Forget where your feet are and simply enjoy the view.

Paiute Mesa stretches into the San Juan River dividing brown water from green.
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Through the hazy filter of a thin mid altitude cloud layer, the terrain beneath us appears as an old photograph of an aging planet…With a nod to Albert Einstein, we contemplate the “twins paradox”…our time above the planet slows our clock while time while time marches on at a comparably faster rate on earth. We knew this place when it was imprinted on our DNA, we learned it’s shape and contour as we matured together, and now we look upon our aging mother as though the years have accelerated. Earthly wrinkles of stone highlight her age but endear her to us all the more. Soon we will land, our clocks will be synchronized, and our folly of neverending youth will fade into memory.

Fighting our way through showers and freezing rain, we worked our way up to altitude…Breaking out on top, the morning sun shown in the sky above, while the earth remained blanketed in weather. Somewhere over middle America, the back side of the weather dropped off abruptly, flowing into a white vapor train trailing gently across the fields.

Abstractions are often found in the fluid space of our imaginations, but when we find ourselves in very special places, those abstract notions transcend the thin barrier between dream and reality. There the abstractions are the material embodiment of earth’s spirit, both whimsical and concrete, they are fuel for our dreams. Crossing the high desert of Utah into the canyon lands, we follow the path of Muley Twist as it meanders in tight curves along the base of dreamlike white sandstone cliff walls, creating a colorful and abstract aerial topoglyph for our enjoyment.

Rising from a base of shadows, the carved out figures of the Grand Canyon National Park stand out in the morning light as in bas-relief.

We follow the narrow winding path of the Colorado River as it makes a complicated journey through the depths of the canyon…in the light of day, this path follows an easy natural flow, unencumbered by the physical constraints of earth…but given over to shadows and darkness, the path becomes a mystery, unseen and unexplainable, and all we are left to see are the immense and chaotic challenges that obscure the way.
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Though it is a heartbreaking reversal in a season of growth, it comes with the weather, the warmth and the dispersion of energy, whether a natural recycling process or the result of man’s carelessness. The spark that lights our nights and powers our engines also eats the landscape we admire…As stewards of our environs, we do what we can to stem the floods of flame that flow from forest fires…noble work for many who will soon be busy again across the continent. From our vantage point above this fire in the Sierra Madre Occidentals in a remote region of Chihuahua, Mexico, we cannot assume a cause, but we hope that rains will follow to dowse the flames so that the growing may resume.

Shadows dominate the morning landscape and transform a simple chasm into an abyss.
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Curve upon curve, water gracefully meanders through middle America, the path of the Mississippi as it makes its way to the Gulf of Mexico. The soft morning light catches the subtle details of forests and fields, creating the essence of freshly raked garden paths conveying a sense of peace to the landscape.

Raise the curtain, lift the shades, roll back the night…a new day is dawning between the layers of weather that obstruct our view of heaven and earth. Spectacular, yet in this solitary space, the sun appears as if a private illumination, a momentary thought, or a personal inspiration and we are the only witnesses to its brilliance…We are a similar spark on the horizon, radiant in our final moments before our singularity is washed away by the overwhelming light of day.

Deep in the crevices of Mexico’s Copper Canyons, weather adheres to the steep slopes, filling the void, as if attempting to make earth whole again…The healing shroud of fog lends a magical air to an already remote and mysterious landscape.

In a chaotic swirl like the silhouette of an embattled Medusa, the Colorado River meets the Sea of Cortez.

A few weeks have passed since this final dusting of snow in the mountains of California that so clearly highlighted the features of Arrowhead Lake…Today, a few patches of snow remain in shadowy places, but the white glaze seems confined to the higher peaks where the frosting portrays places on earth that touch the heavens, existing in both worlds at once, creating a dreamlike vision of seasons and times past.

In the stillness of the Sonoran desert, waves of sand roll fluidly across the earth with imperceptible movements…The sounds of this waterless sea are unknown to travelers, but the echoes of these waves may be felt in an enduring ripple through the souls of the inhabitants of this desert…Perhaps the Tohono O’odham can describe the sound, or perhaps it can only be heard in their voices.
These dunes are protected by the Secretariat of the Environment and Natural Resources of the Mexican government and the Tohono O’odham Nation, as part of the El Pinacate y Gran Desierto de Altar Biosphere Reserve.

Sometimes our travels may seem like an uphill climb; look at anything the wrong way and it seems hard…a change in perspective can turn our world upside down…change it the right way and every climb becomes a joyful ride along a level plane.

Experiencing the glory of flight at first light, once again, we find ourselves relishing the warmth of the dawn, only to roll toward the horizon and, descending, plunge back into night.

In the sky above Texas, we run into a wall of virga hanging in space, both liquid and vapor in a swirl of activity, simultaneously falling and rising…a moment of balance between perception and belief…

Waves upon a sea of stone, lapping up on islands of umber…an abstraction painted in layers of eroding earth, creating the illusion of motion and the roar of surf in a still and silent canyon.
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Cruising in smooth air over southeastern Utah, the atmosphere, itself, conveys an almost tangible sense of serenity…looking down on the landscape we observe a different experience detached from our moment in space as the earth displays an epochal tension between elegance and chaos. The two are not mutually exclusive but the dominant emotion changes with each shift in perspective. The elegance of narrowly etched buttes, mesas, and hoodoos cast in chaotic swirls of their molten geologic past is reimagined with each glance as the light and shadows shift and create new abstract patterns in the desert.

As sunlight bleeds into the shadows and colors the landscape with warm purple hues of morning, we roll south toward Mazatzal Mountains…The early morning clouds fall into disarray as if startled by the sudden sense of light and stand in stark contrast to the steady, solid, rolling sensation of the wind beneath our wings.
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