Tuesday was sunny and clear. Mike Emers was at his home office at Rosie Creek Farm when he heard the first boom.
“I was just getting some orders together. So, I sat here, and I heard an explosion, and I followed it across the sky. So, it went in that direction,” he said.
“So, you watched it right out the window?”
“Yeah, and then I, fumbling around trying to find my phone, called 911, and couldn't get through. And I did get through to the trooper's dispatch, but I couldn't get through to 911. There's no cell service here. But I'm on Wi Fi calling. For some reason it wouldn't call 911.”
His son ran down from the house and the two of them ran on their trail several hundred yards through the trees to the crash site above the river.
“We were running, yeah, and ran out to the river there to see, and then there was big black smoke and I, and I was really worried, so I'm going up there to see," he said.
Emers said troopers and firefighters were there in about 15 minutes. The dirt road in the neighborhood became choked with a muster of vehicles from the Alaska State Troopers, Alaska Wildlife Troopers, University of Alaska Police, Fairbanks Airport Police and Fire, Fairbanks City Police Department, Ester Volunteer Fire Department, and Chena Goldstream Volunteer Fire Department.
They were able to get to the hillside on ATVs and got the fire under control, and it didn’t spread into the forest.
There was no one to rescue.
When he returned to his farm, Emers checked his security video. He scrolled through, looking for the right timestamp. One camera that looks across the farm, caught the plane, flying toward the airport.
Reporter: “It’s going to come from here?”
Emers: “It comes from here.”
Reporter: “This is like, 9:59am? 10am?”
Emers: “That would be 10am. It happened right around 10. It is 10 o'clock. Yeah. Oh, there it is. There it is. There it burst into flames.”
It was 10 seconds from the time of the explosion of one of the plane’s engines, to when it crashed, off the screen. In the video, a huge shadow blocked the sun shining on the greenhouses, as the smoke billowed up.
Emers choked up. He didn’t know who was on the plane, but everyone in Alaska knows someone who flies.
On the trail walking back to the crash site hours later, there was a faint smell of fuel. And farther down the slope, a heavy smell of smoke.
And then a tight acre, maybe acre and a half, of charred ground and spruce trunks on the steep hillside above the river. The hillside was scattered with debris and plane parts.
“It’s still burning a little bit here. There’s a hot spot here. It’s smoking,” he called to fire crews at the scene.
Emers is not on his own land. The plane crashed on uninhabited property owned by the Binkley family. But it’s all the same to him.
Fire technicians Billy Morrow and Josh Chiles were among the crew from Division of Forestry & Fire Protection laying out long hoses on the charred ground Tuesday afternoon.
“There’s a lot of snow pack and everything behind it, um, but we're gonna butt it up with some sprinkler kits, uh, connecting from that flank down on it, connecting to the river, all the way up here and then down to this side,” Chiles said.
They didn’t know how long the operation would take – the rest of the day, or overnight. They were placing the hoses around debris up and down the slope.
One of the plane’s engines was in the broken land-fast ice on the shore of the river. It was still on fire. Another big piece was out on the firmer river ice. A third big piece had already melted through and disappeared under the ice.
A drone flew along the river. Just off the burned zone, in the green trees, was the Emers family canoe.
“Well, we felt like this was our secret little place and now, um, you know…” he trailed off.
