Editor's Note: Stagecoach gets the job done

Indeed, since two of its three flights go to San Fran­cisco, SkyWest basically allows you to take a one-stop trip from Crescent City to almost anywhere.

Catching those connecting flights in the Bay Area can be challenging. Sure, the sky is blue this week and the departures from Del Norte County Airport are probably timely. But sometimes fog gets in the way. Not a huge deal if you don’t mind getting moved to a later connecting flight out of SF; the folks behind the local check-in counter are adept at doing that for you automatically when our little airstrip is shrouded in gray.

Such was the case a week ago Saturday morning when we sought to begin a journey to visit family in Cape Cod. We got up in the dark for some last-minute packing and drove the five minutes to the stagecoach station a half-hour ahead of our scheduled 8:52 a.m. takeoff. It had been postponed to 10:30 by fog. One of the charms of the local airport is that if your car is parked outside, you don’t have to wait out delays in the, ahem, terminal. We hit a coffeehouse, picked up some sundries at a drug store, and made it back in plenty of time to learn of another one-hour postponement. This allowed us to go home and ponder what else we should have packed.

Perhaps because of all the extra time to contemplate what was needed, when we finally boarded it turned out this crowd was traveling heavy. To counter-balance the luggage load, several people had to relocate to forward seats. The need for that maneuver provided just a touch of suspense as we lumbered into the air.

Laura and I ran through a stretch of San Francisco International Airport to become the last of a couple hundred passengers to board the Boston flight. At the gate, a friendly airport employee informed us that in case we had missed this one we’d already been booked on a still-later flight as a backup. The one scheduled to arrive at 12:20 a.m. Sunday. The one with our suitcases.

For all that, we still made it to Cape Cod before midnight, EDT, and our luggage was delivered the next morning. We had a lovely visit to the “quaint little villages here and there” that Patti Page sings about, sometimes cruising in my stepson’s street-legal dune buggy, which he’d never dream of driving on a sand dune. We paid homage to Plymouth Rock and the replica of the Mayflower. And we finished up with shopping, fine dining and a couple of painless history lessons in Boston.

The trip home Sunday was a better reminder of the benefits of our little airport. Five-plus hours across the country to San Francisco, then a timely departure for the final leg up the North Coast. I’ve written before that I know of no more scenic arrival than the one that awaits Crescent City-bound air travelers on a sunny day. We were back on Pebble Beach by 2 p.m., PDT, and thanks to the time change, this particular day delivered three extra hours of sunshine.

HEARING IT ABOUT THE FOGHORN

Recently a Donna Johnson wrote a letter to the editor complaining that Crescent City’s foghorn was costing her sleep. The letter was not written by Donna L. Johnson, 68, who has been needled by friends who assumed she was the one criticizing what is something of a nautical tradition.

For the record, Donna L. Johnson is a fan of the foghorn. “That’s why I moved up here,” she said. “I love the fishing fleet. I love the seagulls. I love the foghorn. I love the fog.”

Maybe she hasn’t tried to fly out of here recently.