Beyond the Cascades, located in Denali National Park, the Alaska range boasts Mt. Denali, the highest point in North America. Elevation 20,310 feet, base to peak, it stands as the largest mountain in the world.
On my flight to see Mt. Denali, instead of a pen, I carried a camera. My Nikon D300 (2.8 70–200mm and 2.8 17–55mm lenses) gave me options for up close and personal both inside and outside the cockpit.
My camera kept me fastened to the moment, taking pictures instead of worrying about circumstances out of my control.
Type A's, like me, resist surrendering control to anyone. Yet every time I board an airplane, I do exactly that. I don't know the pilot and the pilot doesn't know me.
My husband and I were told that Mt. McKinley (Denali's former name) is visible only 20% of the time. Taking off on a cloudy day felt less than promising.
The contract I signed had stipulated in bold letters: "No guarantee you will see the mountain." Likely, I had signed a waiver on death as well.
Yes, Alaska is not Disneyland. Consider the risks. You might crash and burn.
Too late to wonder Where am I and how did I get here? Now, I am Rocket Man, "and I think it's gonna be a long, long time till touchdown brings me 'round again . . ."
Unless you or I pilot a plane, we give up control when boarding any airplane.
I kept my eye on the pilot. Seated where I was, I could watch his movements. In flight, he selects music on his iPod, further isolating himself from passengers.
Ho-hum. He's not worried, why should I worry?
Small plane vs commercial jet: Am I scared yet?
First of all, this small plane is loud. LOUD! The headset I wear muffles the noise that otherwise sounds deafening.
Sky high, up there, stomach pitching, mind spinning, ears popping, I try hard not to think about invisible means of support. Far above the earth, thousands of feet in the air, aerodynamics and the Wright Brothers and gravity create a confusing cocktail of conflicting ideas.
What was I thinking? Don't look down. Look out.
Air currents at high altitude lift and swirl, batting at the plane like an insect. Like the wind, no one can see it, yet we see its effects.
The plane pitched and dropped and zig-zagged through the air. The girl in the seat behind me buried her face in an airbag the entire flight.
The bumps. The drops, sudden and unforeseen––it's not like driving a car where a driver navigates the road ahead. “Aim high in steering.” Follow the lines, pick a lane, watch the shoulder, look ahead to avoid potholes.
The camera makes clouds look like waves crashing against the shore of that mountain. The sky above mirrors the sea. Or is it vice versa?
Thoughts drift: I am Jonah swallowed by a big fish, beneath the sea, terrified yet hopeful, because unlike Jonah, I am not the first person to take flight with this guy. He must be good. He wants to end up back on dry land too.
It's all out of my hands. Wearing your seat belt, aren't you?
What made me climb into and go up, up and away in a metal tube that held six people to maybe see a mountain, a mountain unperturbed by uninvited visitors who strain, hoping to see its face?
I’d read that the Cascades make the Rockies look like hills. I reconsider my own relative size and importance.
Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God. Psalm 90:2
The plane flew above vast uninhabited wilderness, desolate but beautiful. No place to get lost on foot.
Approaching first glimpse of Mt. Denali, Clouds, please part. Let me get a peek at the peak.
The plane's wing tilted, flying so close to the mountain that it appeared the wing could cup the snow, as one might dip and measure flour.
Once on the ground again, I ponder for a few brief moments how I came to trust my life to a stranger.
Even when I’m afraid, I knew then and now that my life is in the hands of Someone I do know.
“The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.”Deuteronomy 33:27
Underneath us, O, how easy
We have not to mount on high
But to sink into His fullness
And in trustful weakness lie
And we find our humbling failures
save us from the strength that harms.
We may fail, but underneath us are the everlasting arms
v. 3 A.B. Simpson, The Everlasting Arms
