Bust

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I’m constantly amazed at what a crap shoot storm chasing actually is. The virtual guarantee of tornadic activity in western Oklahoma/Kansas yesterday was quickly and decisively dashed by a wave of rain passing through the area the night before. Morale obviously took a sharp downhill turn. When an event doesn’t pan out during a week’s chase (like South Dakota earlier in the week), it’s nice to have the safety net of knowing a bigger and better event is yet to come.

Alas, we now do not have that luxury.

Tuesday was a travel day: we escaped the black hole of flatness and boredom that is Nebraska for greener, modestly hillier pastures in Kansas. Not only that, but I got to drive our tank on a mini-chase near Wichita, in which we experienced a nice little gust front and shelf cloud. Our truck may not be as hardcore as Reed’s Dominator or Sean Casey’s TIV, but it holds its own through a hailstorm (Hypothetically, anyway. We haven’t really experienced any hail to give its hail rack a trial run).

We chill at an Applebee’s in Wichita that night, speculating about Wednesday. We’re so confident that we discuss not whether we’ll see a tornado, but rather the number and size of the twisters we will catch. Quelling the Christmas Eve-like excitement we’re feeling, we nod off and get a good night’s sleep, ready for the promise of Wednesday’s chase.

Then we wake up to a harsh reality.

Overnight, a large swath of rain and thunderstorms crept up from Texas through Oklahoma. Seems fairly innocuous, but the problems are twofold: all the rain cooled the surrounding areas considerably, and the storms also began cutting off all of the southerly winds from the Gulf of Mexico. As a result, our target area has now become much cooler and slightly drier, limiting the atmospheric instability needed for severe weather.

It’s not a total loss at this point, because a potent upper-level trough has moved into the area. At least we have that going for us, but if we don’t have enough instability, it’s just not going to have the firepower. Like trying to shoot an assault rifle using grains of sand.

Scott commented later that all us chasers had this reality in the back of our minds, but you always have hope. Often times, unlikely chase days yield a lone, monster supercell. Lots of other chasers apparently had hope, too, because we ran into them everywhere in Pratt, Kansas (it’s about 11:30am when we arrive there). We drove right past Sean Casey’s TIV, and then parked across the street again from Reed’s Dominator.

One storm chaser married couple (Aww!) in an old Chevy Blazer from Illinois stopped to chat with us for a bit. Reed’s rivals have described his Dominator as a “big red shoe”, but I like the Illinois guy’s description better, when he bellowed under his Ron Swanson-like moustache, “Look at that thang! It’s like a PT Cruiser on some kind of messed-up steroid.”

2:34pm – We leave Pratt behind in favor of Greensburg, Kansas, and we get clocked by a giant tumbleweed. Our steel-nerved driver, Jon, remains unfazed.

2:46pm – Greensburg, Kansas, is quite the inspirational town.


Having been virtually destroyed four years ago by a mile-wide EF-5 tornado, the rebuilding process is well underway, and the reconstructive efforts have a special emphasis placed on green technology. Streamlined architecture, wind power, and the like. It’s shocking to drive through and see the shaved trees and stripped foundations. The gas station folks give us the stinkeye, as we detect a little animosity directed towards the storm chasing community. Understandable.

The wood sculpture below in particular symbolizes the town’s resiliency. It’s a guy with a cowboy hat riding a tornado: a beacon of pride and an homage to the movie Dr. Strangelove:


3:46pm – We’re starting to see towers go up in the distance, but many chasers have begun heading west. Later, we find that they’re after a new target: a warm front near the Kansas/Nebraska border. And oh, by the way, tornadoes are also happening in Nebraska and Iowa. Nonetheless, we remain skeptically confident that our dryline scenario will shape up here in the next few hours. Trying to get zen on our side, we occasionally chant the mantra, “Patience, young grasshopper.”

After some indecision, we finally choose to drift west, as a cell seems to be starting to grow.

