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ALASKA 2000 - Flynorth.com "Flatlanders" to the mountains.
Fred read the article in the COPA magazine back in December 1999 - Flynorth.com an Alaskan 2000 experience. Gina, Fred's wife, didn't seem keen to participate with him on initial suggestion. So, Dave volunteered without really realizing what he'd let himself in for. Contact was made with John Dale at Flynorth.com, and the process set in motion. E-mail and website interface gathered momentum as the months and weeks progressed toward the official start of Alaska 2000 due to commence at the Springhouse Airpark in British Columbia on August 4th 2000. The list of supplies and materials took on a life of its own as the planning took effect. Perhaps a train of pack mules would be more appropriate to transport the contents of the list; Survival gear, camping gear, fishing gear, clothes, food, coolers full of the comforts of life. Rain gear, cold gear, hot gear, information and books to read……
How are we going to fit this stuff into the Beechcraft Sierra B24R?

Should the cylinders be replaced prior to the expedition? The 2000-hour engine runs fine, consumes a little more oil than it should. The oil analysis indicates slightly elevated aluminum and chrome content, a sure sign that the pistons and rings have a little more clearance than a new engine. Fred mulls this issue over for months before making the decision to do so, in conjunction with the annual aircraft inspection. Oshkosh Air Venture 2000 fits in nicely to the departure schedule so the plan was to leave Windsor, Ontario on the evening of July 27th, spend until July 31st at Oshkosh then make our way west for the rendezvous with the other Flynorth.com participants at Springhouse, British Columbia on August 3rd.
The following is an account of the trip from the perspective of "Flatlanders" who make their first adventure west and experience undulations greater than 100 feet high for the first time in their aeronautical lives.

Thursday July 27th
Rendezvous time was 4.30 p.m. We were late of course, but not by much. The "plane packing" occurred the night before but its funny how half the stuff doesn't appear until the last minute. Standing on bathroom scales with ballast in arms to get an accurate assessment of the baggage weight was the chosen method of balancing the aircraft. A muggy, crappy day, but the weather forecast indicates there are some holes in the clouds between Windsor and Oshkosh. Fred files the flight plan and reports to US Customs and Immigration that we will arrive at Detroit City airport, the point of entry to the USA, at 6 p.m. for clearance.

Out of the hanger at 5.30 p.m., all pre-flight checks OK and away we taxi. Get runway assignment 20. Those of you who have had the privilege of flying out of Windsor fully laden on this runway will understand the concern. Fred immediately retorts that he doesn't like this runway because of "the poles". Anyway, we're off. Gave up assessing the weight of the aircraft and contents long ago:
Gross weight 2,750 lbs Actual estimated 2,740 lbs
It is funny how Murphy always plays a role in these situations. Weight max'd out, shortest runway on the field, not often assigned, cross wind and "the poles" center from the end of the runway. Fred certainly noticed the effect of the well-laden craft during take-off. Ten minutes to Detroit City Airport with a perfect landing on runway 15 at 626 feet in altitude. We taxied directly to the Customs and Immigration holding area punctually for the 6 p.m. appointment. Pilot and passengers are not permitted to leave the aircraft during this process. The temperature is close to 30OC and humidity in the 90% range. After 10 minutes or so and two or three enquiry calls to ground and tower, the Customs and Immigration officer appears. I.D.'s check out fine but co-pilot Dave has to intercede and prevent pilot Fred from wrestling the Customs Officer to the ground as he attempted to make off with the well exposed Canadian bananas. Dave tries to pacify Fred by telling him that the officer was probably only feeling a little hungry, after all it was close to suppertime. Have to hand it to the pilot though; he was successful in retaining the breakfast fruit before it was devoured. BANANAS! Departed Detroit City in the direction of Jackson Michigan, Gary Indiana, then north along the western Lake Michigan shoreline past Chicago south of Milwaukee to Fond-du-Lac Wisconsin. The weather was very muggy, skuddy was Fred's terminology. The weather advisory recommended the southerly lakeshore route to avoid storm activity over Western Michigan and the lake. Visibility was not ideal, poor according to Dave, but well within VFR (Visual Flight Rules) limits according to Fred. Ran into some showers, which were not heavy enough to blast the thick covering of bugs from the windshield. What the hell business do bugs have flying at 2,500 feet anyway. Forgot the window washing gear - didn't we?

Visibility improved somewhat at Chicago. We could see the tops of the buildings downtown as we flew by. The bottoms were not visible though. Dave is very impressed at the flight following services provided in the controlled airspace - VOR (VHF Omni Range), ground radar, altitude encoders, and air traffic controllers. On board GPS's and vectoring signals provide a means of deadly accurate location determination. Squawk frequencies assigned by the air traffic controllers permit them to track your location by radar and they advise you of other aircraft, weather, airport locations, altitude advisory etc. How come these services aren't made available for ailing parents tracking the whereabouts of their delinquent teenagers? Sometimes its better not to know! They hand you off from their controlled space to that of the next controller together with communications frequency advice I'm (Dave) impressed. We were too late to fly directly into Oshkosh. The airport facility at Oshkosh closes at 8 p.m., so we headed for Fond-du-Lac at an altitude of 809 feet. Made a beautiful landing on runway 36 and taxied directly to field camping. Found a campsite directly, reversed the plane in and strolled to the washroom and FBO, which closed at 9 p.m. - arrived at 9.01 p.m. Ablutions completed the camp was to be set up. By this time all "man" sized mosquitoes from Chicago to Milwaukee had notified their family members that new campsite residents had arrived. We both lost chunks of head, face, legs and arms to the buggers before putting on coats for protection. At 30oC and 90% relative humidity, the perspiration compounded the situation. The still exposed body-parts such as legs were really taking some punishment now. Members of the Flynorth.com group five days later looked in amazement at the disease the "Flatlanders" had brought with them to the mountains. Our excuse was the acidic air in southern Ontario etches these blemishes into the body. Don't think anyone bought this line. Everyone kept his or her distance from us for days into the trip. Tents finally erected, the only task left was to remove the beasts from inside the accommodation. Blood all over the place we finally slept.

