Alaska DNR Forestry: Greg King Memorial Service, Palmer, AK October 1

Alright everybody, so good afternoon to everyone. I just want to thank everybody who's come. I know we've traveled a long ways from New Zealand, from the lower 48, and then all of our Alaska brothers and sisters. So just want to start out by saying thank you.

So once again, thank you for being here as we all gather to honor and celebrate the life of Greg King. Before we begin today, I got a couple of housekeeping items we just need to go over. Restrooms are behind everybody. There's a garage door and there's some restrooms out there at any time if you need to use the restroom. Emergency exits to my left, to my right, and to the back.

In case of an emergency, we just ask that everybody in a calm, orderly fashion make your way out either to the parking lot or to the hangar ramp. And then finally, if you could just silence or turn off your cell phones during the service It would be greatly appreciated.

As we conclude the formal portion of today's service, we invite you to stay, eat, share memories and stories, and support one another.

I'd like to now invite Norm MacDonald to come up and share a few words as we begin to honor the life that meant so much to us all. Thank you, Andy. All right, good afternoon everybody, um, and thank you for being here today. My name is Norm McDonald. I'm the Chief of Fire and Aviation.

Um, on behalf of the Alaska Division of Forestry and Fire Protection, uh, welcome to our aviation base here in Palmer. Uh, thank you for being with us as we gather to honor the life and memory of Greg King. It is especially meaningful we gather here in a place dedicated to aviation and the protection of people and communities. This space represents the work Greg cared about and the people with whom he shared that work. It's also the place where Greg met Kelly, who was a dispatcher here at the time, the beginning of a relationship with deep ties to our fire family.

And today it gives us a place to stand together to grieve and remember and to support one another. Today we honor Greg with grat— with his— for his gratitude and gratitude for his service, respect for his courage, and the appreciation for the relationships and memories he leaves behind.

What strikes me standing here is the web of connections that Greg built over his lifetime. His family by blood and by marriage, including his New Zealand roots, are here today. His Alaska Fire family is here. The people he flew for and worked alongside with our helitack crews out of this very base. His U.S. Forest Service Fire family is here from Price Valley.

They are his friends who knew Greg as a teammate, a leader, and a brother in fire. The aviation community is here. Pilots, mechanics, and colleagues from across Alaska and the nation who understood Greg's passion for flying.

The heliskiing community is here. People who knew Greg through the mountain ranges that surround us today. The Alaska Range to our west, the Chugach Mountains to our south and east, and the Talkeetna Mountains to our north. These are places he loved to fly and flew with passion. And then judging from a recent picture I saw of Greg and Kelly, it was clearly Greg's happy place.

And finally, his friends and neighbors from Palmer are here, the community he chose, embraced, and was part of his daily life.

All of these groups together reflect the life Greg lived and the people he was connected to, and seeing you all here is a powerful reminder of how far his influence reached. This memorial, the stories, the people, and the love represented today are reflections of the life that Greg and Kelly put together, a life defined by connection, commitment, and community.

So I'm honored to welcome you and help hold this space for all the parts of Greg's life that intersect in this room. Today, as we share memories and celebrate who Greg was, may we also celebrate the way he brought people together.

We are friends and family of Greg's. You are friends and family of Greg's. So today, we are all friends and family. Thank you for being here and welcome.

Thanks, Norm, for those words. Uh, now we'll take a moment to hear from Craig's family, followed by letter readings.

Hi everybody, I'm Merv King, Greg's dad. I've got a few words about when Greg, right from when he was a baby til he left. Greg was a great baby who slept through the night from 2 months, and he walked at 9 months old, which kept his mother Joy on her toes.

After he was about 2, he used to run round the farm in front of a tractor, then cry at 2 AM with sore muscles. I had to prise his mouth open to get medication in, and then he was fine.

Greg had a green money pig that he kept all his change in. Once his uncle came to visit and stayed in Greg's room. When going to bed, he placed his change on the bedside table between Greg and himself. He woke up in the morning and the money was gone. It had gone into Greg's money pig.

