Sunday, May 30, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
On Paper
It’s a common expression in sports, but it reaches far beyond mere competition into the deepest crevices of life and philosophy.
"On paper", the New York Yankees should win the World Series every single year. "On paper", the undefeated New England Patriots should have steamrolled the New York Giants in Super Bowl XLIV. "On paper", my Dallas Mavericks, having won at least 50 games each and every season in the last decade, should have won at least ONE championship. (A pain I am way too familiar with.)
What exactly does that mean? An outcome of a given situation is predictable based on the logical assessment of “paper”, a symbolic representation of hard facts, statistics, and data.
Of course, we all know you can’t rely only on paper. There are intangibles involved with EVERYTHING. That’s why each of the three above assertions turns out to be false. I often quote ESPN personality Chris Berman: “THAT'S why they play the game.”
It’s difficult to describe what these “intangibles” are. Randomness. Chance. A “human” element (as in, “humans aren’t perfect”).
Unfortunately for left-brained creatures like me who give enormous weight to fact, reason, and rationality, life in general resembles sports in this respect. Just when you have something completely figured out, to the point where you’re absolutely CERTAIN of the outcome of a given situation, life throws you a curveball. On paper, THIS should happen. But in reality, THAT happens instead.
Example 1: If you saw the season six finale of "House" last week (spoiler alert!), you saw the usually invincible diagnostician do everything right to save the life of a woman whose leg had been crushed when a building collapsed. Yet, as the woman, her husband, and Dr. House hurry in an ambulance to the hospital, her pulse vanishes, and she dies. This turns out to be a culmination of emotion and frustration for Dr. House, much of which involves the remainder of the plot -- I won't get into that. The important part is that he "did everything right", and she still died. As a writer pointed out in an interview: "If you do the right thing in the world, good should come out of it. House is trying to learn that lesson, and it hadn’t worked out so well for him. And here, he does everything right, and she dies anyway." The woman should have lived. But she didn't.
Example 2: Two people meet and are in the midst of establishing a relationship. They share like interests, values, intellect, and personalities: everything that should result in a healthy relationship...on paper. And yet, time passes, and it doesn’t pan out, due to some intangible quality that’s missing on one side or the other. There's no explanation. What makes it so frustrating is not so much that you can't "fix" it, but you can't even begin to explain why it didn't work.
Example 3: On our last chase day during my storm chasing expedition, we patiently waited in western Oklahoma for a tornadic storm to develop. (Almost) every parameter was screaming that a developing storm was on its way to producing a tornado. And then, on the precipice of exploding into a monster, it fell apart in less than a half-hour. There was no reason for this to happen...or at least no reason that we simpleton meteorologists could comprehend.
It sure is frustrating: If X and Y are true when I encounter this situation, then I can expect that Z will most certainly happen. Sometimes, it feels like an invasion of our personal sense of control: if I have control over X and Y in order to make Z happen, and then Z didn't happen, did I really have control over X and Y to begin with?
Then, I realized that this principle hints at one of my most tightly held philosophies. There seem to be two competing forces in life. Logic and reason have important roles, and most of the time -- probably nearly all of the time, in fact -- they will lead you in the right direction and correctly “predict” what will happen. But logic and reason simply cannot explain everything, due to these “intangibles” that lead to unpredictable conclusions. There’s something else out there, something beyond our comprehension, that directly contradicts logic and reason. Or maybe it doesn't contradict logic and reason, but it's so far over our head we just can't understand it. Whatever it is, it sure makes life difficult for hopelessly left-brained people like me.
I’m not sure if any of that makes any sense. Maybe I should just leave philosophy behind and stick to storm chasing.
"On paper", the New York Yankees should win the World Series every single year. "On paper", the undefeated New England Patriots should have steamrolled the New York Giants in Super Bowl XLIV. "On paper", my Dallas Mavericks, having won at least 50 games each and every season in the last decade, should have won at least ONE championship. (A pain I am way too familiar with.)
What exactly does that mean? An outcome of a given situation is predictable based on the logical assessment of “paper”, a symbolic representation of hard facts, statistics, and data.
Of course, we all know you can’t rely only on paper. There are intangibles involved with EVERYTHING. That’s why each of the three above assertions turns out to be false. I often quote ESPN personality Chris Berman: “THAT'S why they play the game.”
It’s difficult to describe what these “intangibles” are. Randomness. Chance. A “human” element (as in, “humans aren’t perfect”).
Unfortunately for left-brained creatures like me who give enormous weight to fact, reason, and rationality, life in general resembles sports in this respect. Just when you have something completely figured out, to the point where you’re absolutely CERTAIN of the outcome of a given situation, life throws you a curveball. On paper, THIS should happen. But in reality, THAT happens instead.
Example 1: If you saw the season six finale of "House" last week (spoiler alert!), you saw the usually invincible diagnostician do everything right to save the life of a woman whose leg had been crushed when a building collapsed. Yet, as the woman, her husband, and Dr. House hurry in an ambulance to the hospital, her pulse vanishes, and she dies. This turns out to be a culmination of emotion and frustration for Dr. House, much of which involves the remainder of the plot -- I won't get into that. The important part is that he "did everything right", and she still died. As a writer pointed out in an interview: "If you do the right thing in the world, good should come out of it. House is trying to learn that lesson, and it hadn’t worked out so well for him. And here, he does everything right, and she dies anyway." The woman should have lived. But she didn't.Example 2: Two people meet and are in the midst of establishing a relationship. They share like interests, values, intellect, and personalities: everything that should result in a healthy relationship...on paper. And yet, time passes, and it doesn’t pan out, due to some intangible quality that’s missing on one side or the other. There's no explanation. What makes it so frustrating is not so much that you can't "fix" it, but you can't even begin to explain why it didn't work.
Example 3: On our last chase day during my storm chasing expedition, we patiently waited in western Oklahoma for a tornadic storm to develop. (Almost) every parameter was screaming that a developing storm was on its way to producing a tornado. And then, on the precipice of exploding into a monster, it fell apart in less than a half-hour. There was no reason for this to happen...or at least no reason that we simpleton meteorologists could comprehend.
It sure is frustrating: If X and Y are true when I encounter this situation, then I can expect that Z will most certainly happen. Sometimes, it feels like an invasion of our personal sense of control: if I have control over X and Y in order to make Z happen, and then Z didn't happen, did I really have control over X and Y to begin with?
Then, I realized that this principle hints at one of my most tightly held philosophies. There seem to be two competing forces in life. Logic and reason have important roles, and most of the time -- probably nearly all of the time, in fact -- they will lead you in the right direction and correctly “predict” what will happen. But logic and reason simply cannot explain everything, due to these “intangibles” that lead to unpredictable conclusions. There’s something else out there, something beyond our comprehension, that directly contradicts logic and reason. Or maybe it doesn't contradict logic and reason, but it's so far over our head we just can't understand it. Whatever it is, it sure makes life difficult for hopelessly left-brained people like me.
I’m not sure if any of that makes any sense. Maybe I should just leave philosophy behind and stick to storm chasing.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
JoshCast #23 - The High Road
I heard "The High Road" for the first time on Radio Austin at work the other day and found it oddly catchy. I didn't particularly LOVE it the first time I heard it, but found myself silently singing the chorus hours later.
"The High Road" is the single off of Broken Bells's self-titled album, released a couple of months ago. And oh, by the way, Broken Bells is yet another "super-collaboration", this time between Danger Mouse and James Mercer (right), lead singer of The Shins. (If they ever make a movie about Mercer, might I suggest that Kevin Spacey play the starring role?)
If only the song ended more strongly! That's my only complaint. Still, the first three minutes are worth your while:
"The High Road" is the single off of Broken Bells's self-titled album, released a couple of months ago. And oh, by the way, Broken Bells is yet another "super-collaboration", this time between Danger Mouse and James Mercer (right), lead singer of The Shins. (If they ever make a movie about Mercer, might I suggest that Kevin Spacey play the starring role?)If only the song ended more strongly! That's my only complaint. Still, the first three minutes are worth your while:
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Now I'm No Hot-Shot Politician...
Let's face it. After two weeks of storm chasing stories, I'm due for a snoozer.
I don't have any facts. All I have to go by is The Daily Show (NOT fact) and a personal account from a lawyer (also, probably NOT fact) familiar with one of the most sweeping pieces of legislation in American history, the The Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act.
