I designed a really dumb itinerary today requiring no less than three plane changes to get to San Francisco from the UK. Regardless I stick to my plan. The airport in Manchester is surprisingly crowded and the bar is packed at 6AM. I can’t believe how many people are jovially enjoying a cold pint before the sun has even come up but it’s happening. Maybe they didn’t go to sleep but it’s really hard to tell. The British may or may not be celebrating something today but either way they are drinking like the world is about to end. After a 20 hour journey I arrive at SFO and transition to San Carlos for the final leg.
At some point in my life I want to learn how to pilot a plane. Today I was fortunate enough to sit in the cockpit for the quick hop to the Truckee airport. I’m not sure why but I always feel more comfortable in planes when I’m as close to the front as possible. Today, I’m extremely lucky to have nearly perfect visibility as we cruise across the bay toward the Sierras.
I’m up at the crack of dawn after a brief nap. As I watch the sun rise over the deepest body of fresh water in North America I decide this year I’m going to learn how to fly a plane. Yup. Needs to happen. I spend two days visiting before continuing on my journey.