Pleasant Diagonal across North Dakota
Filed under: Summary
Rolla and Grafton ND areas
9 Jun 12
SHORT: Small convective towers and beautiful sunset Cb photographed along with abandoned structures and Northern Plains landscape.
LONG: This date loomed several days in advance, even in national forecast outlooks, as not just a potential supercell day, but tornado-outbreak day, across the eastern Dakotas. As time got closer, it became more and more apparent that the wind fields would be there–albeit in a smaller area mostly encompassing eastern North Dakota–but lack of robust moisture would be a major hindrance to storm development. So would capping, for much of the day, despite strong large-scale and frontogenetic forcing.
Elke and I had an additional logistic quandary in that the best low-level shear would be N of the Canadian border. We wouldn’t mind chasing there; but we didn’t bring our passports. So we undertook a strategy that, in essence, was: get ahead of the cold front and tuck ourselves just S of the border to jump on any storms that might develop to our S and mature before crossing the 49th parallel.
I was rather surprised to see the number of Southern Plains storm observers via SpotterNetwork attempting the long and dangerously sleep-deprived overnight trek from Oklahoma, Kansas and even Texas, for what looked to me like an ever more feeble setup for tornadoes. By contrast, we already were in the region and on vacation, with no particular place to be for a few days after the system departed. In fact, we fully intended to stay in ND after this day, until the next northern-stream weatehr system, and explore the state. North Dakota seldom was visited by us before now, and never in-depth, as true appreciation warrants. We had wanted to spend more than a couple of days in ND for many years, and now was the start of that chance!
Originating our trek from Bowman, in the SW corner of ND, involved an earlier-than-usual arousal from bed and crisscrossing the state on a diagonal. Fortunately, ND is not a particularly massive block of land (similar in area to Oklahoma), and the roads are plentiful and in good condition E and N of the Missouri River. Some short-range, convection-resolving models unzipped the front N-S across the eastern third of the state by about 4-5 p.m.; but I didn’t buy it. A simple examination of the 700- and 500-mb charts, surface chart and moisture-channel imagery indicated the strongest lift might not even occur before dark; and supercell initiation would be improbable before 0Z. For once, I was confident early development would not be a problem and storms would hold off before late afternoon, enabling a stop in BIS for lunch and procurement of a much-needed ND road atlas. [Yes, we still navigate chases exclusively with paper road atlases, though we found the BIS Barnes & Noble with I-Phone Google Maps–the best of both worlds!]
We zigzagged NNE from BIS through Rugby, stopping to visit the geographic center of North America. While heading E to stay ahead of the bent-back portion of the cold front, we crossed an outflow boundary from a strong morning MCS that was, in effect, acting as a warm front. Clouds on the NE side of the boundary were scuddy and more stratified than on the warm (SW) side that overtook us several minutes later. As the boundary crossed our location, we noticed that blades in the eastern portion of a nearby wind farm still were facing SE on the cool side, whereas those in the western part had pivoted to face S–a modern manifestation of “reading the wind”. Although those towers near the boundary were unlikely to build into a mature supercell before reaching the border, we had hopes others could fire farther S on the front and move our way.
Meanwhile, we stopped a few times between Rugby and Rolla to pass the time–enjoying the scenery of the Northern Plains‘ post-glacial landscape (closer shot of gaillardias with bumblebees) and that bit of Americana involving an old barn with glacial rocks. As seen from a spot near Rolla, as far N as we ever had been on a chase, convective towers kept bubbling along and ahead of the front to our W, but neither broadening nor deepening appreciably until crossing into Canada. Even then, they didn’t survive long upon crossing the remains of the outflow boundary.
Regarding the day as an increasingly probable bustola for sustained storms, but still wishing to stay ahead of the front, we headed several more miles E into Towner County. It was nearly 8 p.m., still plenty of (low) daylight left, and a few towers were erupting to our distant SE. Those appeared to be along the remnants of the outflow boundary, and a quick glance at a surface map confirmed that. But they also were on a sharply defined confluence line and the E edge of strengthening N-S baroclinic gradient ahead of where I thought the forward segment of the front should be by pure extrapolation of translation. The front was redeveloping (frontogenesis) ahead of its previous position–in effect, jumping E of us!
