Maria Canton
Northern News Services

NNSL (Jun 30/99) - Rumour has it Jim McAvoy used to hate controlled airports.

And on one particular trip to Edmonton to have repair work done on his Single Otter, McAvoy's passenger noticed him getting nervous as they neared the airport.

The air traffic controller came on the line and told him he was fourth in line to land.

McAvoy spotted the first plane and watched it land, impatiently he looked for the second and watched it land.

But he couldn't see the third. Circling and circling he said, "To heck with it, I'm landing."

As he approached the runway the radio squawked, "Land short! Land short!"

McAvoy's cabin went black.

The shadow of a jet swooped down on his plane -- its wheel only 10 feet above his cabin window.

McAvoy landed short, pulled onto the grass, jumped out and yelled, "Damn, I hate controlled airports."

And so began Yellowknife's third bi-annual Float Plane Fly-in with more than 20 Cessnas, Twin Otters, Single Otters, Beavers and even a rare Norseman landing in Yellowknife and Back Bay.

Some of the North's first bush pilots, who helped to open up the North by flying supplies in and out, made a return to the city where they got their start.

Ex-pilot Frank Smthye first came to Yellowknife in 1936 as a plane mechanic and later a pilot, flying a Hornet Moth and a Fox Moth.

"In those days it was like we were just taking off from lily pads with only a hundred feet to spare," he said.

This marked his first trip back since 1939. Symthe remembers when Yellowknife was only Old Town and Pilot's Monument wouldn't be erected for another 25 years.

"Just being here makes so many memories come back."

Other pilots flew from as far as Florida and Washington, and British Columbia had a good representation with more than 10 planes flying in.

Saturday's poker rally, which saw planes flying from fishing lodge to fishing lodge to pick up a card for their hand, had a winner with a full-house of three eights and two Jacks.

Harrowing tales of uncontrolled airports, losing an engine in mid-flight, sleeping nights in the frozen North while using the days to do unexpected repairs, flowed all weekend from the old-timers' tent at the Old Wardair float base.

People listened with dreamy eyes and romantic visions to those who dared to fly the North to deliver supplies, help those in need and provide a service -- the North's first generation of bush pilots.