One afternoon, Greg, his mother and grandmother went to go shopping in the local shopping mall. Greg shot up the stairs and was looking down at his mother and grandmother. Much to his grandmother's and mother's dismay, Greg yelled out a whole heap of swear words, getting their attention and a whole heap of local shoppers.

When we sold the farm in the North Island, Greg was about 4. We had an auction for cattle. The auctioneer was in the middle of auctioning the cattle. He kept taking bids from this person who was whistling. I was thinking, this is great, more money for me.

All of a sudden I looked down and lo and behold, it was Greg that was doing the whistling.

When we moved back down to the South Island, Greg started school and he would catch the school bus about 2 miles around the road. One day his mum was 10 minutes late going to pick him up. He saw her coming and hid in the grass. When she got to the bus stop, no Greg. She started to panic and tried to catch up with the bus.

No sign of the bus, so she went home.

Here was Greg. Having a snack at the table. I think it was the closest he ever came to getting a good slapping from his mother.

Greg cruised through primary school without much trouble. One day he was helping me draft sheep at home and he was throwing stones around. I told him he would have to start barking or stop throwing stones as the dog wouldn't come near him.

Whilst at primary school, he became quite proficient at skiing. And beat all the other boys in the giant slalom, much to their demise. He played soccer. One game he went to head the ball away from his goal, hit the wrong side of his head and shot straight into his own goal, much to the opposition's delight. So off to college he went and started to go good at athletics, winning the New Zealand Junior Javelin Championship.

It was a tremendous thrill for him and me sitting on the bank in Auckland.

Whilst at college, he became very good at metalwork. His college teacher told me he could turn his hand to making anything he wanted and suggested he be pointed in that direction. Whilst at college, he had no trouble with subjects but did enough to please most teachers.

First year at St Andrew's College, Greg had terrific hand-eye coordination. When he was 13 years old, they had a cricket ball throw competition and Greg could outthrow all the 6th and 7th formers.

On leaving college, he applied for an apprenticeship aircraft engineer's job. Getting down to the last two, but missed out. However, he got an apprenticeship with Canterbury Engineering Company. Unfortunately, they closed down about 8 months before he was finished his time. So he didn't think he would bother going back, but I insisted he find a job.

He got one at Ennett and Darlings in Timaru and managed to finish his apprenticeship. When he finished his apprenticeship, he left. He didn't like being indoors, so he then worked on ski fields and done a couple of stints in Colorado, then back to Mt. Hutt where he was on ski patrol as medic. It was about then he had an inkling to go flying, so he got his private pilot's licence, then got his commercial licence.

When Greg was 19, he decided to do the Spates Coast to Coast, a 2-day multi-sport racing event. This involved running, kayaking, and biking. It runs from one side of New Zealand's South Island to the other.

His first job flying was with Air Safaris in Tekapo. After being there for quite a while, he was looking for bigger challenges. So he got a job with Mt Cook Skiplanes landing tourists on the glaciers, etc., in that region. Whilst doing that, he started thinking helicopters. So I'm thinking, when is this going to end?

So decided it was time he paid his own way to get his own licence for the chopper. So he took out a student loan, passed all his written exams without much trouble, then had to build up flying hours. Helicopter jobs in New Zealand at that stage were hard to come by. He worked at Glentanner for Helicopter Lines putting people on and off the helicopters for about 12 months before he got a break and started flying them. He was there for quite some time.

Overseas then beckoned him and Alaska was where he settled his first juno.

He was in Wacilla, now in Palmer. The rest you all know. His first car was a Morris Minor which his father had bought for him. It was a great little car but probably would only do 50 miles an hour. So anyhow, he came home one weekend, he'd sold the Minor and he arrived home driving a Cortina with a souped-up motor.

He left to go back to work. Next thing the phone goes, it's Greg. He'd driven about 3 miles down the road and had broken down, so I had to go and fix this heap of rubbish. Needless to say, it was gone next time he came down.

He went over to Kathmandu climbing with a group from Christchurch and climbed Mount Merau in the Himalayas.

