So we get in. The pilot is a pleasant man by name of Ruben, and this is his side job. Dad is still freaked, and now Mom is too. The blades start spinning, vibrating faster and faster as air bends hairs on my arm toward open plastic window. Ruben pulls back on lever, and before I can blink, we're up 10 feet, 100 feet 1000 feet!

There was so little in way of g-force, that I in fact questioned whether or not I was on a helicopter ride, or indeed in one of those simulators complete with fans and movie screens. The change in temperature and wind pressure assured me that I was actually in air, flying with birds, sitting shot gun to my overanxious parents.

They did finally calm down though, once they realized that it was too late to go back. We were up there now, completely at mercy of a pilot dressed in beachwear, following veins of Earth to sea. We took a shortcut over everything (the quickest way from point A to point B is a straight line).

The tour starts over La Jolla — beautiful, rich, La Jolla!

Southward we took a stroll by Black's Beach — infamously known as "nude" beach of San Diego. Below, ant-sized smattering of skin colored creatures walked free, naked, and well. Naked (and to answer that question that you may or may not have formed yet in your head, at 1000 feet, you can't make out much other than patterns on sand below rocks). We flew next to cliffs, gouged and roughly cut way a giant piece of fudge looks after taking a bite.

Onward to Pacific Beach, where sprinkles of color littered shores. We laughed together at all losers grid-locked in traffic as we flew over it all. We flew past famous Mission Beach Coaster, where people once rode for almost a week straight to try and win a car.

Read this entire feature FREE with photos at: http://www.jetsettersmagazine.com/archive/jetezine/sports02/adventure/helicopters/sandiego/lajolla/helitour.html

By Josh Edelson, California Jetsetters Magazine Correspondent at www.jetsettersmagazine.com

“What are you doing there?” I asked, visions of a breakdown, or more unusual, a flood passing through my head. “Just making chai (tea) and having a rest,” was reply. They may have been traveling in greater comfort and with far more gadgets than we ever did but some things stay same. Sitting under a thorn tree with heat waves shimmering air, smell of dust mixed with old goat droppings and sweetly pungent tea simmering over fire, is a common experience for people in Africa. But most of wayfarers don’t have a satellite phone to chat on while they rest.

I couldn’t help wondering what locals might feel if they came upon this sight. Some of them have rarely seen white people much less technology.There are those who call them primitive. I prefer to see them as people who have learned to live off land without need of all trappings of so-called civilizations. Could we make our homes out of thorn trees, our fires out of twigs or dung and feed our families on less food than my pets have to eat?

I asked my daughter how things were. “Fine” she said, stock answer of teenagers everywhere. I got off phone as quickly as possible knowing fortune being spent just to tell me she was fine. I would get my news when she returned.

Their final destination was an outpost on shores of Lake Turkana several hours further on. This lake was “discovered” by a German Count in 1888. Most people would expect lakeshore of a large freshwater lake to be lush with foliage and cool from breezes that blow over its waters. Not so this lake. It is surrounded by viciously sharp, black volcanic rock, vomited from throat of a distant volcano eons ago. The sparse vegetation is mostly thorny acacia trees blown sideways by fierce gusts of winds that blow when sun goes down. Dry desert surrounds Lake Turkana, hostile to man and beast. Hot blasts of heat mock dry riverbeds while sucking moisture from air. Daytime temperatures of 120 degrees are common. It is amazing that any life survives. Just when you are certain world has ended leaving you alone on a dead planet, a herd of goats will meander over a rise followed by a silent black figure.

About time you think you must go mad from vicious heat, swirling dust and back jarring bumps, your vehicle crests a slight rise and you lose your breath. Before you is an immense lake, shimmering like a mirage. Viewed from a distance lake this day is gray/blue, mysterious. Other days it is a deep green, colored by algae blooms that prompted early travelers to name it Jade Sea . The road, a mere track, approaches lake through lava fields then turns northward. The traveler wonders where this road leads, if anywhere. There is no visible end, just mile upon mile of dusty dirt track.

The Place of Trees.

Eventually, road winds into desert outpost of Loyangalani — place of trees.

Read this entire feature FREE with photos at: http://www.jetsettersmagazine.com/archive/jetezine/globe02/africa02/kenya/turkana/hello.html

By Bobbi Buchanan, Arkansas, Correspondent, Jetsetters Magazine at www.jetsettersmagazine.com