Autumn Flight

One of the great joys experienced by those of us who live in areas of the country subjected to the seasonal whims of Mother Nature is "leaf peeping," or watching the spectacular autumn foliage display. An additional treat that my husband and I treasure is watching the show from the air, through the windows of a small airplane.

Above our home, the colors begin to show first on the lofty peaks of the Bitterroot Mountains, where Western Larch turn golden in the steep canyons flanked by granite cliffs. From the valley floor, all that is visible is a faint splash of yellow in the shadows of the mountains, but from the air, up close, each beautiful stand of trees glows in the crisp mountain air. Fresh snow powders the ledges on cliffs that rise over 6,000 feet into the sky, and the blue of our Big Sky makes the gold even brighter.

As the autumn progresses and nights grow increasingly chilly, color trickles down the mountains, until it eventually reaches the riverbottoms. Aspen, hawthorn, mountain ash, huckleberry, dogwood, and cottonwood all add splendid shades of yellow, orange and crimson to the display. We wait for a calm, clear evening (with the shortening days, evening begins at 4:00 p.m.) and take off in our little airplane to cruise around the valley. We usually don't talk much in the cockpit, even though our headsets and intercom make it easy to do so. Instead, we just soak up the beauty, and occasionally nudge each other, pointing to a particularly breathtaking combination of colors or light sparkling on the river below.

Another favorite fall trip takes us north along the Mission Mountains and over Flathead Lake. There the valley is wider, and the mountains even steeper than the Bitterroots. The lower slopes are clothed in brush and beargrass which create a canvas of mostly crimson and green. We love to fly right along the timberline, passing steep ridges which drop precipitously to deep aquamarine glacial streams and waterfalls thousands of feet below. We always hope to see a grizzly bear feeding on the slopes, but so far haven't been lucky enough to sight one. We end our flight by circling 30-mile long Flathead Lake, which on a calm day reflects the Mission Range like a mirror. The evening sun turns the mountaintops a frosty pink against the darkening eastern sky.

We used to take a camera along in the airplane, to try to record the scenery, but somehow, the photographs never did justice to what our eyes saw. The colors were duller, the contrasts dimmer, and detail disappeared on paper. We have since learned that the best images are those retained in our memories, to be brought out and enjoyed whenever we want to, without having to hunt for a photo album. During the long, dark winter these quiet flights and autumn glimpses of sunshine brighten our days. Our spirits remember that the seasons will pass, and winter will once again give way to tender spring, dazzling summer, and finally, glorious autumn next year.

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