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skyringDawn. We’ve just crossed the Sri Lanka coast. I could do with a cuppa, but the pilot has been running a dance with thunderclouds half way across the Indian Ocean and although the sun is blasting through the windows, I can’t see any service for a while. Not until we hit clear air. At one point we were just a few metres below the “anvil” top of a huge cloud and I could inspect the strange shape at close range. Most of the other passengers slumbered, but I had my head jacked around to take in as much of the outside as I can
The wing dominates my view. Better than sitting in the centre rows, but it’s such a lot of grey metal all at once. I’m sitting fair in the middle of that interior curve of the rising jet in my desktop photograph. The wing is never still – it bends and moves. Plates rise and fall. Vapour jets across its upper surface.
The wing dominates my view. Better than sitting in the centre rows, but it’s such a lot of grey metal all at once. I’m sitting fair in the middle of that interior curve of the rising jet in my desktop photograph. The wing is never still – it bends and moves. Plates rise and fall. Vapour jets across its upper surface.
