Inspired by our March 2016 cover story by James Fallows, “How America Is Putting Itself Back Together,” readers share their best aerial photos from across the U.S. Submit your own via email@example.com. (Please provide the location, the story behind the photo, and the largest file size you have. Horizontal photos with a bit of the plane visible—a wing, the edge of a window—are ideal. Terms and Conditions here.)
I saw you got a blimp, but do you have one from a seaplane? [CB note: Yep—we’ve posted twophotos from seaplanes but we posted them after this email came in, so our reader couldn’t have seen them.] This view is coming in to “land” on Lake Chelan, Washington [the largest lake in the state], from the cockpit of a Dehavilland Beaver. We did an air tour of the Glaciers of the North Cascades two years ago.
A soda lake or alkaline lake is a lake on the strongly alkaline side of neutrality (in other words, a pH value above 7, typically between 9 - 12). They are characterized by high concentrations of carbonate salts, typically sodium carbonate (and related salt complexes), giving rise to their alkalinity. The resulting hypersaline and highly alkalic soda lakes are considered some of the most extreme aquatic environments on Earth.
Nick Knobil sends this photo taken over—or is it under?—Mt. Washington, New Hampshire:
I am the pilot. The photographer was the then 89-year-old Don “Mac” McKibben. I saw your America by Air series and noticed that [today, April 9] is the first anniversary of Mac’s death. I miss that guy.
Mac flew P-47s and P-51s with the 352nd Fighter Group over Europe during WW2. He worked for Eastman Kodak from before the war until he retired. He always had the latest digital camera gear … a thoroughly modern guy. And he never lost his “let’s go!” love of flying.
When I asked Nick what maneuver he was making in the photo, he replied:
I honestly don’t remember—barrel roll, aileron roll, or loop. Mac and I would whoop and holler …
I found a Facebook post that Nick wrote a year ago today—a tribute to his flying buddy:
Our pal Don “Mac” McKibben died this afternoon. His eldest son, Frank, was with him.
Don grew up a poor kid in upstate New York during the Depression, and like so many of us, grew up with a fascination of flight that lasted throughout his long life. He soloed a Piper J-3 Cub in the winter 1940 (the J-3 at that time, you remember, was a new design) in Hornell, New York through the Civilian Pilot Training program, and within two years (and with a little help from the USAAC) he was flying the most powerful, advanced fighter aircraft in the world. He was 21.
He was a part of the big fight; a founding member of the 21st Fighter Squadron, which became the 486th, one of the three squadrons that comprised the 352nd Fighter Group: the “Blue Nosed Bastards of Bodney.” Google it.
And then he came home, got married to his childhood sweetheart, raised three sons who’ve had sons and daughters of their own, and worked his whole career at Kodak.
If you knew him you knew he was well read, erudite, loved jazz music and a special martini he called the “Silver Bullet”. He had his last one yesterday.
This evening I had my first “Silver Bullet” knowing that I would never be able to solve the world’s problems over one with him again. The first “Bullet” was the worst one ever. The second one? Not so bad.
Keep ‘em flying.
(America by Air archive here. Submission guidelines here.)
Here is a view of the Missouri River, just north of Kansas City, that illustrates the runoff from a continental-sized glacier. The Missouri is “underfit,” meaning that the modern stream flows through a valley that was created by an ancestral river many times its present size.
The modern-day Missouri River, which has been channelized by a massive civil engineering project aimed at promoting navigation and flood control, is dwarfed by its valley, which cuts a massive scar across the middle of the country that in places is over 25 miles wide. Here it averages about 10 miles across.
As the last glacier receded, its melt-water would have filled the valley from rim to rim during the summer months. During the winter, its flow slowed down and a braided stream like the one in New Zealand left the valley mostly sand. Tremendous spring winds, created in part by the temperature variation over the diminished glacier to the northeast, created epic sandstorms that deposited several hundred feet of fine grained silt on the eastern border of the river valley. Ten thousand years of erosion have created the Loess Hills, a relatively unique geologic feature of sharp sided mounds without a rock anywhere.
