LIGHTNING 'ROUND

We who soar from Crystalaire think it's the best year-round site in America, and here's an example of why. You know how some days OD so early there's time left for a whole 'nother cycle afterward? Well this particular double up was not just that summer's stormiest day, it would also become officially the hottest ever recorded in the LA basin. It's a matter of record.

At noon a first time guest named Judy arrived for a scheduled intro flight. North of Crystal the Mojave sky was blooming with perfect cumulus five to ten miles apart clear over the horizon. South of us, our normal playground in the San Gabriel Mountains had already overdeveloped, spawning light thundershowers and blanketing the airport in shade. With other flights scheduled for later, we chose not to wait for an approaching shower to pass, intending to play in the sun and watch from a distance, then come back in when it moved away. Judy was glad for the chance to experience more than an ordinary tourist ride. After a tow to sunlit ground nearby, we crept along the shade's margin, steadily climbing in weak lift until high enough to run under a fat cu. There we found a standard-10 knot smoothie and very soon were two miles up, near the thousand foot minimum for separation from cloud base.  Back at Crystal that original disturbance was dissipating as expected – but another was already rumbling in the hills. Meanwhile, clouds towering above other mountains were quickly shading much of the desert in several directions. It was easy to stay high anywhere, so the challenge now was avoiding trouble within practical reach of home. I decided to go southeast. That quadrant offered more sun, more lift and more room to move, and would keep us upwind of many desert landing strips. Also, if our whole neighborhood closed in, we could glide down Cajon Pass, toward a selection of airports 2,000 feet lower. This was one of those rare moments when the whole sky is swelling like yeasty bread and even sink seems to be going up. We were cruising always above 12,000 MSL, in comfy shade much of the time, never stopping to circle. As Crystal slipped behind on our right, sparks intensified within a deepening black wall. We were safe, but beginning to realize that this `half-hour' flight might last much longer. Judy was delighted, if naively so. And me too, but I began to worry about what any misjudgment on my part might lead to later in the day… Open sky led between the San Gabriel and San Bernardino ranges, but back where we came from direct sunlight was almost gone. Leaving the desert, we passed over a brush fire started by lightning and watched an angry gust front attacking Hesperia airport. No going there anytime soon! Beyond all high terrain, we were now above the forming edge of a still growing line of cu-nims that stretched beyond sight up the coast. Such immense volumes of heated air rising from low valleys left us floating above shoals of popcorn at the storm's intake. It felt similar to wave, oddly, consisting of solid lift everywhere by the cubic mile. At our furthest point, we'd flown around the San Gabriels and were over the 210 freeway heading west beside a tower of exploding ivory, surely visible hundreds of miles out at sea  At about that same time some official observer down there was recording 119 degrees Fahrenheit! We were cool. But getting home? We could coast along the sides of these monsters until they fade away, but that would put us completely out of contact with our local area. (And then there's LAX's mode C vail...) Hoping it wasn't already too late, we swung around and began searching for soggy bread crums. The deeper we flew back into the desert, the fewer would be our options. The first airport we could see within easy range of home was Krey Field, shaded yet still free of lightning or heavy rain. But remember that gust front we saw earlier? It was now marching double time toward Krey Field, twenty miles from where we first saw it. Visions of landing safely and then being bombed by a violent sandstorm made alternatives less convenient seem more attractive. Still cruising above 12,000 feet, we hadn't circled for an hour when through a gray cloud canyon we spotted Crystal again in a pocket between dark cells. If we hurried we could be there before the next one hit. It would not be a direct route, though, because of lightning between there and here. At 100 knots indicated (true airspeed more than 140 MPH), we ran a few miles further north to skirt that squall – losing no altitude. Then from twenty miles out and 9,000 feet above the threshold we turned onto a high speed final. The friendly dirt strip at Brian Ranch waited four miles closer in case of killer sink, but we sped over it tail high.Rolling to a stop, coin-sized raindrops began to pelt the canopy. We tied the bird down and ran for shelter just as the next downpour began. In two or three hours the sky would be brilliant again, thermals beckoning.

We had flown well over a hundred miles in not much more than an hour, from a low start, and circled in only one thermal. Timing, sometimes, is everything, and if the sun's up at Crystal it's almost always time for some excellent soaring! Just ask Judy.