You taxi out over glassy water, the plane’s pontoons kissing the bay as the city unrolls beneath you. The engine settles into a steady hum and San Francisco, with its checkerboard streets and pastel houses, suddenly reads like a map of scale and story. The Golden Gate Bridge sweeps into view—its towers rising like a carved pair of gates—while Alcatraz perches as a weathered island prison ringed by whitewater. Below the wings the Marin Headlands look raw and folded, and farther north the dark, cathedral trunks of Muir Woods recede like a miniature forest.