This is one of my favorites, taken six years ago while flying to the Dry Tortugas from Key West. We’re flying over the sea of mud, where the sea still holds the secrets of hidden treasures from Spanish shipwrecks in the area.
He adds, “You can see the shadow of our seaplane.” That detail really makes it. Speaking of plane shadows, here’s another one to add to our growingcollection:
This is from an RV-8 taking off from Rockland, Maine. I usually stow my camera during take-offs and landings, so I missed this shot when we arrived. I couldn’t wait to take off again before the light changed!
I asked her if she had a good photo handy of the tiny RV-8, “a tandem two-seat, single-engine, low-wing homebuilt aircraft sold in kit form by Van’s Aircraft.” Indeed she did:
I snapped this shot (using my phone) of the Charlotte skyline shortly after we had taken off on a flight to Tampa in January 2015. Not a very exciting story, but I thought it turned out to be a cool picture.
Not sure if I’ve missed it, but with all the piston, turbo, jet, land, and seaplane [and blimp! and paraglider! and helicopter! and skyscraper!] photos, I don’t think I've seen one from a glider! Here’s one I took a few years ago over Boulder, Colorado, on aerotow behind a Super Cub on a winter afternoon. Note the critical instrument visible on the right: the humble yaw string.
Also known as a slip string, it’s a simple device for indicating a slip or skid in an aircraft in flight. It performs the same function as the slip-skid indicator ball, but is more sensitive, and does not require the pilot to look down at the instrument panel. Technically, it measures sideslip angle, not yaw angle, but this indicates how the aircraft must be yawed to return the sideslip angle to zero. It is typically constructed from a short piece or tuft of yarn placed in the free air stream where it is visible to the pilot.
The yaw string is considered a primary flight reference instrument on gliders, which must be flown with near zero sideslip angle to reduce drag as much as possible. It is valued for its high sensitivity, and the fact that it is presented in a head-up display. Even the most sophisticated modern racing sailplanes are fitted with yaw strings by their pilots, who reference them constantly throughout the flight.
Does drone photography qualify for “America by Air”? This was taken on 3/29/2016 while I was flying for the Anniston Army Depot. (Don’t worry, the depot itself is out of frame, to the left—although eagle-eyed viewers may notice some M113 variants to the left.) The stand of cleared trees in the bottom left is to become a solar power site, which is why I was out there.
The mountain in the picture is Coldwater Mountain, site of silver-level mountain biking trails and a natural spring which provides much of the community its water. Although not visible, behind Coldwater Mountain lies Mount Cheaha, Alabama’s highest peak (the range it is a part of is visible in the background). On the other side of Coldwater are the cities of Anniston and Oxford, nestled in a valley.
The picture itself isn’t one of masterful composition, but both the colors and natural beauty strike me.
Lucas double-checked with the Army about posting and followed up:
They did clear the picture for publication and sent along some general information about the depot in case your readers wanted some additional information. I’ve quoted them here:
Nestled in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, Anniston Army Depot is a U.S. Army maintenance center and munitions storage site occupying more than 25 square miles of land. ANAD is the Department of Defense’s Center of Industrial and Technical Excellence for combat vehicles, including assault bridging, artillery and small caliber weapons, and locomotives, rail equipment and non-tactical generators.
The installation operates mission and base operations functions under TACOM Life Cycle Management Command. It serves and supports a number of customers: active duty, reserve component, and joint service Soldiers and Marines; retirees; DoD civilians; families of servicemembers; contractors; and volunteers. ANAD is proud of its rich history, whereas this year marks its diamond anniversary—seventy-five years of dedication while playing a vital role in our nation’s defense mission.
And the depot continues to do amazing things! The Department of Defense has launched several initiatives to reduce its fossil fuel dependence by improving energy efficiency and shifting to renewable energy to meet operational and installation needs. Recently, the depot took an additional step to not only meet, but exceed the Army’s goals of renewable energy while enhancing national security. The Office of Energy Initiatives, Alabama Power Company and the depot, in coordination with General Services Administration Corp of Engineers and the Mission and Installation Contracting Command, are developing a solar project capable of producing up to 10 megawatt alternating current at the depot. This ground breaking takes place in April and commercial operation is expected in the fall.
