Going with the flow

Come fly with me for a few minutes on one of my favorite flights. We're headed down the Willamette River on its way north to the Columbia River, 160 miles distant. Since 1850, this river basin has undergone dramatic change. It's now home to Oregon's premier agricultural area and nearly 70 percent of its population. Only about a third of the floodplain forest remains and the southern end of the river, where we are, has lost 60 percent of the channel area and as much or more of the islands. As Oregon State professor extraordinaire Stan Gregory says, "We took what was a complex, braided system and turned it into a pipe." And fortunately for me, as I fly along, that knowledge fails to dampen my wonder at the richly-alive and ever-changing world created by melting snow finding its way to the ocean.  It is, after all, still quite a beautiful pipe.

The Three Sisters on a better hair day

The Three Sisters (North, Middle and South, or more poetically, Faith, Hope and Charity) earlier in the year before their flanks were smothered with smoke from forest fires. Each of these volcanic peaks is over 10,000 feet. In Oregon, only Mount Hood and Mount Jefferson are taller. South Sister erupted most recently -- 20,000 years ago -- and it's shown some signs of life in the last 10 years. A geologist told me that living on the other side of these 3 siblings in nearby Bend was like living with a shotgun pointed at your head. But then, in the immortal words of Roseanne Roseannadanna, "It just goes to show ya, it's always something."

Fire in the air

The flames from a wildfire burning in the Deschutes National Forest just beyond the 3 peaks on the horizon (the Three Sisters) that charred over 25,000 acres of ground didn't reach this high into the air. But on this morning, the heavy smoke from this terrestrial combustion combined with a rising sun to replicate that fiery cataclysm in the sky.  

A look westward

One of the things that I love about where I live in Oregon is that I can reach this vista (Yaquina Head) by driving west for somewhat over an hour, and by venturing in the opposite direction for an hour longer I can be at the trailhead to the meadows below Mt. Jefferson seen in an earlier post. Both are much closer by AirCam not through any great speed advantage, which doesn't exist, but through the freedom flight grants to cut corners.

Water droplet topography

I'm fascinated by the topography and textures of clouds, particularly as seen from above. When I enter these landscapes of water droplets, I'm transported to worlds unlike anything I've known with my feet planted firmly on Earth. 

Dark sky comfort

Where would you rather be? Under these dark clouds or out in the clear skies ahead? I tend to seek out the grayscale world rendered by low overcasts for the comfort they provide. Just all of a piece, I guess, with my distrust of optimism, early interest in Russian literature and discomfort with bright, sunny personalities.

Cascades summer

The lakes and meadows at the foot of Mount Jefferson lay under a blanket of snow even in mid-July this year. Although springtime snowpack has decreased by as much as 25 percent in the Pacific Northwest over the last 50 years, melt-out was late this year. The persistent remnants of winter tightly compressed summer in the high country and produced a September synchrony of wildflower blooming, so that when Kate and I backpacked into Jefferson Park last week we were greeted unexpectedly with a profusion of color -- which you'll just have to imagine since we left the AirCam behind.

The making of Views From Aloft

With this post, aerial video makes it debut on the blog. I've condensed to a mere 90 seconds the incredibly complex process by which I'm able to capture the photos seen on Views From Aloft. (Actually, this is just an excuse to provide some footage of me flying the AirCam, including a landing for aficionados of that phase of flight.)

Close encounters

A morning of heavy overcast, which promised somber vistas with little interplay between light and clouds, yielded this delightful surprise. A close encounter with unexpected beauty.

Summer solstice sunrise

Not the earliest sunrise of the year, which happens at our latitude about a week before the summer solstice, but I still had to get up at 3:45AM to get this photo. I love the quiet stillness of early morning before the sun's glare stirs the air into a turbulent amusement park ride and awakens an airport filled with pilots addicted to tailwind take-offs and landings.

More hot air

I love the image of balloons drifting aimlessly over the landscape, but I'm too attached to the illusion of having control over things to be tempted into this type of flying. I mean, I suppose it also would be deliriously carefree to pilot a sailboat without the benefit of rudder and centerboard. 

The lower balloon might have resonated with many at the Republican Convention, but I think Jesus would have spoken out against the jaw-dropping hypocrisy and shameless lies of the party's standard-bearers. I expect the hot air flowing from the Democrats this week will be better: just the usual, largely-accepted hypocrisy of appearing to care about the words they mouth before they resume working on behalf of their corporate sponsors. WWJD, indeed.

Balloons at the Northwest Art and Air Festival

At the close of the Republican Convention, I thought you might like seeing hot air being put to a more constructive and enjoyable use over Albany, Oregon.