5:13pm – We’ve been following the cell north towards Ness City, and it actually looks kinda nice. A skinny base develops just to our west:


But it quickly dies. That atmospheric instability problem is coming back to haunt us. As a last gasp, we choose to fly northward towards the warm front. There’s certainly WAY more action up that way.

7:36pm – Right around now, we stop for gas in Moxie, Kansas, and the reality begins to set in that this is not going to happen. The warm front is outrunning us, and nothing is really looking that promising anyway. This chase is a bust. Our spirits crushed, we depart east.

8:59pm – We see a sign for a Dairy Queen and decide to stop there for a hearty burger or chicken fried steak sandwich or something besides gas station sunflower seeds and Bugles. When we arrive, we find out all they serve is ice cream and hot dogs. And oh, by the way, Caryn STILL hasn't tracked down her luggage. NOTHING is going our way. Eventually, we chill at a Pizza Hut in Hays and watch the OKC Thunder beat down the Memphis Grizzlies. (Winner plays my Mavs, so you know why I’m watching.)

11:49pm – Arrive in Salina, KS. Forecast looks slightly promising in southeast Oklahoma. Everyone else is too depressed from Wednesday’s epic letdown to chase Thursday, but we Extreme Vorticity team members are hearty folk.

We’re gonna find something.

Stay tuned.

Symmetry

Remember how I said in my last post that Sunday’s drive was the Exhibit A symbolizing the exhaustion and unpredictability of the storm chaser’s life?

Monday -- which turned out to be an incredibly eventful day -- was Exhibit B. Allow me to explain, in convenient timeline format!

7:12am: We depart our motel in Sterling, CO, after five hours’ sleep. Destination? Rapid City, South Dakota, to pick up two-fifths of our chasing crew. And of course, the whole reason we diverted Caryn and Barb to South Dakota instead of our DFW home -- the potential for an outbreak in South Dakota -- lies in the back of our minds. The Storm Prediction Center, though, downgraded the day just a little bit, showing a much smaller chance of tornadoes (below). We remain optimistic: they’re right a lot, but they’re wrong a lot, too. And we didn’t just drive 1000 miles for nothing.


8:01am: We cross into Nebraska. I’m reminded of the episode of South Park when the kids cross the Colorado/Nebraska state line, and a sign that says, “You’re In Nebraska. We’re sorry.” greets them. It’s like the Sahara, but with dead grass:


8:47am: We cruise through a tiny town called Gurley, Nebraska. Funny on its own, but even more hilarious when we see a water tower touting their high school mascot, the Warriors. Yes. That’s right. The Gurley Warriors.

10:57am: Getting closer to the Rapid City airport, and we find out that Caryn’s arrival is in serious jeopardy. Her first flight delayed, it’s unlikely that she’ll make her connecting flight in Chicago O’Hare. Bummer.

11:28am: By a stroke of luck, her connecting flight is delayed, too. She runs from terminal to terminal through O’Hare, arriving at her plane with about 17 seconds to spare. She’s now due to arrive only a half-hour late, and Barb is set to land on time. To quote Caryn, “Groovy!”

12:41pm: With a little time to kill, we decide to pay a visit to Mount Rushmore, only a little ways off of our Rapid City-bound route. Winding through the neighboring Custer State Park, and spot a herd of lazy buffalo:


Followed by a stone carving of some familiar faces, framed by a one-lane tunnel carved out of a giant boulder:


Nice.

2:20pm: We pick up Caryn and Barb at Rapid City. The crew is here! The bad news: Caryn’s baggage is not. Uh oh. We’ll deal with that later; it’s looking like action is going to start brewing near Pierre, South Dakota. Onward.

5:23pm: All that anticipation, all for naught. We hang out at a gas station near Belvidere, SD, spending a substantial amount of time throwing a football on a gravel parking lot, waiting for something -- anything -- to happen. We run into some fellow chasers, and we agree that the day is probably toast. Not a cloud in the sky. Almost all the necessary ingredients are there, but there’s just not enough heat where we are to spark anything.

