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:

The author recounts a terrifying, unforecasted rotor turbulence event experienced over the Sierra Nevada mountains, which subjected their plane to violent vertical drafts and near-uncontrollable conditions for eight minutes.
This severe clear-air turbulence, later attributed to 72-knot winds, highlighted the extreme dangers of flying near mountains in specific wind conditions, even without visible atmospheric indicators.
The harrowing incident significantly improved the pilot's judgment, leading to a strict rule of avoiding mountain flights or staying grounded when winds aloft exceed 20-25 knots, and motivated the author to thoroughly study turbulence.

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.