My clients just wanted to get home, and they trusted me to get them there. We departed Watsonville about 10 PM and climbed north over the Silicon Valley and the San Francisco Bay. A steady line of commercial jet aircraft could be seen approaching SFO from the south, and the twinkling landscape below was mesmerizing.

As we left the bay area, lights became more sparse, but I could still see and identify all the familiar towns along the way; Vacaville, Fairfield, Dixon, Davis, Woodland, Arbuckle, Williams, Willows, Orland, Red Bluff, and finally Redding.

After Redding, however, everything just went black. The dark, hulking mountains began to rise up underneath us, and although I knew that we had sufficient altitude to clear them, it still raised my awareness just a bit. There were a few lights ahead as we came over the rise, and in the moonlight I could see the hulking mass of Mount Shasta just off to our right, towering 8000 feet above us.

About 5 miles out from the airport at Mt. Shasta, as we descended into the valley, I clicked my mike 5 times on the traffic frequency, and as advertised, the airport runway lit up like a Christmas tree. I was happy for that, because if it didn't, I'd be turning around and heading back. It was a particularly challenging approach, as the slope indicator lights that aid in judging the descent were not working. And on top of that it was very windy and the airplane was being jostled about.

I cast a glance into the passenger compartment, and they were both dosing. I took the approach methodically and it worked out, lucky for me, perfectly.

The frigid mountain night air was just what I needed to jolt me for the hour's flight home. I crept into bed about 1:30 AM, a far cry from my usual 10 PM bedtime.