I'm not here to debate whether I think health care should be controlled or facilitated by the government (*ahem*, it should), because I don't want to alienate my single-digit audience. But I am here to present an example of why, as constructed, the bill might not work like it's supposed to.
One of the provisions of the health care bill provides for a Qualifying Therapeutic Discovery Project Credit. In shorthand, this is a provision that sets aside $1 billion for tax credits or grants for small biotechnology companies (less than 250 employees). Such credits/grants would reimburse companies for 50% of selected expenses incurred from 2009-2010 associated with projects that develop homegrown technologies that address some kind of healthcare need.
So it's designed to help domestic small business, which is the target of countless legislation over the years.
Sounds great, right?
Well, think about it. You're technically reimbursing companies for work they've ALREADY DONE, not work that they're GOING TO DO. I suppose that helps the pocketbooks of small business that are hurting, but is it the best way to encourage new growth? In fact, according to the lawyer I spoke with, companies that are out of business have every right to apply for this credit. And companies that are out of business tend to not grow.
I have to stress: I don't know all the facts, and I've unfortunately become so disenchanted with such debates that I don't have the desire to learn all of the facts. And problems like this are probably inevitable given the scope of the problem the government is trying to solve, the insane time constraints, and the compromises that are made to appease various political factions. I suppose we can trust that the committees that decide to whom to grant these credits chooses wisely.
But wouldn't it be better to reward future efforts than past efforts while we're on the road to recovery?
Hooray America!
I don't have any facts. All I have to go by is The Daily Show (NOT fact) and a personal account from a lawyer (also, probably NOT fact) familiar with one of the most sweeping pieces of legislation in American history, the The Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act.
I'm not here to debate whether I think health care should be controlled or facilitated by the government (*ahem*, it should), because I don't want to alienate my single-digit audience. But I am here to present an example of why, as constructed, the bill might not work like it's supposed to.
One of the provisions of the health care bill provides for a Qualifying Therapeutic Discovery Project Credit. In shorthand, this is a provision that sets aside $1 billion for tax credits or grants for small biotechnology companies (less than 250 employees). Such credits/grants would reimburse companies for 50% of selected expenses incurred from 2009-2010 associated with projects that develop homegrown technologies that address some kind of healthcare need.
So it's designed to help domestic small business, which is the target of countless legislation over the years.
Sounds great, right?
Well, think about it. You're technically reimbursing companies for work they've ALREADY DONE, not work that they're GOING TO DO. I suppose that helps the pocketbooks of small business that are hurting, but is it the best way to encourage new growth? In fact, according to the lawyer I spoke with, companies that are out of business have every right to apply for this credit. And companies that are out of business tend to not grow.
I have to stress: I don't know all the facts, and I've unfortunately become so disenchanted with such debates that I don't have the desire to learn all of the facts. And problems like this are probably inevitable given the scope of the problem the government is trying to solve, the insane time constraints, and the compromises that are made to appease various political factions. I suppose we can trust that the committees that decide to whom to grant these credits chooses wisely.
But wouldn't it be better to reward future efforts than past efforts while we're on the road to recovery?
Hooray America!
Saturday, May 15, 2010
"It Never Touched The Ground"
You'd think ten lengthy blog posts would be enough to cover my week-long storm-chasing excursion. Not so. I'm about to take this thing "all the way to eleven" (any Spinal Tap fans out there...?). And then, that'll be all...and not a moment too soon, as I'm sure by now you've had just about enough of my twister-related drivel.
As I meandered out of my hotel room into the lobby on Tuesday morning, I crossed paths with none other than Tim Samaras, yet ANOTHER renowed storm chaser. Later that morning in the parking lot, we actually got to shake his hand and shoot the breeze (no pun intended) about the week's action. I'm still trying to comprehend the fact that I've met so many leaders in the field this week.
The day is looking far calmer than Monday, according to forecasts. The only real shot at supercellular activity will be found in west Oklahoma. If anything does fire, it will be a single isolated cell, and enough ingredients will be in place for it to really explode.
But not until late afternoon/evening. In the meantime, we tour the damage caused by the tornadoes that ripped through Norman and Shawnee the day before. Trees down, powerline poles snapped, roofs covered in blue tarp...it's a sad sight to see. A Love's gas station west of Shawnee takes the blue ribbon as the most sobering sight:
Someone later told us that, moments before the tornado hit, around 30 people had been wandering in the store or near the gas pumps. A trucker, aware of the situation, pulled in and urged everyone to take cover. Everyone piled into the store's cooler/freezer, and as a result, all were unharmed.
After lunch at Applebee's (again), we cruise to Elk City in western Oklahoma and wait for the action to begin. A strong cap, or layer of warm, dry air, is hindering convective development. But we're patient: sooner or later, one of these storms is bound to explode. Sure enough, we drive southward and find a supercell in the beginning stages of development:
We spot all of the classic features of a supercell: cloud base, striations, anvil, small hail core. Even mammatus clouds begin to form faintly on the underside of the anvil:
Oddly, this is about as advanced as the storm gets. Just as the storm is severe-warned, it begins to fall apart and is replaced by blue skies in under a half-hour. This confuses all of us, even our meteorologist Dave. Just goes to show we still have a lot to learn.
It's pretty late in the day now, about 7pm, and we're starting to run low on daylight. If we're going to see anything, it had better fire quickly. A cluster of storms begin to form north of us by about 40 miles. Our next target. Luckily, these storms are plodding along at about 20 mph -- a far cry from Monday's storms, which raced at over 70 mph, too fast to catch.
We cross paths with Reed and the Dominator, and follow them into back roads southeast of Woodward. And when I say back roads, I mean BACK roads:
After maybe 15 minutes, we find a clearing at the top of a hill, just southeast of the storm, with no signs of civilization around. The PERFECT vantage point for watching a tornado...if only the darn thing would drop:
Can you imagine? A dark funnel descending from the heavens, backlit by twilight? Alas, it didn't happen, and soon, it's too dark to keep the chase alive. So close.
We're behind Reed and the Dominator still, and we are forced to lag behind as they wrap up shooting with the Discovery Channel. (I observed what happened from afar and am in-the-know on some storylines for the show Storm Chasers. But the Discovery Channel crew are pretty serious, and I rather enjoy living, so I better not divulge the details.) Afterwards, we have just enough energy for one last pose before we make the three-hour drive back to Oklahoma City:
After one last midnight meal at Denny's, Klipsi traces a famous line from the movie Twister in the back window of our dust-covered van (these guys were quoting Twister ALL WEEK LONG):
Fitting, since our last tornado never actually did touch the ground.
This whole expedition has been nothing short of amazing, especially after the action started on Monday. I can now proudly say that I HAVE done something crazy in my life...a dozen years ahead of Ray Kinsella. But this has, predictably, developed a strong hunger in me to keep this insanity going. Returning to normal life has been somewhat of a rude awakening, and not just because I was returning from a vacation.
I HAVE to do this again...and next time I can do so more knowledgeably. Mark my words, one day I will chase on my own.
And if a tornado is barreling towards me, I WON'T have locked my keys in my car.
Image credit: Olivier Staiger, www.klipsi.ch
As I meandered out of my hotel room into the lobby on Tuesday morning, I crossed paths with none other than Tim Samaras, yet ANOTHER renowed storm chaser. Later that morning in the parking lot, we actually got to shake his hand and shoot the breeze (no pun intended) about the week's action. I'm still trying to comprehend the fact that I've met so many leaders in the field this week.
The day is looking far calmer than Monday, according to forecasts. The only real shot at supercellular activity will be found in west Oklahoma. If anything does fire, it will be a single isolated cell, and enough ingredients will be in place for it to really explode.
But not until late afternoon/evening. In the meantime, we tour the damage caused by the tornadoes that ripped through Norman and Shawnee the day before. Trees down, powerline poles snapped, roofs covered in blue tarp...it's a sad sight to see. A Love's gas station west of Shawnee takes the blue ribbon as the most sobering sight:
Someone later told us that, moments before the tornado hit, around 30 people had been wandering in the store or near the gas pumps. A trucker, aware of the situation, pulled in and urged everyone to take cover. Everyone piled into the store's cooler/freezer, and as a result, all were unharmed.
