Travel
historic St. Augustine, Florida; which
just happens to be my hometown.
Now seated, I don headphones that
allow me to hear the control tower.
Air traffic controllers clear us for
take off and the flying machine lifts
with ease, its feather-light wings
made from spruce, and covered in
Dacron. To me, aeronautics remains
a mystery, but I am tingling with glee
when everything works and we feel
the wind beneath our wings.
No wonder Amelia wore a cap – the
wind is unceasing in the blue yonder
at 80-100 miles per hour. Dave’s voice
coming through the headphones is
muted yet comforting. The struts or
wing supports partially obstruct the
view, but feeling of freedom and
connection with the sky is glorious –
remarkably different from sitting in a
pressurized cabin of a jet. Positioned
on the left-hand side of this plane,
initially all I can see is the glare of
rippling waves in the Atlantic. I soon
catch sight of Vilano Beach though,
then a few sunbathers on sandy St.
Augustine Beach, and finally the
iconic black and white stripes of
the St. Augustine Lighthouse.
Taking photos becomes a challenge,
but I want to document the
experience. When you twist your
upper body to the side, a sharp blast
of air hits you. Whoa – be sure to put
the camera strap around your neck
and restrain your sunglasses! Slowly,
the plane circles around, and I get a
heads-on peek at the Matanzas Inlet
and my condo along the water. “Wow,
there’s my place, the Bridge of Lions
and Flagler College,” I yell, though no
one hears me. The engine drowns out
my voice.
I was eagerly awaiting a glimpse of
Castillo de San Marcos – the multipointed star-shaped fort. Once
I see it, I’m giddy with delight.
This vantage point is the only way
you can appreciate the strategic
architectural design of the
construction. St. Augustine’s historic
landmark is gorgeous from the air and
worth the price of the ride. I want to
linger, but introductory bi-plane rides
only last about 20 minutes.
As we begin to head back toward the
airport, we fly low over the estuary.
The artful mosaic of the natural
waterway strikes me – apparently
nature knows how to create a
masterpiece. Dave mentions how
convective currents or downdrafts
from the water and trees sometimes
cause a bumpy ride. Who knew? I’m
surprised to hear this, but always
learning as it comes from
experiencing new adventures.
Before long we descend and roll down
the runway. My first biplane ride is
over way too soon. I could repeat this
flight many times and be thrilled each
time. Like Charles A. Lindbergh said,
“Sometimes, flying feels too godlike
to be attained by man. Sometimes,
the world from above seems too
beautiful, too wonderful, too distant
for human eyes to see.” I must agree.
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