It's something I do rather than enjoy, though I enjoy going places.
Today was different.
I had such a good time in Hamiltron and
I really didn't want to leave but I also really wanted to get home
because soon I'll be traveling for almost two weeks and any time at home is precious.
This feeling may be short lived.
I made the pleasant mistake of finishing my book early into the flight
before we had even left the North Island.
Not much to see over the cloud covered Waikato, King Country, Taranaki and Manawatu
but once over Cook Strait the cloud cleared and we flew towards Nelson.
With D'Urvelle Island on our left and Golden Bay on the right
I could see the wind whipping up the sand on Farewell Spit
carrying it away to Australia.
Then flying over the Richmond Ranges, all craggy and balding.
Red earth with patches of snow.
The Kaikouras further to the east hiding the Pacific
until the ocean becomes to big to be obscured by something a paltry was a range of mountains.
The Canterbury Plains endless in the distance and suddenly we are over Hanmer Springs
only two hours drive from home but shorter by plane.
Braided rivers gently wend their way across the island, through the mountains until we fly over the Plains proper dissected by straight roads, wide river beds and shelter belts.
The shape of the paddocks alternating between huge pie-chart centre pivot irrigated dairy farms and old fashioned rectangular sheep filled fields.
Green and gold.
Smaller paddocks, lifestyle blocks
Then, finally the city with the Port Hills and Banks Peninsula behind it
then Lake Ellesmere with home on it's banks.
The plane banks steeply, wiggling it's way towards the airport, my car and home.
Each time I fly,
I see something new, something unique I've not noticed before
a single poplar casting a midday shadow,
buildings shaped so it's hard to fathom it's purpose,
a trainer with his horses training on the oval tracks,
the colours of the grass and crops,
the sun slanted a certain way.
All on my way home.
Flying ain't so bad.