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:

An aviator recounts a terrifying experience of encountering severe, unseen mountain wave turbulence (rotor) near the Sierra Nevada, causing violent buffeting and near-uncontrollability of their Cessna 210.
Despite clear skies, strong winds created extreme vertical air currents, with the aircraft experiencing rapid ascents and descents (e.g., 8200 fpm down, 5600 fpm up) for a terrifying eight minutes.
This life-threatening event highlighted the critical importance of understanding and respecting mountain weather phenomena, leading the pilots to strictly avoid mountain flying in strong wind conditions thereafter.

See a mistake? Contact us.

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.