Chris Desmond at the Grosvenor Lodge, waiting on a customer
Raised in Winter Haven, Fla., and learning all things aviation in nearby Lakeland, Chris Desmond never liked the cold.
So naturally he would head north to Western Michigan University to pursue his degree and advanced training in aviation. And, of course, go even farther north to Alaska to begin his career. Five years later, he's still there and plans to stay.
It's not that Desmond, a 2015 graduate of Winter Haven High School, missed the climate aspects of any geography class he ever took. Alaska's rugged, magnificent beauty and unmatched environment have warmed his psyche and tempered his body's response to chilly temperatures. For a pilot, there is a lot of unique and sensational flying up there. So, in effect, what cold?
Desmond fishing on the Kenai River fishing for rainbow trout
But there's more to Desmond's affinity for the 49th state and for his love of flying.
As an 8 year old, Desmond traveled to Alaska on a family vacation. He remembers a 30-minute flight. "I sat in the front seat of a Cessna 206," he recalls. "Because we all had headsets, I was able to talk to the pilot. He pointed out all of the wildlife, and I was hooked. We stayed at a lodge in Kennicott and I'm pretty sure I didn't shut up about that flight for the rest of the trip."
That prompted Desmond's annual participation in the aviation summer camps based at the Sun 'n Fun Aerospace Expo at the Lakeland airport. "In middle school," he says, "my parents bribed me. In exchange for good grades, I could take a flight lesson after each semester. I got to solo after my 16th birthday and earned my private pilot's license after I turned 17."
For 14 consecutive years Desmond attended the Sun 'n Fun's air show, the largest of its kind in the South. "At each one," he says, "I would find one of the performers to assist, whether it was filming promo videos or helping to clean and prep the plane for the act," one of which was "a drunken comedy routine." For the aid, Desmond bartered all kinds of returns, such as a ride in the owner's Extra 300. "To this day, besides flying in Alaska, air shows are the only thing I truly want to do in aviation." To learn why, keep on reading.
While a junior in high school, Desmond began taking aviation classes at a community college. Classmates were instructors at the nearby flight school, Tailwheels Etc. Inc., where he was working on his pilot's license. "I began hanging around the shop with them and was put to work restoring and detailing planes, along with performing easy maintenance tasks that a 16 year old could be trusted to do, with an experienced A&P mechanic and the flight school's owner watching over my shoulder."
Desmond entering "Into the Wild," waiting for fellow WMU Aviation slumni David Stawinski to land
That owner, Jonathan Amundsen, and his co-owner wife, Liz, "became mentors and, at the end of the day, family to me. They traded shop time for flight time. Along with that came real-world experiences that pertained to more than aviation. They piqued my interest in flying for more than just a big paycheck from an airline. They were the ones who recommended WMU."
The Amundsens hailed from southwest Michigan and knew of Western's "stellar" aviation program. Desmond arranged for a spring visit of the College of Aviation's facilities and the Kalamazoo campus. His tour guide -- Josh Blain -- was subjected to a ton of questions from "an airplane nerd. Even before I left for the next stop on my 'college tour,' I knew I was going to enroll at WMU.
"The equipment and facilities are first-class," he says, "but what sold me is the family atmosphere. When you hear students and faculty -- including the dean -- talk with everyone on a first-name basis, and show legitimate interest in their students' success both during and after college, it was easy to see that the College of Aviation had a very special camaraderie. I wanted to be a part of that."
On his way to a degree in aviation flight science in 2018, Desmond was admitted to the ranks of the program's student ambassadors, hoping to do as well as Blain had done for him. His service earned Desmond a couple of flights to the Sun 'n Fun events in his home state to recruit future Broncos.
By the time he was a sophomore, he had the ratings to be a flight instructor for the fleet's Cirrus aircraft and for the Super Decathlon. "The most fun I had flight instructing at WMU was in the Super D," he says. "It was great sharing my love of aerobatics with students during their upset-recovery sessions in the commercial course."
To enhance his career, Desmond was a four-year member of the WMU chapter of Alpha Eta Rho, the coed international fraternity that connects the aviation industry with institutions of higher education to promote job placements in aviation, aeronautical engineering and aerospace.
Desmond with his aircraft about 30 miles into the Tordrillo Mountain Range located west of Anchorage, about 4000’ on top of a glacier
Desmond can't say enough about the worth of that experience, starting with the networking and the contacts that are made. "The facility tours of local aviation companies and the guest speakers are truly priceless," he says. "You can't put a value on the knowledge that people with long and successful careers share with members at the weekly meetings."