After lunch at Applebee's (again), we cruise to Elk City in western Oklahoma and wait for the action to begin. A strong cap, or layer of warm, dry air, is hindering convective development. But we're patient: sooner or later, one of these storms is bound to explode. Sure enough, we drive southward and find a supercell in the beginning stages of development:
We spot all of the classic features of a supercell: cloud base, striations, anvil, small hail core. Even mammatus clouds begin to form faintly on the underside of the anvil:
Oddly, this is about as advanced as the storm gets. Just as the storm is severe-warned, it begins to fall apart and is replaced by blue skies in under a half-hour. This confuses all of us, even our meteorologist Dave. Just goes to show we still have a lot to learn.
It's pretty late in the day now, about 7pm, and we're starting to run low on daylight. If we're going to see anything, it had better fire quickly. A cluster of storms begin to form north of us by about 40 miles. Our next target. Luckily, these storms are plodding along at about 20 mph -- a far cry from Monday's storms, which raced at over 70 mph, too fast to catch.
We cross paths with Reed and the Dominator, and follow them into back roads southeast of Woodward. And when I say back roads, I mean BACK roads:
After maybe 15 minutes, we find a clearing at the top of a hill, just southeast of the storm, with no signs of civilization around. The PERFECT vantage point for watching a tornado...if only the darn thing would drop:
Can you imagine? A dark funnel descending from the heavens, backlit by twilight? Alas, it didn't happen, and soon, it's too dark to keep the chase alive. So close.
We're behind Reed and the Dominator still, and we are forced to lag behind as they wrap up shooting with the Discovery Channel. (I observed what happened from afar and am in-the-know on some storylines for the show Storm Chasers. But the Discovery Channel crew are pretty serious, and I rather enjoy living, so I better not divulge the details.) Afterwards, we have just enough energy for one last pose before we make the three-hour drive back to Oklahoma City:
After one last midnight meal at Denny's, Klipsi traces a famous line from the movie Twister in the back window of our dust-covered van (these guys were quoting Twister ALL WEEK LONG):
Fitting, since our last tornado never actually did touch the ground.
This whole expedition has been nothing short of amazing, especially after the action started on Monday. I can now proudly say that I HAVE done something crazy in my life...a dozen years ahead of Ray Kinsella. But this has, predictably, developed a strong hunger in me to keep this insanity going. Returning to normal life has been somewhat of a rude awakening, and not just because I was returning from a vacation.
I HAVE to do this again...and next time I can do so more knowledgeably. Mark my words, one day I will chase on my own.
And if a tornado is barreling towards me, I WON'T have locked my keys in my car.
Lookin' Out My Back Door
As incredible as Monday's chase was (you know, what with the running for our lives), my camera was unable to capture the most adrenaline-soaked moment of my trip, unfortunately.
A recap of that moment: we're driving east on highway 11 in northwest Oklahoma towards Medford, running away from a half-mide wide circulation, which is only a few hundred yards behind us, dropping tornadoes left and right.
Luckily, one of my fellow tourists had her HD video camera rolling, pointed out the back door of our van, and was able to extract these frames:
Credit: Barb Skillings
Wow. HOPEFULLY, I can get the actual video soon, because that footage oughta be absolutely nuts.
A recap of that moment: we're driving east on highway 11 in northwest Oklahoma towards Medford, running away from a half-mide wide circulation, which is only a few hundred yards behind us, dropping tornadoes left and right.
Luckily, one of my fellow tourists had her HD video camera rolling, pointed out the back door of our van, and was able to extract these frames:
Wow. HOPEFULLY, I can get the actual video soon, because that footage oughta be absolutely nuts.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
TVN Footage of the May 10 Storm
TornadoVideos.net provided the following footage from the same storm that almost caught us on May 10:
I think at the 1:22 count, you see the end of the two twisters that were following us on Highway 11. Then at 2:22, they get a great shot of the same wedge that we captured from a little farther to the east. The footage beginning at 3:20 is particularly ominous...I guess we weren't able to spot that one from our vantage point.
I'm still amazed looking at the beginning of this footage, knowing we were looking at the first tornado from almost exactly the same vantage points. It is clearly very recognizable, and I'll probably still be able to identify it when I'm old and gray.
I was floored when some of these meteorologists looked at a single snapshot of a storm and immediately gave its date and location. However, after my experience, I can begin to see why they're able to do this.
I think at the 1:22 count, you see the end of the two twisters that were following us on Highway 11. Then at 2:22, they get a great shot of the same wedge that we captured from a little farther to the east. The footage beginning at 3:20 is particularly ominous...I guess we weren't able to spot that one from our vantage point.
I'm still amazed looking at the beginning of this footage, knowing we were looking at the first tornado from almost exactly the same vantage points. It is clearly very recognizable, and I'll probably still be able to identify it when I'm old and gray.
I was floored when some of these meteorologists looked at a single snapshot of a storm and immediately gave its date and location. However, after my experience, I can begin to see why they're able to do this.
"Get In The Van! We Gotta Go Now!!" (Part Two)
Now that I'm back in the comfort of my apartment, where nary a tornado can be found (yet), it's time to continue the tale from Part One, which took place on Monday afternoon...
3:37pm: Moments ago, we caught sight of a funnel descending from the cloud base, along with a faint debris cloud at the horizon, over a cluster of trees. A chaser I spoke with later noted the absence of a discernable wall cloud with this funnel, which was unusual.
We pause on the side of the road and hurry out of the van to catch a closer look. Before long, the twister recedes, and we're waiting for something new to happen. We notice the circulation beginning to move eastward, so we return to the van and turn around to stay ahead of the storm.
After a 60-second jog east, we get out of the van once more, looking closely for a new funnel to drop.
Before I go on, I should explain that the storm we were chasing was moving very quickly. In these situations, as one circulation fades, a new one can appear out of nowhere farther to the east, as if the circulation itself is trying to keep up with the storm. As a rookie chaser, I was less than aware of this, but the astute eye of our guide, Dave Holder, caught a new broad circulation forming immediately above us. After a moment's hesitation to see what was going to happen, a funnel began appearing at the edge of the circulation, pretty much RIGHT ON TOP OF US.
That's when he yells at the top of his lungs:
"GET IN THE VAN! WE GOTTA GO NOW!!"
In the adrenaline rush that followed, I try to get one last shot of the forming funnel above, only to have my Nikon's auto-focus fail on me. We have no choice, we have to get out NOW. No time to fiddle with my camera.
As Dave reaches to open the van, he realizes that, in the mad dash out of the van moments earlier, the van was accidentally locked. Panic. WE'RE LOCKED OUT, and a tornado yards away is approaching. But, in a stroke of incredible luck, Dave pulls out a spare key from his pocket he just happened to take with him that morning.
In a matter of seconds, we piled into the van and ejected eastward on highway 11. Not one, but TWO, funnels drop onto the road, directly where we had been standing seconds before. We're now flying east, with the twisters tracking a few hundred feet behind us. Apparently my camera was panicking, too, because this is the best shot I could get amid the action:
Perhaps it's better that this is blurry, so it's left to the imagination. But there DEFINITELY are a PAIR of twisters two-stepping on the ground for at least a couple of minutes.
The tornadoes recede, but the broad circulation remains. Probably the most striking phenomenon is the violent movement on the underside of the wall cloud. The giant spinning mass is impressive enough, but the vertical motion associated with the updrafts and downdrafts are absolutely awe- and fear-inspiring. The circulation eventually drifts north of the east-west highway, and it's now safe to get a look at the big enchilada:
The sound is unearthly. Everyone always says a tornado sounds like freight train, but the chasers I was with insisted a waterfall was a more fitting aural comparison. I have to say that I agree, although it was accompanied by an intense, low-toned whistle the entire way. It's WINDY, too: inflow being sucked into the storm hits our backs at over 50 mph.
We continue darting eastward, with rain shafts wrapping around the back edge of the circulation and fingers randomly descending from the sky. Some of them lightly touch the ground...
...while one forms a wedge that briefly punches the ground...
(SIDEBAR: We later learned that the tour with "Cyclone Jim" Leonard (who had accompanied us on Thursday) was not so lucky. The tornado ripped through his vehicle, blowing out every window except the windshield. Some minor injuries, but nothing more, thankfully. Apparently, Jim said that was the scariest experience he had had in his 37 years of storm chasing. Strong words, considering the source.)