His marriage to Kelly was a great affair where they came back to New Zealand and got married at our local bowling club where I was the president. A good time was had by all.

On behalf of Kelly, myself, and the King families, there are a lot of people to thank. First of all, Matt and Manali Dean. Without you, You have been a tower of strength helping us through this time. Thank you so much.

Price Valley rappellers, Precision Helicopters, Adam Callagher, Division Forestry Protection. To every person who drove the apparatus, blocked intersections, stood along the roadway, koordinayted behind the scenes, flew overhead, carried flags, rendered honours, or simply asked, "How can I thank you?" Our family are truly humbled by the show of support from everyone who came together to help getting us through this tragedy. And finally, ladies and gentlemen and children, thank you all for coming today to honour Greg's life. Thank you.

My name's Angie, and I'm reading on behalf of Kallie, and then I'm going to read on behalf of Logan and myself.

I've tried to find the words that could show all of you who Greg truly was, but nothing feels quite big enough to describe the man I knew.

Most of you knew Greg from the helicopter, slinging buckets, dropping off heliskiers on mountaintops, or working with the geo crews up north. That was the Greg you knew. For me, Greg was my rock. He kept me calm and grounded, which, if you know me, is no small job. He was always surprising me—a birthday trip to Seattle, a marriage proposal in Ireland, or simple everyday things like making my morning coffee just the way he knew I liked it, or quietly making appointments before I had even realised that they needed to be made.

I rarely had to be asked for anything. He just knew. He always knew. Greg was annoyingly gifted in sports. He could fix just about anything and enjoyed a glass of tequila while watching crankin' hockey games.

Greg walked into my life and embraced a role I don't think he ever planned for: stepdad. He cheered the girls on, told dad jokes, picked them up from school and put real thought into their birthday gifts. Every single year. His guidance will be deeply missed by them. I will forever be grateful for the years, short as they were, that I had with him, and mourn that we will not grow old together and live out our dreams of retiring in New Zealand.

I will miss our morning coffee and the funny little jokes that only we understood.

I will do my best to keep our yard looking like a golf course, drive the Holden only on warm sunny days, keep a tidy Kiwi house, and promise to hike with the dogs. But most of all, I promise to honour you, Greg, and look for your subtle signs that you're still right here with me.

Until we meet again, Gregory, all my love, your wife.

To Logan and me, Greg was always our hero. He was our inspiration, someone who looked up to, and the big brother we are incredibly proud of. But this week has opened our eyes to something we perhaps never really fully understood. The man we knew as our brother was also a hero to many of you.

From the pilots who flew alongside him to the firefighters who stood beside him to the people whose lives he touched across Alaska, New Zealand, and far beyond. We have heard story after story of the man Greg was. He was skill, his courage, his generosity, and his humor.

To see how deeply he was loved respected and honoured has been truly humbling. We knew Greg was special because he was our brother, but we didn't realise was just how many people out there felt incredibly lucky to have Greg as part of their lives too.

But to us, Greg was never just a pilot, the firefighter, or the man so many people admired. He was our big brother.

Our childhood was a little different from most. Greg was 11 years older than me, so by the time I came along, he was already at boarding school and then off into the world, working, travelling, and eventually living overseas. We didn't grow up side by side, and we didn't get to share as much of everyday life together as many brothers and sisters do, but that never stopped us looking up to him. Logan and I spent a lot of our time watching our big brother and being amazed at what he could do— snow skiing, water skiing, mountain biking, mountaineering, endurance, rock climbing, and the list goes on. He seemed to have this natural ability to take on anything and make it look easy.

Greg was always a little bit ahead of us, carving out his own path and finding his own way in the world. We were often the bystanders watching from behind, wondering what we could do next or where he would go next. Our usual family discussions was, "Has anyone heard from Greg?" or "Does anyone know where Greg is?" He was meticulous about everything. Everything had to be done properly, and he had a way of doing things that was very much his own way. Even the pavlova had to be exactly like Grandma's.

