Flying in Maine is a stark contrast from flying in Chicago. In Chicago, you have about 30 miles of sprawl radiating out from city center. There’s a brief transition as the suburbs peter out, and then suddenly you’re over cornfields for eternity.
Maine, or at least the part I was flying in, is not very densely populated. We took off in central Maine and pointed the nose towards the mountains that divide us and New Hampshire…and flew over dense forest and the occasional small New England town carved out of the granite. No suburbs, no sprawl. Forest and mountains.
Even the airports are rather picturesque, in my opinion.
Of course, not all of New England is like this, and it probably won’t stay this way forever. I need to make my way back home so I can treasure it while it lasts.