Inspired by our March 2016 cover story by James Fallows, “How America Is Putting Itself Back Together,” readers share their best aerial photos from across the U.S. Submit your own via firstname.lastname@example.org. (Please provide the location, the story behind the photo, and the largest file size you have. Horizontal photos with a bit of the plane visible—a wing, the edge of a window—are ideal. Terms and Conditions here.)
This was a 6am flight into NYC after getting stuck in Syracuse for work the night before due to weather. We’re cutting across Manhattan before looping around to LGA. Central Park, Hudson River, and the GW Bridge are all visible.
As an economics student with a passion for amateur photography, I’ve been thrilled with this unique supplement to James Fallows’s excellent work on the resilience and diligence of the American people!
I took this early-morning photo of Manhattan as we made our crescent descent into LaGuardia this past January. The interplay between the dark clouds and the morning glow reflected the state of my emotions at the time. I made the trip to the city for two reasons: Firstly, I needed an expedited visa in order to return to the UK for my yearlong study abroad, and secondly, a friend and I were to begin a pre-semester international journey from JFK a day later. Obtaining the visa was essential, and as life would have it, I was desperately falling for this particular friend (whom I had not seen in person for over six months). Looking out the left-side window at the glimmering One World Trade Center, it was impossible not to project my hopes and fears onto “the concrete jungle where dreams are made of.” From the air, at least, the city and its background seemed to perfectly reflect the issues swirling in my head.
As I type this note from the English countryside months later, I’m relieved and elated to report that I got the visa—and the girl.
As our series starts to wind down, here’s one of many mountain views emailed in by readers:
It’s always a treat to fly between Southern California and Seattle, as it affords some spectacular views of the Sierras and the Cascade Range along the way (when clouds aren’t in the way)! This view of Mount St. Helens was taken in March 2014 on the southbound journey home. Sadly I only had my phone with me at the time, but the low sun angle made for some cool highlights off the water and the wing. The new dome is just barely visible inside of the large crater.
Here are a few photos I took during a trip up the Chicago Lakeshore Drive VFR corridor on St. Patrick’s Day 2014. It had been a brutal winter with the Great Lakes nearly completely frozen in February. By mid-March, there were still ice floes crowding the southern shores of Lake Michigan. Brrr…
The weather was clear and sunny, and it was a unique look at the Windy City on a clear and cold day. Flying at 1000ft-1200ft AGL right next to the Chicago Skyline and under the Class Bravo airspace for Chicago O’Hare (ORD) is always a special treat—one of the wonderful things about the U.S. general aviation system.
It’s also eye-opening to fly over the industrial wastelands south of Chicago, past the centers of business and commerce, to the mansions and private golf courses north of the city lining the same lake. The distance of 20-30 miles on the same lakeshore can be worlds apart from an economic activity and wealth perspective.
A previous contributor returns for another pass, this time looking north at the Peetz Table Wind Farm near Padroni, Colorado:
Operated by Nextera Energy, this power station’s 300 wind turbines produce over 420 mw of power when the wind is blowing. Nextera, a descendant of Florida Power and Light, is the nation’s largest wholesale producer of electric power. Hydroelectric stations in Maine, the storied Seabrooke nuclear plant, and the nation’s second largest solar station in the Mohave Desert are just some of the generating assets operated by the publicly traded company valued at over 50 billion dollars.
In the background is the wheat country of the Nebraska panhandle. Directly below the plane is a Minuteman III ICBM silo, and if you look really hard you can see hydraulic fracturing well sites in the valley of the South Platte River, which runs to the south of our flight track.