Friday July 28th
Awoke to poor visibility. No flying would be possible until late morning. Breakfast at the airfield. A lot, at least what Dave thought were a lot, of planes were on the field. Wait till Oshkosh and then learn the definition of "a lot"! Minimum VFR conditions (three miles visibility and 1,000 foot ceilings) aren't very good - skuzzy. We take off and head for Oshkosh, following the well-publicized arrival procedure via Rippon following the railway tracks and awaiting instructions. Had to keep to an altitude of 1,500 feet (700 feet above the ground) in order to see the ground. It was raining pretty hard. The railway tracks were located but there was no mention of the "extinct" trackless railway that was more visible than the posted ones. The little side tour was enjoyable. Headed east to intercept the "real" track. Followed the orange arrows and instructions being shouted to us from controllers perched in trees somewhere out of sight, close to the ground. Landed runway 36 right (taxiway) together with many others in front, behind and at the side.
NEVER SEEN SO MANY PLANES AT ONE TIME IN ONE LOCATION - THOUSANDS!
Directed to general aviation parking/camping, we set up home for the next three days. Major disappointments were established during camp set-up. The brand new double burner stove, purchased exclusively for the venture, leaked gas at the connector tube - a poorly (non) brazed joint. Boy, did we curse Coleman! Searched out the Coleman sales truck at the "fly-market" and complained bitterly about the quality of their products. The guy denied having any knowledge of a Coleman product that resembled "our" tube, but wrote it off as a Canadian special, and was unable to help us further. Approached a vendor at a booth demonstrating fancy soldering equipment and threw down a challenge to him to demonstrate his process. He "bucked" at the opportunity saying that the chrome plating would not permit adhesion of the solder. Off we went in search of a file to remove the subject adhesion offender. Couldn't find one to purchase but talked a vendor, demonstrating aluminum product welding, into loaning us his file, which he obligingly did. Back to the soldering/brazing guy who's resistance had waned in the meantime. Wallah! - What appeared to be success. Later, the test run proved the success of the venture. The lamp - assembled it, again a first time event and noticed the poor workmanship. Cursed Coleman and their products again. Discovered later by studying the packaging that the suspect products were actually Canadian Tire specials. SORRY COLEMAN. The free-bee single burner Coleman stove that Fred had acquired from Oshkosh the previous year (retrieved from the garbage container), and brought with him as a back-up resource, performed perfectly and took on the role of primary utensil.

Saturday July 29th
Spent all day studying what the vendors at the show had on offer. How many GPS pouches did Fred actually end up purchasing before the right sized one was found? Watched the air show in the afternoon. Relaxed on the campsite in the evening to homemade cooking and red wine.

Sunday July 30th
Up early, breakfasted and visited the antique aircraft area. Searched the Fly-market for the hat Dave saw on Friday and hesitated to purchase. No more to be found. Dave's hair has been wavy for a number of years (waving goodbye) so it has become an essential of life to wear headgear for protection from the sun. Treated ourselves, Fred did, to a flight on the Ford Tri-motor. At 2 p.m. the line up included about ten or fifteen people. The staff indicated we would probably not get off before commencement, at 3 p.m., of the Warbirds airshow. So, we sat at the Tri-motor departure area on their chairs and settled in to watch the show. Our neighbours here indicated they often fly to Tobermory from the Detroit area. In fact, they indicated that they were there the previous weekend, on Saturday. Is that not a coincidence? So were we, we declared. It turned out that they were the aircraft that arrived as we were fueling up for departure. The blue and white Cessna 206. What a small world isn't it? The Tri-motor flight took us out over the town of Oshkosh and Lake Winnebago, a pretty sight. Then back over the west side of the airfield on a left base to land. Man, did the pilot cut the final short to put the craft down hard on the left wheel. Didn't seem to faze him, just taxied down the runway onto the grass to disembark. What a nice experience. Oshkosh and Lake Winnebago from the Ford Tri-Motor Decided, the weather forecast helped, to depart Oshkosh Sunday evening. By then the traffic was much lighter. Prior to noon, the aircraft had been lined up fifty at a time, four directions on the taxiway and two at a time on the runway. What a spectacle, just standing on the flight line watching planes fly in and out is pure entertainment. Anyway, Sunday evening departed Oshkosh on runway 9 and charted course for St. Cloud, Minnesota, altitude 1,024 feet. Amazed by the vastness of the landscape and the forests. There are some tall masts sticking up out of the ground in Minnesota. Cruising at 3,500 feet ASL (Above Sea Level) we encountered one 1,500 feet high just 1,000 feet below the aircraft. A smooth landing on runway 31, nobody is manning the radio. Taxied to the general aviation building and encountered the late shift guy who put us on track for motels. Phoned the Royal Court Motel and were picked up within fifteen minutes. Nice motel, comfortable room, good nights sleep, for Dave anyway. Fred had become so used to the hard ground from camping that a bed was just too tough to adjust back to.

Monday July 31st
Awoke and dodged traffic on Highway 10 to make it to the "greasy spoon" diner for breakfast, a recommendation from the proprietors of the motel. The times that they had frequented the establishment must have coincided with the times when the air system worked in the joint. Needed supplementary oxygen for this part of the journey. Beside the environmental atmosphere in the building, the breakfast conformed to the recommendation provided. At last, the air system kicks in and, within minutes there is air to breath. Why did that not occur sooner? Stomachs loaded with eggs/omelets, hash browns and toast, we risked life and limb again on highway 10 to reach the motel. The neighbours were up and functioning by this time, a German family vacationing in Minnesota. Shot the breeze on German/US relations for ten minutes whilst waiting for the motel office to open at 8 a.m. Ready to roll and after waking the courtesy driver, we're off, bound for St. Cloud airport. Fred consulted with the avionics experts on the potential cause of the voltage surges evident through consistently pulsating (dimming and brightening) of the planes instrumentation lighting, evident last night in the dark. The diagnosis confirmed a suspected faulty voltage regulator. Attempts to locate a replacement locally were unsuccessful. Dave, the avionics guy did adjust the regulator which temporarily eased the problem. Its not until November of 2000 that Fred discovers the real reason for the voltage fluctuation, a loose connector on the ammeter. Set off at 11.30 a.m. in search of Dickinson, North Dakota. Mesmerized by the isolation of the landscape we navigated our way with the use of maps, compasses and GPS's successfully via Bismark to Dickinson. The arrival in Dickinson gave us the first taste of altitude landing, 2,592 feet in hot humid conditions. Remember at this point flying experiences were limited to Southern Ontario and Michigan. The plane just dropped onto runway 32, which presented a significant uphill gradient. We were greeted by the airport personnel who donated a courtesy vehicle, a Dodge Caravan, for purposes of visiting downtown Dickinson for lunch at Applebees. Back to the airport with a bag of ice in tow for the coolers. The plane was fueled and ready to go. Sky clear and 80OF + temperatures we were in for our first high altitude take-off on runway 32, destination, Great Falls, Montana. Amazed by the vastness of the landscape, literally miles of no habitation except the occasional ranch, trail and road, a few trees. Approaching Great Falls it rained heavily through clear blue skies. Big old lumps of rain bombarded the now bloodless windshield stowaways. Behind us was a perfect rainbow and clouds. First taste of mountain air - hum! TRSA or Terminal Radar Service Area approach into Great Falls due to the presence of military aircraft. Approach control continuously confused with our intentions; are we landing or flying through? Took a while to straighten this out with him. Confused over the runway assignment also, but finally got this sorted out with full apology from the controller and in for the second altitude landing on runway 3 - good one at 3,677 feet. Pulled up at Hollman Aviation, fueled up cancelled the flight plan and set off to the Best Western for another good nights sleep. Tough stuff this camping! Requested the front desk to assist us with directions to the local Wal-Mart for tape for the video recorder and swimming pants and pajamas for Fred, more forgotten items. The front desk clerk spent 5 minutes explaining how to get there to which Fred retorted - "do you supply courtesy bicycles?" He didn't respect the British humour and responded with " Don't you want to go there now?" "Yes, but we don't have a vehicle" was the reply. At last he saw through the sarcasm and offered the service of the hotel courtesy bus. Found the tapes, pajamas, no swimming pants and no wine. The wine was procured later at the local gas station next door to the hotel. Locating a corkscrew was an act of God. We both had remembered to pack one but of course they were buried in the bottom of the baggage compartment of the plane 10 miles away. Wine is an essential ingredient for the next day's flight planning. The gas bar was fresh out of corkscrews so the hotel restaurant became the preferred source. Over a glass of Chardonnay overlooking the hotel pool tomorrow's route over the mountains to the Flynorth.com Alaska 2000 rendezvous location was planned in excruciating detail. Tomorrow we would start early to experience some real mountain flying. Sleep, alarm set for 6.30 a.m. but, as we would discover tomorrow at 7.30 a.m., never activated.

