Sunset Mission

Last week, my friend Dillon invited me on a sunset mission to drop his brother off in Alabama to pick up a truck to drive back to their company’s shop. As nervous as I was about getting in a plane with passenger space smaller than an SUV, I took him up on the opportunity.

The Cessna 182 Skylane. The word on the street on these babies is, “It doesn’t matter what you stuff inside that plane. If you can get the doors closed, it’ll take off.”

Details.

Moments after takeoff. The nerves were gone as soon as I got in the plane. It always seems that way for me. I’m nervous until it’s time to go, but as soon as I’m moving, all those thoughts disappear and I’m in the moment.

Perfection at golden hour. These are my two favorite photos from the day. Stable weather for days in the south generally means hazy, humid air, but these conditions allowed for beautiful golden hour light.

On the approach…

Catching the perfect angle of a sunset over Guntersville, Alabama. Alabama. Who knew?

Package delivered. Views heading out shortly after takeoff to return home.

24mm | ISO 2000 | f/4 | 1/160’ | Exposure compensation +5.0

Saying goodbye to the last light…

24mm | ISO 3200 | f/4 | 1/160’ | Exposure compensation +5.0

I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about flying in a small plane before last week. The enticement was that it would offer unique perspectives on places I would otherwise consider uninteresting or inaccessible. But there was certainly a fear. A month after my girlfriend, Katie, took a flight to Denali in Alaska in a small plane with an experienced pilot, she learned he’d been killed in a crash when the weather shifted. Stories like that give me pause - but this was Alabama, not Alaska.

If you know me, you know I’m far from being an adrenaline junkie. I don’t need to be on the edge of death to feel alive. But over the past two years since starting contract work and traveling, I’ve taken opportunities to do things outside my comfort zone. I’ve intentionally made choices to have experiences different from my norm.

Part of it has been simply to know, to discover what it’s like - to be able to relate to people who need those experiences to feel alive. And the other part has certainly been to have a story to tell. My grandfather had stories from all over the world. And knowing him best only in his older years, many of the stories seemed wilder than I pictured him, but I loved that. It made me curious about him and curious about the world. His ability to tell a story, to see it in his eyes like a movie when he talked, still pushes me out on the next adventure to make stories to remember. I think my Grandpa, his character, his smile, his stories - are at the heart of a lot of decisions I’ve made to step out into something new over the past three years.

I can only hope to be half as wonderful and incredible to my grandkids one day as my Grandpa was to me. But in the meantime, I’ll keep choosing to have good stories to tell them when the time comes.

34mm | ISO 2000 | f/4 | 1/125’ | Exposure compensation +5.0

Mission complete.

Until the next adventure,

I Can’t Believe I’m Going Back

Rain, Gravel Roads, and an old Toyota.