His mashed potatoes were always perfect too, and self-saucing pudding was certainly a favourite, but of course that had to be perfect as well. And if you decided to have a go yourself, you could always tell from the look on Greg's face if it wasn't quite right. Or he would stand there watching you make it, trying very hard not to take over or show you how it should be done. There was definitely a korrekt way to do things, and Greg knew exactly what it was.

That was Greg. Adventurous, determined, funny, capable, and sometimes, as only a brother can be, a little bit of a pain in the ass.

That was our Greg, our big brother, our hero, and someone who inspired us simply by the way he has lived his life. So Greg, wherever you are, I hope you are somewhere high in those mountains doing what you always did, finding your next adventure.

Rest peacefully among the skies, our big brother, and if there is a place where we can be together again, I hope Mum was there waiting for you.

We love you, Greg, and we always will.

Hello, my name is Andy. I work with Price Valley. I've got a letter I'm going to read to you from one of Greg's friends, Nigel Gee, from New Zealand.

Hello everyone, my name is Nigel Gee, writing this from New Zealand. Greg and I were very close friends since the mid-1990s. My memory of the afternoon of September 20th is vivid. I've recalled the first news of Greg's accident many times in my— in the last week. I was driving my car.

My cell phone lit up with my friend John Roberts' name on the screen. I pressed answer and said, "Hi John, what's up?" in a cheerful voice. John's voice replied in a very direct but clear, strong tone. "Nigel, where are you?" "I'm driving, John. 2 Minutes from home." "Okay, carry home, Nige.

I'll call you in 5 minutes. I've got some bad news." And it doesn't get any worse.

I kept driving. My head went into all sorts of crazy possible scenarios. John was dying was my first thought. Once home, my apprehension was building, and I wasn't looking forward to John calling me back. The phone rang.

The first thing John said was, "Are you sitting down?" "Yes, I am, John," I replied. "Just say it," I replied. "This is big, Nige. Greg's been killed on fires this afternoon." For the next 30 seconds, I could not even comprehend what John was telling me. My mind was telling me it's not Greg King, it's some other Greg that I couldn't quite recall.

But then the realization became intense and clearer. Initially, I couldn't talk back to John. I had gone into a silent weep that completely overwhelmed me, and then some kind of shock took over. It's a phone call I'll never forget, and the days following were more than awful. This is— this message to all you at Greg's service today is not meant to be a eulogy, or if it were, you would all be sitting here for another half hour listening to me.

Me. It simply had too many things in common, from mountain biking to the love of Led Zeppelin and everything in between, to cover here today.

This message is purely an acknowledgement from myself and all those friends of Greg's in New Zealand that we are deeply mourning the loss of someone very special to us. This is not an outcome that I ever imagined for Greg, for he was a true aviation professional in every respect. And I know in time we will look back at all the wonderful moments and experiences a lot of us had with Greg. But as for myself right now, I'm a very long time away from entering that stage of this process. For now, I'm right at the beginning of the painful part and just want my mate back.

My heart goes out to Kelly and the girls. And I'm truly riding this journey along your side. To Greg, to Greg's dad Merv, and the King family, I'm so sorry for your loss. This event goes against the natural order of things. We're not supposed to bury our kids, Merv.

They're supposed to bury us. To all of Greg's stateside friends and work colleagues, I fully acknowledge your loss also. You will have many memories without doubt, and I know you are deeply saddened to lose Greg. Love to all of you from Greg's New Zealand friends. And finally, much love to you, dear Greg.

You will always be remembered and never forgotten.

Aroha nui. Nai jaki.

Hello everyone, my name is John Beckler. I had the very good fortune to work with Greg up here in Alaska for a little over 10 years, and I've been asked to read a letter from John Roberts, who was friends with Nigel Gee and was also very good friends with Greg for a long time, and then I'll say a few words about Greg myself.

This is John's letter from New Zealand that he sent me last night, and it goes like this. My name is John Roberts. Greg and I have been mates for many years. I first met Greg in 1993. I was the base pilot in a remote mountainous part of New Zealand, Araki Mount Cook National Park.

