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"  Last week, Davin Coburn headed to the Pacific Northwest to learn about one company&amp;#039;s revolutionary new build process for their high-performance kitplane\u2014and then to go for a test drive, to figure out what it was like 180 degrees from a midtown Manhattan office. Catch up with his journey by clicking here, then take to the skies below...  The plan today calls for us to meander north \u2014 but first we have to backtrack for a fuel stop at Powell River. The Sportsman carries 50 gallons of gas (10 gallons in each of two outboard wing tanks; 15 gallons each in the pair of inboard tanks), and works through either 8.5 or 10.2 gallons per hour, depending on the engine. Out here, anyone can run out of weather \u2014 but when that engine stops making noise, you have real problems. Most every bush pilot has their story of sweating fuel, the one time they cut it way too close. And they all know people who came down \u2014 hard \u2014 on the wrong side of that line. So it&amp;#039;s 20 minutes south for $582 Canadian dollars worth of fuel (at $1.89 per liter, or $6 a gallon) to fill the two planes. From Powell River, we cruise up the Western edge of British Columbia to the Coast Mountains \u2014 and then things get interesting.  Pilots have mapped a VFR, or visual flight rules, corridor through these peaks \u2014 but &amp;quot;the tube&amp;quot; is a double-edged sword: jaw-dropping scenery on one hand; dropping cloud ceilings on the other. Rough weather has already rerouted our flight plan once today \u2014 instead of making our next fuel stop straight north at Anahim Lake, we&amp;#039;ll head to Mackenzie, in central BC \u2014 and if at any point the pass closes in front of us, we&amp;#039;ll have little choice but to undo the entire two-hour route.  So we vote \u2014 and then dive into the tube, under clouds that guard snowy peaks, and around waterfalls that crash hundreds of feet down the jagged V onto glaciers and the rushing Klinaklini River below. It feels a little like flying into a giant garage: the 10,000-ft. Coast range on our west side, the 11,000-ft. Chilcotins to the east, and a ceiling we hope gets no lower.  Luckily, the clouds dissipate the deeper we go, and we&amp;#039;re able to make it into Mackenzie with no delays. A few ham sandwiches later, we hop a well-known scenic route north, along &amp;quot;the trench.&amp;quot;  The Rocky Mountain Trench runs nearly 1000 miles, from Montana to the BC-Yukon border. With the Rockies on the east and the Cassiar range to the west, the path funnels up the 130-mi.-long Williston Lake to the Kechika River. I&amp;#039;m still in the right seat of the Sportsman, but Setzer hands over control.  I dive down toward the water and put us 200 ft. over endless miles of Spruce trees, and scratches in the wilderness that once passed for roads. Moose and black bears stop and stare. Cruise speeds range from 105 kts to 135 kts, depending on whether the swirling winds hit us from the front or catch us from the back.  That speed is deceptive as we swing away from rain showers that dot the 5-mi.-wide valley, and slalom along the river. The land here is so massive, it feels like we&amp;#039;re hardly moving \u2014 but when you follow the water around a bend and find a bridge in front of you, you realize how fast 155 mph really is.  In the shadow of the Rockies, there&amp;#039;d be few options in an emergency. We&amp;#039;d pitch for best glide speed (about 75 kts in the Sportsman), then maybe head for the river. Snaking as it is, though, there might not be a long enough stretch of water to slap down on \u2014 meaning we&amp;#039;d wad it up in the trees. Which would be a lot like crashing into a field of telephone poles \u2014 but as long as you fly into them, and not plummet, Setzer says, the Spruce will actually flex enough to help set you down. The aircraft would have made its last landing, but you&amp;#039;d walk away to think about buying another one. Thankfully, crash landings aren&amp;#039;t an issue: The engine drones on and we slalom into the Muskwa-Kechika Management Area. Covering 16 million acres (nearly the size of Ireland), the conservation zone is the largest in North America. We putter past 2358-ft. Terminus Mountain, the very last peak of the Rockies, and set down at Scoop Lake Outfitters, a hunting lodge 45 minutes south of the Yukon border. Wild roses and strawberries dot the runway. We have to buzz the strip \u2014 twice \u2014 to clear away the horses. The two Sportsmen touch down as lightning begins searing the peaks of the Cassiars, and we have just enough time to tie down and grab a home-cooked meal before thunderclouds roll in. A quick check shows that my cell phone is useless here, my laptop battery&amp;#039;s dead \u2014 and I have no idea what day of the week it is. Thank God. \u2014Davin Coburn "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.popularmechanics.com/adventure/a1820/4218629/>