I’d gotten the call the day before: Category 3 Hurricane Isidore was churning through the Gulf of Mexico with winds of 125 mph, and a seat had opened up for me on one of the Orions. The next morning I reported to the base, where media relations contact Lori Sumner showed me to the plane. I was seated in the galley, and looking around, I noticed that the coffeepot on the counter was attached with steel straps. It wasn’t long before I found out why.

Isidore was approaching the Yucatan peninsula by the time we took to the air, and I had time to interview the flight crew on the way. We began deploying Dropsondes - cylinders packed with weather instruments that report the conditions they find as they parachute toward the ocean.

Then it was time to strap in as we approached the eye. For such an old plane, it’s remarkably resilient – but I’m not. When we hit the eyewall, the plane lurched a couple hundred feet straight up, then a comparable distance toward the drink, and was shaking so hard I couldn’t read the decals plastered on the galley walls. Finally, we were into the eye, and the ride smoothed out.

But Isidore had changed course and was now near landfall on the Yucatan, a bad place to be because of the tornadoes that often spin up when a hurricane hits shore. The captain advised us we’d be terminating the flight after penetrating the opposite eyewall, and after another few major jolts, we were headed back to Tampa as a gorgeous sunset faded over the Gulf.

On my return to NC I ended up in the hospital where surgeons relieved me of my appendix, which the rough flight had irritated, and before
long I was back to work. That’s another good thing about writing: no heavy lifting.