Over the weekend I posted the above photo from a reader, Eric Zimmerman, who had stumped his family and friends over the location of this remote area in the western U.S. Many readers wrote in with their own guesses. “Looks like a photovoltaic [solar] farm in the area of Alamosa, Colorado,” says Joe. Nope, but here’s a stunning image of a solar farm in Pfeffenhausen, Germany, a satellite image I just came across in an amazing Instagram account from Anthony Quigley (which we’ll be using for many Orbital Views). Another reader, Dan:
It’s a chemical warfare chemical depot. There are ones in Nevada, Utah, and Oregon, that I know of. My guess is this is in Oregon, since it doesn’t look like the ones I know of in Nevada or Utah.
Other guesses from readers include:
“It’s a server farm”
“Farm worker housing”
“Looks like ammunition magazines/storage bunkers”
But the answer is something far more specific—and disturbing. Here’s reader Steve Karwan:
Topaz Internment Camp Site near Delta, Utah, with coordinates of 39.411485, -112.773676. My initial guess was Manzanar. After quickly ruling that out, I then began searching for other former Japanese internment sites.
(BTW, I’m a former frequent player of the Dish’s View Form Your Window contest. I guessed about five or seven correctly, but never as specifically as the winner. I’m very much a Chini-wannabe! )
By the way, I just came across a strange coincidence, given that several readers thought this was a solar farm: Type “solar farm” in Google and the third hit is the Wikipedia page for Topaz Solar Farm in southern California. Topaz.
Doug Chini—the legendary champion of the window contest mentioned by Steve—emailed his answer just before I posted:
In all the years of doing the Daily Dish’s VFYW contest, I never got more of a gut punch from finding a location than I did with this one. At first I thought we were looking at an agricultural site, or perhaps an old Army barracks; but as someone whose college thesis focused on the Pacific in WW2, I should have recognized it instantly. Your reader's mystery view shows the ghostly footprint of the Topaz “War Relocation Center,” one of ten major sites where Japanese-Americans were forcibly interned during the war. Here’s the view from Google Earth:
Among the more than 11,000 held there was Fred Korematsu, the plaintiff who lost the infamous Supreme Court case that legitimized the internment program. Today the decision in that case, Korematsu v. United States, is used in law school as an example of how hysteria and deference during crises can produce abhorrent results.
I love this series! As a kid I would lie on the living room floor devouring our atlas. Then, 23 years working for Northwest Airlines at Logan Airport offered me many travel opportunities, and like many of your readers I was a window seat junkie (when I could get one as a standby employee). The landscape unfolding below us was always interesting and sometimes amazing. The classics: Niagara Falls, the Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam, Denali during a Chicago-to-Tokyo flight, volcanic plumes in Indonesia, Alaska, and even a glimpse of red magma at Mt. Mihara south of Tokyo in the mid 1980s. Once, after a week of sailing along the coast of Nova Scotia and back to Maine, reading old stories of shipwrecks and adventures along the way, on our puddle jumper from Portland to Boston I suddenly glimpsed the infamous Boon Island.
All fourteen crewmen aboard survived the initial wreck, however two died from their injuries and another two drowned attempting to reach the mainland on an improvised raft. The remaining ten crewmen managed to stay alive despite winter conditions with no food and no fire for twenty-four days, until finally rescued. They resorted to cannibalism which gave the incident a notoriety that it retains even today. It is said that after the Nottingham Galley disaster, local fishermen began leaving barrels of provisions on Boon Island in case of future wrecks.
Back to our reader, who guides us through the above photo:
The rugged coast of Massachusetts and New England make flying in and out of Boston easy to pick out landmarks and sights. (As a kid sailing in Marblehead, I used to daydream about the people in the planes above us as they followed a common flightpath, and now Marblehead, Cape Ann, and other coastal towns are easy to pick out from above.)
This photo of Boston at 6:26 a.m. on a clear morning was not a path out of Logan I had experienced many times. The Charles River meanders through the middle. From bottom left and up and across on the Boston side of the Charles one can see: Matthews Arena at Northeastern University (red roof), Symphony Hall (green roof), Fenway Park, the CITGO Sign, Christian Science Church, the Prudential Building, Mass Ave Bridge, Boston Public Library, Hancock Tower, the Hancock building (whose lights give the weather forecast), and just at the front edge of the wing is the Hatch Shell at the Esplanade.