Bummer. All that effort to get to drive a thousand miles and divert planes and lost luggage...for nothing?? We need beer.

But first, we hear that the tour company we used last year, along with Storm Chasers star Reed Timmer, etc., are in a neighboring town, also feeling sorry for themselves. We decide to drop say hey.

6:34pm: Now in a little town called Murdo, we run into Reed’s crew and spot our buddy Dave Holder leading the tour group again this year. Cruising in a new van (they needed it), they haven’t seen a whole lot this week. Like us, they’re getting ready for the impending outbreak predicted for Wednesday. Among other amenities, their van boasts an over-the-top paint job. And guess who’s silhouette is on the back of their van?


Yep, that studly shadow, the guy on the right, is me.

After chatting with the crew for a while, we head south, planning another long drive to Salina, Kansas.

8:26pm: One Bud Light and barbecue hoagie later, we check the weather, and are shocked to see three tornado warned cells have spawned near Rapid City. You know, where we were only 6 hours before. Rather than wait for the storm that might be there tomorrow, we decide to fly 2 hours west and catch the storm that exists today.

Around now, times began to get hazy, so I’ll abandon the timeline format from here...

We stop about 20 miles from the storm -- near the Nebraska/South Dakota border -- and get out of our Expedition for some amazing lightning shots. Seriously, there was a lightning strike about 5 times per second, certainly rivaling the most amazing display of nature I’ve ever seen. Example, though this doesn’t begin to do it justice:

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Unsatisfied, we cruise closer, perhaps 5 miles south of the storm, and see this amazing storm structure. That plume you see illuminated by lightning is called an “updraft tower”, which feeds moisture into the storm. If a tornado were to exist, it would be at the base of that plume:


Finally, still not quite satisfied, we rendezvous with the circulation (it’s still tornado-warned at this time), and get within a half-mile of the wall cloud/funnel cloud. This is just unreal:


It’s amazing: yesterday was starting to look just like the day before (15 hours’ driving), but ended up almost exactly reproducing our first chase day last year: disappointment, followed by the realization that something was going to happen while sitting in a restaurant, followed by a chase into the night of a low-level circulation illuminated by lightning. The symmetry was uncanny.

Thankfully, Tuesday will be a day of semi-rest, driving back southward through Nebraska and preparing for the outbreak on Wednesday. Here’s what SPC shows for tomorrow’s event:


That 45%? Kind of rare. Not high-risk rare probably, but still very promising. A prominent quote in a foreign movie I saw recently describes the anticipation felt by storm chasers everywhere: “Create excitement!”

Moving Targets

Before we get started, here’s a plug for a new website one of our guys put together, ExtremeVorticity.com! Watch our storm chasing posse on our live video stream as we hunt down a tornader. You should watch, not only for your own good, but also because in a roundabout way, we’ll somehow get paid for it.

--


Storm chasing is nothing if not (1) ridiculously unpredictable and (2) absolutely exhausting. My experience today is your Exhibit A.

As of 1am last night, when I was falling asleep, our plans were all set: a small outbreak was due in western Oklahoma nudging down into northwest Texas, according to the Storm Prediction Center. Two of our chase crew (Barb the film editor from NoCal and Caryn the social worker from Milwaukee) had Monday plane tickets to DFW at the ready, and our remaining crew of three was to have ourselves a practice round.

We planned everything perfectly. Until we realized that we didn’t.

I awoke this morning at around 7, and perhaps the third thing I did was check the forecast for the day. All of a sudden, nothing (or very little) predicted for OK/TX, but a decent setup lasting a handful of days, hours upon hours away in South Dakota and Nebraska. For instance, Monday’s setup:


But what did all this mean for us? Stranded in Texas, we couldn’t leave our two lady chasers behind who were due to arrive Monday. And after we were scheduled to pick them up at around 1, it would take an entire day to get to our South Dakota target area, and we’d miss just about everything until Wednesday’s southern plains outbreak.

