Blinded by the light(ning)

We got a late start, and caught between a high to our west and a low to our east we were fighting headwinds that put the groundspeed below 100. (It doesn't matter what you're in, if the groundspeed is below 100 and you're not sightseeing then you are going slow.)

The first really bad bump was the Center Weather Advisory for an area of developing thunderstorms ahead. I plotted this out; the line was thin, but extended 100 miles either side of our route. I turned toward the soft spot around Dubois (U25). I've flown that valley a gazillion times on fire patrol, so it should be easy, right? Then we'd go over Jackson Hole and then home.


But then there was lightning, and it looked like the storm would pin us onto the mountains north of Dubois. I turned southeast, paralleling the Wind River Range. Where there was no storm there was a too-high mountain, and where there was a low spot there was a storm.

Our destination was reporting 7 miles in light rain, forecasting visbility 3 - 4 miles in smoke from a 6,000 acre 20 miles south. My wife pointed out that an hour of maneuvering around this junk would cost way more than a hotel room and a nice meal.

The end result? We landed. This being the west, there was a pilot I knew in the FBO lounge, working Air Attack on a fire nearby.

"There's no way that airplane is going through that weather," I opined. He agreed.

The best part of the story? This morning, I proved that my family could be airborne at 0700.

Walking (not running) the Ridge

Ridge running is one of the joys of glider flying. Air moving perpendicular to a ridge line has to go somewhere, and the only place to go is up. When the ridge is working you can fly for hours. And that means fly. Flying something like a King Air is to ridge running what riding a glass elevator is to rock climbing.

But there's more to life than flying. Really.

That's why the kids and I went hiking on Monday (Memorial Day holiday in the USA). We have it good: to go hiking we put the dog on a leash, walk out the front door, and turn left.

It's a steep hill, and the sun was hot, and there was no wind. I was more concerned about water than anything else; no point in getting dehydrated.

We climbed until the slope leveled. The trail was a fire break along the ridge line, cut about 20 years ago during a devastating fire on the other side of the ravine. The trees have not grown back. It's wide enough to land on, and the slope is shallow enough, too, if it weren't for the knee high boulders.

We climbed about 1000 feet to the National Forest boundary, a logical place to stop. We admired the view and started down. I had a lot on my mind, a lot of good stuff: watching the kids, watching the dog, watching my step, the good feeling of exercise, and admiring the view. But there's always one corner of my mind that stays in the air. The breeze was light, first from the left, then the right, then ahead, then from the left. "Not a good day for ridge soaring," I thought.


But things changed in a hurry. Without warning, the wind was at our backs, tumbling down the slope at 25 knots or so. My son turned to say something, but I couldn't hear him. I held onto my hat. I thought about cutting toward the trees.

I looked back up the slope. The little finger of cumulus that had been hanging above us in the first picture, just a few minutes before, had blossomed into the massive CB in the second. Ouch!

It ended as quickly as it began.

I'll remember this storm the next time I'm ridge running. It's true that walking the ridge can make you better at running it.

Spring Weather

It's been a wonderful Spring day, and as soon as my classes and office hours were done I made an excuse to pop out to the airport. It wasn't hard; I had to pick up my paycheck.

The wind was pushing my little car around during the drive, but still I was disappointed that nobody was flying. Nobody. A little wind never hurt anybody! (The METAR said 27016G22Kt, pretty calm for this part of the world this time of year.)

The last airplane to move had been me, last night, having fun renewing my night currency.

With no flying, I did a little visiting and headed back to town. The clouds were building in all quadrants; the METAR said CB E-S MOV LTL, i.e., there were cumulonimbus clouds east through south, moving little.

One storm was building right on the airway to Salt Lake City. I reached for my phone to listen to Salt Lake Center to see who was diverting. This is not such a dumb idea, but we don't have that capability, yet. Maybe I should suggest it to LiveATC.net?



A better idea was to snap some pictures of the storm, as well as a screen capture of the National Weather Service radar.

The storm at left is the yellow blob by the 'M' in Malad City. The storm with the red at the left was hidden by the mountains; I only saw the tops.

The idea of a new GPS with XM weather sounds better and better.