"In case of doubt, remain altitude. No one has ever collided with the sky."
Aeronautical sentence, anonymous.
December 2015.
It is a cold and clear afternoon, one of those brief evenings of early winter, with a stable anticyclone that has been with us for a few days.
Dressed in our flight clothes and just doing the opposite to the aeronautical sentence above, we will fly low by the soft hills that delimit the north of our valley.
The farmland sleeps the winter dream, wrapping themselves with the brown blanket of the plowed lands. The colors of the valley are monotonous, although the roofs reddish in the light of the west, giving a point of joy to this monochrome stillness.
The shadows lengthened invaded the terrain that the sun, as in a last effort, has painted fleetingly in golden tones.
To the West, the distant mountains appear snowy. We will only take a few meters over the hills thanks to the absence of wind ahd turbulence, allowing us a calm and stable flight.
Some rest of snow, from the early winter season, still remain in the highlands and in the most shady corners of the mountain slopes.
The curves of a frozen road that runs along the hillside. It seems that someone had painted it in white, like a natural graffiti.
Feeling calm, only broken by the noise of the propeller and engine. The cold increases, but only on the thermometer, inside our flying clothes we maintain the heat, unlike the land we fly over, frozen, hard and whitish by the ice.
Some horses and wild cows scatter half-lethargic, searching the fields for the last rays of day's sun.
As soon as the sun goes down, the temperature will drop below zero celsius. We will change the icy air from the warmth of the fireplace, the pleasant smell of burnt wood for a long, quiet and silent evening that invites the nature to continue dreaming of the sun, with the next ,even though distant, spring.
Solar Dream.
Photos and video: Fernando "Seisgés" Ramos.
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