Watch the air thin as you climb.
A free density altitude calculator with live airport weather, plus an interactive atmosphere & hypoxia explorer, horsepower, power curve, and cabin altitude tools — built for pilots, students & AvGeeks.
Density altitude is the altitude your aircraft thinks it's at. On a hot day at a high-elevation field, thin air robs lift, propeller thrust, and engine power — even though your altimeter reads field elevation.
Educational estimates only — not for flight planning, dispatch, or weight-and-balance. Always fly the numbers in your POH and current official weather.
Drag the chart to set temperature — at this field and altimeter, density altitude climbs about 120 ft for every °C above standard.
DensityAlt is a set of free, no-signup aviation calculators. Explore the rest:
Density altitude is pressure altitude corrected for non-standard temperature — the altitude at which the air density you're flying in would occur in the standard atmosphere. On a hot day at a high field, density altitude can be thousands of feet above your actual elevation, which is why aircraft climb and accelerate so poorly in those conditions.
First find pressure altitude: PA = field elevation + (29.92 − altimeter setting) × 1000. Then correct for temperature: DA = PA + 120 × (OAT − ISA temperature), where ISA temperature is 15 °C minus about 2 °C per 1,000 ft of pressure altitude. The calculator above does this for you.
Five, stacked by temperature. From the ground up: the troposphere (to ~7 miles), where weather and most of the air's mass sit; the stratosphere (to ~31 miles), home of the ozone layer, where airliners cruise; the mesosphere (to ~53 miles), the coldest layer, where meteors burn up; the thermosphere (to ~370 miles), where auroras glow and the ISS orbits; and the exosphere, which fades into space. The edge of space — the Kármán line — sits at about 62 miles.
No — the mix stays remarkably constant. Turbulent mixing keeps the lower atmosphere (the homosphere) uniform up to about 100 km (~62 miles), far above any flying. By volume, dry air is ~78% nitrogen, ~21% oxygen, ~0.9% argon, and ~0.04% carbon dioxide, with trace amounts of neon, helium, methane, krypton, and hydrogen making up the rest. What changes with altitude is the pressure, not the recipe: at 18,000 ft the air is still ~21% oxygen, but there are roughly half as many molecules in each breath — which is why partial pressure, not percentage, drives hypoxia. Only above ~62 miles do the gases begin to separate out by weight.
The lapse rate is how fast air cools as you climb — about 2 °C per 1,000 ft on a standard day. It also tells you whether the air is stable. A rising pocket of dry air cools at the dry adiabatic lapse rate, about 3 °C per 1,000 ft. If the surrounding air cools faster than that, the pocket keeps rising — unstable air, with cumulus clouds, thermals, gusts, and a bumpy ride. If it cools slower, or warms with height (an inversion), the air is stable: smooth, hazy, with flat layered clouds.
As air pressure drops, the partial pressure of oxygen drops with it, so each breath delivers less oxygen to your blood. Hypoxia can begin degrading night vision as low as ~5,000 ft, and judgment well before you'd notice. Under FAR 91.211, U.S. pilots need oxygen above 12,500 ft cabin altitude (after 30 minutes), continuously above 14,000 ft, and must provide it to passengers above 15,000 ft.
For an unacclimatized person breathing cabin air, SpO₂ falls from ~97% at sea level to roughly 87% at 10,000 ft, ~72% at 18,000 ft, and ~50% at 25,000 ft. The drop accelerates because the oxygen–hemoglobin curve falls off a cliff once arterial oxygen pressure drops below ~60 mmHg.
A normally-aspirated piston engine loses power roughly in proportion to air density — about 3% per 1,000 ft of density altitude (Gagg–Ferrar). At 8,000 ft density altitude a 180 hp engine makes closer to 135 hp. Turbocharged engines hold rated power up to a critical altitude, then fall off the same way.
Yes — it's a myth that they don't. Jet engines produce thrust (not horsepower), and thrust falls as you climb because thinner air means less mass flowing through the engine — roughly in proportion to the ambient pressure ratio, so a turbofan at FL400 may make only a third of its sea-level static thrust. Turboprops produce shaft horsepower and are usually flat-rated to a critical altitude (like a turbocharged piston), then lose power as density falls. Jets cruise high not because they keep their power, but because drag drops even faster up there and fuel efficiency improves — so the reduced thrust carries them further per pound of fuel.
The fuselage can only hold a limited pressure difference (ΔP) between inside and outside. At cruise the system maintains that maximum differential, which works out to a cabin altitude near 8,000 ft for most airliners. Newer composite jets like the 787 and A350 tolerate a higher ΔP and target ~6,000 ft, which reduces fatigue on long flights.
Spotted a wrong number, an airport that won't look up, or a calculator you'd love to see? Tell me — it shapes what gets built next.
Built by Levan Sulakvelidze — an instrument-rated private pilot based at KMYF (San Diego) and trained at KGAI (Gaithersburg, Maryland). DensityAlt grew out of genuine curiosity about how the air, your blood oxygen, and your airplane's performance all thin out with altitude — and a wish for free tools that get the physics right.