It is a sunny Wednesday morning, and I am boarding a 1948 Cessna 170 with my too kind and loving wife and a friend.  He doesn’t like a lot of attention, so we will just call him Dakodta.  First thing that comes to mind is that a 1948 plane is 75 years old, which is way older than me and trust me when I tell you, not all my parts work anymore.  They also don’t make replacement parts for things as old as me or our plane.  So, I start asking some questions, like “Dude.  Are you crazy?” 

My too kind and loving wife elbows me when she sees the old plane coming out from around behind the hangar.  “Oh my!  We probably shouldn’t do this…” 

I restored a 1957 Chev Belair and so I know just how hard it is to find parts for old things and old people.  And today, few people know anything about engines that don’t have a computer to tell them what is wrong.  And I have a brand-new lawn mower that only starts every other time and I think it and the plane have the same size of engine.  So, I usually like to panic first and get the facts later and have become so good at doing this some might think it is my superpower. 

Hmmmm.  I am not in complete panic yet, but my heart rate is probably faster than my doctor likes it to be.  My pilot kicks the tires and says, “Oh don’t worry she’s got a few good flights left in her…probably.”  One thing for sure, every knob and latch is necessary, utilitarian, and does not require a computer chip to operate.  There are no warning lights; but there is a sticker that says, “If you can read this you are upside down.”  Bush pilot humor I suppose. 

These machines were built when the pilot had a vested interest in making sure the airplane kept working.  There is no mindless computer giving you false assurances that everything is working fine.  I am certain there is no calm female voice that says, “recalculating” when you see a mountain goat in your front windshield and you turn to the co-pilot and say, “What is that mountain goat doing up here in the clouds?”  I don’t trust computers; just think how many times you have had to turn your computer off and on to magically get it to work. 

And it doesn’t give me any confidence that I am in the co-pilot seat.  If it comes down to me trying to save the day like in the movies, there is not going to be a sequel.  Besides, I can’t believe he would let me near so many buttons, any one of which, could kill us.  This may be the hardest trial of self-control I have ever had.  I always want to know how to operate machines and my curiosity is legendary…so is my stupidity.  I am that guy that when my too kind and loving wife says, “We probably shouldn’t do this…” I immediately want to do that very thing.  I have no self-control.  If a button says do not push, I always want to know what happens if I do.  I am almost certain my too kind and loving wife is ready to smack me from the back seat if I so much as move towards the control panel.  She hands me a fidget spinner hoping to keep my attention elsewhere. 

We are off to see some of San Juan County from the air and we head south from Blanding towards Comb Ridge and Goose Neck State Park.  I know I am always trying to explain to non-locals just how magnificent this county is, but this view has left me speechless, an event my too kind and loving wife is sure will coincide with the start of the millennia. 

The real challenge is to capture the scale of the landscape and the jaw dropping beauty in every rock formation.  Certainly, the Creator was at his best when he worked on San Juan County. From Monument Valley to Valley of the Gods and up around Bears Ears I am snapping pictures as quickly as I can.  You can see clearly why it took so long for the pioneers to walk from Escalante to Bluff.  There is no single stretch of land longer than a quarter mile that isn’t cut by deep canyons, staggering vertical cliff faces, and dry washes.   

If someone wanted to create a boarder wall that says KEEP OUT, I think something like Comb Ridge would do the trick.  It is a monocline roughly 120 miles long, has 400’ vertical walls, and goes from the Abajo mountains to Laguana Creek near Kayenta AZ.   

But to the pioneer’s credit they kept moving slowly forward.  If they had the advantage of an ariel view, they probably would never have attempted such a crazy route.  Back then Google Maps consisted of a fir trapper and an elderly Ute man that pretty much told the pioneers they had been out in the sun too long and there were easier ways to die. 

Our antique plane made the trip even more delightful, “Oh my!  We probably shouldn’t do this,” had turned into that, “Oh my!  I am going to miss this place when we are in Tonga.”   I am once again grateful for good people, inspiring scenery and the chance to explore San Juan County.