Some days..

My day dawned with sunrise over the Brazilian jungle. At 36,000 feet the ground was as dark as the ocean we had just crossed, no light to mark settlements or the existence of people at all. Between the twin voids of the ground and the night sky was a border of red and gold marking the beginning of the day.

The map on the screen in front of me showed that we had travelled just over 5,500 miles with 3 hours flying time still ahead. I sensed then I was half a world away from everything I know and hold dear. But the sense of difference came later, as the crew cleared away the remnants of breakfast I looked down and saw the beginning of the Andes, grey corrugations in an otherwise flat landscape. Gradually the corrugations grew closer together and the caps became tipped with white snow before, and suddenly, we were above the Andes proper.

I have flown over the Alps, they are beautiful and majestic, but pale compared to these mountains. I looked down in awe at the small square that I could see in the armpit of the wing – and then the plane banked and the whole scene came into view. Horizon to horizon filled with white mountains with an occasional monster soaring above the others, stretching out as far as I could see.

There is something about mountains that I find fascinating, and a plane allows you to see the totality. However, the true scale can only be really appreciated when you experience  them on a human scale. We ride the Andes as part of this trip: I can’t wait.