It's very odd that I would choose helicopter rides for my "h" word. I hate flying. I would rather spend 2 days driving to Iowa than spend 5 hours flying there. The feeling of having nothing under my feet is unpleasant and tilting in the air doesn't do much for me either.
Yet, if I can concentrate on the beauty below me when I am in a helicopter I can almost forget that being in the air is just not natural. The times I have spent trapped in a 'copter have been among the most memorable of my life. In a good way.
We rose above that ridge. Slowly. While the pilot kept saying things like, "C'mon little helicopter--I know you can do it," and "Boy, I sure hope we can get up there. It might not make it." Very helpful.
But we did make it! Whew!
I had no idea that the building I drove by every day was that huge.
More Lake Powell. The pilot (same one as in the mountains) thought it was extremely hilarious to barely skim over the top of that outcropping, then turn nearly completely sideways. Is it any wonder I hate flying?