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 eight-minute encounter with severe mountain wave/rotor turbulence while flying over the Sierra Nevada, where their plane experienced extreme vertical acceleration and was nearly uncontrollable.
This dangerous turbulence, caused by strong winds interacting with mountainous terrain, was invisible without atmospheric indicators like lenticular clouds, highlighting a hidden aviation risk.
The harrowing experience drastically improved the pilot's judgment, leading to a strict policy of avoiding or circumnavigating mountains 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.