I don’t have a bucket list, per se, because that’s a bit cliché nowadays. Instead, I have a list of goals, obviously organized by the type of objective. There’s categories ranging from character flaws that need fixing, career aspirations to work toward, places to travel and things to do simply because it would be cool. OK, OK, so it’s an OCD person’s version of a bucket list. Anyway, somewhere in between the places to go and cool things to do lists, “go on a helicopter ride” sits next to empty brackets waiting to be filled with the date of completion. 

Well, there’s no time like the present. A flight over the famous Peruvian Nasca lines — which can only be seen from the air — seemed to be the right pick for this bucket list adventure.

The Nasca lines are giant figures engraved in the desert floor of Nasca, Perú, some time between 400 and 650 AD. Although they are ancient history, there is still plenty of debate about how the pictures were created and for what purpose. Some believe indigenous tribes removed stones to expose different colored earth for irrigation purposes, spiritual baths or to signify an astronomical calendar. Some people believe it was aliens.  

The aircrafts, known as not helicopters, but “gliders.”

Nora and I arrived at the airport, ready and excited to take our tour in what turned out to be a glider, a six passenger aircraft (including the pilot and co-pilot) with propellers on the front. Although I’ve never been afraid of heights or flying, I started to feel a little nervous while waiting for our turn. I assured myself that those feelings would subside as soon as we took off safely.

I also prepared for the one conceivable problem that could further complicate my fear: motion sickness. I’ve never been sick on a plane, but have trouble with other modes of transportation. Given the dozens of warnings surrounding motion sickness aboard small planes and helicopters, I took the precautionary tales to heart and ate a light breakfast, drank lots of fluids and  took my motion sickness pill at the recommended time. I was set.

Anxious for our turn to fly.

Ready to go!

Unfortunately, those feelings did not subside with a safe take off. I tried to focus on the pretty scenery as my stomach tightened in a gnarled mess of knots.

Desert mountain range.

Rare green pastures amongst the desert landscape.

A river.

Although the sights were breathtaking, it did little to settle my nerves as the plane began to abruptly circle in order to give us a view of each line on both sides of the aircraft. By the time I saw the second sketch in the sand, every other Nasca line was merely a number on my count down for the experience to end.

Shaking uncontrollably, beads of cold sweat dripped off my ghastly white face. I steadied my breathing, inhaling in and out in deep, even breaths — attempting to take cues from the girl next to me who wildly gestured to me as she spoke in rapid German, a detail that just unraveled me further.

I tried to rationalize away my fear that the plane would take a nose dive at any second, but my thoughts ran wild. There was that helicopter crash in Mesquite, Nev., I wrote about for the newspaper. And the time a jet at the Air Races fell out of the sky and into the crowd of spectators in my college town. And that episode on Grey’s Anatomy, my favorite TV series, when the best doctors are either killed or traumatized in a plane crash. Events all so close to home. Not to mention the hundreds of other incidents I’m sure happen every day. OK, so every day is a stretch.

The point is: I freaked out.

I looked out the window and snapped a few photos, trying to ensure I wouldn’t entirely regret the experience later.

Lines in the sand. Trapezoids.

The astronaut.

The hummingbird.

Finally, I just closed my eyes and waited for the co-pilot to announce that we were flying over the monkey, the line I was most looking forward to seeing. Just in time, I glanced out the window again and took a quick snapshot of the nearly perfect curve of its tail.

The immense scale of each drawing is quite impressive, covering up to 900 feet of the earth. That magnitude coupled with interpretations of their significance and the number of years it has all remained naturally preserved is unbelievable. Perhaps that is why many theories deem it just that, and credit the lines’ creation to a supernatural phenomenon.

I tried to imagine all the possibilities of how the lines were made, but the only possibility I could think of was the very real one of losing control of my bowels at any minute. I closed my eyes again, stopped counting theories and went back to counting the minutes remaining until I’d be on the ground again.

My favorite: The monkey

At one point, I may have blacked out. I remember hearing the co-pilot announce each line as we flew above it: “Look to the left, look to the left. Here is the condor. Now look to the right. The condor is on the right. … the flower, the lizard, the parrot.”

I chose not to look.

Then suddenly, I had a wet cloth in my hand that smelled like cheap lemon perfume. Someone on the flight gave it to me and the pilot instructed me to put it on my face and breathe. I did that and eventually I heard the cue to prepare for landing.

Once on the ground, Nora (who had been sitting in the row in front of me) asked if I’d even seen the last half of the lines. I replied that I heard him announce them, but couldn’t bear to look. She pulled out her camera to show me all the photos. The memory card was full of images I didn’t even realize we flew over. Oops.

Here’s a few of those lines I didn’t even hear the co-pilot announce.

The spider.

Hands.

By the time I had two feet on the ground, I could wring the sweat out of my clothes. I tried to process what just happened. Was I that motion sick? Or had I suddenly developed a fear of flying? Maybe I’m claustrophobic? Maybe aliens did create the lines and their powers took over my body while I flew above their creation? Whatever the reason for my panic, it was awful and I swore I’d never get on an aircraft that small again.

Oh wait, this “glider” counts as a “helicopter,” so I can still cross that off my bucket list…right?

—JDF