Day 23 of our trip, one year ago today, sees our return to the United States–but not until very late in the evening. Also, today feels like the longest day of them all–by far.
And it is, for a couple of reasons. First, we cross the International Date Line, so for us it’s Sept. 15 all over again. Second, our two legs–from Petropavlovsk to Anadyr, Russia, and then to Fairbanks, Alaska, total 1,930 nautical miles and 6.9 hours of flight time. While this is not our longest day, it takes the most time, because things in Russia seem to move only so fast. Lots of waiting, especially at our fuel stop.
Mostly, however, it’s the short days we’ve been experiencing. We’ve been flying northeast, and while most of the trip has seen us cross one time zone a day, on average (no jet lag!), we lose 11 hours between Nagoya and Minot, N.D. Inevitably, these hours are made up by sleeping less.
Anadyr, Russia, “Where the day begins.”
There’s only one photo today (a few more appear on my original Day 23 blog, available here). I loved this mural on the airline terminal at Anadyr, and I must have snapped this frame as we parked. I ignored it, figuring I would get a better one from outside the airplane. That was not to be, however; I asked our handler if a photo would be OK and the stern man in the green military jacket said no. Then she offered to take a photo for me, and the answer again was “Nyet.” I didn’t see this frame again until reviewing photos for this retrospective blog series, and I’m glad the photojournalist in me kicked in early, before I was told no.
I don’t like the angle or the crop (or the fact that the tip tank is in the way), but the mural shows a Eskimo girl spreading her arms beneath the sun, and I’m told the inscription reads “Where the day begins.” This is a very apt description, because it would be hard to get much further east in Russia than this.
We’re late for our scheduled arrival time into Fairbanks, but the Customs man is waiting for us at the airport–it’s clear we aren’t the first airplane to arrive late from Russia. It’s also clear that we’re the last Customs customers of the day.
But there’s one more curve ball. Our hotel is oversold, so we’re put on a cab for a different hotel. The rooms are fine, but it’s nearly 11 p.m. and no nearby restaurants are open, so dinner ends up being beef sticks and Clif bars–probably just as well; we need the sleep.