The Air Is A Fluid

Iwish I had read, or at least learned the material, in Mike Harts April 2018 article (Seeing The Invisible) before my husband and I departed on a flight from Santa Monica to Lone Pine, Calif., back in 1998. My excuse is that I had not yet earned my certificate. At the time, I blithely believed the plane simply went where you pointed it.

Editorial Staff

Monday, May 21, 2018 at 12:00 AM ET

Verified

Key Takeaways:

A pilot recounts a terrifying 1998 flight over the Sierra Nevada mountains where unexpected and severe mountain wave turbulence (a rotor) caused violent vertical movements, near loss of control, and intense fear for about eight minutes.
Despite clear weather, strong winds aloft (72 knots) on the leeward side of the mountains created the "invisible" extreme turbulence, with no visual cues like lenticular clouds present during the incident.
The traumatic experience drastically improved the pilots' judgment, making them prioritize understanding turbulence and now avoiding mountainous routes when winds aloft exceed 20-25 knots.

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Iwish I had read, or at least learned the material, in Mike Hart’s April 2018 article (“Seeing The Invisible“) before my husband and I departed on a flight from Santa Monica to Lone Pine, Calif., back in 1998. My excuse is that I had not yet earned my certificate. At the time, I blithely believed the plane simply went where you pointed it.

The weather was severe clear on a cold February day and we skimmed barely above the spectacular Sierra Nevada without a ripple—in fact, just barely south of Mt. Whitney, highest point in the lower 48 at over 14,000 feet. The Sierras drop almost straight down on the east, or leeward, side, to the Owens Valley. Lone Pine, at 3710 feet msl, is about 10,000 feet below.