The day after graduation, Desmond took the king of "road trips" -- a drive to Juneau to join Alaska Seaplanes, a commuter airline based in the southeast sector of the state. Over "some of the prettiest terrain in some of the most challenging weather conditions," Desmond piloted for more than two years the Cessna 208 Caravan, a single-pilot, short-haul regional airliner that can carry nine to 14 passengers, or its cousin, the Cessna Supervan.
Then goodbye to Alaska, right? Nope. On to Anchorage to fly for Katmai Air, formed in 1974 to initially serve the national park of the same name. He flies both a variety of float planes (something he had experienced during his Western days) and the Pilatus PC-12, a single-engine turbojet that transports both passengers and cargo. On the same day, he can be behind the controls of a PC-12 and later a float plane. And they are not the same aircraft.
"Flying in western Alaska certainly has its challenges," he says, "but it is also a ton of fun. In the IFR (instrument flight rules regarding ceilings and visibility) world, we are often shooting approaches to an airport different than our destination to get in under the weather, and then proceeding VFR (visual flight rules) to our planned stop. On the float side, the varying wind, weather and water levels always make every spot a little different each day."
Desmond does his share of charters, such as picking up Covid-positive cases and flying them to quarantine in Anchorage, or flying youngsters from school to their homes for the holidays. Katmai owns several resort lodgings. Desmond takes folks on their dream trips -- checking out the bear population or catching 30-inch rainbow trout in an immaculate lake or river. "It's hard to not feel a sense of pride in being part of someone's life-long memory." How about landing a ski-equipped plane on the top of a glacier?
A couple of Katmai Aircraft celebrating the 4th of July at Turner Lake
In addition to Alpha Eta Rho's value, similar insights came from his favorite instructors, such as master faculty specialist Gil Sinclair. "His wide variety of experience," Desmond says, "often translated into learning something that may or may not have been related to the course. But if it wasn't, it was related to having a long and safe career, which is just as important as the class content."
Former instructor Russ Kavalhuna "pushed me the hardest," Desmond said about working with him on making safety videos and producing a full proposal for establishing a competitive aerobatic team at Western. "He never let me feel comfortable where I was at. He pushed me to do something more than just fly. He taught me how important it is to do more than just the job description, to go out of your way to learn everything about the business."
There's also high praise for his first boss at the college, Tom Thinnes, the director of marketing, recruitment and outreach. "Instead of shooting my absurd ideas down," he says, "Tom would let me work through them and figure them out for myself. He gave me the freedom to think creatively as long as I got my job done as expected. Tom gives his employees that freedom. He will give them as much responsibility as they can handle, and then builds upon that."
Katmai Air Recon! Desmond working to find new sand bars and non-airport places to take students
He says the Thinnes-esque perspective exists at Katmai Air. "There is never a closed door to an idea," he says. "There is always a discussion." As a result, Desmond is now the company's "social media guy" and he's been directed to assemble an intern program for WMU students. "This is a company where we celebrate our birthdays, go fishing and hunting together, enjoy a meal with each other, and at the end of the workday grab a beer and swap stories at the bar or around a fire."
Ambiance and a contrasting quality-of-life view are part of the sales pitch, especially in these times of pilot shortage. "We want to show what the job is really like," he says. "Whether it be just for the summer season or year-round, this is a fun career with opportunities to do things that no airline would allow. I think the quality of life of a pilot in Alaska often goes unnoticed. I have been flying commercially in Alaska for five years. I have spent less than 10 nights in a hotel, and that was because the weather prevents me from getting home.
"Flying in Alaska is fun, challenging and you meet awesome people," he says. "When you're with an old-timer listening to stories about bush flying back in the day, it's hard to see me doing something else. That would get monotonous. I feel a real freedom flying in Alaska.
A cold, but great day, Desmond fishing the Kenai River
His career complements his hobby -- fly fishing. Flying float planes is conducive to wetting a line in a world-class lake while waiting for guests. There's always a boat at the dock and a nearby duck blind. Alaska is home to many companies that emphasize their employees' life style. "All this gets in your blood," he says. "From the day I got here, I said that the longer I stay, the less likely I am to leave. After five years, I'm still here. I have no plans on going anywhere."
Having stated that, air shows ("bad-ass" flying in his terms) are also still in his blood. "They kept my drive alive at a young age," he says. "I've looked into the crowd and the awe on kids' faces when the aviator gives them a high five or takes a photo with them. I think it's important to go out of your way to inspire kids to become pilots for the sheer enjoyment of flying, not for the $400,000 salary when they are 50. Be a pilot so that you will have a damn cool job, can travel and see a world most people never do."
Of course, landing on a glacier or bringing a float plane down to a smallish, fish-filled lake also qualifies as "bad-ass" flying. Even for a fellow who never liked the cold, that's cool.