Outside the window I see nothing but clouds and moonlight drifting by. I glance at the GPS map on the seatback screen in front of me. We're cruising at 32,000 feet, at more than 600 miles per hour. Just inches beyond the relative silence and comfort of the cabin of this Boeing 747 jet, the thin and frigid air screams by. From here, though, just across the threshold, its silent majesty is almost meditative. I've seen this very view a thousand times, but tonight I feel as if I'm seeing it for the first time, gaping at the eerie beauty of the landless world beyond, like a blind man whose sight has been miraculously restored.

The plane is pointed north, toward the eastern seaboard of the United States, and though we're still over the vast jungles of the Amazon, I know that by the time the sun breaks up through the clouds, we'll be landing in Boston. I slip off my wristwatch and adjust the bevel to U.S. Eastern Time and smile. It's Christmas Eve.

My body feels sore. I slip off my boots and stretch out my toes. I look down at my arms, which are sunburned and dry. I can't wait to burn this shirt, which I've been wearing for days. Somewhere in the plane's luggage hold, my pack is stuffed with damp socks, muddy cargo pants and various other distressed pieces of my wardrobe, all of which probably stink to high Hell.

This flight, my 27th in the last few months, marks the last leg of our overseas production for the second season of Destination Truth. The crew has scattered to the winds; a few will remain in Rio for Christmas, others are returning to Los Angeles, New York and Jackson Hole, Wyo. I'm alone on this flight to Boston, and even at half the speed of sound, I feel like we can't get there fast enough.

It's been an amazing season on the road, but crisscrossing the planet has left us all tired, and the thought of Christmas with my loved ones has me longing to land. The sweltering heat of Amazonian jungles hasn't exactly put me in the Christmas spirit, so I'm fantasizing about a crackling fire with snow falling outside the windows of our family home.