4:12pm: After several minutes of driving right alongside the storm, we pull into Medford, Oklahoma, where the sirens are blaring and no one can be found. We catch a glimpse of the radar, which clearly indicates where the tornado is. Notice the hook on the southwest corner of the storm:
The storm is racing to the northeast, and it's becoming apparent that we're not going to catch it. It's time to abandon it, and we catch highway 60 east towards Ponca City to pursue another cell moving in from the south.
4:42pm We reach Ponca City, and we're ready to turn south. One problem: our new storm has moved very quickly (seeing a pattern here?), and we'd have to punch the core in order to have shot at it. This means driving through the cell's most intense rain and hail (softball size), only to come out the other side and possibly have a strong tornado obscured by precipitation. Very risky and even dangerous. However, moving further east into an Indian reservation is not an attractive option either, since there are hardly ANY roads for many, many miles. No roads = no options.
We play it conservatively and go east.
5:01pm: We hear on the radio that a rotating wall cloud is entering southwest Oklahoma City. Not good.
5:25pm: We've made it through the Indian reservation and have turned southward on highway 18. We just heard sirens in Fairfax, Oklahoma, and we're in perfect position to see the tornado. (If it exists.)
We saw much of the same violent cloud motion under the cell's wall cloud as we had in the earlier Medford storm. Fortunately for Fairfax, the circulation never dropped. But it did provide a backdrop for some eerie pictures:
5:31pm: New cells have exploded over the Oklahoma City area and are darting east VERY quickly. We're a little out of position, so we abandon the Fairfax storm and dive southward to try to catch them.
En route, we hear on the radio exactly what we don't want to hear: large tornado forming over Norman, Oklahoma, home to our motel the previous three nights, Oklahoma University, and Dave's house. Dave is understandably stressed...and it's about to get worse.
5:34pm: A tornado is on the ground, moving through Norman near highway 9 and Lindsey St...right by Dave's house and the National Weather Center. Debris is in the air.
5:37pm: We hear reports of cars getting flipped on an Oklahoma City freeway.
6:06pm: We're still driving south, desperately trying to catch hold of Dave's roommate, who was in his house when the Norman storm moved through. The same storm is producing a major circulation over Shawnee. The same storm which damaged a Love's gas station on I-40, which you might have seen all over the news.
6:17pm: We breath a huge sigh of relief, as Dave learns his house is OK and largely undamaged. Houses a half-mile to the south are not so lucky.
6:40pm: Still diving southward trying to keep up with the dryline, but the storms are moving so quickly that we just can't keep up. BUT we do see a purty rainbow on the back edge of a cell:
8:10pm: We've pretty much given up for the day, since everything is flying eastward at an unbelievable 70 mph.
But out of nowhere, a new circulation forms directly above us. We turn eastward to keep pace with it, as well as a second cell moving in a parallel direction. Circulation to the left, circulation to the right.
Dessert.
Neither would eventually drop a tornado, but the north circulation was VERY photogenic:
Just before sunset:
If only we could've pulled over in time for this next shot, I would've been a VERY happy novice photographer. Perhaps you can imagine how beautiful it was to see the sun setting just below a gorgeous inflow tail cloud:
8:35pm: After abandoning the beautiful cell in far east Oklahoma (By now, we've driven all the way from near Dodge City, Kansas, to the Oklahoma-Arkansas border), we now begin working our way home. Eagerly twisting our heads upwards -- to the extent possible within the van -- we see mammatus clouds on the underside of the last cell we had been chasing. Just then, we cross Reed and Co. (Discovery Channel crew and all), parked on the side of the road in Checotah, Oklahoma.
This is probably the most exciting thing that's happened in this sleepy village in a long while. A large group of children and teenagers, all with jaws on the pavement, have congregated around the Dominator. But cops, with nothing better to do apparently, disperse the crowd in order to keep from causing a disturbance. One woman somewhat comically pleas, "We ain't done lookin' at y'all, why dontcha head on over to the Wal-Mart parkin' lot down the street?"
The sun has long since set, and we scoot into a Pizza Hut just before closing time to grab cheap fast food and Bud Light. Aside from the tragedy that befell the Oklahoma City area (5 people died), it's been a memorable day overflowing with adrenaline. While that experience was tough to beat, we did have a couple of last hurrahs on Tuesday's chase. More on that later...
3:37pm: Moments ago, we caught sight of a funnel descending from the cloud base, along with a faint debris cloud at the horizon, over a cluster of trees. A chaser I spoke with later noted the absence of a discernable wall cloud with this funnel, which was unusual.
We pause on the side of the road and hurry out of the van to catch a closer look. Before long, the twister recedes, and we're waiting for something new to happen. We notice the circulation beginning to move eastward, so we return to the van and turn around to stay ahead of the storm.
After a 60-second jog east, we get out of the van once more, looking closely for a new funnel to drop.
Before I go on, I should explain that the storm we were chasing was moving very quickly. In these situations, as one circulation fades, a new one can appear out of nowhere farther to the east, as if the circulation itself is trying to keep up with the storm. As a rookie chaser, I was less than aware of this, but the astute eye of our guide, Dave Holder, caught a new broad circulation forming immediately above us. After a moment's hesitation to see what was going to happen, a funnel began appearing at the edge of the circulation, pretty much RIGHT ON TOP OF US.
That's when he yells at the top of his lungs:
"GET IN THE VAN! WE GOTTA GO NOW!!"
In the adrenaline rush that followed, I try to get one last shot of the forming funnel above, only to have my Nikon's auto-focus fail on me. We have no choice, we have to get out NOW. No time to fiddle with my camera.
As Dave reaches to open the van, he realizes that, in the mad dash out of the van moments earlier, the van was accidentally locked. Panic. WE'RE LOCKED OUT, and a tornado yards away is approaching. But, in a stroke of incredible luck, Dave pulls out a spare key from his pocket he just happened to take with him that morning.
In a matter of seconds, we piled into the van and ejected eastward on highway 11. Not one, but TWO, funnels drop onto the road, directly where we had been standing seconds before. We're now flying east, with the twisters tracking a few hundred feet behind us. Apparently my camera was panicking, too, because this is the best shot I could get amid the action:
Perhaps it's better that this is blurry, so it's left to the imagination. But there DEFINITELY are a PAIR of twisters two-stepping on the ground for at least a couple of minutes.
The tornadoes recede, but the broad circulation remains. Probably the most striking phenomenon is the violent movement on the underside of the wall cloud. The giant spinning mass is impressive enough, but the vertical motion associated with the updrafts and downdrafts are absolutely awe- and fear-inspiring. The circulation eventually drifts north of the east-west highway, and it's now safe to get a look at the big enchilada:
The sound is unearthly. Everyone always says a tornado sounds like freight train, but the chasers I was with insisted a waterfall was a more fitting aural comparison. I have to say that I agree, although it was accompanied by an intense, low-toned whistle the entire way. It's WINDY, too: inflow being sucked into the storm hits our backs at over 50 mph.
We continue darting eastward, with rain shafts wrapping around the back edge of the circulation and fingers randomly descending from the sky. Some of them lightly touch the ground...
...while one forms a wedge that briefly punches the ground...
(SIDEBAR: We later learned that the tour with "Cyclone Jim" Leonard (who had accompanied us on Thursday) was not so lucky. The tornado ripped through his vehicle, blowing out every window except the windshield. Some minor injuries, but nothing more, thankfully. Apparently, Jim said that was the scariest experience he had had in his 37 years of storm chasing. Strong words, considering the source.)
4:12pm: After several minutes of driving right alongside the storm, we pull into Medford, Oklahoma, where the sirens are blaring and no one can be found. We catch a glimpse of the radar, which clearly indicates where the tornado is. Notice the hook on the southwest corner of the storm:
The storm is racing to the northeast, and it's becoming apparent that we're not going to catch it. It's time to abandon it, and we catch highway 60 east towards Ponca City to pursue another cell moving in from the south.
4:42pm We reach Ponca City, and we're ready to turn south. One problem: our new storm has moved very quickly (seeing a pattern here?), and we'd have to punch the core in order to have shot at it. This means driving through the cell's most intense rain and hail (softball size), only to come out the other side and possibly have a strong tornado obscured by precipitation. Very risky and even dangerous. However, moving further east into an Indian reservation is not an attractive option either, since there are hardly ANY roads for many, many miles. No roads = no options.
