Travel day: Saturday 3/28/09: I'm headed for my dad's house in Escondido, CA. Been up since 4:30 am, on the road since 6:30 am, and it's about 15 minutes into the flight, and we’re at about 15,000 ft. and those pesky electronic gadets are legal again.
It was 43 and raining in Portland, OR when we took off about 11:00 a.m. and it’s still cloudy even as far south as . . . wherever we are: Salem? Just peeked out the window and see that it is clearing below and we are far above any remaining clouds. Unfortunately, I had to sit on the sunny side of the plane and now I have to keep my window shade down to avoid getting fried!
I’m flying on Southwest for the first time. They had the best prices and availability on short notice to my destination. Their boarding routine is a little odd – you get a number, A or B, 1-75, and you board in numerical order, by the numbers: A 1-30, B 1-30, A 31-50, B 31-50 . . . .until all are aboard. The lower your number the better your chance of sitting where you want – it’s open seating. I was told by a lady in line that, because her husband is a frequent flyer, his numbers are automatically lower. Sure enough, there he was about 45 people ahead of her in line. This SW thing could be interesting, if your marriage was already in trouble.
One surprise; I thought I was boarding a flight that flew straight through to Ontario, CA – my ticket says that. But the pilot announced that we were “on our way to beautiful downtown Sacramento.” Surprise! That was my original destination, prior to my 95 year old father falling on a walk, cracking his rib and causing my brother to call me from the hospital to ask if I could “come down right away.” What is the correct answer to a question like that? The nearly always inaccurate “No problem” seems to work best.
I just looked out the window again, and we are definitely over NE California – probably just over the border. Well, there you go – the captain just announced that we are passing Mt. Shasta. On my side of the aircraft, the terrain is flat and under intense cultivation; lots of square patches in varying shades of green and brown. The front row of the Sierras, straight as a backbone, and fully capped in snow, is running along the visible eastern horizon like one of those white lines they paint on the side of road to keep you in the lane and out of the weeds. I’m currently more about staying in the air, and out of the weeds!
A word about the plane; it’s a Boeing 737, 300 Series. Relatively new, it has large canards at the wing tips and I notice it is very stable in the air. I’m used to whatever Alaska flies, and I like this plane better. It’s a wider body and seats six across, rather that the cramped 4 of the Alaska planes. Make no mistake, we are jammed in here like sardines, it’s just the can that’s bigger. Nice crew, more of them. The drinks are better. I’m having a vodka cranberry blast with fresh limes. Excellent, tangy punch-like taste. Definitely a college crowd Spring Break special. I had the presence of mind to have a really good, sit-down breakfast at the airport, so I haven’t any regrets that they don’ serve food – even though I will miss the “lunch hour” on this flight.
Pilot has announced we are on the glide path to land at Sacramento (my ears told me that!), and I opened my window to look out upon the absolutely beautiful, snow covered peaks below. What a spectacular view. The snow is thin though; clear cuts on the sunny side of the slope are bare ground, and only those on the shady side are still white. One other thing the snow does, other thanlook pretty, is emphasize how many dormant volcanoes are down there. So many peaks have that telltale dimple at the top.
We’re getting lower in the sky. The inevitable crying baby warning has sounded; ears are hurting, and it’s time to put up the tray tables.
It’s about 1:00 p.m., and we are out of Sacramento and above 10,000 ft, so the “electronic gadget” sign if off. Even if one can’t access the Internet from a plane – yet – it still passes the time wonderfully fast to use your lap top to type and prepare emails to send when you do get to a hot spot.
Sacramento from the air is much larger than I imagined. Very distinct “old” and new sections; much like Portland, in that it has at least one river running through it and a number of large bridges. I’ll make it back there in a month or two.
We appear to be flying to the east-south-east, away from population and into noticeably more turbulent air as we approach the snow capped peaks of the Sierras. Oh my God! I’ve got a straight in view of Yosemite! Absolutely breathtaking! Sugar Loaf, and El Capitan capped with a dusting of white. That is quite a gash in the landscape!
Even higher peaks ahead – I have often wished I’d brought a Google type aerial map with me, with signage – so I’d be able to look out the window and know what I was looking at. Yosemite is obvious. But some of the interesting lakes below are not. I’m looking at one very large, very high lake that is obviously still frozen solid. The much higher back row of the Sierras is clearly visible now, and the snow pack looks pretty good. Yet, down below the snow line, all the lakes have that big edge of bare earth, where the water line used to be. From this altitude, that must measure several hundred feet in width, although probably about half that in lake in depth.
My stewardess didn’t collect for my cranberry blast on the first leg, and on the second I ordered another one. She has declined to accept my money at all! Yes! I am a Southwest flier from now on.
A new seat mate took the place of the silent gentlemen on the first leg. This time, it’s a 22 year old college student going home for the weekend. She tells me that she is in her second year of becoming a speech pathology major and very animatedly tells me about her fascination with the field. She just starting out on the independent line of her own life; while I sit quietly contemplating the downward glide path of my own. She could easily be my grandchild, and yet she seems to be perfectly at ease speaking with me as if I were a real human being. Amazing.
My seat mate has slipped into torpor – I used to do the same thing on flights – something about a particular pitch to the droning whine of the engines. Not a bad idea, really. I'll write more when I'm on the ground. Shouldn't be too long now. If I just turn this way . . . .Ah-h.
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