A brief note on puddle jumping...

We have touched down in some fairly obscure villages, popping in to drop off mail, passengers, a hot water heater, or whatever else made its way onto the plane that happened to be flying our route. The scenery is no less than majestic, if a bit hard to explain. This section of the state is mostly flat, dotted with small ponds and larger lakes, with circles of algae or land blooming seemingly out of nothing. 

On our way out of Newtok we passed over a herd of muskox, our pilot flying low to afford us a view of the animals. The flight involved a lot of sharp banks, giving us an outstanding view of gently sloping hillsides and the potential for archaeological sites (according to my companion; I, of course, am no expert on that). It also is the only time I felt that I might toss my cookies. The small plane flights have been remarkably smooth and easy, assuming a high ride over still terrain. It's only when the turns are tight and the items on the ground are moving that my stomach has coiled in on itself, making the flight out of Newtok on of the most beautiful and simultaneously dizzying. 

When we stopped to drop off a passenger, I jumped out for a brief feel of still ground and a few deep breaths of fresh, cooling air. Another difference between small plane flights and those of commercial jets are the relative freedoms: freedom to open your own door, freedom to allow yourself a few brief if necessary moment out of the plane. The "ground crew" --- a couple of local guys on 4-wheelers --- seemed amused at my novice status, but were kind and welcoming for the 3 minutes I was on their land. 

And the last perk of small plane flight: the ability of yours truly to pass out in mere minutes once off the ground. It feels so much like being in the passenger seat of a car that I can't help but close my eyes and feel at peace, riding high above this beautiful land.