Joy Riding with Peter to Half Moon Bay and Back

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What a ride. Peter and Julia live in a magical spot in the hills above Oakland, with a view across the bay. Julia, sister of one of Rosie's ex work colleagues, had invited us over for an early evening meal on their panoramic terrace. We'd stopped off on the way to wander around the university campus at Berkeley - all seemed fairly quiet. There was no sign of the National Guard, anti-Vietnam protests or draft card burning. It was a regular Saturday afternoon, with al fresco hanging out being the main observable activity. The pot-holed freeway past Oakland seemed a world away from the idyllic parkland of the Berkeley campus and we climbed the wooded hills above downtown Oakland to find Peter and Julia's magnificent eyrie. A few hours of great food and conversation later, Peter asked me if I fancied a trip in his 'little plane'. 'I'd love to' says I. 'OK how about Monday? 'Shall I drive over?, I say. 'No need' says Peter. 'I'll pick you up. There's an airfield called Gnoss Field, at Novato, just north of Mill Valley. Be there at 11.30.'

Monday morning saw me driving up to Gnoss field, wondering if Peter's 'Be there' was precise enough. I needn't have worried. Think of Heathrow, then forget it. About six cars in the car park. One building. One open door. One human being sitting watching the runway, drinking coffee. No airport security. Just a friendly invitation to grab a free coffee from the machine and an assurance that Peter would arrive and park nearby. Sure enough, about ten minutes later, Peter's Cessna Cardinal taxied across from behind the parked planes and stopped te yards from me and my coffee. Five minutes later I was sitting beside Peter, taking off, having barely had time to finish the coffee.

What a ride. One of Peter's main joys in retirement was taking the occasional sortie with a friend. Today was special, even for Peter, as he had rarely seen the skies so clear. Lucky him. Even luckier me.

We went north to Petaluma (over the golf course where I played the week before), then to Point Reyes on the ocean. Then south, parallel to the coast, past Golden Gate, western part of the city and down to Half Moon Bay, where we landed, parked up, walked through to the village and had fish and chips at Barbara's Fish Trap. It's a harbour-side Harry Ramsden's (think Doyle's of Watson's Bay, Sydney). We both had the pensioners' special price f & c, walked back to the airfield and took off again. This time north, parallel to the coast. Even better this way, as I had the coast on my side. A bit impressive as we 'passed' San Francisco airport, as some of the big boys were taking off and heading more or less straight for us, albeit a long way above us. Turn right at Golden Gate Bridge, directly over Alcatraz Island, where Peter dipped his right wing to make it easier for my camera, Straight across the bay to Berkeley, turn left, north a bit past the Richmond Bridge, left a bit, then past San Rafael, over Novato and back to Gnoss Field (or Marin County Airport, to give it its official name). Peter was great company and apologized for the bumpy landing on return. He talked about flying and the mixture of inactivity in the air and occasional moments of terror. None today, thank god. Classic quote of the day from Peter: "Any landing you walk away from is a good one." Who am I to disagree? Peter is thinking of selling his plane. Wanna buy a Focus?

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