It was Sunday morning, and I hadn?t flown for four days ? weather and work had combined to give me few opportunities, and I was itching for a little air time! The forecast was not promising, with building strong and gusty winds predicted to come in again (for the fourth or fifth straight day!) by noon. The ceilings were about 1300?, with a few breaks in the overcast ? there was a lot of moisture in the air from several heavy rains in the past week, and the warm southerly winds were pumping more humidity in from the gulf. His was typical spring weather on the coast ? fly when you can, because the thundershowers will build up later in the day!
I launched and immediately started looking for sunlight on the ground ahead. There were breaks in the fairly solid cumulous layer, but none of them were very large. Pounding along below the ceilings - the prop and power pulled back to 75%, and leaned out to save some gas ? I was searching for a break big enough to climb to the blue sky I could see up above. The layer looked to be only a couple thousand feet thick, but because of the winds, none of the holes were vertical ? the clouds were falling and tumbling over one another, the shapes changing as you watched. Trying to climb up through one of those was asking for trouble ? certainly you?d never maintain legal clearance, and just as certainly, the hole would be gone before you turned around to head back down!
My usual trick is to head for Galveston Bay ? a large expanse of water that frequently stays clear when cumulous build out of the moisture rising from the land. I could see sunlight on the water as I got close, but alas ? the wind was driving the clouds so quickly that they flooded over the bay from the other side and blocked my way to the clear blue skies. I slid swiftly over the miles of water, heading east, seeing brighter and brighter patches of water. The blue above appeared more frequently, but it was a paler blue, and I could tell that the tops would be fuzzy - an upper layer blocking the true, blue, unblemished sky. As I approached the hurricane-blasted landscape of the Bolivar Peninsula, I found the break I was looking for, but the prize eluded me ? as I soared up and out of the dark prison below, the haze became thicker, and there was no joy to be found ? a wing-over sent me back down to the good visibility above the water. I reversed course, and headed to the southwest.
I passed over Texas City and headed down towards the coastal salt-grass prairie, shafts of sunlight now more prevalent than they had been just twenty minutes before. True-blue sky appeared in the breaks, and things were looking up. At last, as I neared my favorite practice area, a hole appeared bigger than all the rest, large enough for my purposes - large enough to be legal. The energy was there and the Valkyrie knew where she wanted to be ? on top, in the vast expanse of blue! Two thousand feet of cloud disappeared below us in less than a minute, and the previous 30 minutes of darkness were but a memory. Things were looking up, and I was looking down ? then up ? then down ? then up! Rolls and loops above the clouds, with one eye on my favorite break, and an occasional glance at the moving map to make sure we stayed clear of the class B. All too soon, the hole showed signs of packing it in, and it was time to go home. It was almost as if the atmosphere had cleared a spot for me for just a little while, holding back the seething turmoil of moisture long enough to give me the few moments of clarity I sought.
The strong, gusty wind blew directly across our narrow runway for much of the rest of the day ? a cooling breeze for working in the hangar ? the atmosphere?s payback for a few minutes of joy in the blue.
Paul
I launched and immediately started looking for sunlight on the ground ahead. There were breaks in the fairly solid cumulous layer, but none of them were very large. Pounding along below the ceilings - the prop and power pulled back to 75%, and leaned out to save some gas ? I was searching for a break big enough to climb to the blue sky I could see up above. The layer looked to be only a couple thousand feet thick, but because of the winds, none of the holes were vertical ? the clouds were falling and tumbling over one another, the shapes changing as you watched. Trying to climb up through one of those was asking for trouble ? certainly you?d never maintain legal clearance, and just as certainly, the hole would be gone before you turned around to head back down!
My usual trick is to head for Galveston Bay ? a large expanse of water that frequently stays clear when cumulous build out of the moisture rising from the land. I could see sunlight on the water as I got close, but alas ? the wind was driving the clouds so quickly that they flooded over the bay from the other side and blocked my way to the clear blue skies. I slid swiftly over the miles of water, heading east, seeing brighter and brighter patches of water. The blue above appeared more frequently, but it was a paler blue, and I could tell that the tops would be fuzzy - an upper layer blocking the true, blue, unblemished sky. As I approached the hurricane-blasted landscape of the Bolivar Peninsula, I found the break I was looking for, but the prize eluded me ? as I soared up and out of the dark prison below, the haze became thicker, and there was no joy to be found ? a wing-over sent me back down to the good visibility above the water. I reversed course, and headed to the southwest.
I passed over Texas City and headed down towards the coastal salt-grass prairie, shafts of sunlight now more prevalent than they had been just twenty minutes before. True-blue sky appeared in the breaks, and things were looking up. At last, as I neared my favorite practice area, a hole appeared bigger than all the rest, large enough for my purposes - large enough to be legal. The energy was there and the Valkyrie knew where she wanted to be ? on top, in the vast expanse of blue! Two thousand feet of cloud disappeared below us in less than a minute, and the previous 30 minutes of darkness were but a memory. Things were looking up, and I was looking down ? then up ? then down ? then up! Rolls and loops above the clouds, with one eye on my favorite break, and an occasional glance at the moving map to make sure we stayed clear of the class B. All too soon, the hole showed signs of packing it in, and it was time to go home. It was almost as if the atmosphere had cleared a spot for me for just a little while, holding back the seething turmoil of moisture long enough to give me the few moments of clarity I sought.
The strong, gusty wind blew directly across our narrow runway for much of the rest of the day ? a cooling breeze for working in the hangar ? the atmosphere?s payback for a few minutes of joy in the blue.
Paul
