Seattle--The Approach

E.J. Peiker, Nature Photographer

It will surprise no one to hear it was pouring when we touched down in Seattle. The jet engines from Horizon, Alaska Air and Jet Trans blew sheets of rain across the tarmac. The clouds were low enough to touch if you stood on your tip-toes.

We came in slow and low as we approached the airport, getting a close-up view of Bellevue and the University District—there’s the enormous Husky Stadium, right by the university gym where I worked off so much anger and disappointment on the bikes and weights after losing my heart so many years ago. Apparently there's no returning to this city without facing a deluge of memories.

Just ten minutes before we were in full sun above the clouds—maybe 10,000 feet? As we dropped in altitude it was as if we were climbing between the white cotton sheets of a luxuriously padded bed. At first our mattress was formed by shapeless mounds of gnarled wool but they soon gave way to something resembling the combed fiber one might find next to an old spinning wheel.


Unexpectedly, we dropped lower and felt the engines pull back until we were cruising somewhere around 20 mph. The elderly woman sitting next to me had turned as pale as the cotton we had just passed through. We all got free passes to the aviation museum at Boeing Field where a silent Concorde sat with its new friends, a WWII bomber and smaller, groupie bi-planes.

At this point, water was everywhere—above and below—and an invisible hand whipped white-frosted wakes into lake Washington. What deciduous trees we saw among the firs remained mostly green with only a few giving way to the rapidly changing season. Mt. Rainier was a no-show on this ride, but hopefully the outbound trip would make time for a mountainous diversion. I have had my breath drawn from my body on numerous occasions as our wings have tipped and dipped themselves in the perennial frosting of the Cascades. I have watched mountain goats leap from plane to plane amusing themselves with the constant stream of traffic through their altitudinous neighborhood.

Coming into the gate on this trip we are met with a series of minor delays. We watch idle planes, rolling planes, and breathe deeply the strong vapors of evaporating jet fuel. As we finally secure a parking space we find ourselves face to face with a Frontier plane. On its tail stands an enormous painting of a mountain goat. It appears to be smiling.