Tuesday August 1st
Awoke at 7.30 a.m. breakfasted well and set off to Hollman Aviation. Even though Fred and Dave have known each other for more than 30 years their ability to coordinate the "tipping" process of the courtesy bus driver leaves a lot to be desired. He probably thought it was his lucky day when we filled both his hands with lovely loot. Notified CANPASS of the anticipated arrival and customs clearance at Penticton, British Columbia the point of entry back into Canada. Flight plan filed, off we set for the real altitude test, the mountains. A daunting experience lay ahead for the "Flatlanders". Out of Great Falls on runway 21, hot in the thin air, we ascend to jump the first mountains at 8,000+ feet within 45 minutes of the airport. Would we get up there? Plane just short of gross weight, first time up that high, unsure of the maximum altitude capability of the aircraft, we went for it all the way over. A reference to the onboard manual did not clarify the answer, managed 10,500 feet and soared over the mountain edge for the first view of the Rockies - awesome! Dumbstruck with the beauty of the scenery we rummaged through the onboard baggage for the cameras and shot what turned out later to be too many photographs of the same thing. Snow still covered the peaks, where would we land safely now if an emergency occurred? Nowhere we are fully committed. Confident in the planes ability to fly at 10,500 feet we headed directly to Penticton via Idaho and Washington State. The first taste of mountain flying west of Great Falls, Montana Now, en-route we discover Penticton in the Okanagan Valley to be at an altitude of 1,129 feet as we soar over the last peak at 10,500 feet and descend, with full aid of the drag of the landing gear, for landing on runway 34. For the novice mountain flyers the descent was akin to the downward slopes of the worlds largest roller coaster but you never quite reach that up turn, gear down, pointing the nose at the airport tower with the vertical speed indicator off the dial we're descending at 3,000 feet per minute. Ears popping and Fred's arms aching from pushing the controls forward, we fly into the valley and a right approach over the lake to runway 34. What a sight, clear blue skies and 28OC temperatures. All we wanted was to exercise the legs, quite a contrast from 4OC at 10,000 feet. Lunch en-route consisted of soda water, granola bars and the last of the corn chips, which Dave ate all by himself and suffered Fred's wrath for the balance of the trip. Immigration formalities conducted we walk the short distance to the lake south of the airport for a pop and an ice cream, Dave's first in at least three years, whilst walking on the beach. Back to the airport for gas and we leave runway 34 heading north through the Okanagan Valley and a rapid assent to clear the Okanagan Range. Again, for the "Flatlanders" of Ontario, an awe-inspiring sight of mountains and British Columbian forests. By now, this mountain flying stuff appears to be second nature. Penticton to Kamloops, 70 Mile House, 100 Mile House to Springhouse, our destination today and rendezvous location for the start of Alaska 2000. The mountain flying turns into a more relaxed valley-flying affair now. There really is no need to get up and over the mountains as we did from Great Falls to Penticton. Springhouse was very easy to locate. The clearing on the Plateau at 3,250 feet was spotted miles out, aided by the plume of smoke from the local mill. Once over the airfield, we are in for landing on Runway 33. The grass strip came up at us pretty quickly, exaggerated by the uphill slope. Fred handled it very coolly, Dave thought the grass was going to enter via the windshield. On taxiing to the parking area we are met by Lawrence Chambers of Lawrence Aviation who offers us the choice of the camping locations. We are the first of the Flynorth.com'ers to arrive. Camp established we set in for the first real campsite supper of lentil soup and salad. The hommus was becoming a little boring by now. Fred insisted it was going off but each time we resurrected it from the cooler we had to convince ourselves it was still OK. Have to beg milk off the Chamber family. Man is the air fresh here. Just the mooing of the horses and the naying of the cows or moose break the still of the night air - all night!! We arrange to travel to Williams Lake tomorrow at 7.30 a.m. with Judy and Tami Chambers. The "bug tent" was our savior. The mosquitoes seem to grow disproportionately large to decreases in atmospheric pressure.

Wednesday August 2nd

Arose early, breakfasted and left at 7.30 a.m. promptly for the trip to nearby Williams Lake and the chance to do the accumulated laundry. Judy and Tammi dropped us off at the laundry, next door to the local supermarket. So all could be accomplished while they ran their errands. Clothes successfully in the washing machine we figure the local Zellers store would yield the illusive swimming pants but we're too early, the store is yet to open. We wonder what the Chambers' can find to do in Williams Lake prior to the stores opening. Judy and Tammi have agreed to meet up with us at 9 a.m. for the visit to the liquor store. They are late and suffer the wrath of Dave. They get their revenge quickly and profusely. As locals, they know what goes on outside the liquor store in Williams Lake 10 minutes before opening time on "welfare Wednesday" and Dave joins right in as they watch from the safe distance of the truck in the parking lot! On the ride back to Springhouse we ask if they can recommend a car rental. We want to see some of the local sights prior to our scheduled departure on August 4th. Tammi offers us the use of her K-car. After all, she says she is leaving town tomorrow and has no immediate use for the vehicle. We are deeply honoured. By the time we arrived back in Springhouse Judy and Tammi offered us the use of their shower facilities for which we were deeply thankful. Equipped with shower, vehicle and plane there was no stopping us. That afternoon John Dale and Diana Haschke arrived and established camp next to us. John and Diana are the organizers of Flynorth.com. There are a number of important chores to do in preparation for the big "off". Learn how to operate the borrowed camcorder for one. But, learning how to fish and breaking in the new tackle takes preference. Downtown we ride in the K-car, with Diana as passenger. She shops at the supermarket; Fred and I head to the fishing store to enquire about licenses. Shocked at the $16/day rate we decide against it and meet up with Diana and head to the liquor store for John's six-pack. Back at camp we decide to pack the fishing tackle in the car anyway and head on out in search of hiking trails or fishing lakes. Travel miles northward on Dave's advice instead of east, should have had the GPS. Head back to town of Williams Lake in search of Duggan Lake. First a stop at the Tourist Information centre for local maps (fresh out) and advice on hiking trails. Little luck in this regard. Decide to purchase postcards which are probably still in the plane today! Next stop, gas. The least we could do is fuel up Tammi's car. So we head to the neighbouring gas bar with Fred at the helm. Why do some folks, in this case a lady with a heavy German accent, decide to roll forward from the pumps whilst staring down at their laps, stuffing change and receipts in their purses? Fred can't align the K-car swiftly enough at the pump before the rolling intruder buries her front bumper into the rear quarter of the newly acquired limo. Oh no, what now? Dave leapt from the passenger side, searing mad, to enquire why the intruder was driving heads down. After verbal encounters its decided that damage is negligible. Only the gas pump attendant feels obliged to write an accident report. Who doesn't have his driver's license with him?? What's going through the mind of the attendant as Fred declares he has no license? Enough of this stress, we're off fishing. Poles assembled, in the lake go the spinners, Fred catches the fish. More tackle required - swivels. At least something was achieved today. Back to camp for supper. But, not before Fred takes a picture of the "leaning shed" and "cow" at Duggan Lake. Staring back at you In the evening we sit around the fire pit at the airpark and shoot the breeze. Need to visit the laundry again tomorrow to eradicate the smell of campfire smoke. Going on midnight and still dusk, we gaze in amazement at the Aurora Borealis and satellites, which are observed streaking across the midnight skies.

