we are unbelievably fortunate to have a good friend with a pilot's license. he's brilliant, thorough, and easy-going—just a joy to go up in the air with. he's taken us a couple of times and it's been the sweetest kickoff to summer.
aside from those with a crippling fear of heights, how can anyone not feel romantic about flight? it's peaceful, nearly otherworldly, and, though i fly with two boeing engineers who assure me it is not magic, i feel like a tiny bit of it has to be just that. c'mon guys.
the sheer joy in taking to the skies doesn't need a reason or history, but my story has one. my grandfather, who passed away last year, loved flying. he owned his own plane—an always-shiny ercoupe. he flew it to the beach, and with friends, and with strangers, right up until the end. he loved seattle, too, and would have so enjoyed the time we've been so fortunate to spend in the sky here. there are so many ways to feel close to people. for me, this is one of them.
flight time with rohan has included breakfast on whidbey island, buzzing the hikers at rattlesnake ridge, following scenic highway 2 into the cascades, and full moon trips over the sound. below, a few too many photos from a sunday evening sunset trip to roche harbor for dinner, a few weeks ago. you can also view the collective folder.