I’m really enjoying your America by Air feature and thought you might enjoy these pictures I grabbed during a Delta 837 flight from Atlanta to Honolulu. The flight takes off around 11 AM (EST) and everyone was asleep by the time things got exciting, around 1 PM (EST). At this point the entire flight is dark and silent except for my wide-open window and my excited squealing as we fly over the start of Glen Canyon (picture #1) on through southern Utah (#2). I think southern Utah is some of the most beautiful landscape I’ve seen from the air, not to mention the ground, and I definitely recommend grabbing a window seat on the left-hand side if you ever get to take this trip.
Federal officials, the states of Oregon and California, and the utility PacifiCorp signed a pair of agreements [on April 6] opening the way for removal of a whopping four hydroelectric dams on the Klamath River, which flows from Oregon through Northern California. [...] Congress authorized the [Glen Canyon Dam’s] construction on this day [April 11] in 1956, and about seven months later, then-president Dwight D. Eisenhower pressed a telegraph key in the Oval Office, sending the signal to blast a string of dynamite wedged in the side of a sinuous canyon. Boulders sprayed through the air at Arizona’s northern border, and workers began drilling a tunnel to temporarily redirect the flow of the Colorado River while they built the base of the dam. Monstrous Lake Powell filled in behind the 710-foot dam, drowning Glen Canyon’s otherworldly red-rock amphitheaters and slot canyons under its silty depths.
This time, instead of a biplane over Kilaeua, it’s a helicopter over Kauai, specifically the Na Pali Coast, a chain of mountains in the northwest of Kauai. This picture shows a good example of the popup waterfalls you get after rain showers in the islands.
Ideally we want to see part of the aircraft in these aerial photos, but this one from reader Rama is way too good to pass up:
Here’s a favorite of mine taken four years ago in the Outer Banks. This is Cape Lookout Lighthouse. The Light at Cape Hatteras gets all the attention, being the tallest in the U.S., but Cape Lookout Lighthouse is my favorite. The beauty of the Outer Banks and its lighthouses can be appreciated best from above. This was on a custom lighthouse tour that took us around six iconic lights of the OBX.
My family and I used to vacation once a year in nearby Duck when I was in middle school, so the Outer Banks looms large in my memory. If you, like Rama, have a great aerial photo from the OBX to share, or in general have a memorable view above your childhood vacation spot, please send: firstname.lastname@example.org (submission guidelines here).
Justices love to proclaim their impartiality, all evidence to the contrary.
Justice Amy Coney Barrett is offended by those questioning the impartiality of the Supreme Court.
“This Court is not comprised of a bunch of partisan hacks,” she announced at a recent event at the University of Louisville’s McConnell Center, named for Senator Mitch McConnell. “Judicial philosophies are not the same as political parties.”
For Barrett to insist on her nonpartisanship at a center named for the legislator whose procedural hardball was instrumental in securing her seat suggests that, although Barrett’s peers have praised her legal mind, her sense of irony leaves something to be desired. But then, it’s not much more absurd than her colleague Justice Brett Kavanaugh insisting on his impartiality days after vowing revenge against the left while under oath. Similarly, Justice Clarence Thomas recently warned against “destroying our institutions because they don’t give us what we want, when we want it,” complaining that “the media makes it sound as though you are just always going right to your personal preference.” Next month, Thomas will give a keynote address at a symposium celebrating his years on the Court at the right-wing Heritage Foundation, alongside McConnell.
This has become a common refrain among the cautious—and it’s wrong.
For many fully vaccinated Americans, the Delta surge spoiled what should’ve been a glorious summer. Those who had cast their masks aside months ago were asked to dust them off. Many are still taking no chances. Some have even returned to all the same precautions they took before getting their shots, including avoiding the company of other fully vaccinated people.
