Taking Flight

From Houston, we broke out of the clouds west of Austin, over Mason, I think it was, and the wildly curving Llano River canyon. Then, notably, hundreds of rather empty miles west, El Capitan and Guadalupe Peak, the most recognizable mountain and the highest mountain in Texas, respectively. Safford, Arizona, the Superstition Mountains west of Globe and Superior, then the phenomenal sprawl of Phoenix. The always awesome Colorado River south of Havasu City and London Bridge meant we were soaring over California, and then clouds hid the ground again.

When there was a break in the clouds, I literally gave a gasp to see the deep green turquoise ocean and the rugged, vertical Big Sur coast, just south of Carmel. Out over the Pacific and then inland again right over Monterey and Monterey Bay, headed north to circle fog-enshrouded San Francisco Bay a few times before being allowed to dip under into the mist to land along the exotic and lovely and so vividly lively edge of America where I'd left some of my heart time and time again.