Across the river, starting from the right: a piece of the Longfellow Bridge (aka the salt-and-pepper bridge, due to the decorative turrets looking like salt and pepper shakers). Above the winglet is the Mystic River, and the line of the wing points to some of the hills of Somerville catching the morning light. Back at the Longfellow Bridge and heading west is Kendall Square area, the Charles River Yacht Club, and just before the Mass Ave Bridge, the Dome at MIT. And finally there’s the BU Bridge, then the river turns and follows another turn in the river up to Harvard.
Thanks for letting me give you a short tour of my hometown city!
As a habitual window-seat photo snapper, I love the aerial photo series. I’ve had a long-running game with my family where we take a photo from the air, send it around to family members, and see who can figure out where it is.
Here’s one that stumped everyone. I took it a couple of years back, from an airliner at cruise altitude. I happened to look down at the right moment and saw this pattern on the ground. I had a hunch what it might be, took the photo, and later confirmed my guess with Google Earth.
Some context that might help: This location is in a fairly arid Western state (obviously). The site is quite isolated, and far from any significant population centers. But it is at the edge of an agricultural valley, rather than in total desert.
I’m curious if any staff or readers get it. I’ll put the the answer in a separate message for spoiler protection.
Here’s the Philadelphia skyline coming back from a flight from LA. I still can't believe that up until the late ‘80s, the tallest building was City Hall. You can barely see it now. Shows how much things can change.
A reader figures out the location of yesterday’s aerial view from Rebecca Pinkus and sends the above image from Google Earth that matches it exactly:
Howdy, Atlantic staff! Yesterday’s, uh, view from an airplane window looks north, north-east over the town of Ashburn, Virginia. A best estimate is that the picture was taken at 2:42:57 PM on January 30th, at 38.9775N/77.543W from an altitude of 4,100 feet shortly after takeoff from Dulles’ runway 30. The high school immediately adjacent to the water towers is Ashburn’s Briar Woods High.
It’s too bad your reader gave the arrival and departure cities; this location would have been slightly harder to find without them.
That email is from Doug Chini, the legendary guru of the View From Your Window Contest—a weekly feature I edited for years at The Dish, beginning in 2010 when Andrew and I were at The Atlantic. Every week we posted a photo from a reader’s window and invited others to guess the location. The resulting entries I edited together were mind-boggling in their detail and precision, in addition to the local color, history, and personal stories the views solicited from readers. Chini was hands down the most accurate and consistently impressive player, so it was so cool to see him pop up in the Notes inbox this morning, out of the blue.
Located at the southern end of California’s Central Valley, Bakersfield—the county seat of Kern County, which is one of the largest counties in the U.S.—is a microcosm of the economic and political issues confronting California’s Central Valley. The problems start with drought and water resource mismanagement but also continue to other issues ranging from urbanization of prime farmland, salinization of prime farmland, air pollution (this area is consistently in the top ten areas with the worst air quality in the U.S. as rated by the American Lung Association), and poverty.
I’ve been working on a photo study of the area, and because of the size of the county (8200 square miles), I took to the air, specifically in a Cessna 172 with the passenger-side window removed for photography. This photo is a view of the massive Chevron oilfield north of Bakersfield called Oildale. At the time of the shot, October 2015, the field was nearly in full production, driven by the price of crude oil that was hovering around $50 per barrel.
The Lakers legend was fearless, driven, and excellent.
My first real interaction with Kobe Bryant started over a disagreement. The legendary Los Angeles Lakers shooting guard had made some dismissive comments in 2014 about the case of Trayvon Martin, the African American teenager who had been shot to death in Florida by the neighborhood-watch volunteer George Zimmernan two years before.
