Something is odd when one finds there is more adventure lately on the plane than climbing the mountains (Heaven forbid). Nevertheless, it seems to be the case. We set off together with British Airways (formerly the world’s favorite airline), just beating Zimbabwe National in a tight race. The pilot, again showing the spirit of a past era when the British were colonizing much of the world, found new land on Thursday morning. It was an interesting discovery because we were on a non-stop flight to London. Yet we landed in St. Johns, Newfoundland, Canada.
The reason for popping in unexpectedly is that after we reached the Atlantic Ocean, one of the passengers developed a fear of either flying or being above so much water. The pilot turned the plane around and put it down on a partly covered tarmac of snow and ice with strong winds prevailing. Fortunately, the passenger looked reasonably well when they wheeled him off the plane. In the meantime, to make it an enjoyable experience, we turned to watch the ground staff searching for the ex-passenger’s baggage in harsh conditions, from the warmth of the interior.
We landed at Heathrow by the time our connecting flight to Johannesburg should have been on the runway. Fortunately, there was another plane leaving 3 hours later—lucky us. We proceeded to board but there was a further delay because the plane developed engine problems. Who could blame it in such cold conditions? Fortunately, these jumbo jets don’t need four engines to fly. As people were getting rather testy by that stage, on a show of hands, a unanimous poll commissioned by the captain, we took off feeling confident that three engines rather than four should do it. We explained to our nervous editor that when you look at the globe, the south is way down below the north so it amounts to downhill all the way—the engines have it easy—the return trip’s the killer. Sometimes we worry about our editor.
We blame the hiking for making us very interested in photography. We look forward to the day when we understand how to use the camera properly because it is wonderful to capture the world’s beauty, if only a fraction. “It’s your own fault you’re so tired,” our editor admonished us. We suppose she’s right…again. We set our internal clock to wake early on Friday to catch the sunrise from 35,000 feet. Unfortunately, the system is not working too well; the alarm 'buzzed' every few minutes. It was worth it, of course, but we are feeling a little zombie-ish. Watching the horizon light up in multi-colors, gazing at the magnificent cloud formations and so much more is what Julie Andrews once sang: ‘These are a few of my favorite things’. Whereas we always prefer to sweat to reach our target, the sights from altitudes higher than Everest are nevertheless breathtaking.
We thank Hil and Ernie for the ride from the airport—what a treat to see friendly faces when arriving at a destination—no longer a common occurrence—although the TSA in the United States can be a hoot. Seeing Mom, looking younger than ever was a treat. We hope while visiting she goes easy on us...one must always remain optimistic. Reminds us of her recent visit to San Diego. Ellie and her grandparents had just come out of the swimming pool and sat for five minutes to catch our breath. In a manner no different from childhood days, Mom piped up, “Jeffrey, don’t you think you should change out of your wet costume (swimsuit). We thought for a second and gently reminded her that we are now a boy of sixty.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
PS British Airways did a fine job
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