By Joe Darby

I’ve been thinking recently that in my time I’ve been to some pretty interesting places. In the next few columns I’d like to share some stories with you about my travels — some routine but very nice trips to well-traveled places, as well as some treks to countries a little off the beaten path.

I’ll invite you to come along as I reminisce about travels to nations as diverse as England, Iceland, Guatemala and Argentina. I certainly hope you enjoy our trips. If you’re anything like me, you like to indulge in arm chair traveling when the real thing is not feasible.

For our first getaway I want to tell you about the time I spent some 18 hours on an airplane — one way. And I’m one of those folks who just can’t sleep on a plane — or in a car or bus for that matter. When I finally got to where I was going, I had work to do, but I was going into sleep deprivation by that time.

Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. Here’s what it was all about. The Air Force Reserve 706th Fighter Squadron, based at the New Orleans Naval Air Station, was deploying for active duty to Aviano Air Base, a big and important NATO air base in northern Italy, between Venice and the Alps. The unit flew F-16 Falcon jets,, a small but terrific fighter for our Air Force.

Half of the unit would go over for two weeks and the rest of the unit would relieve them and deploy for two more weeks. As the military reporter for the New Orleans Times-Picayune, I and a photographer accompanied the second group to Italy. We were to have just a few hours on the ground, to get photos and for me to interview pilots and maintenance personnel about their mission there — which was to protect southern Europe and the Mediterranean area from any aggression.

We were to do our work while the plane that flew us and the second wave of AF Reserve personnel to Aviano was being serviced. That plane would then return the first bunch of reservists home, along with me and the photographer.

The chartered passenger plane in which we flew did not have the fuel capacity to fly directly from the US to Italy. So we took a few detours.

From New Orleans we flew to Gander, Newfoundland for our first refueling. Gander was a well-known stopping off point in the earlier days of transatlantic flights in the 1930s. So, being the history buff that I am, I appreciated being there.

But we were soon on our way to Iceland, the second gas stop. Iceland is a very rugged and beautiful land, but we stayed aboard the airplane during the stop and before long we took off for Italy. By the time we arrived at Aviano, we’d been on the plane for some 18 hours. Adding to that the time since I’d awoken at home that morning, I’d been awake for much longer than 24 hours.

We hooked up with some fighter pilots who wanted to take us to lunch, so we drove up to the foothills of the Alps, where snow covered much of the land. People were enjoying cross-country skiing. The restaurant was terrific, with friendly Italian girls, with their charming sing-song accents, as servers — all in all a grand meal.

Then, my sleep deprivation, compounded by after-lunch sleepies hit me. One pilot let me crash for a little while on a spare bed in his apartment on the base. I just about went into a coma. But, they woke me up in time to get my interviews.

By then, it was time to say a fond farewell to Aviano Air Base and head for home. By the time we got back to Iceland, I was getting rather goofy from fatigue, but we had time to walk around the very nice and modern airport terminal. One thing that struck me was the Icelandic women — 95 percent of them were blondes. All that Viking blood, you know.

The adventure was not nearly over, however. Back on the plane, while the refueling continued, we looked out the windows to see a magnificent display of the Northern Lights, something that relatively few of us are ever privileged to see. Then we noticed that a blizzard seemed to be rolling in and that the plane’s maintenance workers were frantically trying to de-ice our wings.

The fighter pilots on board seemed to be worried, by the expressions on their faces, so I got worried, too, as you might well imagine. However, icy wings and all, we took off safely, and after another refueling stop at Gander, we returned home to the warm climes of south Louisiana. At some point after Iceland, my inability to sleep on a plane was overcome by sheer exhaustion and I conked out. The rest of the flight was a little fuzzy.

But it was a very special and unusual trip, providing me a memory that I still treasure. What’s not to like? The Alps, Iceland, northern lights, the company of wonderful Air Force pilots and personnel. Yeah, a good trip. Even if I did get a little drowsy.