Route 66 - 100 years of the “Mother Road”
A legend celebrates its birthday
The legendary Route 66 was officially and ceremoniously opened on November 11, 1926. Reason enough to dedicate a commemorative flight to what is probably the most famous of all roads or the “mother of all roads”, as it is sung in a song. With its 2448 US miles, it connects the cities of Chicago and LA/Santa Monica. The road itself no longer exists in its original form, but has been partially overbuilt by highways or replaced by wider roads that meet today’s requirements and lead around the towns and cities that Route 66 once passed through. Nevertheless, around 2,000 miles of the original route still remain, albeit sometimes as a narrow dirt road. You will encounter many legendary and historic events on this tour.
From Chicago to landing at Los Angeles International, your journey is like a single, long breath through the USA. It begins at Lake Michigan, where the city with its clean lines, gleaming facades and deep blue water looks like a gateway to the West. From there, your flight follows Route 66 out into the plains, across the checkerboard of fields that stretch endlessly to the horizon, and on into the drier landscapes, where the colors become warmer and the towns smaller, until the road finally merges into the vastness of the Great Plains. The further west you go, the more the atmosphere changes: the earth becomes redder and the landscape begins to show its grand gestures. The Arizona desert opens up like a still, glowing sea, criss-crossed by old trading posts, rock formations and the long, straight lines of the Mother Road. Then the land rises, the forests of Flagstaff emerge, and beyond them the world falls away again into the Mojave, a bright, shimmering expanse that spreads out like an endless mirror beneath your plane. California welcomes you with the Cajon Pass, a rocky gateway that leaves the desert behind and leads you into the dense, vibrant urbanity of the Inland Empire. The cities get bigger, the roads wider, and Route 66 turns into an urban axis that carries you through San Bernardino, over Foothill Boulevard and on through Pasadena, where the mountains to the north stand like a serene backdrop. Then Los Angeles begins, not as a point but as an expanse: a huge, bright grid that unfolds beneath you as you follow Santa Monica Boulevard past Hollywood, West Hollywood and the long lines of the Westside. At the ocean, Route 66 symbolically ends, but your flight continues, lifting off the pier, following the coast south and finally gliding into the approach to Los Angeles International Airport. The last few minutes are a calm descent over beach, waves and city. The runways lie before you like bright streaks, and when the wheels touch the concrete, the journey comes full circle: a line from Chicago to Los Angeles, from water to water, from the center of the continent to the edge of the Pacific.
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