Landscapes, no matter what type, take on a new appearance from above. The small turboprop airplane lifts abruptly from the hold of the earth’s surface, and the transformation beings immediately. At first the experience is something akin to climbing Bishops Peak. The world sprawls around me, but no place is my base of observation. Every geographical feature is viewed from an ever increasing distance.
The manmade and natural features that seemed so familiar become part of an intricate map as I continue to rise. Poly Mountain, at first looming high to the east, takes on a pathetic size in relation to my increasing range of observation. Topography becomes meaningless, because the plane’s elevation is much greater than the changes in height below. Highways follow valleys like artificial arteries, reaching into the most remote locations, as if supplying some type of life-giving fluid.
The lakes near Paso Robles look like puddles when the ocean can be seen covering half the currently visible surface of the earth. The Pacific Ocean stretches on into infinity, to the north, south, and especially to the west. Not a single object blemishes the uninterrupted, dark blue body of water. More water than I can imagine is just beyond the horizon that reaches to ever increasing depths. It looks lifeless, but I know that the opposite is true. Marine life hides just below the surface, and reaches down to the ocean floor. Imagine the wonderment of being able to look down and see exactly where all of that life is—to see the whales and their migration, and perhaps a few solitary sharks venturing near the beaches. The godlike sight would be absolutely incredible.
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