Remember planes and airports?

Until a few weeks ago, my last flight was returning home from visiting my family is Australia the week Covid arrived in Australia.  I've always loved air travel, no matter how long or short the flight but strangely, I hadn't missed it.  I'd just forgotten how good it feels.

The weather gods were out to please me on both the day I traveled down to Taranaki and yesterday, the day I came back.   The beauty of having two short flights is the plane stays low enough to allow good views of the countryside below.  On the flights south I just sat there enthralled, with my eyes glued to the sights below.  I'd forgotten how beautiful our world is.

After the downgraded version of Cyclone Dovi passed over us in Taranaki when I was family sitting while my daughter was in hospital in Hamilton and her husband was keeping her company, I'd been watching the weather, waiting for the wind to die down, wondering if my flight would be cancelled as New Plymouth airport is right on the coast and subject to bad winds. 

I couldn't take any photos of the first leg of the journey as the plane window was so scratched I could barely see out of it. (Not good enough, Air New Zealand.)

The window was slightly better on the next leg, my photos are still murky.

 

Sorry about the crooked horizon.  I've forgotten how to straighten it.  This is a semi-regular occurrence, I'll remember again in a couple of days. 

Tide was out coming into Whangarei

It's good to be home.  I enjoyed my time in Taranaki despite the fact we didn't leave the house much.  My daughter was concerned about having to postpone her surgery if she caught Covid.