JOHN PEPIN

“Thirty thousand feet below me you were fast asleep and thirty thousand feet above I almost stopped to weep,” – Tom. T. Hall

Flying over the landscape, it was dark and cold, with vast expanses of snow accumulation visible occasionally in the blackness below.

Miles and miles of nothing.

Inside the plane, with my seat reclined, I rested with a blanket up around my shoulders, falling asleep off and on.

Out on the far horizon, I could see a faint yellow-white glow that would slowly get brighter and larger.

Eventually, this distant light would become a city or a town.

Red taillights and white or blue-tinged headlights were visible moving slowly along interstates and state highways into and out of these population centers, like ants crawling across the earth back and forth from their colony.

Six miles below, city streets below were laid out in a lighted gridwork.

At the town edges, side roads and streets led travelers past the suburbs to country homes that were lit dimly and scattered sporadically across my view – places where I imagined I could hear dogs barking and owls hooting if I were down there.

From an airplane, cities – though they differ in size – tend to look similar at night.

I think there is a romanticism involved with flying at night, especially in the wee hours, often borne of inherent loneliness and heartache.

I think a lot of people understand this.

Songs about plane rides, the best ones, bear this out. All my favorites sound as though they were written on a flight and that the lyrics depict true-life events.

My favorite is “L.A. International Airport” by Susan Raye. It was a country pop hit when I was about 10 years old.

The tune was written by Leanne Scott, who made a cab trip from home to and through the airport memorable with vivid and captivating descriptions.

Among them, “a stewardess in a mini-skirt, a hippie in a leather shirt.” She wrote great action descriptions too: “captain’s voice so loud and clear, amplifies into my ear, assuring me I’m flying friendly skies.”

For those who might not remember, “Fly the Friendly Skies” was a very popular advertising slogan for United Airlines, beginning in the mid-1960s.

In our midwestern part of the world, we live in what some people refer to as “the fly-over states,” the places between New York and Los Angeles.

I kind of like the idea of that.

I’d prefer that this sparsely populated, storied region of lakes, rivers, trees and animals, hills and valleys and old, mining and lumbering towns be flown over rather than “discovered” by large throngs of people.

I think many of the people who do come to visit here would tend to agree.

If the region were to become overcrowded, even during just the summer months, the whole character of the visiting experience would change.

A big part of the allure for residents and visitors alike is the “wilderness” feel of the Upper Peninsula, with crystal-clear lakes and streams, clean air to breathe, quiet opportunities to let yourself relax and think, and feel small amongst nature.

One thing I like to do when I fly over the peninsula is try to figure out exactly where I am by looking at the topography passing slowly beneath the plane.

It’s easy to know which Great Lake I’m flying over, but what is the name of that little lake over there? Which river is that? Where does that road go?

Not only is it a fun geography exercise to help pass time on what usually turns out to be a long travel day homeward, it provides reconnaissance information for future trips to the woods.

I play the same game when flying over the country, but it is much more difficult to be precise in identifying locations.

The Midwest farming states can look like a game of checkers, with squares and circles visible on the land resulting from patterns of plant and crop cultivation.

The west, even in the places with a good amount of water, look very thirsty, hot and geologically active, though not recently. In some of these places, the only green areas are the cemeteries and golf courses.

I know when I see a lot of green woods and water that I have returned to the northern parts of the Upper Midwest.

If you fly over a large section of the country, it doesn’t take long to figure out that this is a big country, with lots of empty space. And yet, you can fly the 2,700 miles from Los Angeles to New York in under six hours.

I remember it was 2,655 miles to drive home from Los Angeles. The fastest I ever made the trip was in three days, with help. Driving across the country is another fabulous experience. So much fun!

From an airplane window you see things you could never see from the ground, but you still miss so much. Flying or driving – zoom out, zoom in.

I’ve heard about people who have walked or biked across the country. I don’t know if I could ever do that, but I bet it is an incredible experience. Just the changes in weather and topography alone would be a big challenge to plan for.

I’d love to drive across the country only on “blue highways,” avoiding interstates in favor of small-town, two-lane blacktop traveling.

I love to go that way whenever I have the time and opportunity. It usually takes longer, but it is so much more rewarding to see all the little towns, the people, the wildlife and the changing topography across the countryside and, in a lot of cases, ghosts of American life as it was years ago.

My hometown is one of those haunted towns, like a lot of places in our region.

The airplane trip I described above was a trip from Marquette to the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex about 40 years ago. It was my first plane ride.

I traveled alone. I was mesmerized by the view and the experience. It was something I have never forgotten.

Songwriter and actor Jimmie Dale Gilmore must have had a similar ride.

He wrote: “Did you ever see Dallas from a DC-9 at night? Dallas is a jewel. Dallas is a beautiful sight. Dallas is a jungle, but Dallas gives a beautiful light.”

I was headed south to visit a girlfriend who would later become my wife and the mother of my two boys.

Some people say it’s funny how time changes things.

In some ways, that’s true.

In others, it’s people who change things over time.

In the time that has passed since that first plane trip, I divorced twice.

This week, I have taken another plane ride.

This time, I have traveled to New Mexico.

My youngest son is getting married this weekend. His brother already “took the plunge” a few years back and is a wonderful husband and father to my two grandchildren. Both boys chose great mates, matches well-suited.

I am very proud of them all, as fathers, fathers-in-law and grandfathers often are.

When my boys were pre-teens, they used to fly here from California to visit using Northwest Airline’s unaccompanied minor service. The experience served them well. They are consequently very comfortable flying anywhere these days.

My wife and I are here in “The Land of Enchantment” for the wedding celebration, while also enjoying the beauty and wonder of the southwest with my brother and his girlfriend.

Both of my former wives will be here for the wedding too.

About an hour north of us now lies Santa Fe, situated in the northern Rio Grande Valley at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

I have walked the streets of this mysterious town, with its red ristras hanging in the town square, Native Americans selling handmade turquoise and silver jewelry, the Loretto Chapel and the jail that once held Billy the Kid.

So many turns, corners and intersections on these streets, so many turns for me.

Did time change things, or did I change things over time?

At this point, I’d have to say – it’s all “relative.”

I sometimes feel like I’ve walked through a meat grinder or a salad shredder to get here. But I think it was worth it.

It should be a pretty trip home on the plane, a lot of time to relax, things to read and write, people to watch and listen to.

Hartsfield-Jackson International, Chicago O-Hare, maybe a bag of peanuts a diet Coke or an in-flight nap.

No carry-on luggage, but plenty of baggage.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Outdoors North is a weekly column produced by the Michigan Department of Natural Resources on a wide range of topics important to those who enjoy and appreciate Michigan’s world-class natural resources of the Upper Peninsula.