Among this last group, a common refrain I’ve heard to justify their renewed vigilance is that “vaccinated people are just as likely to spread the coronavirus.”
This misunderstanding, born out of confusing statements from public-health authorities and misleading media headlines, is a shame. It is resulting in unnecessary fear among vaccinated people, all the while undermining the public’s understanding of the importance—and effectiveness—of getting vaccinated.
The former president could still win fair and square if Biden lets these five problems spiral.
Are constitutionally committed Americans doing all they can to prevent a pro-Trump plot to pervert the 2024 election?
But along with that question, here’s another: Are constitutionally committed Americans doing all they can to prevent Donald Trump from winning the 2024 election fair and square?
The Biden administration’s numbers are slumping in the fall of 2021, opening the way for Republican gains in 2022 and the return of the twice-impeached ex-president as a presidential nominee. The schemes and machinations of the pro-Trump movement are part of the story. But if we’re heading toward a crisis of the republic, the mistakes and misfortunes of the anti-Trump coalition deserve a mention as well.
A conversation with the former Google CEO Eric Schmidt
For years now, artificial intelligence has been hailed as both a savior and a destroyer. The technology really can make our lives easier, letting us summon our phones with a “Hey, Siri” and (more importantly) assisting doctors on the operating table. But as any science-fiction reader knows, AI is not an unmitigated good: It can be prone to the same racial biases as humans are, and, as is the case with self-driving cars, it can be forced to make murky split-second decisions that determine who lives and who dies. Like it or not, AI is only going to become an even more omnipresent force: We’re in a “watershed moment” for the technology, says Eric Schmidt, the former Google CEO.
Schmidt is a longtime fixture in a tech industry that seems to constantly be in a state of upheaval. He was the first software manager at Sun Microsystems, in the 1980s, and the CEO of the former software giant Novell in the ’90s. He joined Google as CEO in 2001, then was the company’s executive chairman from 2011 until 2017. Since leaving Google, Schmidt has made AI his focus: In 2018, he wrote in The Atlantic about the need to prepare for the AI boom, along with his co-authors Henry Kissinger, the former secretary of state, and the MIT dean Daniel Huttenlocher. The trio have followed up that story with The Age of AI, a book about how AI will transform how we experience the world, coming out in November.
Facebook is acting like a hostile foreign power; it’s time we treated it that way.
In 1947, Albert Einstein, writing in this magazine, proposed the creation of a single world government to protect humanity from the threat of the atomic bomb. His utopian idea did not take hold, quite obviously, but today, another visionary is building the simulacrum of a cosmocracy.
Mark Zuckerberg, unlike Einstein, did not dream up Facebook out of a sense of moral duty, or a zeal for world peace. This summer, the population of Zuckerberg’s supranational regime reached 2.9 billion monthly active users, more humans than live in the world’s two most populous nations—China and India—combined.
To Zuckerberg, Facebook’s founder and CEO, they are citizens of Facebookland. Long ago he conspicuously started calling them “people” instead of “users,” but they are still cogs in an immense social matrix, fleshy morsels of data to satisfy the advertisers that poured $54 billion into Facebook in the first half of 2021 alone—a sum that surpasses the gross domestic products of most nations on Earth.
While some Pfizer recipients can now get an extra shot, federal officials are still mum on what’s next for the at-risk individuals who got Moderna or J&J.
For some of us, booster shots have finally arrived. But they’ve charted quite a meandering course to get here. First, last month, President Joe Biden announced that most Americans would be able to nab third doses of mRNA vaccines eight months after their second shots. Then, last week the FDA narrowed the eligible population, before a CDC advisory committee suggested tightening the boundaries even further. Hours after that panel shared its recommendation, the agency’s director, Rochelle Walensky, reversed course and ballooned the guidance back out to more closely align with the FDA’s much broader guidelines—though she stopped short of urging the shots for everyone.
