Shawnigan Lake School - Yearbook (Shawnigan Lake, British Columbia Canada)

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Shawnigan Lake School Magazine seat has its own unopenable window. If air is needed a passenger opens up a few small holes in the side by means of a screw-knob. The upholstery of the seats is green, as are also the neat uniforms worn by the stewardesses. And they are most soothing to the eye — both the seats and the stewardesses, I mean. At the back there is a wash-room. All this time we had been climbing to get above the clouds, and at length we were clear of them. The view below was marvellous, interspersed as it was with small cumulus clouds. But we did not stay up long as we were nearing Portland, City of Roses. As we descended we had an extensive view of the Columbia River. At one time it seemed almost as if we were going to land in th river itself, as it flanks the airport. We changed planes, pilots and stewardesses at Portland and left at 12:30 p.m. Our stream-lined all-metal machine took off after a five-minute wait, retracted its undercarriage and flew due East to Pendleton along the course of the river. The Columbia River is 1400 miles long, 7 miles wide at the mouth and is navigable for 400 miles — the second largest navigable river in the U.S.A. To the Southwest was Mt. Hood (altitude 11,000 ft.) and to the North Mt. Adams (altitude 12,000 ft.) and Mt. Ranier (altitude 14,400 ft.). These snow-capped peaks looked even more majestic from the air than from the ground. At this point of the journey I was given a very nice bunch of various meat sandwiches, cookies, ice-cream and coffee (all included in my ticket, too! ) . We landed at Pendleton at 1:40 p.m. and soon left for Boise. Our flight here was over endless rolling wheat-lands and followed the course of the Old Oregon trail. Less than a century ago pioneers spent three months travelling from the Great Salt Lake to Oregon territory. We crossed it in a few hours. Far below we saw the plane which was doing the opposite run. The prevailing winds were in our favour, so we flew high. They lessened their resistance by flying low. We were now coming into the hot-belt with the result that the ride was much more bumpy. Normally one uses one ' s strap for take-offs and landings only. Here we were ordered to strap up because of the rough going. Soon after crossing the Snake River we reached Boise. I took the ooportunity at this stop of watching the refuelling and starting. On occasions like this the engines were started with the aid of external electricity and a long connection. The plane ' s own batteries are not used in order that they may be as full as possible for any emergency while in flieht. I found out these Boeing Wasps in spite of their high cruising speed of three miles per minute have a landing speed of only 5 8 M.P.H. They need a take-off run of 770 feet. Their wing span is 74 feet, and their weight, fully loaded, 6 l 2 tons. We left Boise at 3:15 p.m. It was about a three-hour journey to Salt Lake City and the journey was much the same as has already been described except for one very bad jump which threw us out of our seats — not an air-pocket, but the vertex of a climb. It was difficult to gauge our speed. The best idea of it could be obtained from birds, which seemed to be flying backwards all the time at great speed. We flew across the Salt Lake which is 80 miles long and looked down on the salt flats, where a few weeks later Sir Malcolm Campbell was to travel 100 M.P.H. faster than we were actually going at the time. The Salt Lake is saltier than any body of water except the Dead Sea. It has a salt density of 17% or 3 x z times that of the ocean. Salt Lake City is the centre of the Church of Latter Day Saints or Mormons. Mormons left the Missouri River — 22 —

