Went up in a Cessna today, almost too windy to fly. But there's cowboys here, and unless the plane's blown over on its side up indeed they go. Kinda like a bucking bronco ride (a lot), it's the only way to see the lines. So see them we did. The surveyor in me figured no big deal, for we run straight lines as well. But if you consider the remoteness, the terrain, their incredible complexity, and the fact that no one knows who made them nor why, then it is a big deal. We flew around for a hour, pitching and rolling and dropping, with sometimes a gust throwing us absolutely sideways. El Piloto was chatting merrily away, pointing things out to us through the headsets. There were times I thought I detected a little concern in his voice, but maybe it was just his excited joy in sharing these wondrous constructions with us (?). The landing was interesting, for if the runway was over there why are we pointed that way? We held hands, said a little prayer, and peed a little in our pants. A bounce or two later we were down, and the ground felt awfully good!
Tomorrow we head East up the mountains, on one of the best motorcycle roads in the world. Santiago y Elena
Ride along the Pacific Coast on the Pan-American Highway. Epic!