Greg was my ground support person. He was just a young fella still in the dreaming stage of becoming a professional pilot. I would go on different missions and Greg would always be there with nonstop questions. Where did you go? Where'd you land?

Was it windy? These and 100 other questions would be asked in a very short time. Greg always quizzed me with this half-cocked smile on his face, and I think we all know which one he's talking about.

Greg was always happy and excited to be in the mountains and working around aircraft. He moved on in time, and we always kept in touch. Sometimes we wouldn't hear from each other for a number of years, and when we did speak, it was like we saw each other yesterday. A true healthy friendship. Greg followed his passion for the mountains and aviation, and in the late 1990s he was flying small planes in the Southern Alps of New Zealand.

This ran into the mid-2000s when he jumped into helicopters. In 2012, we were having a catch-up. Greg had moved to Juneau and it was my second season flying in Alaska with Saloy. Part of the conversation was, of course, the 100 questions. Where did you go?

What jobs did you do? What did you have for breakfast? These and a thousand, thousand-plus questions at the same half-cocked smile that he always had.

Greg was ready for another job change and joined Precision— I'm sorry, I skipped a paragraph. He was ready to move to a new job, and so he came on board with Saloy and started flying with them in Alaska for the next 10 years. During this time, Greg met an Alaskan girl.

I am sure that she had to answer many quick fire questions for a number of weeks, but she must have had the right answers. One of those questions must have been, "Will you marry me?" It turns out Kelly said yes. Greg was a very happy man. Greg is ready for another job change and joined Precision Helicopters in Oregon and has been there ever since.

Greg has gained over 20 years experience flying helicopters and over 10,000 hours in command time. A very competent and experienced pilot, but without the big ego and selfish attitude that some suffer from in this industry. It was just a pleasure to have a person like Greg in the industry and as a friend. I received a call from a mutual friend some 10+ days ago. There has been an accident and Greg has not survived.

A very sad day in my life to hear this news. After talking to Kelly, I jumped on a flight and flew to California to help with getting Greg back home to Alaska. I was so lucky to be able to be near Greg and in the area he was working in at the time of the accident. You could feel the passion Greg would have flying in such a beautiful area with its mountains, lakes, and forests. This is what draws both Greg and myself to this kind of life.

Being in the memories, being in the mountains with the best view possible from above, operating a complex yet sensitive machine, knowing those special moments that are unique to this lifestyle.

Greg would never consider himself a hero. That is not why he flew helicopters. He was an awesome country boy from New Zealand. Who loved flying in the great outdoors and mountains and helping other people out wherever he could. Greg makes me very proud to be a Kiwi.

My deepest sorrow goes out to his family. So long, mate. You were a good friend. I will always remember your questions and of course that half-cocked grin. A te wa, until next time.

That was from John Roberts, who couldn't be with us today. I have just a few words to say myself. And again, my name is John Beckler, and I flew here in Alaska with Greg for a little over 10 years. We both flew at Palmer Forestry here, and I'm very, very honored to have flown with him as much as I did.

He was a really fantastic pilot and a wonderful person. I'm grateful to have known him. He was a dear friend. He was incredibly kind. He had a great sense of humor, and he was really fun to fly with.

I was also his boss for a time. He was really a true professional. He was incredibly punctual. I never knew him to be late for anything. I'm sure other people can attest to that.

He always did the work he was tasked with to the best of his ability, which meant most of the time he was exceptionally easy to work with. But I was his boss, and sometimes— and I'm glad to hear this come from his sister as well— sometimes Greg was a pain in the ass.

But thankfully, Greg was a pain in the ass in a good way. You see, Greg could find something wrong with every helicopter that he flew. And I'm sure people who've flown with him have seen that. He had a wonderful knack for it. And when he found something wrong that he didn't quite like, he needed it to be fixed.

