Pilots and parvocellular cells
In light of the funereal tone last post, I almost laughed out loud when the pilot came on the intercome while waiting departure from Anchorage. "Well, we're gonna sit tight for a few minutes and wait for some weather complications. The ceiling in Kotzebue is good under about 300 feet, but doesn't look too good above that. And in Nome...it's not looking very friendly there, either, so we might have to play around with that a little bit." Am I precognisant? Then to top it off, we're decending through low-visibility haze into Kotzebue when the thrusters kick back on and I'm pressed back into my seat. "Well folks, we didn't make that landing, so we're gonna swing around and take another shot at it." I seriously wondered if anyone following my blog had called this guy up and asked him to have a little fun at my expense.
But I'm back, I'm alive, and I'm thawed out. It was interesting watching my pictures slideshow through on my laptop. First, there were the pictures from my weekend in San Diego. The dazzling blues of the ocean, the golden hues of the sandy beaches and tanned bodies, the deep greens of rolling palm-treed hills; the only things white would be the polar bear exhibit at the world-famous San Diego zoo and my legs. Next were photos of Anchorage. I had a 3 hour layover, spent mostly trying to snatch a few uncomfortable hours of sleep stretched out on the bus-station style bench seats. But before my 6 am flight, I stepped outside to catch a glimpse of the breathtaking sunrise. Stretches of evergreens making an emerald blanket snug up to the base of the snow-etched mountains. The rising sun painted such awe-inspiring colors that I no longer felt a need to see the aurora borealis. Then I snapped a few pics from the airplane window at the inbetween destination...Kotzebue. White. An achromat's paradise. Again from the plane window, I shot landscapes en route to Nome. White clouds hunkered down between white mountain peaks. By the time I landed in Nome, my parvocellular ganglion cells in my retinas were screaming for stimulation. TO BE CONTINUED....
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"Stretches of evergreens making an emerald blanket snug up to the base of the snow-etched mountains. The rising sun painted such awe-inspiring colors that I no longer felt a need to see the aurora borealis."Breathtaking description, my friend. Glad you made it home alive; more glad God played with your mind a bit. :) That was a plane ride that only you could love!
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