Thursday August 3rd
Up early, breakfasted (breakfast is worthy of mention throughout this journal as the two travelers usually dine on thin air and the smog from driving Interstate 75 in suburban Detroit). Porridge was enjoyed for the second time on the trip and the first time sweetened with honey. With the courtesy car we drive to the local riding stable to survey the scene and check out the shower facilities. This, like the airpark, is a major activity centre; horses, camping and a German restaurant open three times daily, may be of interest to future tour groups. We did not find the opportunity to dine here. Breakfast was a campsite affair, if only to burn off some of the excess baggage in preparation for the long journey ahead, and the realization that we were carrying too much stuff. If we didn't want to return to Windsor with what we left with, then we had better devour some of it. Paid the $5 shower charge, well Fred did anyway. Dave hung his head and other notable body parts in the washbasin at the airpark earlier today. Hey, we discover the laundry facilities here, so Dave hi-tails it back to camp to retrieve the laundry stuff. Confusion over the cost of the coin operation, the sign on the machine says $1, the notice on the wall $1.50. We lose a quarter confirming the truth. A few moments to make some journal entries, on the picnic table in the morning sunshine, before we head out for the day, whilst waiting for the laundry. To the local Canadian Tire store for swivels and butane gas for Charlie and Karol. A whole bunch of other un-useful stuff too. Have to wrestle Fred down from buying a base for the new non-Coleman lamp. Off in search of a place to throw our tackle in the water. Find the island trails of Williams Lake and hike them instead. No opportunity to fish, too many reeds on the bank. Tim Hortons for lunch, coffee, juice and a muffin and off again in search of fishing territory. Yes, Williams Lake has a Tim Hortons and a Canadian Tire store. Pull over on the side of the road at a parking area; grab the tackle and scale down to the waters edge to fish. Hell! Forgot the newly acquired swivels so, with oxygen mask strapped on, Dave makes the accent to the summit parking lot. Back again, equipment erected, the sport commences. Fred catches the big one on the first cast. Dave catches the only whale in the dammed lake. The whale breaks the rod in two places. Manage to save the spinner and swivel though. The end of a good days fishing, back to the Canadian Tire store for replacement tackle. We return to the airpark for the barbeque/pot luck supper hosted by the Williams Lake Flying Club. Wow, what a spread! Karol cracks open the mammoth red wine bottle and fun is had by all. The last supper We stay away from the fire pit tonight, for fear of having to do the laundry once more. All participants of the Alaska 2000 group 1 have arrived by now at the Springhouse Airpark, with the exception of Joe Pace and Jeff Fraley who will be meeting the group at Dawson Creek tomorrow.

Friday August 4th Everyone appears to be awake early and heading in all compass directions around Springhouse to capitalize on the "sweetheart" shower arrangements made over the potluck supper last night. Fred and I are privileged to shower at the Chambers' home. Breakfast supplied by Judy, then away we fly, departing runway 33. Direct flight to Barkerville landing on runway 11 at 4,060 feet. Barkerville, being a Goldrush City from 1862 and maintained/rebuilt in the original style with dirt streets and wooden sidewalks. Lunch at Wake-up Jakes. Ice-cream at the House Hotel, then hike back the 2 miles to the airstrip. Climbing is a strain from runway 29 into the valley. Up, up and over the hills, eventually circle en-route to Dawson Creek. Landed at Dawson Creek runway 24 and altitude 2,148 feet and established camp in the foot-long wet grass. The bug-tent really worked to advantage here. The airport is hosting a steak dinner tonight and the city sponsored a bus tour of Dawson Creek. Reporters are out in force. Dave and Fred's interview is published in the "Peace River Block Daily News" under Tuesday August 8th. Accessible via the website "www.thepaperboy.com". After the interview and before dinner a shower would be nice …… This turned out to be a little more difficult than it sounds. There are no shower facilities at the airport. Other members of the group have commandeered the airport courtesy car. Punishment no doubt for the courtesy vehicle assignment in Springhouse. The vehicle is in the hands of our friends from LA - Tawni, Lyndon, Jeanne and Bill. We solicit the driving assistance of the airport manager and set off, courtesy car in tow for what was a long drive to downtown Dawson Creek only to stop at the local laundry. The entrepreneurial laundry proprietor has capitalized on the transient 5th wheel community cruising the Alaska Highway and installed pay showers inside the public laundry. We dive in, quarters at the ready, dial in the time and get caught soaped up just as the nickel expires. Hey we get clean don't we? Back to the airport freshly scented in time for the hospitality meal after which everyone dives into the local public transport bus to take the guided tour of the city. Stop downtown and climb aboard the Alaska Highway Mile Zero Sign and take photographs followed by the quickest pitcher of beer in the Dew Drop Inn. Where has the bus gone? When it does return the passengers are brawling inside to be the first to be dropped off at their accommodations, those of us who aren't camping at the airport, that is. Again, the "bug tent" proves invaluable. The mosquitoes are gnawing at the fabric to get inside. They are clearly intoxicated by Charlie and Karol's bottle of Tomatin Single Malt Scotch Whiskey.

Saturday August 5th The airport restaurant is open at 6.30 a.m. for breakfast. Not early enough for John Dale we suspect. The poor guy was up all night with a splitting headache. We are privileged, as normal opening time is 8 a.m. $5/head for breakfast. Wash in the airport washrooms and off to break up camp. Very wet this morning. Everyone else is away and leave Fred and Dave to dry their tents prior to packing. Never been known for our early fluency but make up for it with endurance. 9.30 a.m. and we finally depart runway 24 en-route to Ft. Nelson. We decide to miss landing here which gave us the opportunity to catch up with the stragglers who had landed here for fuel. The Luscombe is out after us, never to be seen on the trip again. Today's route with fuel stop at Watson Lake, took us over hundreds of miles of wilderness with literally no sign of habitation; no railroads, roads, trails, power lines, nothing, absolutely nothing except trees mountains and valleys.
AWESOME.
Now, the airport facilities at Watson Lake are nothing to bewilder, but the sign above the toilet indicates priorities in this remote location:
"Conserve water if it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown flush it down".
Destination today is Whitehorse, Yukon. The scenery between here and Whitehorse reminds one of the levels of isolation in some parts of the world. Thinking of overcrowded countries and communities we stare out of the cockpit of the Beechcraft to literally no signs of human habitation; no roads, no trails, no power lines, no houses, nothing but raw nature. We are feeling so privileged, when all of a sudden we find ourselves with the right wing pointing to the ground and the left wing pointing to the sky. Fred corrects the attitude quickly, a stark reminder of air movement between the mountain peaks. Horizontal images preferred! The landing in Whitehorse is on runway 31L at an altitude of 2,317 feet. The intention was to camp but rooms at the North 60o airport services are $45. So we relent and take a room. Laundry facilities are also available, operated by "Grizzly Adams" who manages the place, pumps gas and tends the laundry. Charlie and Karol have a room in the lush surroundings of North 60O also. Fred, Charlie and Dave cross the highway to the Husky truck stop for beer and ice. Man, the store and everything in it are covered in dust. Stash the beer in the refrigerator at the pilots lounge for later consumption. Supper rendezvous is set for 6.30 p.m. Fred, Charlie, Carol and Dave share a cab from their humble abode to the more luxurious surroundings of downtown and the restaurant in the Edgewater Hotel. Here we have to rearrange the tables in the joint to accommodate all except Charlie and Karol who try to make the local theatre but fail and dine on Italian cuisine instead. After dinner, Fred and Dave wonder the streets of Whitehorse and view the S.S. Klondike riverboat. Sign at the riverboat terminal building indicates: "Dog sled parking only, violators will be peed on". Back to North 60O and a beer in the lounge with Charlie. Going on midnight Dave falls asleep with half full can in hand. The north is not known as the land of the midnight sun for nothing. It's still not dark when Dave turns in for the night. Fred and Charlie are still going strong. Everyone else with the group appear to have adopted the more luxurious accommodations of downtown. We seem to have struck lucky with the North 60o at $45 and the service provided by the proprietor.

