Well in the Wells
Cheyenne Wells to Akron, CO
14 Jun 13
SHORT: High-based, outflow-dominant storms.
LONG:
Starting our annual Great Plains vacation the day before, we drove from OUN-ITR–a long haul. Morning this day found us in our favorite Burlington motel, the Chaparral Inn, realizing fully well that moisture was scant with the strongest deep shear located N of a slow-moving to stationary front over NE CO and NW KS. In short, it looked like a day when early towers might yield spouts, then it would be an outflow fest afterward. Hey, when dealing with the atmosphere, you can’t take more than you’re given.
First, however, there was some unfinished business to attend at the increasingly derelict “See Six States” tower, antique shop and very outdated tourist attraction near Genoa. The place, despite its schtick, is packed with history! Elke had spied a particular old bottle there last year that she regretted not buying; and sure enough it still was there, sitting on the same spot of the same shelf. The eccentric old man that ran the place, Jerry Chubbuck, was more than happy to sell it to her; he saw maybe one or three vehicles a day stop in, while thousands passed by on the nearby Interstate. [Sadly, Jerry died in August. What will become of that old place and its thousands of antique items?] I also had a little compositional photography in mind there (with permission) of some old bottles and the inside of the tower area upstairs. As we left, in early afternoon, convective towers began to build along the front to our ENE-SE-SSW.
Gradually and in stepwise fashion, we headed back E on I-70 then S out of ITR toward Cheyenne Wells, driving beneath the now high-based line of showers and storms. We never saw any spouts (updrafts were fuzzy, not firm, thanks to meager CAPE), but we did see a weak gustnado to the SE. In Cheyenne Wells, we had a great late lunch/early dinner at a small storefront cafe staffed and patronized by very hospitable people. My red-blooded, patriotic t-shirts, and the sociopolitical slant behind them, go over well in the Wells and in other small towns all over the Great Plains.
Several miles W of town, we stopped to observe and photograph an interestingly chaotic sky, before proceeding N toward lodging that would put us in position for the next day’s target area near the CO/NEb border. Also, on our way through the rain (coming into Cheyenne Wells), in town, after we headed E out of town, and in a second round of (heavier) storms near Anton, we PINGed the rain too. The green dots show our PING trails; we were the only PINGers in eastern CO for those storms. Finally, near AKO, we stopped to photograph the late-afternoon light with a background of dark clouds from the small Anton MCS.
It was a stress-free way to get into the swing of the trip. We had low expectations meteorologically, so this was a casually pleasant day of storm and landscape observing, food consumption, and visiting the old man’s fading attraction near Genoa, and for what may have been the final of several visits over the years to the See Six States tower.
High Plains Lightning Festival
Colorado-Nebraska Border Region
13 June 11
SHORT: Began in BFF. Waited in SNY. Avoided outflow-surfing CO/NEb border storms to intercept supercell near AKO, saw probably non-tornadic dust whirls with storm merger there. Fantastic twilight lightning display from elevated storms along border S of IBM.
LONG:
Elke and I started the day in BFF, targeting the general area of the CO/NEb border SE of there. I wasn’t particularly jazzed by the weak lower-tropospheric winds in the forecast, figuring outflow and/or storm splits would be a problem. Still, it’s the high plains in early June with adequate moisture, upslope flow and at least marginal shear. The answer? Be there.
We waited a good, long time at a hilltop outside SNY, just NW of a dryline that eventually would fire up a tornadic HP supercell in the horrible road network and terrain of the Sandhills. We saw those towers to the distant NE, but chose not to pursue given the great difficulties involved with storm intercepts in those parts.
Meanwhile, we listened to meadowlarks and, on radar displays, watched chaser icons on SpotterNetwork zigzag back and forth across the area in impatience as the lack of focused action. Fuzzy storms began to fire between the Laramie Range and Cheyenne Ridge, which was no surprise; their distant bases were so high we could see them from SNY. I wasn’t impressed. Red dots converged on I-80 and headed W. We sat, waiting and hoping instead for dryline development to access richer moisture to our SE and E.
Finally, off to the distant SW, two storms erupted near and N of the Palmer Divide in Colorado. This was near the very southern fringes of our forecast area; but as nothing much was happening with the dryline nearby, and the storms were reachable, we decided to go have a look. Along the way SW, through the convoluted maze of roads that is Sterling CO, the southeast storm attracted quite a few chaser icons. The NW storm didn’t, was closer, and was in a similar environment; so we headed toward AKO to intercept it.
Alas, along the way, the SE storm calved off a big left-mover and died! Moreover, the left mover shot toward the inflow region of our target storm like a torpedo hell-bent on mutually assured destruction of both storms. Briefly, we got a view of the NW supercell’s mesocyclone area to our WSW before the left-mover’s core arrived; and it looked like a somewhat higher-based version of a North Texas HP “Stormzilla”. This meant big hail; so it was imperative to get S fast.
Yet there loomed the left-mover over the road to our S, likely bearing ice bombs also. It got there as we did, just S of AKO. The two storms started to merge overhead, and in the tiny gap between their cores, two strongly rotating dust whirls appeared less than a mile to our W, about 3 minutes apart. [I was driving and driving hard, so…no photos!]
Though a narrow, ribbon-shaped updraft had formed overhead at the merger location, we could see no obvious rotation in it. I attributed the whirls to gustnado-like vortices being stretched where the two gust fronts met. We maintained an equatorward bearing, encountering only marginal severe hail at best (to our relief).
Arriving just S of the combined storms, which indeed were killing each other, we photographed the dying supercell across rain-drenched corn stubble S of AKO. It was good to see Steve Hodanish and to swap Hodo stories with a co-worker of his, and also, to talk with a few other friendly storm observers whom I hadn’t met before. Yet we were essentially stormless, parting ways and headed back toward our various bases for the night. All that was left, for now, was outflow spinning a windmill under a dark and stormy high plains skyscape.
We headed toward lodging in the Nebraska Panhandle, soaking in the sights of Pawnee National Grasslands in anticipation of spending a couple of upcoming non-chase days of roaming around some of our favorite haunts around the Black Hills, not counting on any more atmospheric excitement. As good fortune sometimes plays on previously under-performing storm days, the night brought about an unexpected–and most welcome–show of splendor that made our night!
A short line of elevated and high-based thunderstorms erupted over the WY-NEb border region atop the outflow pool from all the late-afternoon activity, and moved SE across the southwestern Panhandle and across the Cheyenne Ridge. Evening storms like this in the High Plains can spark profusely, and these absolutely did! We found a vantage just over the CO/NEb border S of IBM (Kimball, not the company) and began shooting away at the approaching spectacle. Assorted forked and in-cloud displays slashed across the fading twilight, their reports blasting resonantly across the wide-open landscape. Soon, some cloud-to-air discharges flickered forth, followed by yet more (and closer) sky-splitting CG action. Wow…what a show!
The lightning was getting too close, though; so we drove through the translucent core of the thunderstorm line a short distance into IBM, crossing a few miles of small hail (with almost no rain!) along the way. I’ll never forget the sight of countless thousands of little white hail balls in the high beams–cascading dots of brightness, the only form of light shining back at me along that dark High Plains highway.
After securing a motel room near the edge of town (like we like to do), we noticed the sparkling display still underway to our SE, and headed back out past the E edge of town for a little crawler-lightning show in the trailing precip region. And with a few more flashes to light up the midnight hour across the western Nebraska prairie, bedtime drew nigh, our storm-hungry palates duly satiated. I had very few lightning photos to show for 2011 until this night, when the heavens unloaded electrical gifts one after another in a most dazzling and appreciated fashion.