The first time my wife and I set foot on the 2.3-acre property that would become our home, we immediately knew it was exactly what we were looking for, but it required a little imagination. There was a small, flattish clearing fronting a grassy taxiway, but the rest was overgrown in a dark, brooding bramble. It took some bushwhacking to get the lay of the land. Once we did, I saw the clearing could easily be expanded to accommodate a decent-sized hangar. Up the hill and through the trees was a nice building spot that, with clearing and earthmoving, would accommodate a modest house with a nice overview of the adjacent 2,400-foot private grass strip. I noticed a fine strand of cedars on the southern edge of the wood, and imagined them as viewed from our front door someday. But it was the well-tended strip itself—surrounded by giant firs and gently sloping to a gorgeous view of the Olympic Mountains—that really sold us on the place.
It looked like airplane heaven.
