Helicopter ride with Ol' Saint Nick

I thought the miles and miles of desert wonderness near Death Valley, Calif., were beautiful from the ground.

 

They were even more beautiful from above.

 

I was the co-pilot of my next grand adventure - a helicopter ride over California's desert mountains and plains.

Up and off we go!

 I generally avoided touching things in the cockpit. I did try (unsuccessfully) to figure out what all the dials meant.

 

This was our pilot. He said, "Hi, I'm 'Blah blah', and you'll always remember me as the pilot who gave you your first helicopter ride." Unfortunately, his name was not as memorable as he'd like to believe, but if I'd have to guess, I'd go with Nicholas. St. Nicholas. I'm pretty sure our helicopter becomes a sleigh on December 24 and delivers presents to all the good little boys and girls. His landing skills on the tip tops of mountains were akin to that of a, say, rooftop landing.

 Blue skies with 100 percent chance of sunshine and happiness.

 

 Our mountaintop landing.

The noise was deafening the the chopper blades above you - the only way you could communicate was over the headsets.

 

We scooped down a few times to see if we could find wild burros running free. Unfortunately, we didn't but we did find one on a driving tour later. (I think they knew where to look for him, considering he only has about 50 square yards to roam).

 

Hot air balloons, helicopters... what's next for 2011? Maybe hang gliding?