The Marvels in the Skies

It's remarkable what meaning we find in celestial objects. Take the APOD for October 31, 2008: the Witch Head Nebula. A nebula, in the stereotypical shape of a stereotypical ugly witch: long, pointy nose, long, pointy chin, tuft of a beard.

Remarkable.

The Good, the Bad, and the Beautiful

The good news: Elisheva (our congregation's rabbi) and her daughter came over for Shabbat dinner last night in the sukkah. The bad news: I missed it, being out of town. The good news: I was out of town visiting my folks. The bad news: the trip was by way of Philadelphia. The good news: flights were smooth and on time. The bad news: the initial flight left SFO at about 6am. The good news: I got into Syracuse not long after 5pm. Combine the route and the time: that's where the beautiful comes in, which makes this last doubly good news.

Sometimes, it would be nice to have a direct flight (sometimes?), non-stop from SFO or SJC to Syracuse. Though I've flown direct here three times, they'e never been non-stop, and they took 10-12 hours of flight time (once in 11 hours elapsed, once in about a day and half elapsed). Much as I love general aviation, the nature of the trip has to be a bit different from this one to use the Mooney instead of the airlines. (I suppose if I had a TBM850, it would be a different story. Fast as 2FR is, a TBM850 is quite a bit faster!) Flying the airlines into a small market like Syracuse means at least one stop and an almost certain plane change. Philadelphia ended up being a fortuitous choice, even though much less direct than, for example, Chicago, Denver, or St. Louis.

Though we're very (very, very, exceptionally) spoiled by the weather in the Bay Area, we lack the spectacular fall colors of the northeast. I miss those colors. Heading to Truckee is a consolation, but only that. (Yes, the aspen groves in full color are fabulous, but still nothing compared to an entire counrtyside in the autumn of the northeast) Flying from PHL to SYR in the late afternoon presented the most lovely vistas. As we flew north, the hills changed color, from a rather dull greenish-yellow to brilliant yellows, golds, oranges, flaming reds, deep reds, speckled throughout with green. As the sun set and the light got longer the hills all-but came alive with their colors.

I wished I'd been on that flight in the Mooney, down low, around 3,000 AGL, taking it all in.

Variety vs. Serenity

I didn't realize I was making the choice. At least, not this particular choice.

When I ride to work, it's through the Baylands Nature Preserve and Shoreline Park, then along the Stevens Creek Recreational Trail. Especially the part that's all but right at the Bay shoreline is a lovely way to start the day. Often, the sun's shining (these days, it'll be not far from just having risen!), there's no wind, it's quiet, there are very few others out on the trails, the shorebirds are feeding close-in to shore, often in large clumps, and it's remarkably peaceful.

For a change of pace, I rode up to Foothill Expressway and then into Los Altos. I used to ride along Foothill occasionally, when I biked frequently back 25 years ago (before my wrists made bicycling on a diamond frame very uncomfortable), and lots of people ride along Foothill today. The road's fairly flat—a few rolling hills, but nothing that even pretends to be steep, an important characteristic of a route these days, while my legs figure out just what to do with a 'bent.

Wow! Talk about a jarring experience. I'd forgotten what it was like to have lots of traffic whizzing by at 45-50 mph just a few feet away. Whiz, whiz, whiz, whiz, whiz. And traffic wasn't even terribly heavy!

It might just be "the same old route" over and over, but until I'm ready for bigger hills that are a bit off that beaten path, I think I'll stick to the serenity of the Baylands and Shoreline!