Sunday August 6th
Arise and shower. Karol and Charlie are checking out temporarily for a side trip to Homer, Alaska to fish. Fred and Dave breakfast on the airport campsite. Boy, is the west wind blowing cold. The gas fire lighter, which Fred claimed to be the success of the whole trip, is buried in the tool kit in the plane. So, the Canadian Tire waterproof matches get their first workout. We conclude that it wouldn't be disadvantageous using them in the wet 'cause they can't work any worse than they do in the dry anyway. Another useless product of Canadian Tire's camping department. Useless, Fred discovers the solution by lighting a fistful at once, only to have the howling wind extinguish the flame from the single burner Coleman stove. Huddled inside the windowless camp shelter nothing works, so we transfer locations to the leeward side of the structure, outside. Everything seems to function better there. We dine on porridge, cheese, rye bread and home brewed coffee. Chores completed we set out from runway 31L in a northerly direction flying low along the Yukon River to Dawson City. At an elevation of 1,000 to 1,500 feet above the water all the way to the destination we are looking for the elusive wildlife yet to be spotted. Nothing, no bears, no wolves, no moose, nothing. Canoeists en-mass heading down river to Dawson City. Remote native villages, remote, remote. En-route to Dawson City Company frequency 123.45 is a good thing, but Fred and Dave take instructions too literally when being advised by the "scouts" ahead. Right at 52 and left at 48. 52 and 48 are GPS distance markers. In this case nautical mile markers from the programmed destination for those of you who have never navigated by GPS. We do as advised and head east into some remote valley, left at 48 into some box canyon before deciding to ignore the good advice from those who went before. We take the navigational decision into our own hands and return to follow the Yukon River north. That seemed to be the sensible way to Dawson City anyway. It took us 30 minutes to figure out they were just trying to help us navigate the Yukon River. Why make it so complicated? Right at 52, left at 48 was supposed to signify the bend in the river. Why not just say - follow the river? The approach to Dawson City airport is over miles and miles of old mine tailings. We thought it was some residue from a natural weather phenomenon. Looked like "wash" from the great flood. Strange! It appears the miners just dumped the tailings at the nearest location beside the road and just worked their way down to the river. A big Gulfstream transport landed ahead of us at Dawson City airport on the gravel strip kicking up dust in its wake. First time Fred has landed the Beech on a gravel strip. Runway assignment was 20 at an altitude of 1,214 feet Transportation from the airport to the 5th Avenue Bed and Breakfast was by way of the proprietor. Nice house, nice room, nice people Tracey and Steve. Tracey is in the show tonight at Diamond Tooth Gerties. We grab a late lunch of soup and a sandwich at Klondike Kates with Joe, Jeff, Diana and John. Dave purchases the local hat. On reflection, we did eat frequently during the venture. This was evidenced sometime later on the video distributed by John and Dani. Walk around Dawson City; buy a copy of Snowshoes and Stethoscopes for signature by the author John Dale. Mail postcards from the "old" post-office, everyone speaks German here. The post office was closed for years but has reopened for tourist purposes in the summer. No heating, running water or sewage facilities at the old P.O. so things don't function well in the winter months. Observe the "biggest crow" perched on the fence at the rivers edge and wonder what "she" is doing this far from home. Snap a photo of her. Following us Back to Klondike Kates for dinner with the entire group. Don't think the staff was equipped to deal with the masses. Have to bribe the waiter to cash out before the show starts at Diamond Tooth Gerties. $6 for all three shows. No camera for shots of the girls so we trek back to the B&B for camera, then revisit for the second show and photographs. Oh, all the legs. Who's the dude from the gold rush? Knee high Klondike boots, denims tucked inside, sleeveless leather vest, gold miners hat with neckerchief. He's either part of the show, or the real thing. We draw the conclusion he is genuine. Just like in the goldrush! Back to 5th Avenue to sleep, even though its still light outside.

Monday August 7th
Why can't the German guest lock the bathroom door? Keep walking in; he just stands there staring back at the intruder. I think we have all had difficulty with the push and turn to lock door handles at one time. Breakfast and off to the airport, seven in the vehicle plus baggage and all. The Gulfstream is there again and takes the full length of the runway to lift off. The caravan took off from runway 20 for Northway, Alaska altitude 1,716 feet and runway 22 and customs clearance for entry into the USA. Tom, the customs officer, is a real pleasant guy, willing to be photographed and take a group photo. Individual photos, sticking heads through the silly signs. Customs clearance, full tanks and off to Mt. McKinley. The forecast is for clear skies and perfect visibility. Think we are on a roll where the weather is concerned. McKinley approaches from about fifty miles away, clear as a bell with a "skirt" of cloud between summit and base. Think we are going to find out how high the Sierra will climb. We're at 13,500 feet by the time we approach the mountain, free of cloud. It still appears willing to climb, but the inhabitants are concerned about breathing. We've been holding our breath since 10,000 feet and we have still to circle the mountain. So, the system weakness turns out to be the coffee creamers, not the unopened bottle of British Columbian red wine, as we find out to our disappointment at breakfast the next day. Good job they were contained in a Ziploc bag. The altitude creates illusions on the relative height perception. Which peak is actually McKinley? There's 3,000 feet difference in height but we can't tell which of the three peaks is the highest, Mt. McKinley, Mt. Hunter or Mt. Foraker.