We play it conservatively and go east.
5:01pm: We hear on the radio that a rotating wall cloud is entering southwest Oklahoma City. Not good.
5:25pm: We've made it through the Indian reservation and have turned southward on highway 18. We just heard sirens in Fairfax, Oklahoma, and we're in perfect position to see the tornado. (If it exists.)
We saw much of the same violent cloud motion under the cell's wall cloud as we had in the earlier Medford storm. Fortunately for Fairfax, the circulation never dropped. But it did provide a backdrop for some eerie pictures:
5:31pm: New cells have exploded over the Oklahoma City area and are darting east VERY quickly. We're a little out of position, so we abandon the Fairfax storm and dive southward to try to catch them.
En route, we hear on the radio exactly what we don't want to hear: large tornado forming over Norman, Oklahoma, home to our motel the previous three nights, Oklahoma University, and Dave's house. Dave is understandably stressed...and it's about to get worse.
5:34pm: A tornado is on the ground, moving through Norman near highway 9 and Lindsey St...right by Dave's house and the National Weather Center. Debris is in the air.
5:37pm: We hear reports of cars getting flipped on an Oklahoma City freeway.
6:06pm: We're still driving south, desperately trying to catch hold of Dave's roommate, who was in his house when the Norman storm moved through. The same storm is producing a major circulation over Shawnee. The same storm which damaged a Love's gas station on I-40, which you might have seen all over the news.
6:17pm: We breath a huge sigh of relief, as Dave learns his house is OK and largely undamaged. Houses a half-mile to the south are not so lucky.
6:40pm: Still diving southward trying to keep up with the dryline, but the storms are moving so quickly that we just can't keep up. BUT we do see a purty rainbow on the back edge of a cell:
8:10pm: We've pretty much given up for the day, since everything is flying eastward at an unbelievable 70 mph.
But out of nowhere, a new circulation forms directly above us. We turn eastward to keep pace with it, as well as a second cell moving in a parallel direction. Circulation to the left, circulation to the right.
Dessert.
Neither would eventually drop a tornado, but the north circulation was VERY photogenic:
Just before sunset:
If only we could've pulled over in time for this next shot, I would've been a VERY happy novice photographer. Perhaps you can imagine how beautiful it was to see the sun setting just below a gorgeous inflow tail cloud:
8:35pm: After abandoning the beautiful cell in far east Oklahoma (By now, we've driven all the way from near Dodge City, Kansas, to the Oklahoma-Arkansas border), we now begin working our way home. Eagerly twisting our heads upwards -- to the extent possible within the van -- we see mammatus clouds on the underside of the last cell we had been chasing. Just then, we cross Reed and Co. (Discovery Channel crew and all), parked on the side of the road in Checotah, Oklahoma.
This is probably the most exciting thing that's happened in this sleepy village in a long while. A large group of children and teenagers, all with jaws on the pavement, have congregated around the Dominator. But cops, with nothing better to do apparently, disperse the crowd in order to keep from causing a disturbance. One woman somewhat comically pleas, "We ain't done lookin' at y'all, why dontcha head on over to the Wal-Mart parkin' lot down the street?"
The sun has long since set, and we scoot into a Pizza Hut just before closing time to grab cheap fast food and Bud Light. Aside from the tragedy that befell the Oklahoma City area (5 people died), it's been a memorable day overflowing with adrenaline. While that experience was tough to beat, we did have a couple of last hurrahs on Tuesday's chase. More on that later...
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
"Get In The Van! We Gotta Go Now!!" (Part One)
(Tip: click on each image for a larger view...)
As you may have surmised from the wedge tornado snapshot from my previous post, our chase yesterday was a little thrilling. My account of the day follows...in convenient timeline format!
8:00am: My iPhone alarm goes off. This is normally a decidedly negative experience, usually involving me angrily fumbling for the snooze button for a half-hour. But not today. Today, we chase. The feeling is as close to a child's Christmas morning as I can get at my age.
9:30am: By now I've showered, shaved, enjoyed good old-fashioned motel breakfast consisting primarily of stale Honey Nut Cheerios and orange juice from concentrate. But I check out the Storm Prediction Center's website and notice that our day has been upgraded to "high-risk", with a "concerning" outbreak of strong, long-tracking tornadoes "expected". Strong language, and the local news stations are playing this up to be quite an event. Now we wait...
10:12am: The dryline boundary, where supercells typically form, is still in the Texas panhandle, but it's moving rapidly eastward towards our home base in Norman, Oklahoma. The "moisture gradient" is impressive: the distance between very humid and very dry air is extremely short, perhaps only a few miles. Dewpoints are in the upper 60's east of the line, mid 20's to the west. This line will actually end up being the trigger for the outbreak later today.
All is quiet where we are. The sun hasn't crept out from behind the clouds, and we are waiting patiently in a Wal-Mart parking lot, watching the pilot episode of Two and a Half Men on Klipsi's laptop.
11:08am: Time to go. We're heading to TornadoVideos.net headquarters, where Reed Timmer's tornado intercept vehicle is housed.
"The Dominator", which weighs over four TONS and is stuffed full of audio/video equipment and meteorological instruments, is waiting for the impending journey:
Soon, we're not alone in the Headquarters parking lot. Production crew members from the Discovery Channel begin to arrive (recall that Reed is one of the headliners on Discovery's documentary, Storm Chasers).
12:02pm: Finally, he arriveth. Reed Timmer shows up, ready to go:
Note that he's wearing a blue t-shirt. Apparently, the Discovery Channel requires him to wear a blue t-shirt every day they shoot. It's in his contract. He has 15 of them, apparently. It's amazing how much control the Discovery Channel exerts over the team, but hey, they sign the checks.
The driver of The Dominator, Joel Taylor, getting miced up for the show. He's wearing an OU shirt...another Discovery Channel stipulation:
12:40pm: After some handshakes and hugs, they're read to rock. The Discovery Channel production chief kicks us off the set, because they're about to start shooting discussions among Reed and Co. about the day's situation. We wait in a nearby parking lot, but as we do, we see the first tornado watch of the day pop up in western Kansas. Excitement is bubbling.
12:58pm: We FINALLY get out on the road..."finally" because a multitude of chasers have already dispersed throughout Oklahoma and Kansas to get into position. We head north on I-35 towards Guthrie.
1:31pm: The first tornado warning fires in southwest Kansas. Supercells are also inititating in western Oklahoma. Meanwhile, we see a big van on the highway with the word "Funnel Cakes" on the back end. A good sign...?
2:10pm: We exit I-35 and begin heading west on state highway 51 towards Hennessey to get in position to catch the cells in western Oklahoma. The Dominator is about 20 miles ahead...
2:13pm: Our van suddenly loses a hubcap.
2:38pm: The cell we're chasing is starting to look very impressive, and goes tornado warned. We turn north on highway 81 towards Enid. We can begin to see the back of the anvil from our storm:
3:18pm: We run out of highway, but continue northward on a county road. We can see the base of the supercell in the distance now to our west. We all get a chuckle that we're headed straight for Wakita, which is referenced in the movie Twister and home to a museum dedicated to said movie.
Our guide, Dave, gets a text from Chris, one of the lucky gents in the Dominator, informing us that they're going for the intercept just a mile to the west.
It's really flat out here:
3:28pm: After turning west onto state highway 11, we catch up to the Dominator and the Discovery Channel production crew. We were not-so-gently forbidden from getting in any shots, so we keep our distance. After a minute or two, they take off, and we follow behind.
Not 30 seconds later, we get what we came for. A funnel descends from the wall cloud, touching down right before our eyes:
We get out of the van for a closer look, but it ascends fairly quickly. And that's when it REALLY started to get crazy.
I hate to do this to you, but as I'm writing this, we're working on chasing one last day today in western Oklahoma. I'd probably better start paying attention, as new storms will be firing within a few hours. Still time for one last hurrah! No worries, I'll finish up the story later tonight, hopefully.
(How was THAT for a teaser?)
As you may have surmised from the wedge tornado snapshot from my previous post, our chase yesterday was a little thrilling. My account of the day follows...in convenient timeline format!
8:00am: My iPhone alarm goes off. This is normally a decidedly negative experience, usually involving me angrily fumbling for the snooze button for a half-hour. But not today. Today, we chase. The feeling is as close to a child's Christmas morning as I can get at my age.
