The South Salem hills in which I lived were covered with fescue grass. Farmers raise it for seed which is sold to seed-dealers who mix it with other species to make a fine lawn mixture. It had come to two of my neighbors attention that considerable grass seeds are raised in Canada, and they wanted to become familiar with their competition. When they discovered that I could fly and had an airplane available, they asked me to fly them up there and agreed to share expenses with me. It was the first week in September, and I had a large prune orchard which was soon ready to be harvested. We agreed to leave right away so I could be back in time.

Preparation consisted in reserving the club 172, getting a few maps and minor other supplies. Flying over the Portland and Seattle areas to Bellingham, Washington, presented no problem, and we entered Canada in Chilliwack. The customs authorities easily let us pass into the country. We had something to eat, filled up the tanks, checked the weather and were back in the air. Navigation consisted mostly of climbing, following the Frazier river gorge and enjoying the scenery. High mountains were all around us. We landed in Williams Lake. I liked the length of the strip, since it was over 8000 feet long, but there was some gravel on it and it was rough. We did the usual chores and took off again continuing north to Quesnel. Here we landed three hours later and saw a nice little town in the midst of evergreen forests.

	Taylorcraft  and Jimmy Heinis
	Refueling in Quesnel, B.C.  Julius and two Salem Grass-seed growers.

Next we followed the road north through beautiful forested and mountainous terrain. Beyond Fort McLeod we crossed the scenic Parsnip River and then turned northeast. We flew over Old Friend Mountain and the Murray Range near Pine Pass.It was a bit bumpy and slightly disconcerting that there were no emergency landing areas easily recognizable. After crossing the mountains we turned East over open country to Dawson Creek. By the time we got there, it was getting late and the sun had set. I made an approach to two beautiful rows of light, only to recognize that this was Main Street. I stopped my descent in plenty of time and continued until I saw the real airport a bit East of Dawson Creek.

My two partners and I spent the next two nights in the city and latched onto a seed dealer. This young man drove us around the countryside, showed us Milepost Zero of the Alaskan highway, several grass seed cleaning plants and, of course, some farms. I envied the man’s life style. He came to Canada from New Zealand. During the summer months he wheeled and dealed with wheat and grass seeds for export, and in the cold winter he rested in Hawaii.

My partners decided to see Grande Prairie in Alberta to check grass seed production in that province. It was an easy flight over forests and fields in rather flat country. We did not fly all the way to the Peace River to check agriculture in that area. There was talk about homesteading and land distribution. It was tempting and the country looked very interesting, certainly in summertime. But I kept thinking of the long, cold winter and decided that Oregon would have to do for now. My prunes needed harvesting, so we had to fly back.

It would have been nice to fly south via Edmonton and Calgary to see more of Canada. The Rocky Mountains south of Grande Prairie, however, are very high and should the weather and my engine not be fully cooperative, I feared I might have more trouble than I could handle. So everyone agreed to use the safest route which was the way we came. We made our first landing in Quesnel, British Columbia. The weather was ideal, warm and sunny. Further south we saw Dog Creek, beautiful Eisenhower Mountain and many other,unnamed peaks covered with snow it was beauti­ful and awe-inspiring, reminding me a lot of the Alps of Switzerland where I grew up. Coming closer to the southern, more densely populated part of British Columbia I saw a lot of smoke coming from a forest fire. This made my thoughts sad. I watched my flying, of coarse, climbed up to 10,000 feet and changed course slightly to stay out of the smoke, in VFR conditions.

We crossed into the United States in Belllingham, Washington. The customs man came to the airport just for us after I advised the radio to call him before I landed. He was very friendly, checked the airplane and let us pass.

Salem, Oregon was our last stop. The next day, I started to harvest 13 tons of prunes, always wishing I could have stayed in Canada longer.