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Shawnigan Lake School Magazine A MARI USQUE AD MARE 44 W TERE SHE COMES! was the excited murmur which ran through a 11 small crowd one fine June morning at the Seattle airport. And down sped the United Air Lines silver-grey monoplane from Vancouver. Out stepped the passengers, and click went the Press cameras as a celebrity alighted from the plane — none other than Man-Mountain Dean of wrestling fame. He certainly reassured me as to the carrying capacity of the machine. We were spared yet a few moments to make what we wrongly thought would be our last earthly contacts, as the plane was hitched by the tail to on ordinary V8 and towed to the refuelling pumps. A moment or two later it re- appeared and our prescribed forty-five pounds of baggage was pitched into its nose. Bidding my kind friends good-bye and steeling my shaky nerves, I walked to the mounting steps, doing my best to assume the nonchalant air of a J. Wellington Wimpy. In we climbed and took our seats, while the stewardess handed me a small packet containing gum and cotton-wool. I made no use of the latter as the engines were pleasantly quiet, but the former I chewed with gusto just to ease my nerves. Just then the engines began to tick over, the door was locked tight from the outside and at 11:10 a.m. we taxied across to the far end of the field and turned into the wind. Meanwhile the stewardess strapped us in and gave us the morning ' s paper to read. Then with a roar we began to take-off, and with a peculiar sensation running through our bones the great plane rose gently into the air, leaving the airport, the houses and the trees hundreds of feet below. My seat was so placed that I looked directly out on to the expansive wing. In order to see the ground I had to look either forward or back over its edge. Perhaps this was just as well, for this was my first experience of the kind: and it was only the reassuring smile of the stewardess that gave me any reason to think things were normal. Every now and again we ran into the occasional bump, and one could see the wing tips swaying up and down as the machine found her level course. The Olympic mountains were over to our right, the Cascades to the left, and one caught glimpses of Mt. Baker and Mt. Rainier in the North and East. Beneath us was a vast expanse of water, forest and field, but the ceiling was low and we ran into many a cloud-bank. It was not long before we spotted Tacoma down on our right. But we flew over it (quite close enough!) and slid gently down to its airport, some distance from the city. Off we took again after a short stop, but unfortunately the stewardess paid me no attention this time, and I had a feeling as if something had died inside me. For a while the scenery was lovely, but we soon ran into another cloud- bank, and I felt as if I was in a complete fog in more senses than one. On droned the engines like Grey ' s elegiac beetle — mm-mm--mm--mm, and, as I could see nothing outside, I took a glance round the inside of my airy prison. In the front of the machine the two pilots had their control-room, with all their gear and instruments, including a couple of revolvers (just to see we behaved our- selves!) . On the partition facing us were two notices — one giving us the names of our pilots and stewardess; the other, an illuminated sign saying Please tighten belts : No smoking while this sign is on. Seating accommodation is provided for ten passengers, five on each side of a central gangway. Each — 21 —

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Shawnigan Lake School Magazine in April, 1847, and under the leadership of Brigham Young reached the shores of the Salt Lake in July after extreme hardships. There is a monument in the city to some sea-gulls who in these early days rid their crops of a certain pest that was destroying them. We reached the airport at 6:10 p.m., and after the air-conditioned coolness of the plane it was an odd sensation stepping out into an oven-heat of 100° F. in the shade. After watching the connecting plane come in from Oakland, California, we took on a full complement of passengers for the East. On leaving Salt Lake we had to cross the Wasatch range of mountains, giving us the strange feeling of running into a brick wall. However, we cleared the top somehow, by a few inches. Soon after, we ran into a rain storm and we had the satisfaction of seeing, most of us for the first time, a complete circular rainbow. Apparently the bottom half is only visible from great heights. It was just about here also that the stewardess had difficulty with the thermos-flasks owing to the altitude. Letters and post-cards which I wrote at this stage were posted for me free gratis and for nothing. Darkness soon came on, giving us a good excuse for conversation with our fellow-passengers. At 9 p.m. we arrived at Cheyenne, where the airport is 6,200 feet above sea level. From Cheyenne to Omaha, reached at 1:0 5 a.m., is the country of the Great Plains. Here one can obtain a rough idea of the organisation required for the operation of an air-route. The plane is equipped with radio telephone transmitting and receiving apparatus to enable pilots to talk with operators at ground stations located at every airport where a stop is scheduled. In addition to voice communication, there is the U. S. Department of Commerce directive radio beacon service. As they fly along the airway, the pilots hear a continuous radio hum in their earphones. If they veer slightly off course, this signal changes to warn them of deviation. There are intermediate landing fields located every 30 to 50 miles for emergency. There are 24-inch 2,000,000-candle-power revolving beacons situated every 10 to 20 miles. Moreover, the pilots constantly receive the latest weather reports from special airway reporting stations. We could see the ground lights all along our course, where it was clear. It was not long before we had an excellent example of the working of the system. Just after leaving Omaha, our pilots received a message to the effect that we were heading into a thunderstorm centred over Des Moines and that the airport there was closed. We could ourselves see the lightning. Suddenly the plane nosed up to the left in a steep bank and headed back for Omaha. Once more we saw the criss-cross lights on the ground of the airport, and after leaving some Des Moines passengers to catch a later plane, we headed again for Chicago. (We were thirteen on board when we had run into the storm! ) Now we climbed and climbed to 1 1,000 feet in the amazingly rapid time of 1 1 min- utes and flew well above the storm, keeping that altitude all through the sleepless night. At about 3:30 a.m. the first glimmerings of early-rising, rosy-fingered Dawn appeared. I was reminded of Rupert Brooke ' s poem Dawn. Opposite me two Germans sweat and snore (read engines) Through sullen swirling gloom we jolt and roar. We have been here for ever-, even yet A dim watch tells two hours, two aeons, more. — 23 —