9:30am: By now I've showered, shaved, enjoyed good old-fashioned motel breakfast consisting primarily of stale Honey Nut Cheerios and orange juice from concentrate. But I check out the Storm Prediction Center's website and notice that our day has been upgraded to "high-risk", with a "concerning" outbreak of strong, long-tracking tornadoes "expected". Strong language, and the local news stations are playing this up to be quite an event. Now we wait...
10:12am: The dryline boundary, where supercells typically form, is still in the Texas panhandle, but it's moving rapidly eastward towards our home base in Norman, Oklahoma. The "moisture gradient" is impressive: the distance between very humid and very dry air is extremely short, perhaps only a few miles. Dewpoints are in the upper 60's east of the line, mid 20's to the west. This line will actually end up being the trigger for the outbreak later today.
All is quiet where we are. The sun hasn't crept out from behind the clouds, and we are waiting patiently in a Wal-Mart parking lot, watching the pilot episode of Two and a Half Men on Klipsi's laptop.
11:08am: Time to go. We're heading to TornadoVideos.net headquarters, where Reed Timmer's tornado intercept vehicle is housed.
"The Dominator", which weighs over four TONS and is stuffed full of audio/video equipment and meteorological instruments, is waiting for the impending journey:
Soon, we're not alone in the Headquarters parking lot. Production crew members from the Discovery Channel begin to arrive (recall that Reed is one of the headliners on Discovery's documentary, Storm Chasers).
12:02pm: Finally, he arriveth. Reed Timmer shows up, ready to go:
Note that he's wearing a blue t-shirt. Apparently, the Discovery Channel requires him to wear a blue t-shirt every day they shoot. It's in his contract. He has 15 of them, apparently. It's amazing how much control the Discovery Channel exerts over the team, but hey, they sign the checks.
The driver of The Dominator, Joel Taylor, getting miced up for the show. He's wearing an OU shirt...another Discovery Channel stipulation:
12:40pm: After some handshakes and hugs, they're read to rock. The Discovery Channel production chief kicks us off the set, because they're about to start shooting discussions among Reed and Co. about the day's situation. We wait in a nearby parking lot, but as we do, we see the first tornado watch of the day pop up in western Kansas. Excitement is bubbling.
12:58pm: We FINALLY get out on the road..."finally" because a multitude of chasers have already dispersed throughout Oklahoma and Kansas to get into position. We head north on I-35 towards Guthrie.
1:31pm: The first tornado warning fires in southwest Kansas. Supercells are also inititating in western Oklahoma. Meanwhile, we see a big van on the highway with the word "Funnel Cakes" on the back end. A good sign...?
2:10pm: We exit I-35 and begin heading west on state highway 51 towards Hennessey to get in position to catch the cells in western Oklahoma. The Dominator is about 20 miles ahead...
2:13pm: Our van suddenly loses a hubcap.
2:38pm: The cell we're chasing is starting to look very impressive, and goes tornado warned. We turn north on highway 81 towards Enid. We can begin to see the back of the anvil from our storm:
3:18pm: We run out of highway, but continue northward on a county road. We can see the base of the supercell in the distance now to our west. We all get a chuckle that we're headed straight for Wakita, which is referenced in the movie Twister and home to a museum dedicated to said movie.
Our guide, Dave, gets a text from Chris, one of the lucky gents in the Dominator, informing us that they're going for the intercept just a mile to the west.
It's really flat out here:
3:28pm: After turning west onto state highway 11, we catch up to the Dominator and the Discovery Channel production crew. We were not-so-gently forbidden from getting in any shots, so we keep our distance. After a minute or two, they take off, and we follow behind.
Not 30 seconds later, we get what we came for. A funnel descends from the wall cloud, touching down right before our eyes:
We get out of the van for a closer look, but it ascends fairly quickly. And that's when it REALLY started to get crazy.
I hate to do this to you, but as I'm writing this, we're working on chasing one last day today in western Oklahoma. I'd probably better start paying attention, as new storms will be firing within a few hours. Still time for one last hurrah! No worries, I'll finish up the story later tonight, hopefully.
(How was THAT for a teaser?)
Monday, May 10, 2010
Wedge
Probably the most awe-inspiring picture I snapped during our epic storm chase today. More detailed narrative (and pretty pictures!) will follow later.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Down Days
“Down days”. The bane of every chaser’s existence during the month of May in the southern Great Plains. And this feeling is intensified if you only have six days out of the year when you can chase...like me.
After a captivating experience last Thursday in eastern Kansas, the last three days have largely been devoid of thrills and chills. Except for when I was eating BBQ yesterday. That’s always good for something.
After the cold front blew through the plains Thursday night and Friday morning (and took along with it spring, apparently), no action was possible for several days until a more favorable airmass settled into place. Reed Timmer and Chris Chittick, the big cheeses from our tour group whom we’ve yet to meet, decided to chase in Indiana and Ohio Friday, only coming away with video of a wall cloud...and a few MORE minutes of fame on another Weather Channel interview.
Meanwhile, clearly in no hurry, we meandered back to Norman, Oklahoma, on Friday night in time to induce a food coma at the Olive Garden. (We’ve been eating quite well, in case you haven’t picked up on that. What else do you do in Oklahoma when it’s cold and there’s not a cloud in the sky?)
Our guide, a really cool guy named Dave Holder (who’s taking his last undergrad final tomorrow -- good luck, buddy), was nice enough to take us on a tour of the National Weather Center just off the campus of the University of Oklahoma on Saturday. Dave even agreed to pose with me in front of the national Storm Prediction Center, where all those severe watches anywhere in the country are issued:
Then today, a few cells popped up this afternoon in southwestern Oklahoma, so we decided to brush up once more on our photography (and car-sitting) skills prior to a big chase tomorrow. This is about as ominous as it got:
Speaking of ominous, however, the aforementioned Storm Prediction Center is forecasting big things for tomorrow. Even as early as last Wednesday, big things have been predicted for tomorrow afternoon, so it’s nice to see that none of that has lost any steam. The official wording:
SUPERCELLS WITH STRONG TORNADOES AND VERY LARGE HAIL ARE EXPECTED MONDAY LATE AFTERNOON AND EVENING ACROSS PARTS OF OK/KS INTO SOUTHWEST MO
Why, you ask? Warmth and moisture flowing up from the gulf tonight and tomorrow and a new system flying eastward from the Pacific will form a dryline in western Oklahoma that will march eastward tomorrow afternoon. Combine that with sufficient wind sheer and atmospheric instability, and you have what you need for rotating supercells.
The ingredients are in place; all I need now is a little luck, and 24 hours from now I will have seen a tornado. This is precisely why I'm wearing a t-shirt with a four-leaf clover on it tomorrow. Couldn't hurt...
All of this couldn’t have come at a better time. Morale has been slipping among us guest chasers, and we’ve gotten pretty anxious after three days of doing nothing truly meaningful. Why do you think I’ve written TWO blog entries today?
This all has been an incredibly educational experience...it's just been lacking in the action department. All of that will change tomorrow.
P.S. I want this:
After a captivating experience last Thursday in eastern Kansas, the last three days have largely been devoid of thrills and chills. Except for when I was eating BBQ yesterday. That’s always good for something.After the cold front blew through the plains Thursday night and Friday morning (and took along with it spring, apparently), no action was possible for several days until a more favorable airmass settled into place. Reed Timmer and Chris Chittick, the big cheeses from our tour group whom we’ve yet to meet, decided to chase in Indiana and Ohio Friday, only coming away with video of a wall cloud...and a few MORE minutes of fame on another Weather Channel interview.
Meanwhile, clearly in no hurry, we meandered back to Norman, Oklahoma, on Friday night in time to induce a food coma at the Olive Garden. (We’ve been eating quite well, in case you haven’t picked up on that. What else do you do in Oklahoma when it’s cold and there’s not a cloud in the sky?)
