Finally, after seven straight days of chasing, we're "down" in North Platte, Nebraska--preparing for another round starting tomorrow. So here I am, Leora, grabbing this opportunity to update the blog. As Byron described so vividly, we're all stretched to the limit. Sixteen-hour days blur into each other. The towns, the states, the highways, the dirt roads run together. Mile after mile, we push on, always hoping that THIS will be THE storm, the big one, and that we'll intercept it every which way: radar, TIV, Pods.
And yet, the tornadoes are elusive, playing games with us, tantalizing us, popping up just out of reach, or just after we turn around and give up on a storm. Yes, I know they have no conscious intent. However, I bet all chasers have experienced a moment, like when a tornado veers and comes straight up the road, when they're convinced the tornado is aware of them. It sounds ridiculous, I know.
I'm going to tell you about our best day so far and then respond to some of your comments.
On Friday, we finally felt the thrill of victory. As Karen, DOW navigator, put it, "Friday WAS the season." (Needless to say, we're still anticipating an even bigger day.) That morning, Mark, Probe 2 navigator, was so optimistic looking at the weather maps and other data that he refused to express an opinion to me. He was afraid he'd jinx it. Gabe, who realized that Friday was almost identical to the previous day, decided we had to apply our insights from our misses, focusing on the outflow boundary. This paid off.
Around 4:00 p.m. we pulled off I-70 into Quinter, where the DOW radar -- finally operating smoothly -- scanned a storm to our southwest. Silence from Josh gave no clue as to whether a tornado was on the ground. Any funnel would be rain wrapped at that point. So we were blind, relying as so often on what the team likes to call "the all-knowing, all-seeing DOW." The Probe and Scout teams were tense, waiting for word where to deploy Pods. Suddenly Josh confirmed that a tornado was lurking in the gray cloud mass that--wait a minute--was heading straight at us, no more than five miles away.
Each team deployed a Pod in the dirt lot. We were about to bail, when Josh directed us to sit still. Another tornado had flared up and was about to pass just by us, no more than a mile or two away. We all stood outside our trucks peering into the sky, wishing so badly to catch a glimpse of one or both tornadoes.
(TO YOUR RIGHT: This isn't one of our Pods -- it's a Sticknet, deployed by Texas Tech on the same road outside Ness City where we ended up placing 11 of our instruments, creating a dense network for future study.)
Of course, there was an underlying anxiety: thoughts of what if... what if the tornado changes its trajectory, what if it bursts in size engulfing us. Later Josh said he
took into account that the wind rotation at that moment was no more than 100 mph, so in the worst case, we'd still emerge intact.
The more distant tornado showed itself, a gray funnel, steady and grim (see photo on left--you have to make an effort to see it, sorry.) The other flew right by us, almost invisible, with baby vortices inside, an airy concoction, dancing as it intensified. Harmless as it looked, it threw a temper tantrum in Quinter, toppling power lines and probably destroying sheet-metal sheds and warehouses, propelling shingles and breaking trees. Our damage survey of the town yesterday indicated these findings. However, in an extreme case of bad luck, a much stronger, EF-4 tornado catapulted through Quinter later that evening, demolishing homes, making it difficult to isolate the damage from "our tornado."
That same day, we desperately chased a supercell north of Ness City that went through convulsions of
cyclical genesis. Traveling within it, we spotted two tornadoes gyrating in tandem. It was a truly ethereal sight. But at the rate of its progression, there was no catching this storm. We could only watch in awe. (I have no pictures of this event as I was driving extremely fast to catch up with the DOW in an attempt to deploy our last remaining Pod!)
Unwilling to give up on such an abundance, we rode into the night, on and on. We waited patiently for a tornadic storm that had just charged through Hudson causing injuries. As it got closer and closer, ambushing it in the dark felt like a crazier and crazier idea (at least to me). In night intercepts, you must trust utterly in technology, as your senses are almost useless.
That particular pod deployment never occurred, however, because the tornado roped out before reaching our road. It was the end of an intense and exhilarating day and night. The DOW netted a total of six tornadoes on radar.
This leads in to Laura's comment: Laura, we're all exposed to danger to one extent or another. Many members of the science crew are riding in vehicles almost identical to those of production, facing the same risks or greater. How dangerous is this venture? You'll hear many different answers to this question. We're all certainly trying to play safe. I'll include a picture of another shooter for you at the
bottom of this post.
As for the length of the chase season, we're going until mid-June. Storm Chasers will air in October--more episodes, more teams, more excitement, and I hope more tornadoes!
Regarding TIV1 and TIV2: Both vehicles have been on the road at different times this season. (The picture in my last post was of TIV1.)The upgrade has been tough. I don't envy those guys, but you've got to admire their determination. Below you'll see Sean comparing star badges with a police officer.
To any of you who sent me words of encouragement--it's amazing to hear from you on these non-stop days. Danny told me that in the last three years he can't remember such a relentless stretch of chasing as this last one.
Above are a couple of photos from the spontaneous Great Bend Walmart Memorial Day "big bash" -- for those of you who visited us. Thank you for your hospitality! The sporty guy, who happens to be a spunky shooter originally from Colombia, is Andres.
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