But dammit, we weren’t going to let our poor luck ruin our week. After all, most of us were forced to take five days’ vacation for this. Our bright idea: let’s just jet (and by jet, I mean drive forever and ever and ever) up to South Dakota today (and if necessary, overnight), and Caryn and Barb can change their flights to Rapid City instead of DFW. All we had to do was sacrifice our practice chase in Oklahoma (where nothing too crazy is happening anyway) and then drive a mere 15.5 hours to Rapid City by 1pm tomorrow.

Piece o’ cake.

So now we’re driving through some grassfire smoke near Childress, TX, which by the way, is one of the very most exciting parts of the state of Texas:


The good news? I constantly check my iPhone as my Mavs decisively sweep the hated LA Lakers by 36 points, perhaps the most enjoyable part of which was perennial benchwarmer Brian Cardinal hitting the record-breaking shot for most 3’s by a team in the NBA playoffs. (Thanks to my dad for reporting this very important fact to me.) Give me a little bit of the credit though, because I wore my Beat LA t-shirt today. Anyway, that certainly will make the next 13 hours easier to take.

And a wedge tornado tomorrow wouldn’t hurt either.

It's Happening...Again

Because my first storm chasing experience just wasn't enough.

If you happened to read about last year's tornado chase in Oklahoma -- you know, the one where I almost died if not for keen observations by our accompanying meteorologist and a stroke of luck -- you know that my thirst for adventure was not quenched by a mere 6 days of chasing in the heart of Tornado Alley. It had the opposite effect, in fact. Much like a drop of liquid to a water-deprived wanderer stranded in the middle of the desert only makes his thirst sharper, I HAD to have more experiences like that.

My fellow tourers from last year, for a number of reasons, decided to forego the tour company Extreme Tornado Tours: it costs too many Benjamins, the company was offering only ten-day tours this year and filled up anyway, and we thought with a little training, we could do just as well. (Famous last words.)

My buddy Scott, also in the Dallas area and on the tour last year, accompanied me to a handful of SkyWarn training sessions (geek alert!). Not only that, but he was so into this storm chasing thing that he decided to buy an old Expedition and have it fitted to survive three-inch hail. Rhino lining. Bullet proof glass. And of course, a slickly engineered hail rack that deploys over the windshield. It took lots of elbow grease and knowhow (so I'm told, I actually didn't participate in implementing these enhancements), but it's all ready to go.

We even went on a test run about three weeks ago, when a potent storm system barreled through the DFW region in the middle of the night. It was too late to get close to any tornadoes, and only a couple touched down that night anyway, but we did get a chance for camera practice, capturing some awesome lightning shots. Example:


I need not tell you about the terrible outbreak just last week in the southeast, when two high-risk days in a row occurred. For perspective, it's fairly unusual for the Storm Prediction Center to issue two high-risk days IN A WHOLE YEAR, but this was no ordinary outbreak. After that grim situation, we have a renewed sense to not get too close to these things. Nevertheless, we're all still eager to feel the power of Mother Nature's most intense fury from close range.

So our itinerary: a "practice chase" tomorrow in western Oklahoma-ish. A return Monday to DFW to pick up two of our fellow chasers -- one a social worker from Milwaukee and another a film editor from NoCal (did I mention we're a motley crew?) -- and a trek northward to Kansas/Nebraska, or as far as the highway will take us in 8ish hours. Wednesday is looking like the big day right now, as the Storm Prediction Center will show you:


We (or at least I) are little more than storm chasing novices at this point, on the lower end of the amateur scale. But the only way to move up that scale is to get out in the mix. Scott has had a decent amount of success in recent weeks on his chases, so we're definitely optimistic about our chances. Hey, if we're lucky, we might get another Bowdle, South Dakota-like storm. Whatdya think?



Cheers. MUCH more later...I'll catch you up after some long hours on the road.