Our guide, a really cool guy named Dave Holder (who’s taking his last undergrad final tomorrow -- good luck, buddy), was nice enough to take us on a tour of the National Weather Center just off the campus of the University of Oklahoma on Saturday. Dave even agreed to pose with me in front of the national Storm Prediction Center, where all those severe watches anywhere in the country are issued:
Then today, a few cells popped up this afternoon in southwestern Oklahoma, so we decided to brush up once more on our photography (and car-sitting) skills prior to a big chase tomorrow. This is about as ominous as it got:
Speaking of ominous, however, the aforementioned Storm Prediction Center is forecasting big things for tomorrow. Even as early as last Wednesday, big things have been predicted for tomorrow afternoon, so it’s nice to see that none of that has lost any steam. The official wording:
SUPERCELLS WITH STRONG TORNADOES AND VERY LARGE HAIL ARE EXPECTED MONDAY LATE AFTERNOON AND EVENING ACROSS PARTS OF OK/KS INTO SOUTHWEST MO
Why, you ask? Warmth and moisture flowing up from the gulf tonight and tomorrow and a new system flying eastward from the Pacific will form a dryline in western Oklahoma that will march eastward tomorrow afternoon. Combine that with sufficient wind sheer and atmospheric instability, and you have what you need for rotating supercells.
The ingredients are in place; all I need now is a little luck, and 24 hours from now I will have seen a tornado. This is precisely why I'm wearing a t-shirt with a four-leaf clover on it tomorrow. Couldn't hurt...
All of this couldn’t have come at a better time. Morale has been slipping among us guest chasers, and we’ve gotten pretty anxious after three days of doing nothing truly meaningful. Why do you think I’ve written TWO blog entries today?
This all has been an incredibly educational experience...it's just been lacking in the action department. All of that will change tomorrow.
P.S. I want this:
Klipsi
As colorful a personality as we all have here on Extreme Tornado Tours, our driver, clearly, is the most entertaining character of them all.
A Swiss limousine driver by trade, Olivier Steiger’s reputation as a photographer of solar eclipses worldwide (including near the north pole) has earned him the nickname “Klipsi”. Since 2000, he has abandoned his post in Switzerland for two months out of the year to chase storms, too. Not a bad gig.
The stories he’s told and the pictures/video he’s shared has been well worth the price of admission (see www.klipsi.ch). But his quirkiness (including an abnormally strong affinity for Applebee’s) and humor (consisting mostly of one-liners, almost always with some nerdy meteorological tie-in) have continually brought some colorful comic relief to the long hours on the road. The Swiss accent and the bellowing laughter that followed each joke is often half of why it’s funny.
You have to see/hear him to appreciate it, but I’ll try to recreate his humor in the confines of plain text. Some examples, along with brief meteorological explanations where needed:
The background: you probably know that tornadoes often take on a cone shape. In its last stages, it will begin to look elongated and emaciated, like a “rope”. Hence the term rope tornado, and the act of a tornado “roping out” as it fades.
The punchline: As he’s finishing off an ice cream cone he bought from a gas station as we’re waiting for action on Thursday, “Oh no! Ze cone, she is roping out. Ahahah-aaaa!”
The background: A new technique used by research terms has been to launch probes into nearby tornadoes using a cannon.
The punchline: “It vill bring whole new meaning to ze phrase, ‘Shoot with Canon. Not with Nikon.’ Ahahah-aaaa!”
The background: A tornado isn’t a tornado until it reaches the ground, so one of the best ways to determine the presence of a twister is to search for debris. After all, debris can only come from the ground, right? Commonly, when you see chasers trying to spot tornadoes, you’ll hear them exclaim, “We have debris!”
The punchline: Klipsi spoke of his experience in Australia years ago. After chasing a supercell in southwestern Australia, he and his companions chose to celebrate by hitting up a fancy steakhouse, where they ordered a fine bottle of Australian wine. Money was apparently no object, so they decided to get the finest assortment of cheeses along with it. The waiter was explaining all of the various cheeses, listing them off one-by-one, until getting to some really fancy Brie cheese. Klipsi says, “Oh look! WE HAVE THE BRIE! Ahahah-aaaa!”
Again, maybe you had to be there. Delivery is 75% of the joke. But he’s certainly brought some expertise on eclipse events, and he’s convinced me to go observe the annular eclipse in May 2012 from -- where else -- the Grand Canyon!
We’re cruising west on I-40 in Oklahoma trying to chase a tiny cell that maybe, possibly, (but not likely) turn severe. I better stop writing and start paying attention before I miss something. But first, a nice shot of the 2005 eclipse from the Pacific Ocean...courtesy of our driver:
Credit: www.klipsi.ch
A Swiss limousine driver by trade, Olivier Steiger’s reputation as a photographer of solar eclipses worldwide (including near the north pole) has earned him the nickname “Klipsi”. Since 2000, he has abandoned his post in Switzerland for two months out of the year to chase storms, too. Not a bad gig.The stories he’s told and the pictures/video he’s shared has been well worth the price of admission (see www.klipsi.ch). But his quirkiness (including an abnormally strong affinity for Applebee’s) and humor (consisting mostly of one-liners, almost always with some nerdy meteorological tie-in) have continually brought some colorful comic relief to the long hours on the road. The Swiss accent and the bellowing laughter that followed each joke is often half of why it’s funny.
You have to see/hear him to appreciate it, but I’ll try to recreate his humor in the confines of plain text. Some examples, along with brief meteorological explanations where needed:
The background: you probably know that tornadoes often take on a cone shape. In its last stages, it will begin to look elongated and emaciated, like a “rope”. Hence the term rope tornado, and the act of a tornado “roping out” as it fades.
The punchline: As he’s finishing off an ice cream cone he bought from a gas station as we’re waiting for action on Thursday, “Oh no! Ze cone, she is roping out. Ahahah-aaaa!”
The background: A new technique used by research terms has been to launch probes into nearby tornadoes using a cannon.
The punchline: “It vill bring whole new meaning to ze phrase, ‘Shoot with Canon. Not with Nikon.’ Ahahah-aaaa!”
The background: A tornado isn’t a tornado until it reaches the ground, so one of the best ways to determine the presence of a twister is to search for debris. After all, debris can only come from the ground, right? Commonly, when you see chasers trying to spot tornadoes, you’ll hear them exclaim, “We have debris!”
The punchline: Klipsi spoke of his experience in Australia years ago. After chasing a supercell in southwestern Australia, he and his companions chose to celebrate by hitting up a fancy steakhouse, where they ordered a fine bottle of Australian wine. Money was apparently no object, so they decided to get the finest assortment of cheeses along with it. The waiter was explaining all of the various cheeses, listing them off one-by-one, until getting to some really fancy Brie cheese. Klipsi says, “Oh look! WE HAVE THE BRIE! Ahahah-aaaa!”
Again, maybe you had to be there. Delivery is 75% of the joke. But he’s certainly brought some expertise on eclipse events, and he’s convinced me to go observe the annular eclipse in May 2012 from -- where else -- the Grand Canyon!
We’re cruising west on I-40 in Oklahoma trying to chase a tiny cell that maybe, possibly, (but not likely) turn severe. I better stop writing and start paying attention before I miss something. But first, a nice shot of the 2005 eclipse from the Pacific Ocean...courtesy of our driver:
Friday, May 7, 2010
Late-Night Core Punch
In retrospect, I compare Day 2 of my storm chasing expedition with a really good movie trailer: only a couple minutes of action, but enough to build unbridled anticipation for opening night.
As we packed the van at 9am, ready to depart western Oklahoma City for northern Kansas, we discover that a veteran chaser and videographer, active since ’74, will be joining the chase. His name? Jim Leonard, or “Cyclone Jim”. Really. Check out his website: www.cyclonejim.com. In addition to the mere quarter-mile wide twisters he’s seen in his day, he’s more renowed for intercepting hurricanes, those cyclones of the more 500-mile-wide variety. He has an impressive resume, including many of the storms from the 2005 hurricane season like Katrina, Rita, and Wilma. His ringtone is a tornado siren. And apparently, yesterday afternoon, the president of the National Hurricane Center asked him to be a friend on Facebook.
Good company.
Anyway, the models had predicted a pretty decent chance for action in north-central to northeast Kansas:
...including a 5% chance for tornadic activity:
Sounds small, but that 5% actually translates to a 5% chance of “one or more events occurring within 25 miles of any point during the outlook period.” Nice.
