There's an allure to flying long distances over deep water.

Flying the Oceans, written by Horace Brock, tells the story of the early years of Pan Am. The book evokes my admiration. Those were the formative years of Pan American World Airways, and Brock's book contains enthralling accounts of 23-hour trips from San Francisco to Honolulu. On one of those flights in a Sikorsky S-42 the entire cabin was awash in high-octane aviation gas. His captain turned back to San Francisco, enduring over 10 hours of fear on the return, until finally making a safe water landing.

Those of us who fly the oceans today do so on the shoulders of the "30 something" Pan Am captains who pioneered this occupation so many years ago. Leaving the safety and comfort of the shore behind, they set new boundaries for all of us.

Pan Am Capt. Edwin Musick flew trips from Honolulu to New Zealand with refueling stops at Kingman's Reef, where the crew rested overnight on a freighter moored to the reef. Later he flew Martin flying boats for Pan Am on the China Clipper routes. All three Martins were eventually lost, but they led the way for the "giant" Boeing 314s. Just before World War II, the Boeing flying boats would lumber up out of New York's Flushing Bay, roar off of Long Island Sound, and head first for Bermuda, then the Azores, Lisbon and on to Southampton, England. What adventure. And we're part of the lineage of these proud men.

In the late 1940s, Pan American started two around-the-world flights. "Clipper 1" left out of New York and went eastbound and "Clipper 2" left out of San Francisco and went westbound. They met around Bangkok, changed call signs and turned around.

We fly tonight the route of Clipper 1. The double-decked Boeing Strato-Cruisers flew from New York to London nonstop, then to Paris, Rome, Athens, Istanbul, and on to the orient. We plan to go nonstop from New York to Istanbul Ataturk. Nine hours. There's a lot of history in this route. I feel it through the DNA of my father and my uncle, both Pan Am pilots, and my brothers, both captains who flew the oceans for American and Northwest.

I am not a high-time Falcon 7X pilot. I am new to the machine. But I have logged some 6,000 hours in the Dassault Falcon Jet line. I've flown them all, but marvel at the 7X. It makes me proud of whatever small part I contributed to the lineage. The aircraft's workmanship, the match of engine to airframe, the smoothness of the lines, the flight control system, the passenger comfort, the "green" economy of fuel operation - all of it make the 7X the queen of the Falcon family.

Many pilots have flown this airplane a lot further than this nine-hour run. I have heard of a 13+10 flight, and another 12+25. But we're laying back tonight, well within the envelope, flight planned at nine hours even.

We top off with 31,600 pounds of the possible 31,920. We don't wait for the "foam to settle" or "turn off the APU boost pump" to try and get the most fuel into the airplane. This flight is a walk in the park, range-wise, and we block out with 31,300 pounds.

During the first hour we settle at FL 350, holding the Mach around 0.80. Great distances are won by patience in the early hours. An hour later, we ease up to FL 370 then make the crossing at 410, climbing up at the 2+10 mark. We notice a "rumble" vibration after each level off. It feels like the engines are vibrating as the power comes back, but Dassault says it's an airframe design fault. Ours is periodic. Some airplanes are not. Passengers don't feel it. Mach is set at 0.82 and we burn 4,200 pounds the first hour and, amazingly, about 2,600 pounds each of the next five hours. Fuel is not a factor and we will land with 7,600 pounds.