Zooming E on US-281 and ND-5, we realized that the first cell was moving fast and would pass our longitude before we safely could get there; it became a short-lived supercell just into Manitoba, N of the dying old outflow boundary. When realizing the futility of that pursuit, we stopped to photograph an abandoned farmhouse and barn in the warm, late-day light, with other frontal towers across the background skyline.
More cells fired to our SSE, this time reachable. However, since it would be just a little before sunset by the time we would intercept them along the now eastward-accelerating front, we chose to hold back W a little and photograph them from the side preferentially aglow. By the time we reached a point near Hoople (between Cavalier and Grafton), scuddy low clouds broke enough to afford us great viewing of the spectacle. As the sun set in the NW, a small cumulonimbus just past the Minnesota border reflected brilliantly in the eastern sky, turning deeper shades of peach and apricot before falling into shadow and growing dim. The convection softened, weakened and moved away rapidly after sunset, which was quite late in those parts (9:52 p.m. at our filming location); so we headed to nearby Grafton for lodging and a late fast-food dinner.
Elke and I had started the previous day in Cheyenne, WY, and ended it here in northeastern ND. That’s a long haul! Yet we had undertaken a scenic and rewarding trip, bisecting the central and northern Plains from SW-NE. The journey hadn’t been quite as tiresome as the many miles might make it seem, probably thanks to the many stops and small rewards bountifully scattered along the way. Still, we were ready for a few days of post-frontal rest and relaxation before the next storm-spawning system. I didn’t count on a fortuitous encounter with photogenic cold-core storms the next day…
Gorgeous Skyscapes: Wind Cave National Park
Filed under: Summary
Splendid Storm and Sunset near Hot Springs SD
14 June 11
SHORT: Began in Kimball. High-based storms and shallow convection along way N to Hot Springs SD. Beautiful storm before sunset over Wind Cave NP followed by equally amazing sunset scenes there.
LONG:
This wasn’t intended to be a “chase day”, per se, but we nonetheless encountered some beautiful shallow-convective scenery enroute that make it well worth sharing here, capped off by a wonderful little storm and color-splashed sunset where the Black Hills meet the Great Plains. On this day, the convection came to us!
After a decent brunch in IBM, we took off N for a couple of nights in a familiar set of cabins at Hot Springs. Along the way, we photographed an abandoned performance hall against a backdrop of brilliant, post-frontal blue sky and deep cumuli. The old place, structurally sound but superficially rickety, had a stage, piano, ticket booth, and separate outdoor latrine. Imagine having to leave the performance because of a terrible need to take a big dump…everyone there would know!
Sufficient residual moisture and relatively cold air aloft supported convectively textured, yet very clean, post-frontal skies that made fine backdrops for photographing other abandoned structures, such as this one near Crawford and this one near the NEb/SD border. The sky also added richness to scenes of rock formations, patterns, flowers and landscapes in the Toadstool Geologic Park within Oglala National Grassland. Toadstool is a wondrous little favorite place for us on the Great Plains–an outpost of the Badlands without all the tourist crowds–where we spent a few hours hiking and exploring for the first time in several years.
We got dinner in Hot Springs, whereupon my son David called to inform me he was caught driving in a tremendous hailstorm in Norman and needed advice on what to do. I directed him to a parking area; but his vehicle later got damaged by a flying tree limb in the second downburst. Facebook soon sprang to life with frantic posts of the fury of the hail-filled downbursts upon Norman. Ultimately, we would need to replace a good deal of roofing and guttering on our house from this event; and I knew even then that I would have many limbs to saw up and drag to the curb upon return. The dread of that chore made me enjoy this vacation even more, far away from still another Norman maelstrom that struck in our absence.
After dinner, we secured our cabin overlooking town, then headed up the road toward the rolling grasslands of Wind Cave National Park in hopes of some buffalo, wildflowers and sunset. Elke and I long have wanted to photograph a beautiful storm in the uniquely beautiful setting of this place…lo and behold! There it was! As we approached, we saw a growing Cb, cruising ESE across the undulating green carpet. One of our favorite overlooks happened to offer an outstanding view of the brilliantly lit storm. There we stayed, intermittent rumbles of thunder competing with the western meadowlarks for our ear, warm inflow at our backs, and before our eyes, among the most astounding non-severe stormscapes I’ve witnessed. The storm receded to the NE then E, letting the deep blue post-frontal sky into our wide-angle view, offering a source of reflected eastern light. We had begun full-sensory bathing in yet another transcendent experience best described by what Gretel Ehrlich once declared “the solace of open spaces”.
