re still too far away when the big bird touches down. I am extremely annoyed. We head back to the airfield, where the hatch of the DC-6 cargo hold is already opening. A laughing Rob comes toward us. “And? Did you get some good shots?” he asks. 

“Sure, everything’s great,” I fib. Luckily he doesn’t want to see the pictures.

I then take a few photos of the unloading, marvel at the amount of oil under the engines and climb into the aeroplane.

And that’s the next mistake. At least, it is if you do it without gloves. The icy metal of the ladder and hull sends a searing pain into my hands.

“Be glad it’s not even colder – you’d be frozen solid by now,” says Rob, laughing, as I hold my immobile fingers between my thighs for warmth, which after a few minutes work again.

It doesn’t take long before the DC-6 is already unloaded, primarily with pallets of food. 

“For the local supermarket,” explains Rob. But some of it would be distributed directly to smaller planes and then flown to even smaller towns with even smaller airports.

Unloading, explains Rob, always has to be done as quickly as possible in winter “so that the engines don’t get cold”.

So it doesn’t take long before Captain Everts wants to take off again. I quickly take a picture of the start of the engines and the associated smoke development. “Stand at the end of the runway again. Then you can photograph the start,” Rob had told us. 

We get back in the company car and off we go. And this time we didn’t fail. With the landing gear retracted, Rob Everts roars overhead just a few minutes later at a very low altitude.

We take our photos and films and watch the aeroplane and its plume of smoke for a while. Then it’s quiet again.

And now? My brother and I look at each other. The Cessna Caravan that’s supposed to take us back to Fairbanks won’t be here for four hours. 

“You can use the car all day – we don’t need it today,” Chris told us. 

So, back to the river – except this time we can’t screw anything up.