The Airport

It's almost Thanksgiving, and nights are cold. We've had temperatures in the 20s, the garden hoses froze, and going out to get the morning paper on the sidewalk is a nippy affair.

But at this altitude and this southerly latitude, the New Mexico sun is quite strong in late November. If the air is still, I have my coffee on the deck, facing the low southeast sun.


Brisk air and hot sun are in exquisite balance and it is delightfully comfortable. Nap inducing, even, although I just got up.

I watch the contrails in the blue sky over the garage. While I sat and had my coffee yesterday I saw eight contrails going east to west and west to east. At times there were two in the sky at the same time chasing each other. They cross the southern sky at high altitude, so the planes are going from L.A. to Dallas or Houston I think.


One of the "plus" considerations for moving here was the local Santa Fe airport, just 6 miles from our house, and serving both L.A. and Denver with short direct flights. Perfect for visiting my sons more often.

But before we even moved here the L.A. flight was canceled. Now, to get a direct flight for Thanksgiving, we have to drive to Albuquerque, fly to LAX, and then drive up to Westlake. It's easy and doable, but it would have been so much more convenient to fly out of Santa Fe Regional. (At least the direct flight to Denver still flies, and that makes a quick 50 minute trip up there.)

The Santa Fe airport has big plans, though. Expansions, more commercial flights, renovations of the terminal, etc.

Right now you drive up the access road (which is by the town's wastewater treatment plant, not a great sight coming and going), and you park in a dirt lot right across from the terminal. The terminal is quaint, looking like an old fashioned bus depot.


The interior is tiny, with beautiful tiles and dark wood paneling. There is one TSA checkpoint, two ticket counters, and the rental car desk is next to ticketing. There is a small cafe with a few tables. There are wooden benches and a half dozen wooden chairs for seating in the waiting area.


You walk out on the tarmac to board. On nice days the big doors at the end of the building are left open and fresh air fills the terminal. Air traffic control is just a few steps above the terminal building.

I absolutely love the old time charm of this little airport and had looked forward to using it and making it our hub for coming and going on trips, with just a 10 minute car ride home. But it does us no good if flights are not convenient (direct), or if they are pricey (often much more than flying from ABQ).


Like most regional airports serving small cities, Santa Fe Regional caters to corporate jets and private pilots. Only 15% of the flights it handles are commercial.

It may be time for me to renew my private pilot's license and get myself a used Cessna. But if I do, there goes my Tesla.

Neither one is ever going to happen, not a plane, not the Tesla . . . but it's what I dream of slumped in my red chair in cool sunshine while jets streak overhead on November mornings.

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