We've been seeing these guys at the bluff for the past few weeks, on Saturdays, mostly, with their chairs and picnic hampers, thermoses and radio-controlled planes. They stay all day, chatting and flying and drinking in the view. I want to ask them a million questions -- who they are and where they're from and what they've seen in their lifetimes, what they think of the crazy world right now. But what I say is "Beautiful planes," and what they say is "Beautiful dogs," and I walk on down the path and they look back up into the sky, flying.