Wednesday, February 2, 2011


This morning a good friend and I took the ferry to the mainland, went shopping in a major city for the day, then flew home by floatplane. My friend and I were the only passengers on the de Havilland Otter, so I was permitted to sit right up front in the co-pilot's seat - what a rush!

It was stunningly beautiful, taxi-ing out into the harbour, slowly picking up speed, bouncing first gently, then a bit more roughly over the water; then the pilot revved it up, we lifted into the air, and banking slightly, turned to head towards home, our lovely island.

The last time I was in a floatplane, I was 17 years old, and flying to a tiny northern town inaccessible by any other means when the ice thawed - for half the year. I've always remembered that trip with delight - we saw a moose running beneath us, the scenery was outstanding, and it was just plain fun.

So it was today - after liftoff, I turned in my seat to look at my friend - we  both had ear-to-ear grins of pure joy. I was wearing the co-pilot's headphones to protect my hearing, so we couldn't talk, but we kept making eye contact and laughing with delight - sharing that experience with a close friend in Al-Anon, made it perfection.

When we landed in the harbour of our home city, we sighed with satisfaction, and walking along the float back to solid ground, agreed that we were going to do that again, soon.