What a gorgeous day for a flight!

We started with a slow, ascending loop around San Jose, 360 degrees of glory. At first I was distracted by how few private swimming pools there are in SJ, then by the clusters of neighborhoods that bravely start up into the foothills then quickly give way to wilderness. The southern tip of SF Bay came into view, then the eastern hills, then we spun toward Monterey Bay. By this time we were high enough to see it in its entirety, over the Santa Cruz Mountains. Finally we came around into the payoff view: the Pacific Ocean, the full span of SF Bay, and the entire peninsula, including the city itself lodged at its knob. Golden Gate park was prominent in its dark angularity, surrounded by gleaming civilization. Both bridges were clearly on offer, as well as the Marin Headlands and beyond.

It looked like a map. Or perhaps I should say, the map is a very decent representation of how this actually looks from above, though never a breathtaking one.

This survey course of where I live most of my life now took at most 15 minutes, then we headed east, or perhaps northeast. I could see what might be the Sacramento River heading northward, then quickly the signs of human inhabitance disappeared and the land started to crumple. Shortly there were snow dusted peaks, just one narrow strip of them, followed by dry valleys dotted with occasional large lakes, and perhaps some salt flats. Just like that, I had no idea where I was. Over California obviously, but where?

I decided to do some more observing since I was bereft of Internet and, more important, it was a beautiful day. Why was I bereft of Internet on a continental US flight, you might wonder? Well, for a person with two engineering degrees, I have extraordinarily feeble Internet skills. Yes, I realize those groups of dots and squiggly figures mean stuff, and if I scrutinize the screen long enough I will likely discover something to click on skulking in a corner that will boot Fly-Fi. But it’s all so mind-numbingly picayune. I want something in my mind that will fill it up with neuron crunching questions, not nit-picky mental plaque! Can we discuss the conflict between human pets and wild animals, the probability of any one person witnessing a supernova, the evidence that vegetarianism is unhealthy?

Or we could just admire the Earth from the Sky. Both of those are pretty big.

In any case, over the next hour the view progressed through several stages, including

• sparse roads with an occasional lonely building, grey, crumpled land, dry riverbeds interspersed with low mountain ranges, all running north-south;
• pointier and again snow-encrusted peaks, still separated by dry, bare valleys;
• what I believe was the High Sierras, the highest-and-rising mountain range in the US, characterized by sharp peaks on which the snow is not dusted but piled, packing the peaks and filling the bowls; and
• soon thereafter, a glimpse of the Rockies from afar, interposed by the salt flats of Nevada, or maybe Utah, including a lonely set of square catchments for water showing the presence of Man, some partially wet riverbeds, then, a river that is full, and a huge lake.

We’re over an hour in. Still all this time, virtually no sign of people.

But now we are over the Rockies in all their glory. They may not be the tallest, but they are overwhelming in their numbers. Not a line of peaks but a sea of them, a vast sea filling the view in every direction, surely hundreds of miles wide east-to-west, many more north-south. A vast, elevated wilderness perhaps not fully mapped even today, unless by satellite. Some low clouds hugging the horizon blend with the extended snowy peaks to create an impression of mountains forever. The all-mountains-every-which-way view takes up at least 20 minutes of the flight.

Twice I saw another plane! Considering how many hundreds are in the air at once, I continue to be amazed by how few I ever see. Both were considerably below us, heading in the opposite direction, seemingly at a higher speed, almost as if merrily schussing on a downhill slope, having crossed the country’s rocky spine. Next stop, the beach, baby!

Back to my View. As the mountains sink into the land, it seems colder. Ice and melting snow packs dot the rivers beside the peaks, and even the rocky ground itself. Though the nearby peaks are much gentler, the snow cover is becoming more consistent, and soon I am treated to a new ocean, an ocean of blinding whiteness.

I can personally attest this is a large country, having driven across it in 2016. While there were some mostly-cow interludes, one does not get the impression of a humanity-free wilderness from a vehicle traveling on a US Interstate highway. From the air, that is exactly the impression I get. Is that a ribbony road? If so, nothing is visibly traveling on it. I wonder if Africa has more wilderness.