I realize that my observations here are from the perspective of someone who has the privilege (and sometimes obligation) to spend a lot of time in airplanes… But I find modern commercial air travel to be disorienting. I’m not talking about the frustrating dance we do with buying tickets, picking seats, getting to and from an airport, checking in, checking bags, clearing security, finding a gate, buying the overpriced coffee, etc, etc. I’m talking about the actual experience of flight — slipping the surly bonds of Earth is still a magical experience, even though we understand the physics of it, the engineering required to achieve it, and we are capable of mastering the human skills associated with safely guiding a machine filled with hundreds of people to an intentional destination.

We have figured out, as a species, how to overcome so many of our own physical limitations as human beings that the reality of our triumph over nature has become blasé. For hundreds of thousands of years, and perhaps much longer (if you presume that our pre-hominin ancestors had similar thoughts) we have wondered what it must be like to fly. We have observed, admired, and envied the birds. Today, a mere 122 years after the first time the Wright brothers achieved controllable, powered flight, it’s boring.

We seem to go out of our way to MAKE it boring! We sit and wait for our turn to line up and walk down a metal tube (the jetway/jet-bridge), to enter another metal tube (the aircraft itself), which makes some noise and moves a bit for a few hours while we have a small cup of coffee and a cookie, and then we wait to exit the tube, walk up another tube (another jetway), and only then appreciate that we’re in a different place. And during this entire voyage, there are – and I don’t think I’m exaggerating this – a large majority of people who are more concerned about easy access to the aisle and lavatory, or ready connections to in-flight WiFi, than any opportunity to take a peek out the window and take note of the fact that you are ACTUALLY FLYING!!

It used to be the flight crew helped with this. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you are on the left side of the aircraft you may notice that we are passing just north of the Grand Canyon, which should be visible for the next 20 minutes…” No more. Such announcements are a disturbance these days. I recently SAW the Grand Canyon from 34,000 feet as we passed by. Monument Valley too. I honestly wonder if anybody else noticed.

For that matter I was on a flight a couple weeks ago that had a bird strike – Airbus 320 vs. snow goose – an event that could have resulted in a very bad, scary outcome for the people on board, but fortunately didn’t. (It was still a very bad day for the goose). The vast majority of the people on board got off the tube and exited without a look at the enormous new hole in the left wing. They had no idea.

Now, I’m certainly biased. I’m a “Flying Squirrel” after all. I spend a lot of time in a small plane with big wrap-around windows and the ability to choose my own course and (literally) my attitude. To me, it is still magical – but largely because flight grants perspective on the world. From only a few thousand feet up, the scale and structure of weather systems are readily apparent. The effect of mountains and water bodies on air flows can be directly seen and visualized through cloud formation. One can see the effects of moisture collecting on the windward ridges, and the dryness left in the lee valleys. Boundaries between habitats and ecosystems can be seen – some abrupt and sudden, some gradual.

Large scale events can be seen (often) in one frame. Flight gives the opportunity to witness things like flooding and appreciate the scale of it beyond the viewpoint of a ground-based observer. Forest fires and their characteristics with respect to wind and terrain become directly viewable. Devastation from a hurricane or tornado is apparent, while still generating awe.

Human history also takes on a different clarity. When I fly, I can suddenly appreciate why major cities are where they are. In my area, they typically fall along the “fall line”, where rivers fall off the piedmont into the tidewater, creating a series of un-navigable rapids and waterfalls – so when boats could no longer go upstream, human travel stopped (or at least slowed) and settlements were created. In the mountains, you can see a harmony between riverways, gaps in mountain ridges, and valleys flat enough to be farmed. You can see the strategic value of certain locations during those times in our history where we were in oppositional conflict – driven by natural boundaries and travel corridors. The shape of human habitation follows the land.

Many of the dirtiest urban landscapes become neat and tidy from a few thousand feet up – little model cities. But (unfortunately), the scars of mining, clear-cutting, and pollution – particularly in bodies of water – are also readily apparent at scale from the air.

Flight offers a perspective that expands my point of view in a way that reading a map can suggest but not directly portray. It’s still magical, even from above 30,000 feet where some details disappear but large scale landscape changes are starkly visible.

Like most things, taking the opportunity to look at familiar subjects from a different perspective is valuable to learning more about that subject. Flight offers the opportunity to visualize the environment, the planet, and people in a different way. If you have the opportunity, please try to look past the drudgery of the modern travel experience and cherish your ability to view the world from a different perspective. Take the opportunity to notice the world as a bird does, and realize you’re living in a time and place that offer access to an experience dreamed of for the entirety of human existence. You can FLY!

Get Out There