After two weeks of black
weather and red tape, we were finally leaving Yakutsk
[map]. The long row of Antonov An-2
biplanes tethered near the runway gave us a shock: along with the word
AEROFLOT, all had ominous black smoke stains along their sides. Shane and a
Russian mechanic went to work on the two that were ours. After several
belches, wheezes, and snorts, clouds of smoke billowed out of an exhause
pipe near the front engine, and our plane reluctantly sputtered to life [video].
From the cockpit, Shane tried to reassure us. "Don't worry: they all make these noises and spit out smoke. You get used to it." I began to wonder what we'd gotten ourselves into.