It is all, frankly, a bit confusing. Millions of Americans are now in a sort of immunological limbo, wondering which expert advice to heed, and how soon to reroll up their sleeve, as the guidance coming from up top shifts seemingly by the day. Boosters are, at this point, offering more whiplash than protection. I spoke with Walensky today at The Atlantic Festival to see if we could make sense of some of the current situation—her unconventional move to break from the advisory committee’s guidance, and the tough choices millions of Americans face as they navigate the months ahead.
One of the ocean’s top predators has met its match.
Filipa Samarra could hear the pilot whales before she could see them. In 2015, out on the choppy waters off of southern Iceland, Samarra and her research team were eavesdropping on a group of killer whales. She listened as they pipped, squealed, and clicked when suddenly her ears were filled with high-pitched whistling. “Then the killer whales just went silent,” says Samarra, a biologist and the lead investigator of the Icelandic Orca Project. As the whistling grew stronger, a group of pilot whales came into view, and the killer whales seemed to turn and swim away.
“It’s quite unusual because the killer whale is this top predator,” says Anna Selbmann, a doctoral candidate at the University of Iceland who is supervised by Samarra. “It’s very unusual that they’re afraid of anything—or seemingly afraid.”
The controversial cult brand LuLaRoe sold a powerful idea: that mothers could succeed as entrepreneurs while spending meaningful time with their kids.
People who have heard of LuLaRoe have usually come across it for one of two reasons. Either someone they know has tried to sell them the company’s stretchy leggings and fit-and-flare dresses over Facebook, or they’ve seen some of the gleeful coverage of LuLaRoe’s very public disintegration as a brand: the lawsuits, the bankruptcies filed by its sellers, the boxes of apparently moldy clothing shipped to vendors that smelled, in one woman’s description, like a “dead fart.” (Leggings! Never not controversial!) Much of LuLaRich, a new four-part Amazon series exploring the company’s rise and fall, focuses on its alleged mismanagement and manipulative aspects, grouping it with some of the splashier docuseries of years past. No one at LuLaRoe seems to have found themselves getting the area above their groin branded, or poisoning an Oregon salad bar with salmonella. But in one scene, a former LuLaRoe vendor recalls a company meetup where everyone assembled was, like her, wearing brightly patterned leggings and a broad, be-lipsticked smile. “I remember looking around and being like, We all look the same,” she tells the camera. “I was like, Oh my God, I’m in a cult.”
Some of the plots to overturn the election happened in secret. But don’t forget the ones that unfolded in the open.
Last year, John Eastman, whom CNN describes as an attorney working with Donald Trump’s legal team, wrote a preposterous memo outlining how then–Vice President Mike Pence could overturn the 2020 election by fiat or, failing that, throw the election to the House of Representatives, where Republicans could install Trump in office despite his loss to Joe Biden. The document, which was first reported by the Washington Post journalists Bob Woodward and Robert Costa in their new book, is a step-by-step plan to overthrow the government of the United States through a preposterous interpretation of legal procedure.
Pence apparently took the idea seriously—so seriously, in fact, that, according to Woodward and Costa, former Vice President Dan Quayle had to talk him out of it. Prior to November, the possibility of Trump attempting a coup was seen as the deranged fever dream of crazed liberals. But as it turns out, Trump and his advisers had devised explicit plans for reversing Trump’s loss. Republican leaders deliberately stoked election conspiracy theories they knew to be false, in order to lay a political pretext for invalidating the results. Now, more than 10 months after the election, the country knows of at least five ways in which Trump attempted to retain power despite his defeat.
A group called Counterweight assists people who feel that their bosses and co-workers are forcing them to endorse social-justice beliefs.
Helen Pluckrose is a former academic who became famous for pranking the academy. Three years ago Pluckrose, who previously researched medieval religious writing, joined with the scholars James Lindsay and Peter Boghossian to concoct some fake scientific studies on outlandish topics, such as rape culture among dogs. They loaded the papers with phrasing such as “because of my own situatedness as a human, rather than as a dog,” and submitted them to peer-reviewed journals. Seven of the papers were accepted for publication. The exercise had its critics, but to the hoaxers, the stunt suggested that journals in the humanities are so blinded by ideology that they’ll publish anything that confirms their worldview.