The warning arrived on time.
Before we even took off, one of the pilots informed me that the trip would be turbulent. He forecasted that the rapidly intensifying storm will create many twisters and considerable turbulence.
Forewarned is forearmed. Even though Hurricane Dorian was a Category 5 storm, I was able to ride it out over the Bahamas with the US Air Force Reserve hurricane hunters in 2019. As a result, the bigger the storm, the worse the ride may not necessarily be.
The WC-130J Hercules jet of the 53rd Weather Reconnaissance Squadron took off from Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi, Mississippi, about 11 p.m. ET on Tuesday.
Hurricane Idalia, a Category 3 hurricane with 125 mph sustained winds, is projected to make landfall in Florida’s Big Bend region about 7:45 a.m. on Wednesday, near the panhandle and peninsula. From Tampa to the Big Bend, the storm surge shattered all prior records.
Changing direction in the air
The flight to the outer bands of the storm over the Gulf Coast was remarkably rapid. It took us around 30 minutes to reach the front lines.
Our aircraft was immediately redirected by the National Hurricane Center, sending us into the center of the storm rather than the scheduled entry point.
The landfall flight was the voyage made before the storm made landfall. Our flight was only supposed to last roughly eight hours. We were in the air for little over ten hours. The hurricane center decided to keep us in the eye of the storm as long as possible before impact, and then they assigned us to beach patrols, which included flying very low over the shoreline to gather wind shear and temperature data. We must have circled the Florida coast a dozen times.
First Lieutenant Zach McDermott, a pilot with the 53rd Weather Reconnaissance Squadron, told me to get as much time in the jump seat as possible before we took off. He seemed to be anticipating obstacles along the road. Everyone on board was wonderful. I was allowed to listen in on the on-board meteorologist, navigator, flight director, and pilot conversations using the headphones they supplied me.
Everyone’s job was so specialized. Because he or she is paid to wipe the radar screen, the in-flight meteorologist has the best job on the plane. As soon as we break through the storm’s outer layer, he shifts to the radar to look for tornadoes and extreme turbulence. So that we don’t smash into a tornado inside the storm, he alerts the navigator of its location, and the navigator instructs the pilot on how to avoid it.
This is how things work in movies.
My one and only out-of-body experience occurred on the flight deck with the pilots. The majority of our flight was overcast. Both the lightning and hail that struck the plane were quite intense.
“We’re about to go through the eye wall,” said one of the crew members.
I’m now in the cockpit. “Check Altitude,” the flying controls cry as we swing and tremble. Check your height. Check your height. Increase the pace. “Full power ahead,” I thought. “This is what happens in movies.”
And those pilots just maintained their cool and steered us through it safely. Truly amazing. Everyone on board the plane seemed to float for a short moment as we plummeted rapidly after striking a pocket. We had the sensation of flying. Once again, the storm watchers were unconcerned. I sat there, a little part of myself leaving my body.
I’m a bit of a thrill seeker, and I almost joined the Navy to learn to be a fighter pilot. As a journalist, my ultimate objective is to join them and spread the word about their magnificence. That’s how I ended up riding Dorian. Everyone on this aircraft seemed to be quite serious. They most likely anticipated the situation’s complexity. That’s when I understood I needed to retain my calm and attempt to match their tone. That’s what I suppose you could say I did. We saw a dramatic drop in only a few seconds. It’s just a little detail.
“That was pretty intense,” said one of the crew members.
“Yes, it was the biggest bump I’d ever felt,” another person stated.
To put it another way: “What do you think, Victoria?”
It was, to put it nicely, crazy. I spent the whole time trying not to breathe.
“Cat 4 is here,” in other terms.
The strong turbulence that signaled the storm’s rapid escalation was followed by data from meteorological buoys and sensors that monitor temperature, pressure, wind speed, and humidity.
The pilot verified the news after reaching Cat 4.
We quickly advanced from Category 2 to Category 4. We were in the quiet before the storm for about eight hours. Simply breaking the eye wall in many locations and then drifting back to the eye proper. We all stood up when we were smack in the middle of it. They would be given a glass of water.
Everything was strangely calm within the sight. We did not encounter any turbulent air. As soon as we started to rock slightly, everyone rushed back to their jump seats. Our weaving pattern indicates when we’ve returned to the eye wall. The turbulence’s strength increased gradually, which you could feel. In every instance.
A massive airplane. When it does this, it leans rather far to one side. The ship shakes back and forth substantially, similar to being onboard a giant tanker in the middle of the ocean. A sharp descent is followed by an equally high rise. It will then migrate to the front. A little lowering of the nose will occur. Then there’s the enormous shaking caused by the very intense wind shear. You’ve managed to include everything here.
A pilot who is “kind of new to this”
The pilots sleep on the flight deck in small bunks. At any one time, two pilots will be sat behind the controls, while the other two will be forced to sleep in the rear. They switch shifts every two to three hours, depending on the length of the journey.
Those warriors continued to trek through some of our toughest turmoil, clinging to anything they could because they had a job to do. Nobody can stop working while there is turbulence since it is critical to the mission’s success and the aircraft’s safety. They should keep doing what they’re doing because it’s important. This was a serious situation. It was just business. The jet eventually landed at Keesler over the calm water after what seemed like an age. It felt good to be back on track.
The players was glad to be returning to their home base. After being on the aircraft with them for about 10 hours (from pre-flight briefing to landing and deplaning), the passengers appeared to breathe a sigh of relief as we landed down. Everything was in good humor. It was like unwinding after a hard day at the workplace.
McDermott has just recently joined the hurricane research team. He may be a new pilot, but he understands what he’s doing. What a terrific job he did. I was shocked to find that he had only been a member of the hurricane hunters for a year and a half.
Even when under stress, he kept his cool. And he had a backup plan ready to go. When we were in a potentially dangerous scenario, he transmitted information to everyone over the headsets gently and correctly.
“Will you send me some of the pictures you took from the flight deck?” they requested. “I’m kind of new to this,” he said, “so I don’t have a lot of pictures.”