Daunting!
Into the Kahiltna base camp and a 360O turn before heading down the glaciers to Talkeetna airport at an altitude of 358 feet. It takes Dave 10 minutes to figure the altitude of Talkeetna. The map indicates three digits but this must reference a radio frequency or something. The flight supplement repeats the three-digit number but still Dave is doubtful. From 20,000 feet to an airport under 1,000 feet in close proximity, can't be! Fred becomes impatient as the ground is still coming up fast from the decent and Dave is still questioning the reference points. Landed runway 18. The altitude/time difference sure plays havoc on the ears. They won't return to normal for days after this. Talkeetna airport services seem obsessed with the commercialism of Mt. McKinley and have little or no time to be of assistance to a bunch of weary air travelers seeking camping hospitality. "You can sleep on the gravel parking area if you wish, but don't park the planes on the grass". All right, we decide that sharing a room with four at the Swiss Alpine Hotel is the preferred option. If not for Mt. McKinley, Talkeetna would be struck from the itinerary on future Flynorth.com missions. Airport authority - take note! Mid afternoon beers followed by dinner in the restaurant at the Alpine Hotel, followed by a walk downtown in search of bear tours. Tours are publicized but everywhere is closed. How do we schedule this? Disappointed we talk the girl in the local café into brewing double strength coffee and enjoy a really relaxing cup and apple pie on the deck whilst viewing the p__sing contest between two voluntary firemen. It seems to be the pastime in Talkeetna to wash the streets down with fire hoses from opposite ends of the town. They are firing hoses at each other, getting soaked and generally having a good old time. A walk through the local campsite to the river and Walla! We stumble upon the returning river tour. Gleeful passengers tell stories of black bear seen on the trip. Exited, we attempt to negotiate a 10 p.m. tour, but meet with resistance from the tour guide, who appears to want to turn in for the night but we are insistent and push the envelope. The guide strategically places his rifle on the table in front of us, which perhaps helped change our viewpoint. "OK, in the morning if you insist". The only way we'll make a riverboat trip tomorrow is if the weather is unsuitable to fly. Back to the hotel where we wake John and Diana whilst turning in for the night.

Tuesday August 8th
Wake, shower, Dave walks down town and gathers Stones from the River. The morning air is clear with perfect visibility. The mountains offer a perfect view. Why the confusion yesterday? McKinley is clearly higher. Back to the hotel for breakfast with the gang. Couldn't sneak a strong coffee downtown, the café is closed. A short walk to the airport, hauling the baggage. Yesterday's $2 bus ride was surely not worth the investment, it's only a couple hundred yards. Set off from runway 36 in the direction of Homer. Fred is insistent on a side trip to Merril Field in Anchorage. We're so close and can't pass up the opportunity to land at the centre for general aviation. For the non-aero buffs reading this, Merril field is the largest general aviation facility in the world. What pilot would not relish the opportunity to land here just to say you've done it? Fred absolutely had to. Where are we? Disorientation, the GPS must be wrong! We throw a lifeline to the airport traffic controller who straightens us out. Never doubt the instrumentation, why did we? Back on course, 600 feet over the bay headed for the shipyard. Never mind the ships, what about the high rise buildings. For those of you who have never flown into Anchorage there are three airports in very close proximity to each other. Merril Field is the least conspicuous of the three at 137 feet altitude. The landing is on runway 24. Safely on the ground and taxi to the transit parking. Here we see Arthur and Debbie Earsom's aircraft, so we stick a "hi-there" sticker on the pilot's door. Spend 30 minutes in the aviation store, and then meet Arthur in person at his plane as we prepare to leave. Now to depart for Homer, the ATIS warns of cranes on departure. Nobody made mention of the flat sided 30-storey structure positioned at the end of the runway. Only astute piloting helps us to avoid sticking the nose through the nineteenth floor window and surprising the employees. Guided out of Anchorage by the International air traffic controller who forgets we even exist by the time we're 30 miles out and still flying at 1,500 feet. Let's assume he forgot he was controlling us and make an independent decision to climb in altitude before we bury the nose again. This time, into the side of a very rapidly approaching mountain. Boy, we can use our initiative when we try. We arrive in Homer on runway 21 at an altitude of 84 feet and stretch the legs on the 2 mile hike from the airport to the Lands End Restaurant on the spit. Who said it was only 2 miles anyway? Nobody accepted the blame for that misjudgment when interrogated later. It was certainly the longest 2 miles we've ever walked. You know, one of those destinations that always appear to be just around the bend, but the bends keep coming and the Lands End remains in the haze of the day, far from sight. We reckon it was more than 2 miles. As good ex-boy scouts we figured we were walking at 4 miles an hour and we were still walking after an hour and twenty minutes. Never actually made Lands End. Walked into the rest of the troops at the Salty Dog Restaurant awaiting the return cab to the airport. Obviously well rested and well fed. Note the term "return cab". We find out they hadn't walked there in the first place. Fred and I assumed this was some subversive punishment for the unscheduled side trip to Merril Field. Karol and Charlie had been spotted by the others during the cab ride to the spit. Talk was of a fish barbecue sometime in the near future. Well the 2 wayward travelers decide against an immediate return with the rest of the gang but opt for a quick sub at the local Subway, then grab a cab to the airport. Today as usual we were in pursuit of the rest of the group.
Today's destination is Valdez.
What a tremendously scenic trip over the mountains and glaciers it was. The vastness of the Harding Ice Field and the Wittier Glacier. We descend from 8,000 feet from the mountains to the Gulf of Alaska and at 1,500 feet Fred spots whales in the ocean, bobbing and diving. At this time he is so confident with the mountain piloting capabilities that he descends to just a few hundred feet above the water and circles over the whales which we determine to be sea lions from this altitude. Ah well! They are diving away from the shadow cast by the plane on the water below. The Columbia Glacier, as it flows into Prince William Sound, is a magnificent site as it reaches the sea and dissipates as icebergs into the ocean. We fly in and make a left hand circle over the bay to the point where the glacier meets the sea. What a wonderful sight. This is the famous location for Alaska cruise ship viewing. Into the Bay at Valdez we fly, completely encapsulated with mountains this is a tranquil location. The airport, at an altitude of 120 feet is wedged between mountains to the east and north. We land on runway 24. Fred and I had planned on camping here. It appears nobody else did. There is no campsite at the airport so we relent once again and phone the Downtown Bed and Breakfast where Teri and John and Chris and Sheldon have booked rooms. Seven of us together with baggage climb into the "A"-car and cruise into town. Fred and I go souvenir shopping but don't find anything suitable. Dave buys an Alaska cap. What better place to seek advice than the tourist information Bureau. The couple from New York is just as perplexed as we are. Fred enquires what good things are there to see and do in Valdez? The official retorts with "nothing". We recommend that she return to marketing school and do her best to promote the community. She does direct us to the drive through coffee shack two blocks away though. This turns out to be a shack that peddles ice cream and coffee. For lack of a vehicle, we walk through. The cute little girl outside the window is licking on her ice cream cone and indicating "ice cream is free". Fred tries his luck but the server ain't having non of it and charges us for both coffee and ice cream. The cute little girl just struck lucky we assumed. We rendezvous later at Mikes Palace for supper after which Fred strikes gold with the Valdez sweater, at $20 not a bad deal. Walk around the harbour. Now we know what a 280-pound halibut looks like. The fishing competition is in full swing; everyone is weighing in the days catches. Fish entrails everywhere. We notice the sly seal floating on his back in the water looking for the easy pickings.

