It is not that my wife dislikes flying, it is just that she holds it in the same regard as the teacup ride at the carnival. She accepts it as some people's idea of fun, but sees no great need to participate in it herself.
She does feel an obligation to go flying with me once each year or so, perhaps just to maintain a token presence in my other life. For the last few months she had been talking of going flying on a moonlit night, and the good weather during July's full moon gave us that opportunity.
We flew about 45 minutes, a bit over her quota, but we took in all the pleasant features that night flying offers, including the sight of a shooting star. With the sun and its mischief just a memory on the western horizon, the air had become silky smooth. We drifted over our house, just west of Montour Falls, and I showed her how I can see the porch light on nights when I am returning from Elmira with students.
Heading back northbound, we climbed to 5500 feet and I pointed out the beacon lights of Elmira, Ithaca, Cortland, and Binghamton airports. We could see the lights of all the villages and cities for 50 miles, all of them laid out and placed just like they were on a map.
I have had some interesting night flights, but I have never flown on top of the clouds in the moonlight. As we climbed after leaving Montour, I noticed that the clouds to our west were going to be below us, so I turned in that direction.
By the time we got to the area of Waneta lake, we were cruising over a shelf of clouds. Looking to the east, we could see the fringes of the cloud deck cast against the background of the lights way below. Looking to the west, the moon illuminated a wall of higher clouds extending well above us.
During the day these clouds would have been hues of brilliant white, or a subtle pink, if the sun was rising or setting. The nooks, crannies, and canyons of the wall to the west would have been visible in bright detail. In the moonlight the clouds were more mysterious; Their forms were readily seen, but the details were left for us to guess. We decided that we were on a wide beach, between a calm sea and tall cliffs.
Eventually we glided off the edge of our beach and into the sparkling darkness of the sea, making a broad descending arc towards the cluster of lights that represent Dundee. Dimly visible to the northeast of town we could see the two strings of 15 watt lights that marked the runway at the end of our descent.
As we were leaving the airport, she said that it was nice, but I still don't know for certain if she meant that the flight was nice, or if it was nice to be back on the ground, feeling and smelling the warm air of a summer evening and listening to the symphony of all the night- bugs.