Seeing as how I have to be at NMU in a few minutes to shoot the season opener of “High School Bowl”, how about I leave you with something from 12 years ago? However, it's just as topical as it was then, as proven by what I looked at out the window of an airplane 36 hours ago.
Have a great weekend!
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(as originally published 1/5/2010)
The first sign of life is the algae.
Now, I mention this because Loraine and I just bought the tickets for our next trip to France, the one scheduled for this October. And, of course, if you’re flying to or from France, you spend a LOT of time staring out of airplane windows. . .nine hours, in fact, on the trip back.
And that’s how I know about the algae.
When you leave France, you have about 45 minutes to look out the window and see land; England and Ireland, to be specific. Then for four, four and a half hours. . .nothing. You can look down and see the north Atlantic. Sometimes you might see icebergs, sometime you might see waves so big that, at 35,000 feet, they appear as little white dots, but mostly you see nothing but water.
Until, that is, you hit Canada.
When you enter Canadian airspace, you first fly over the Labrador Peninsula, which is nothing but desolate, barren rock. For half an hour, you stare down at a vast landscape of nothing-ness; if you were an alien being exploring the planet for the first time, you’d probably assume that the planet was devoid of life.
And then you see the green.
The first few times I flew back from Europe, I was intrigued when I noticed that, about half an hour after crossing over land, the ponds and lakes sitting on top of the Labrador rocks looked a little green around the edges. Then I figured out what it was. . .it was algae building up around the shores, much like algae builds up on lakes around here.
After over 5 hours of seeing nothing, it’s the first sign that there’s still life on the planet.
A few minutes later, some of the rocks appear green, as well, indicating either moss or algae has started to cling to the rocks. The green increases over time, until you see something you thought you might never see again--
A road.
As with the algae, I had no idea where the roads led during my first few flights. Then on the last few flights, I began to notice the roads leading to complexes, complexes that I’m guessing are mines, or research facilities, or military facilities. Soon, the roads begin to branch off into other roads, and along those roads you soon notice more green.
The roads are cutting through grass. And soon, the roads begin to cut through trees. And then a small town or two. And before you know it, you see more roads, more trees, more towns, and then the pilot says you’re crossing over Sault Ste Marie, Michigan, and entering the U.S.
All a mere 8 or so hours after leaving France, and just an hour and a half after you thought you’d never see a sign of life again.
If you’ve ever wondered how you kill those 9 hours on a plane, that’s how I do it. And that’s how I’ll be doing it again in a mere 9 months.
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