Chinook

  Mid-morning. Starbucks drive through. Tall Americano and a lemon poppyseed loaf.

  Typically I have to be in the flight planning room busily smacking at the computer keyboard and fretting about fuel loads long before the guy who unlocks the Starbucks in the morning has even had his morning pee. Today is a noon check-in and I think I will take advantage.
  Four hours later at FL270 we're crossing the 49th parallel northbound in smooth air which is unusual considering the crosswind that is roaring from the west. Our track over the ground is 013 degrees yet we are steering almost due (magnetic) North. That is about thirty degrees to the left. The associated mountain wave activity has our airspeed and pitch rolling up and down like a ship at sea. I select the 'soft ride' mode on the auto pilot to mitigate discomfort in the back end of the airplane.
  As we pass over an airport enroute, I can just make out a company airplane far below parked on the ramp all tented up and plugged in for the day. My eyeballs move just slightly and I see some long white treeless blocks of snow looking unnatural relative to the rest of the mountains in the area - a ski hill. I'm sure business is good for them these days with the tremendous amount of snow they've received so far this winter. I can't actually make out any riders but the parking lot is half full so they must be down there somewhere.
  We're coming up on the arrival now and the ATIS states in its indifferent monotone manner to expect turbulence all quadrants. Wind is 260 degrees, 24 knots gusting to 38 knots. I guess that airflow has made its way to the surface.
  We get cleared to a lower altitude and are warned again of the impending churning chaos awaiting us 10,000 feet below reported in 'all quadrants' by 'all types'. I can't help but think they must be wrong, it is such a smooth ride at the moment and everything looks pristine from our perch. I turn around and tell everyone in the back it's going to get rough and to put everything away and tighten their seatbelts. Well, time to slow down to 'turbulence penetration speed'. I pull the power levers back while holding the gear horn silencing button and slow the rate of descent slightly. A few minutes later we're at a crawling pace and I start to get impatient and wonder if I'm wasting time with this, its probably not that bad. I then look out my window and see this one little cloud that gets my attention. Generally I'm not afraid of clouds, but this little one is all rolled up into a ball and I can watch it rotating. That's bad. Five seconds later, there it is. Bang. We hit the s**t storm. The punches come one after another. I feel like a speedbag.
  We get changed over to arrival frequency and check-in. Everyone other than ATC who is talking on the radio sounds like they're beating their chests with their fists while they speak, us included. We're given vectors and advised to expect the bumps 'all the way to the gate'. Nice.
  Finally we turn the 180 degree corner to final and watch the ground speed bleed off wildly - at least we're still going forward. Cleared to land. I brief that we're going to land with some extra airspeed (for mom). 1000 feet and we're configured for landing. We hear a Boeing ahead of us inform tower that they experienced negative performace windshear in the last 800 feet. Then tower says 'hey you in the beech, did you catch that?' Sure did thanks.
  Well, they were telling the truth, we got it at about 900 feet. Airspeed bleeding off, groundspeed and sink rate increasing. My right hand pushes on the power levers. Push more. More. My mouth was just forming the words go-around when, with all that power in there, the airplane's descent rate slowed and I got it back on glideslope. Two red and two white lights on the left side PAPI's before we crossed the company mandated stable approach threshold of 500 feet AGL.
  The two behind us landed, but the two after that went missed due to windshear.

I have the next few days off, maybe I'll take a drive and check out that ski hill..