Flying Lessons
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Queenabelle had never flown in a small plane, so Fifinella offered to take her up and do some loop-de-loops in one of the aerobatic planes.  Queenabelle’s reaction?  “No freaking way!”  When Maverick kindly offered to take her for a straight and level sight-seeing tour in Emma, his Dad’s good ol’ dependable Cessna, she was a little more enthusiastic.  Excellent!  I love to fly!

No, I'm not terrified!

No, seriously, once we peeled her off the propeller …

Queenabelle and Maverick

I was relegated to the back seat so that she could have the best views.

Is there an ejection button?!

Maverick got her situated in the plane.

Oh, yeah, she looks professional ...

Pilot and Copilot

As we were sitting at the end of the runway, Maverick was going through the final check list and making sure, as he put it, that “Emma wanted to fly”.

“Queenabelle,” he said, “I think you should handle the take-off today.”

Did I hear that correctly???!!!

“HEY!”  I shouted from the back seat, “as back-seat pilot, I strongly protest!  I would prefer that someone who knows how to fly be in control of the plane!”  I also think I smacked both of them on the backs of their heads.

They pretty much ignored me.

I repeat - YIKES!

Despite my terror, we lifted off without incident …

The airport passes beneath our wing

… and I kept my camera pointed out the window.  Within minutes Maverick announced that we would be seeing our house, and darned if he wasn’t right!

Rancho Am Broko

There you see our barn, the guest house where Butterfly resides (bright blue roof) and our house (faded blue roof) – even our swampy ol’ pond at the top of the picture.  The pond we swim in is at the bottom of the picture by the barn.  Too bad you can’t appreciate the hilliness of the property.

Queenabelle was looking awfully comfortable with things.

I can do this!

Figures - she's taking pictures AGAIN!

I can fly!

This is fun!

Oh my gosh!  She has the controls again!

Allow me to repeat myself!

Next we circled Fifinella and Maverick’s house, banking sharply, ‘round and ‘round while Queenabelle and I tried to find their house among all the others.

Then we headed off for Folsom Lake and just about the time we got there, Queenabelle moaned, “I don’t feel so good … I think it was those last turns we made at your house that did it.”

She's gonna blow!

Maverick instantly leveled out the plane and, trying to make her feel better, told her to find a spot on the horizon to focus on.  I found a barf bag in the seat pocket in front of me and tactfully passed it forward, just in case.  It was all I could do not to offer her a wafer thin mint (for all you Monty Python fans).

“We’ll just head back to the airport and be there in a few minutes,” he said.

Folsom "Lake"

I took this departing shot of “Folsom Puddle” which shows the dire straits we are in, due to our three years of drought.

I see the runway

I don’t think having the airport in sight made Queenabelle feel any better.

Tell me, Maverick, you're not going to let her land the plane!

Is it too late for me to get out?

Still nothing from Queenabelle but silence ...

Frozen in fear - barf?  crash?  both?

The runway rises up to meet us ...

Please, Maverick, take the controls!

I kid.  Maverick made a flawless landing.

I think she felt a little better just being back on terra firma.  She handed me all the jackets and bags and said, “Stand here while I take a picture.”

Hurry up before I drop this stuff!

And I couldn’t resist one last shot of her, when she tried to explain to us how bad she felt up in the air.

Not her finest hour ...

Ok, ok, so we can scratch “pilot” off her list of future endeavors.