Wednesday August 9th
Leave Valdez from runway 4 for Northway. Flew past Mount Drum and Mount Sandford en-route. Funny how everyone got lost in the Mentasta Mountains prior to arrival in Northway. Could have sworn we were somewhere other than where we were. This time we had faith in the instrumentation and calculated our position from the VOR. Reorientation, then things turn out fine. Confusion in Northway after landing runway 22. Particularly on the part of the US citizens carrying weapons. The calls to the Canadian Customs and Immigration Service for pending arrival and clearance in Whitehorse are accompanied with specific questions regarding size of weapon and type of ammunition. Offload tons of hollow point bullets into the garbage at Northway. Canadian Customs threaten confiscation of weapons, personal effects and aircraft if the weaponry turns up in Whitehorse. Dave's biggest concern is the $4 charged for a bag of ice to keep the cooler functioning. The airport server can't seem to look him in the eye and say $4. His face drops to his feet whilst uttering the words. I'd think so to! The Canadian Customs official at Whitehorse turns out to be a pay phone nailed on to the outside of the terminal building. Landed runway 31L. It appears that only Dave and Fred have aspirations of camping at Whitehorse tonight. John Dale and Diana Haschke have had trouble with the landing gear on the Cessna 210 all day today. The gear retracts but the doors don't close. For fear of stripping the doors from the aircraft in flight, they fly the whole route with the wheels down. The control of the landing gear is so complicated on the Cessna 210. The mechanic in Whitehorse fixes a broken wire. After setting up camp Fred and Dave walk to town via the airport perimeter. The airport in Whitehorse is about 200 feet above the City. After a number of attempts to find the trail to town we successfully descend to the lower elevation into a back street. If it had been left to Fred's decision we would have scaled down the face of the mountain and risked life and limb. We stumble upon an Alpine Bakery. Here, in the middle of the back streets of Whitehorse we are confronted with the best German bakery that Dave has experienced anywhere, including Germany. We peruse the shelves and buy a loaf and pose the question - "if you are a German bakery, you probably sell good coffee?" Not exactly, but the French Canadian server directs us a half block down the street to the Midnight Sun coffee shop. We truly have found heaven in the Yukon. We sit on the sidewalk on plastic picnic chairs in the late afternoon sun and enjoy the Java. The downtown mall provides us with the opportunity we need to stock up on the souvenir shopping. Everything under one roof, remember the sweater deal, 4 for 3. The server confirms that the folks in Whitehorse truly understand good bread and good coffee. She confirms the presence of the Alpine Bakery and the Midnight Sun coffee shop. The world is OK here. Dave is planning his retirement at this point. A cab back to the campsite. The rest of the group is well into the communal cook-out. Pasta and sauces, wine and beer, what else is there to wish for. The campfire is burning vigorously. We settle in for an evening of food and wine. The feast in Whitehorse, Yukon Charlie and Karol rejoin the group and book into the North 60O . They disappear to the bar across the road and surface a few hours later, worse for wear. In fact, Charlie is numb from drinking with the local firefighters. It's late tonight when we finally do turn in.

Thursday August 10th
John Dale finally gets the promised porridge breakfast today. As usual, Fred and Dave are the last to leave. After all, we were the only ones to camp last night, so I guess it figures that the process takes longer. Finally we are ready for off. Runway assignment 13R south through the valley of the Yukon River, next stop Dease Lake. As we depart Whitehorse Charlie and Karol who left 15 minutes prior but are circling over Atlin, waiting for us and contact us by radio. They just know we are going to be spotting the wild life today don't they? We experience some wonderful mountain flying. By this time we are picking our way through the scenic valleys instead of flying over the highest peaks. Yes, I guess you can say we are feeling a little more confident in our mountain flying abilities. Disappointed that we have not seen any wildlife so far, especially disappointed that no grizzlies have been spotted, we fly about 1,000 feet above the ground, eyes glued for movements amongst the trees, in the open grass land and in the lakes. 159 miles out of Whitehorse, in the Jeslin River Valley, Charlie and Karol on ahead, Fred notices movement in a lake below us and radios them. We go take a look and circle the disturbance in the lake at about 500 feet Charlie and Karol now behind us following suit. Yes it's a grizzly bathing or just having fun in the water. As we circle close overhead it stands on its hind legs and lifts its front ones into the air. When we radio to Charlie to confirm the gesture he replies, "yes, he's waving to Karol". Man are we exited at having spotted our first grizzly. 23 miles further along at the edge of the Jeslin River Valley in the foothills of the Kawdy Mountains the exact same lake disturbance is spotted. So we swoop again to a few hundred feet above a lake and low and behold we see our second grizzly, again being disturbed from having private fun in the lake. We are truly exited about experiencing the privilege of what has just graced our eyes. This is truly wilderness. Animal trails can be clearly spotted in the meadows beside the lakes in the clearings between the trees. Again, noticed because of disturbances in the lake waters we see moose. Again we swoop within 200 feet of the lake for an amazing view of moose drinking. They are not as exited as the bears to see us circle overhead. They carry on business as if we weren't a factor. Why should we be? After all, we have nothing on them. By the time we arrive at Dease Lake and refuel, we have spotted 2 grizzlies and 5 ½ moose. The ½ was a baby. It is cool in Dease Lake as we land on runway 02 at 2,600 feet altitude. This remote airport probably has not experienced such traffic and fuel business for the longest time. In addition to the Alaska 2000 tour planes, a Cessna Caravan is lining up for gas. Today's destination is Smithers. We leave Dease Lake on runway 02 flying in tandem again with Charlie and Karol's Cessna. The scenery is indescribable. For anyone who is ever presented the opportunity to view the landscape from this perspective, take it. The landing in Smithers, altitude 1,712 feet is on runway 15. Construction work at the airport dissuades the group from staying the night, so we fuel and head for Quesnel (pronounced Quenel for those of you/us who don't, didn't know). Just prior to our departure, the yellow Cessna 172 lands and punctures the nose wheel tire on the runway. Quesnel is a mere 225 miles from Smithers. We land runway 31 at an altitude of 1,789 feet. This location is well equipped for camping so we populate the campsite. Everyone who's still with the tour (the Cessna 310 twin being the exception) camps out at Quesnel. Even Joe and Jeff and Chris and Sheldon. The only incentive we could figure was the Charlie and Karol salmon cook out promise. BUT, no barbecue. John Dale raises the airport administration manager and her husband whose names we can't recall, (sorry for the ignorance, we should recall it because you were so helpful. Not only with the barbecue, but also with the beer and wine transportation and the tour of downtown). Thank you both. With barbecue roaring and beverages available, Charlie adopts his role as chief chef and prepares the salmon and rice gumbo special. Everyone is just chipping in with support and food. Keith and Sonia set up the aviation fueled oven and cook brownies for desert, what a life. Even the mosquitoes join the fun, in spite of the citronella candles and the smoke from the fire pit. Naturally it is rather late to bed.