He expected the aircraft he flew to be as close to perfect as possible. And he did his part to help with that. He took excellent care of the aircraft that he operated. He took a lot of pride in their cleanliness and tidiness, and he kept them working properly. So he was a pain in the ass because he cared, and he made all of us that worked with him pay just a little bit more attention because we knew that if we didn't find something wrong, Greg was going to find it, uh, if we didn't.

His commitment to excellence, his attention to detail, and high standard of care for the aircraft as he flew is something I'm genuinely grateful to have learned from. From him.

His genuine friendliness and easygoing nature had a great positive effect on all of us who had the good fortune to know him. His loss is immense, and that's evidenced by everybody gathered here today, and even more who couldn't be here, who are here with us in spirit, and those that are watching online. Greg was a remarkably kind person with a huge heart. He cared for people with a warmth and genuine affinity that is rare. For those of us in the industry.

He was personable, genuine, and deeply dedicated to the people that he worked with, the customers he served, and the aircraft that he flew. He took his work seriously every day, and losing a pilot, and especially not just a pilot but a person like Greg, leaves a massive hole in our industry and certainly in all of our hearts. And that goes to say my sincere condolences to Greg's family, Those up from New Zealand and those that couldn't make it, especially to you, Kelly, I'm so tremendously sorry for your loss.

Thank you for allowing us to speak about Greg's character, for me to share John Roberts' words as well.

Thank you for letting me, um, be up here today. To Greg, um, thank you for your friendship. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for setting the bar so damn high as a pilot. You'll be greatly missed.

Blue skies and rest in peace, my friend.

Good afternoon, everybody. My name is Matthew Dean. Um, I know a lot of you couldn't understand Greg very well. But I assure you I went to a better school.

I actually declined to say anything today because I just didn't know if I was going to be able to do this, but I did write something very small.

But again, again, on behalf of the Greek family and myself, David, thank you so much for your team, your transparency, your kindness. I know it's a challenging time for you and all your people, Yeah, here we are. And the other pilots that came up, Frank, your wife, Sam, I know how much Greg did mean to you, and he was a role model. He only ever wanted to make everybody flew better than him, faster than him, more professional than him.

Yeah, he was a pain in the ass that way. But I did want to share one story with you. Greg wasn't a very tall man in stature, but by crikey, he was a good man. Very often we would switch out helicopters and I would get out of that machine, grab my headset, helmet, whatever it was, and I would make sure that seat was all the way back, the seatbelt was as tight as possible, and he would tell me, "You are not that skinny or tall, Matt." And I said, "That's fine by me, brother." My wife wasn't able to make it today. We've got a 7-week-old baby, and she loved Greg.

When I was away— we were neighbors, lived 15 minutes apart— when she wasn't able to do anything, we relied on Greg and vice versa. There was many a times where the winter here is harsh and— thank you, my friend, my brother, my— yeah. Anyway, these are the words I did write.

Gregory John, no words of mine will ever express how I really feel about you leaving us. Ginger, Melanie and I Consider Kelly and you, our blood family. Everyone knows how truly professional you are at your trade, the trade that consistently takes people like you from us. You are the most compassionate, considerate, hearing person I will know and will ever knowen to be.

My son will know. And his children will know.

Godspeed, my friend. May there be endless jet fuel, tailwinds, and blue sky. Until we meet again, we've got the watch of Kelly and the girls for eternity and time.

Thanks.

All right, um, so at this time, uh, before we start a slideshow, if I could get our special presentation presenters to come up and line up just over here to the left, uh, that'd be appreciated.

So as we continue our tribute to Greg, uh, we will now view a slideshow honoring the moments that Find Greg's life. And if we could, uh, dim the lights— it's not really a dim, it's going to be shut off the lights— I'd appreciate that.

Yeah. How years ago, in days of old, when magic filled the air, just in the darkest depths of Mordor, I met a girl so fair. But Gollum, the evil one, All right, um, so if we could, uh, so if we could all, uh, go out, uh, in a nice slow fashion, uh, through the garage door here and make our way out front, um, we're going to all go outside together Where We'll Hear the Last Call for Greg King, uh, followed by the helicopter flyover tribute. So just thank you, everybody, and we'll meet outside.