Many, but not all, of the ingredients were in place for something to happen: wind shear, atmospheric instability, strong jet stream, etc. But alas, the air was just too dry. Supercells aren’t likely to form unless dewpoints -- a measure of humidity -- are in the 60s or 70s. Dewpoints in the warned area as we’re leaving OKC? Mid-thirties. The result? Clear blue sky. Ideal conditions for blue jays to chill on street signs without a care in the world:
Luckily, strong southerly winds were blowing strongly into the region, dragging along with it moisture from the Gulf of Mexico. We parked at a gas station in Marion, Kansas, waiting for about 3 hours for something to get going. Not a whole lot going on in the sleepy town of about 2,000 people. In fact, some dude with a pad and paper happened to walk by to interview us. Turns out he worked for the local paper. Who knew we’d be so news-worthy?
We waited a little longer -- with a frisbee to keep us company -- and sure enough, dewpoints climbed, and clouds were starting to fire up:
But, as our guides noted, the clouds were just a little too fuzzy-edged. We jogged a little farther east and ran into another chasing crew at a gas station, looking at some of the explosive clouds forming now at around 7pm:
And the shape of these were striking evidence of wind shear. Clouds billowed up from the south, but strong upper-level winds out of the west were blowing them over. It almost looks like a miniature supercell:
It’s this wind shear that causes storms to rotate. A good sign, but daylight was running out. The chase was a pleasant surprise, given my attitude the day before, but it was becoming clear nothing was going to happen.
Until it did.
We’re sitting in an Applebee’s (apparently a chasers’ favorite) in Emporia, Kansas, when Klipsi, keeping a close eye on his cell phone, says in his Swiss accent, “Guess vat? There is severe warning vest of here in Salina, Kansas.”
Given the upcoming down days in preparation for Monday’s outbreak, we reached a unanimous verdict to drive west (by now it’s 10pm) into the night and check it out. After a quick 30-minute drive, our guide, Dave Holder, learns the cell has just gone “tornado warned”.
We drive to within 2 miles of the point of interest and pull over onto the side of the road, brilliant lightning absolutely everywhere. We step out of the van to get a better look…something not advisable to those blessed with a functional brain. Each time lightning strikes, we can spot classic features of a supercell off to the northwest: wall cloud, rotations aloft, “striations”, and UFO-like structure. Not to mention winds blowing away from us, towards the center of the circulation, feeding the storm. The cloud base is too high for a tornado to form (although apparently it had touched down about 30 minutes before, damaging a house in Hope, Kansas).
The most surreal part of this whole experience was the silence. Lightning was everywhere, striking probably three times per second. But we didn’t hear a single clap of thunder this entire time. According to “Cyclone Jim”, this is natural: all of the rain, wind, elements, etc., basically absorbs all of the sound waves, given our position. North of the cell is a different story.
After a few minutes of observation, the storm has drifted westward enough that we get blasted with an extremely cold, probably 40-mph wind gust from what’s called the “rear flank downdraft”. Time to go.
Not quite satisfied, we catch back up to the storm for a “core punch”: basically driving straight through the most intense part of the cell. By now the storm has weakened quite a bit -- not surprising given it’s about 4 hours after sunset -- so the most exciting thing we see is a road covered in dime-sized hail.
And that was that. My photography skills are apparently too underdeveloped (and underequipped) to have caught anything from our night chase, but a more skilled photographer than I got a nice shot:
Credit: Paul Sherman, posted on stormtrack.org
Today, we’re on our way back to Norman, Oklahoma, for some down time before our big days on Sunday/Monday. Meanwhile, our buddies Reed Timmer and Chris Chittick (the main guys from tornadovideos.net) are hitting up northern Indiana and Ohio for what looks to be a pretty solid scenario for tornadoes. That’s too far for us to drive today, but maybe we’ll at least be able to live vicariously through them. Or at least watch their live streaming video: www.tornadovideos.net/live.
As we packed the van at 9am, ready to depart western Oklahoma City for northern Kansas, we discover that a veteran chaser and videographer, active since ’74, will be joining the chase. His name? Jim Leonard, or “Cyclone Jim”. Really. Check out his website: www.cyclonejim.com. In addition to the mere quarter-mile wide twisters he’s seen in his day, he’s more renowed for intercepting hurricanes, those cyclones of the more 500-mile-wide variety. He has an impressive resume, including many of the storms from the 2005 hurricane season like Katrina, Rita, and Wilma. His ringtone is a tornado siren. And apparently, yesterday afternoon, the president of the National Hurricane Center asked him to be a friend on Facebook.
Good company.
Anyway, the models had predicted a pretty decent chance for action in north-central to northeast Kansas:
...including a 5% chance for tornadic activity:
Sounds small, but that 5% actually translates to a 5% chance of “one or more events occurring within 25 miles of any point during the outlook period.” Nice.
Many, but not all, of the ingredients were in place for something to happen: wind shear, atmospheric instability, strong jet stream, etc. But alas, the air was just too dry. Supercells aren’t likely to form unless dewpoints -- a measure of humidity -- are in the 60s or 70s. Dewpoints in the warned area as we’re leaving OKC? Mid-thirties. The result? Clear blue sky. Ideal conditions for blue jays to chill on street signs without a care in the world:
Luckily, strong southerly winds were blowing strongly into the region, dragging along with it moisture from the Gulf of Mexico. We parked at a gas station in Marion, Kansas, waiting for about 3 hours for something to get going. Not a whole lot going on in the sleepy town of about 2,000 people. In fact, some dude with a pad and paper happened to walk by to interview us. Turns out he worked for the local paper. Who knew we’d be so news-worthy?
We waited a little longer -- with a frisbee to keep us company -- and sure enough, dewpoints climbed, and clouds were starting to fire up:
But, as our guides noted, the clouds were just a little too fuzzy-edged. We jogged a little farther east and ran into another chasing crew at a gas station, looking at some of the explosive clouds forming now at around 7pm:
And the shape of these were striking evidence of wind shear. Clouds billowed up from the south, but strong upper-level winds out of the west were blowing them over. It almost looks like a miniature supercell:
It’s this wind shear that causes storms to rotate. A good sign, but daylight was running out. The chase was a pleasant surprise, given my attitude the day before, but it was becoming clear nothing was going to happen.
Until it did.
We’re sitting in an Applebee’s (apparently a chasers’ favorite) in Emporia, Kansas, when Klipsi, keeping a close eye on his cell phone, says in his Swiss accent, “Guess vat? There is severe warning vest of here in Salina, Kansas.”
Given the upcoming down days in preparation for Monday’s outbreak, we reached a unanimous verdict to drive west (by now it’s 10pm) into the night and check it out. After a quick 30-minute drive, our guide, Dave Holder, learns the cell has just gone “tornado warned”.
We drive to within 2 miles of the point of interest and pull over onto the side of the road, brilliant lightning absolutely everywhere. We step out of the van to get a better look…something not advisable to those blessed with a functional brain. Each time lightning strikes, we can spot classic features of a supercell off to the northwest: wall cloud, rotations aloft, “striations”, and UFO-like structure. Not to mention winds blowing away from us, towards the center of the circulation, feeding the storm. The cloud base is too high for a tornado to form (although apparently it had touched down about 30 minutes before, damaging a house in Hope, Kansas).
The most surreal part of this whole experience was the silence. Lightning was everywhere, striking probably three times per second. But we didn’t hear a single clap of thunder this entire time. According to “Cyclone Jim”, this is natural: all of the rain, wind, elements, etc., basically absorbs all of the sound waves, given our position. North of the cell is a different story.
After a few minutes of observation, the storm has drifted westward enough that we get blasted with an extremely cold, probably 40-mph wind gust from what’s called the “rear flank downdraft”. Time to go.
Not quite satisfied, we catch back up to the storm for a “core punch”: basically driving straight through the most intense part of the cell. By now the storm has weakened quite a bit -- not surprising given it’s about 4 hours after sunset -- so the most exciting thing we see is a road covered in dime-sized hail.
And that was that. My photography skills are apparently too underdeveloped (and underequipped) to have caught anything from our night chase, but a more skilled photographer than I got a nice shot:
Credit: Paul Sherman, posted on stormtrack.org
Today, we’re on our way back to Norman, Oklahoma, for some down time before our big days on Sunday/Monday. Meanwhile, our buddies Reed Timmer and Chris Chittick (the main guys from tornadovideos.net) are hitting up northern Indiana and Ohio for what looks to be a pretty solid scenario for tornadoes. That’s too far for us to drive today, but maybe we’ll at least be able to live vicariously through them. Or at least watch their live streaming video: www.tornadovideos.net/live.
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