Martin’s death and Zimmerman’s subsequent acquittal on second-degree murder charges incensed many black athletes—but not Bryant, who told The New Yorker, “If we’ve progressed as a society, then you don’t jump to somebody's defense just because they're African-American.” I was working at ESPN at the time, and criticized Bryant on camera as tone deaf, among other things.
The “crazy worms” remaking forests aren’t your friendly neighborhood garden worms. Then again, those aren’t so great either.
On a sweltering July day, I follow Annise Dobson down an overgrown path into the heart of Seton Falls Park. It’s a splotch of unruly forest, surrounded by the clamoring streets and cramped rowhouses of the Bronx. Broken glass, food wrappers, and condoms litter the ground. But Dobson, bounding ahead in khaki hiking pants with her blond ponytail swinging, appears unfazed. As I quickly learn, neither trash nor oppressive humidity nor ecological catastrophe can dampen her ample enthusiasm.
At the bottom of the hill, Dobson veers off the trail and stops in a shady clearing. This seems like a promising spot. She kicks away the dead oak leaves and tosses a square frame made of PVC pipe onto the damp earth. Then she unscrews a milk jug. It holds a pale yellow slurry of mustard powder and water that’s completely benign—unless you’re a worm.
Understanding the events of 1979 is crucial for those trying to figure out a better future for today’s Middle East.
What happened to us? The question haunts us in the Arab and Muslim world. We repeat it like a mantra. You will hear it from Iran to Syria, from Saudi Arabia to Pakistan, and in my own country, Lebanon. For us, the past is a different country, one not mired in the horrors of sectarian killings. It is a more vibrant place, without the crushing intolerance of religious zealots and seemingly endless, amorphous wars.
Though the past had coups and wars too, they were contained in time and space, and the future still held much promise. What happened to us? The question may not occur to those too young to remember a different world, whose parents did not tell them of a youth spent reciting poetry in Peshawar, debating Marxism in the bars of Beirut, or riding bicycles on the banks of the Tigris in Baghdad. The question may surprise those in the West who assume that the extremism and bloodletting of today have always been the norm.
In the past half century, the number of bathrooms per American has doubled.
American exceptionalism takes on many forms, both flattering (our immigrant-founded start-ups) and unfortunate (our health-care prices). But perhaps no part of life in the United States is more unambiguously exceptional than this: We have so many damn bathrooms.
The newly revealed comment is one of the former president’s strongest known critiques of his successor.
Barack Obama’s private assessment of Donald Trump: He’s a fascist.
That is, at least, according to Tim Kaine, the Democratic senator from Virginia and a friend of the former president. In a video clip from October 2016, Kaine is seen relaying Obama’s comment to Hillary Clinton. The footage is part of the new Hulu documentary Hillary, which was obtained by The Atlantic ahead of its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival today.
“President Obama called me last night and said, ‘Tim, this is no time to be a purist,’” Kaine tells his then–running mate. “‘You’ve got to keep a fascist out of the White House.’”
Clinton replies: “I echo that sentiment.”
A representative for Obama declined to comment on the conversation. A representative for Kaine did not respond to requests for comment.
A writer who’s afraid to tell people what they don’t want to hear has chosen the wrong trade.
Christopher Hitchens and I weren’t close friends—I was a lesser planet in his orbit. Every so often I felt the rhetorical lash of his published words on my back, and then I tried to make him feel mine, and you can guess who got the better of those exchanges. They usually had to do with Iraq. We both supported the war, but I supported it in an ambivalent, liberal way, while Christopher supported it in a heroic, revolutionary way. The more I saw of the war, the deeper my despair became. Christopher made it a point of honor never to call retreat.
I know of many friendships that ended in those years, including a few of mine. But something strange happened between Christopher and me. For every time he called me a split-the-difference bien-pensant, and for every time I called him a pseudo–Lord Byron, we seemed to become better friends. We would say rude things about each other in print, and then we’d exchange tentatively regretful emails without yielding an inch, and then we’d meet for a drink and the whole thing would go unmentioned, and somehow there was more warmth between us than before. Exchanging barbs was a way of bonding with Christopher.
