There's no better word I can find to describe the images captured along the flight from San Marcos to Albuquerque. You cross the Texas/New Mexico border just outside Roswell, NM and from there on you're on the leeward side of the mountain range that extends north. They start small but the northernmost peaks are snow covered and well above 12,000 feet. Quite a change of scenery from the flatlands of Texas.
This was a pretty intensive flying day, nearly six and a half hours in the cockpit. But it went by so quickly that it didn't seem nearly that long. I remember as a passenger flying from Boston to Manchester, England that same amount of time seemed to be an eternity.
There were two legs to today's flight: From San Marcos to Midland (no, I did not rent a car and drive out to W's ranch in Crawford) and from Midland to ABQ. Total air miles were 560 nautical miles. I flew at 6,000 feet to Midland and at 10,000 feet to Albuquerque. Tomorrow I break out the oxygen cannister for my flight into Arizona at 12,000 feet.
Actually, I would spell Albuquerque Albu-quirky. Kinda weird. I spent an appropriate amount of time on a barstool at The Library, a well-known watering hole on Central at 4th. The locals say it's the best place to be at 3:00 in the afternoon. As long as the bar is open and they're serving Margaritas, I don't much care where I am as long as there's something to watch. It's an interesting place to sit and form opinions. The more I consume, the more philosophical I get. So...I figure people in Albu-quirky are not your type-A personalities...if you know what I mean. They're pretty laid back and definitely into their own things. Makes for an interesting sight, if you're a southerner just out for a good time of people-watching. Lots and lots of pick-ups and motorcycles. It's sort of what I expect tomorrow when I'm "standin' on the corner in Winslow, Arizona." I guess it just comes with the territory. Sort of like what I remember seeing and feeling when I was in Alaska a couple of years ago. People who live there, according to well-informed sources, are there because they want to get away from everybody and everything else. You could come to Albu-quirky and do the same thing and nobody would ever think the worse of you.
Hell, I could go on forever about the thoughts I had sitting on that barstool. Yes, I stopped the flow of alcohol in plenty of time to be ready for my 6:00am departure tomorrow. As my instrument instructor told me, "12 hours from bottle to throttle." Yes, I remember even the most trivial of details. Later.
This was a pretty intensive flying day, nearly six and a half hours in the cockpit. But it went by so quickly that it didn't seem nearly that long. I remember as a passenger flying from Boston to Manchester, England that same amount of time seemed to be an eternity.
There were two legs to today's flight: From San Marcos to Midland (no, I did not rent a car and drive out to W's ranch in Crawford) and from Midland to ABQ. Total air miles were 560 nautical miles. I flew at 6,000 feet to Midland and at 10,000 feet to Albuquerque. Tomorrow I break out the oxygen cannister for my flight into Arizona at 12,000 feet.
Actually, I would spell Albuquerque Albu-quirky. Kinda weird. I spent an appropriate amount of time on a barstool at The Library, a well-known watering hole on Central at 4th. The locals say it's the best place to be at 3:00 in the afternoon. As long as the bar is open and they're serving Margaritas, I don't much care where I am as long as there's something to watch. It's an interesting place to sit and form opinions. The more I consume, the more philosophical I get. So...I figure people in Albu-quirky are not your type-A personalities...if you know what I mean. They're pretty laid back and definitely into their own things. Makes for an interesting sight, if you're a southerner just out for a good time of people-watching. Lots and lots of pick-ups and motorcycles. It's sort of what I expect tomorrow when I'm "standin' on the corner in Winslow, Arizona." I guess it just comes with the territory. Sort of like what I remember seeing and feeling when I was in Alaska a couple of years ago. People who live there, according to well-informed sources, are there because they want to get away from everybody and everything else. You could come to Albu-quirky and do the same thing and nobody would ever think the worse of you.
Hell, I could go on forever about the thoughts I had sitting on that barstool. Yes, I stopped the flow of alcohol in plenty of time to be ready for my 6:00am departure tomorrow. As my instrument instructor told me, "12 hours from bottle to throttle." Yes, I remember even the most trivial of details. Later.
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