This roiling band of clouds near Denver seems to point the direction one should fly to escape the wrath of the fully-delveloped thunderstorm beyond. The rain shafts underneath this cloud formation were bright red on the radar, indication their extreme intensity.
28 April 2006
22 April 2006
Snow Clouds
The only clouds in the sky on this particular day east of Portland, Oregon were hanging low around the peak of this one particular snow-covered mountain. None of the other similar, nearby peaks had such a companion cloud. I'm constantly amazed and intrigued by natural phenomena like this.
16 April 2006
Hall of the Mountain King
It's late afternoon over Iowa. Exploding with the power of a hundred Hiroshimas, a ten-mile high thunderstorm provides stark contrast to the sedate field of sun-dappled cumulus clouds that lies beyond. We drink in the glory of it all, our passage around the storm made peaceful by our distance from it. A poet's words come to mind: "With silent lifting mind I've trod the high untrespassed sanctity of space..." [John Gillespie Magee].
05 April 2006
Mt. Adams Twilight
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Mount Adams, Washington glows in the clear light of post-sunset, as seen from 80 miles to the south at 19,000 feet.
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Nestled between the imposing Mount Ranier, the famous and petulant Mount St. Helens, and Portland's lovely Mount Hood, Mount Adams (12,276 feet) is one of the most overlooked and under-appreciated volcanoes along the Cascade chain. The fact that it hasn't erupted in over 3,500 years doesn't mean it's not capable of more attention-getting someday in the future.
04 April 2006
Night Companion
Night "transcons" can be quiet and slightly lonely. The other pilots with whom I fly usually aren't as talkative at night as they are in the bright sunshine. With far fewer aircraft in the air at night, the Air Traffic Control frequencies are silent most of the time. We have plenty of time to think deep thoughts and contemplate the vastness of this world. We are sometimes kept company by the moon. It is our friend, our silent overhead companion, and a reassuring beacon that lets us know the sun is still shining on the other side of the planet. To us, it says: Tomorrow will come; daylight is coming.
Canyons and Mesas in Winter
Our country has thousands of lovely sights like this, and I feel extremely fortunate to be able to see them on a regular basis from a vantage point most people never get to experience. I'm also happy to share them with you when I see them.
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