“I know I’m not the only Jewish candidate running for president,” Mike Bloomberg, the former New York City mayor, told a packed synagogue here today, referencing his Democratic-primary rival Senator Bernie Sanders. “But I am the only one who doesn’t want to turn America into a kibbutz.” For the first time in American history, this niche joke fit neatly into a campaign for the White House. And for the first time in American history, there’s a good chance that a Jewish candidate for president will beat another Jewish candidate to become a major party’s nominee.
The American inheritance and the American promise are both precious and precarious. If we don’t defend them vigorously, no one else will.
In August 1784, when the American merchant vessel Empress of China finally docked in Canton (modern-day Guangzhou) after six months at sea, Captain John Green of Philadelphia and his crew found a civilization at its height. The Qianlong emperor ruled 10 percent of the world’s land mass and 30 percent of its population. He controlled one-third of the global economy. He could look out on an empire of extraordinary political and cultural achievement, a civilization that had endured more than three millennia. The name China, Zhōngguó, means “Middle Kingdom”—the kingdom at the center of the cosmos, the kingdom at the heart of heaven and Earth—and he had no reason to doubt it.
In 2013, when Xi Jinping took power as general secretary of the Chinese Communist Party, he embarked China on a mission of “national rejuvenation” (guojia fuxing). Six years later, China is poised to become, once again, the largest economy in the world, overtaking the United States. China is home to six of the world’s 10 busiest shipping-container ports (seven, if you include Hong Kong), contributing to its increased control of global maritime trade routes. According to the World Bank, China is on pace to eliminate absolute poverty by the end of next year, completing a stunning process through which 850 million people have emerged from poverty since the early 1980s—the largest and fastest poverty reduction in human history, to accompany the largest and fastest economic expansion ever recorded. Meanwhile, Chinese political, economic, and military investments across the world intend to roll back American power, replacing a Pax Americana with a Pax Sinica (though it is not clear whether China intends to preserve the Pax part).
While public attention is focused on the Senate, the president is making controversial policy moves.
“You never want a serious crisis to go to waste,” Rahm Emanuel, the incoming White House chief of staff, said days after Barack Obama was elected in 2008. Emanuel’s point was that a moment of cataclysm meant a chance for big structural reforms that wouldn’t be possible in moments of calm.
But there are other ways to take advantage of a crisis, as the Trump administration is demonstrating right now. Even as the president’s impeachment trial moves forward, the White House is acting aggressively on a range of policy proposals that are politically, legally, or morally suspect, wagering—probably correctly—that the press and the people will mostly overlook them amid the drama in the Senate.
It isn’t, as has sometimes been claimed, that Trump wanted to be impeached, or that the impeachment is somehow a brilliant Machiavellian distraction he has orchestrated. The president has made clear that he wants the trial over as quickly as possible. But as long as it’s going on, the White House is using the crisis as best as it can.
“We will reach the goal of freedom in Birmingham and all over the nation, because the goal of America is freedom.”
In April 1963, King was jailed in Birmingham, Alabama, after he defied a state court’s injunction and led a march of black protesters without a permit, urging an Easter boycott of white-owned stores. A statement published in The Birmingham News, written by eight moderate white clergymen, criticized the march and other demonstrations.
This prompted King to write a lengthy response, begun in the margins of the newspaper. He smuggled it out with the help of his lawyer, and the nearly 7,000 words were transcribed. The eloquent call for “constructive, nonviolent tension” to force an end to unjust laws became a landmark document of the civil-rights movement. The letter was printed in part or in full by several publications, including the New York Post, Liberation magazine, The New Leader, and The Christian Century. The Atlantic published it in the August 1963 issue.