Friday August 11th
The rain and the low cloud hinder the early start for some. This is the first inclement weather that we experienced since departing Oshkosh. I guess we can't complain. The rain starts at 4 a.m. and is finished by 8. It takes a while for the clouds to clear and the gear to dry, but what the… Everyone departs from here for their journeys home. The Beechcraft needs an oil change and it is planned to do this at the Springhouse Airpark on route to the home leg. John Dale and Diana Haschke plan to visit Springhouse for an oil change and a final repair on the gear. As usual, Fred and Dave are last to leave. The active runway is 31 and, by the time we reach Springhouse, John and Diana are already away and flying. We have an invitation to call on them in Nelson B.C. before we finally depart for Windsor. The oil change and refueling goes well at Springhouse and we depart runway 33 for the leg over the Rockies east bound. Again, we marvel over the beauty of the landscape. It is difficult to describe unless you have personally experienced it. We shot many photos and are aware that future viewers of them will see them as just another Mountain View with pieces of aircraft wing in the picture. For Fred and I they will bring back vivid memories of the mountain flying experience. We decide to call on John and Diana in Nelson, so plot our course in that direction. En-route we are avidly watching for the tell tale signs of wildlife and sure enough Fred spots the lake disturbance to reveal a moose. We circle numerous times and, this time decide a photograph is worthy. At the time of finalizing this journal these last photographs are still undeveloped. The approach to Nelson is spectacular, narrow steep valleys between 9,000 feet mountains. Nelson lies at an altitude of 1,755 feet. The airport is designed for a right approach to runway 22. We miss the right approach and fly left over the town. Fred figures we have got it wrong, but it's too late to change, so we disturbed some of the dwellers of Nelson with our antics over the town. We land, taxi and park. Dave puts a deposit on a floatplane parked next to our location. A quick phone call to the Dale/Haschke residence and the disappointment in Johns voice as he realizes he hasn't shaken the "Flatlanders" yet. He does commit to picking us up at the airport in 20 minutes though. During the wait the yellow Cessna 172 with the damaged front wheel from Smithers yesterday, lands and parks close by. By the time John and Diana arrive there are 4 nomads requiring a ride, food, drink and a bed for the night. Burger stuff and Nelson Brewery beverages are procured en-route to the Dale/Haschke mansion. We all agree, they live in a wonderful wooden home on a 1 ½ acre treed lot, nice place. British Columbia living does certainly have its advantages. Fred and Dave are both wondering if there is a future for automotive engineering types in the mountains out west.

Saturday August 12th
Our return plans leave little to the imagination now. Saturday and Sunday for the homeward journey. So, we set off and plan to fly as far today as we can without flying while fatigued of course. John and Diana are both awake early to give us a ride to the airport. Thanks for coffee. At the airport we fuel and say farewell to John and Diana. They leave while we do the pre-flight routine. Departure is on runway 04 and straight out eastwards over the lake along the valley. John Dale is listening to our departure on the hand held radio. Whilst eastbound over the lake we pass by the house and wave farewell. Fred and Dave both concur that John and Diana are OK folks. Got lost traversing the mountains to Cranbrook. Well, as lost as one can get with the sophisticated navigational technology at ones disposal. Some quick vectoring reveals the true position, corrections are taken, and we are en-route for Lethbridge, today's first refueling stop and hopefully breakfast. In spite of favourable weather forecasts for the eastward journey, the approach to Lethbridge is through the proverbial can of pea soup. We are cleared for a right base on runway 05. Lethbridge is at an altitude of 3,047 feet. In spite of the runway 05 clearance, Fred is insistent on putting down on runway 12. Called the tower on final for 05 and was promptly corrected by the controller. We taxied for gas and found out that Lethbridge airport offers no restaurant service, so we unpack the supplies from the plane and eat breakfast at the airport parking, on the wing of the plane. The weather forecast indicates clearing skies We depart for Regina, the next stop on our route east. Regina airport is at an altitude of 1,894 feet. Landing is runway 31. We taxi for fuel and eat the "leaded fish burger" in the airport terminal for lunch, where Dave leaves his coat. By this time in the journey Dave is obsessed with the purchase of hats. If he sees one he scoops it up. The weather is absolutely beautiful now, blue skies and temperatures in the mid-twenties. We think we can reach Kenora Ontario today, so we set off via Winnipeg. The airport at Winnipeg is directly in our flight path. Here, we get the first indication that the flight altitude transponder is not functioning correctly. We indeed do make Kenora at dusk. Well, it is actually dark by the time we put down at 1,344 feet on runway 25 with a cross wind and the warning of deer on the runway. Finding a hotel room in Kenora on the weekend of the bass tournament proves to be difficult. None of the named hotels have vacancies. The Kenricia offers the last room available in Kenora, a smoking room, we become suspicious. The cab driver doesn't break into euphoria as we request him to deliver us to the said hotel. We think he is just trying to be amiable when we request his humble assessment of the establishment. He makes a quick escape after dropping us outside of the lodging. He is not about to suffer our wrath as we establish just how amenable the establishment is. We walk around town and establish the lie of the land. We thought that Kenora was the epitome of a sleepy backwater nestled in the Lake of the Woods. How disappointed one can get when illusions become tarnished. We eventually settle on Christoph's Kneipe and sample the Warsteiner beer and Jägermeister to assist in the digestion of breaded shrimp, onion rings and cheese sticks. Dave slept standing up in his clothes, absolutely afraid of what company he may encounter in the bed.

Sunday August 13th
Dave's up and on the street at 7 a.m. in search of milk. No breakfast planned at the Kenricia. Breakfast at the airport on the picnic table outside the Flight Service Station appears more attractive, especially as the weather is glorious. Yesterday's weather repeated. We finally break into the Whitehorse Alpine Bakery bread and are not disappointed. The Flight Service personnel were very helpful in Kenora. We depart runway 07 heading over the Lake of the Woods. This is unique scenery. The land is divided equally between water and land. It is difficult to tell whether we are flying over a lake with many islands or a landmass with many lakes. Lakes in islands in lakes or vica-versa. The nuclear power plant buried in the landscape, near Atikokan is very predominant with power lines radiating like the legs of an octopus. Visibility is at least 60 miles, as we see the cliffs at Thunder Bay approaching in the distance. Thunder Bay has an altitude of 653 feet. At last we are back at a familiar altitude. We land runway 30 and fuel prior to departing for a journey south across Lake Superior and a view of the Picture Rocks on Michigan's Upper Peninsula. We traverse the southern shore of Lake Superior before crossing back into Canadian airspace and a landing for fuel in Sault St. Marie. Here we encounter the only weather related difficulty of the entire flight. 12 miles west of the Sault we are confronted with a 300 feet ceiling and are forced to circle over the lake whilst the air traffic controller applies for a special VFR on our behalf. For which they incidentally invoiced Fred $13 Canadian. Approval granted from Toronto, we are requested to fly south over the Michigan U.P. until we pick up the I75 interstate highway, which we follow north until our approach to the airport becomes visible at about 6 miles. We fuel and find ourselves stranded for the next hour or so. The weather clears within the hour to reveal perfect blue skies. The weather reports indicate VFR conditions over Michigan so we plan our departure for Windsor accordingly. As we approach the Michigan mainland it becomes obvious again to Dave that VFR conditions can be pretty grotty and still be within limits. The weather did not really clear until south of Bay City. From that location on the visibility was perfect but, we were reminded of the luxury of air quality experienced in B.C., the Yukon and Alaska as we were confronted by the yellow and purple band of smog surrounding Detroit and Southern Ontario. "Flatlanded" runway 12 in Windsor back at 622 feet. A special thank you goes out from David Phillips (Navigator) and Fred Tonge (Pilot) to Rand McNally for invaluable navigational assistance provided.

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