Two cargonauts, somewhere on their journey between the stars and planet Earth. Lone travellers between worlds, operating one of the most complex machines ever made.

Two weeks on the road, living out of my suitcase and flying where the winds, or the ladies of Crew Scheduling, will take me.

A charter across Africa, oversized oil-drilling machinery to South-America or a trip around the globe with a cargo hold full of lingerie: I never know what the next month, or week, will bring.

A solitary lifestyle that is not for everyone, but one that is extremely rewarding for those who find their way in it and enjoy the unique vistas, experiences and destinations it offers.

And besides, flying the one and only iconic Queen of the Skies, the Boeing 747, is a privilege that goes a long way.

And I say this every time to my copilots when we arrive at the airplane and the true shape and size and presence of the 747 unfolds before us in slow motion:

“Take in this view, my friends. We are the last generation of pilots to fly this four-engined marvel of engineering.”

And I mean every word of it. I genuinely love this plane.
On top of that, I am proud to have been trusted with the command of her and her crews across the world the last few years. A position that is not easily given, nor ever to be taken for granted.

Even though it sometimes feels like I know most of the routes by heart, have seen every mountain up close and every ocean from above, there are still many moments where I am absolutely gobsmacked by sights that defy even the best caption.
Sights like these.

Cruising comfortably somewhere above FL300, in that freezing borderland between Earth and space, already changed into casual clothes for the long night ahead, as an unexpected vortex of aurora borealis unfolded across the starry sky before us.

A light show so vast and silent that, for a few moments, even two tired cargo pilots had nothing clever or cynical left to say.

And for once, that was enough.