Just when we thought things couldn’t get more beautiful, they did, in a three-act production set across the theater of the sky. First, our storm gained a dense little core festooned with a bright rainbow that, after swapping on a zoom lens, made a postcard-pretty landscape scene for the national park. Right as that storm receded across the distant Badlands and weakened, the southwestern sky lit up with golden fractus basking in the sunset glow. As soon as those clouds began to dissipate, a couple of small virga showers formed to the S, dropping their wispy mists into the deepening red-orange hues. As they moved east, the moonrise beneath made for one of my favorite sunset and twilight shots of the year: flaming red virga beneath a golden crowned convective cloud top and blue sky. Finally, even as those colors faded, the western sky briefly blazed with a red-gilded cloud edge.
So concluded an unexpectedly stunning and soul-soothing display of atmospheric artistry! Before leaving the hilly meadow, however, there was one more piece of business to attend. On this evening, even a turd could spawn beauty, in this case a buffalo cookie supporting a mushroom! We would return the next day for some wildlife and flower photography and a visit to Crazy Horse, before resuming what would become the most active storm-observing vacation of our lives to date…
2010 Chase Season Dénouement
22 Jun 2010
Southeast WY to North Platte NEb
SHORT: Outflow-dominant supercell observed twice — once in SE WY and another in NEb Panhandle. Gorgeous sunset supercell S of Paxton NEb.
LONG: We were hoping for one final photogenic supercell for our chase vacation, and instead got two.
A piping hot lunch at a local cafe in downtown Sidney NEb, featuring a platter of smashed and fried Rocky Mountain oysters, settled down hunger’s restlessness just long enough for us to watch satellite imagery on the mobile phone, seeking first signs of convective initiation on the Laramie Range to our W. This area would experience favorable upslope flow, decent low-level shear and deep-layer winds, along with sustained surface heating in the absence of any appreciable, antecedent cloud cover, but moisture seemed a tad on the scant side. Once the first towers started to fire NW of CYS, we hopped onto I-80 and roared westward.
By the time we got to Pine Bluffs WY, deep towers were visible with glaciation to our NW. We could see the cloud bases easily, so we fueled at a truck stop there as I chugged down a cold, delicious A&W float. I also reserved a room in LBF for the night using a combination of forecast storm motion and positioning needed to go back home the next day, while watching for a storm to congeal and organize from the agitated area. Soon, it did, and we took off W through Burns and then N, retracing in reverse a segment of our chase path from the tornadic Chugwater event two days prior.
True to the lack of more robust moisture, the bases seemed uncomfortably high, and I was troubled further by how fast the cells started moving E off the mountains as we approached. Was the convection already spewing outflow? Yes! We barely beat the storm to the intersection of WY-213 and WY-216 W of Albin, near which I shot this photo looking W. Yes, there were updraft bases all right, but they were being undercut very quickly by wickedly cold currents hurtling SE from the precip cores. We headed E on 216 to Albin, having to make a decision there either to:
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1. Take unpaved back roads and stay closer to an outflow-surfing wind and ice machine, risking its outrunning us for good somewhere not far E of the WY-NEb border, or
2. Shoot back down to I-90 and bust eastward at higher legal speeds so we could stay abeam and eventually get back ahead of the storm on a north road.
Although I’ve seldom seen such an outflow-dominant storm recover to produce tornadoes, it has happened on one occasion. Furthermore, such storms can produce interesting and sometimes beautiful cloud formations, especially out on the high plains. The decision was easy.
Meanwhile, before zooming down to the Interstate, we watched the storm cross the road to our N, spying a suspicious-looking but very short-lived formation buried in a mesocyclonic notch region (enhanced crop-n-zoom of previous image). That feature quickly vanished, and the whole messy and wild-looking process roared past.
By the time we got just the few miles S to I-80, the storm already had gotten well off to the NE, brilliantly festooning a deep blue sky (wide-angle view from I-90 near the border), with a high and ragged base visible on the trailing flank. That, along with the main updraft base of the storm to our left, were visible as we cruised E to Sidney, then N toward Gurley — in the process retracing a late-day segment of our trek from the previous season’s intercept of the LaGrange WY supercell. For our nearly continuous view of the updraft while driving, and several chasers who were closer at that time and didn’t see any tornado, I had to question the “sheriffnado” reports just E of the border in NEb.
We got directly ahead of the storm again E of Gurley, watching its somewhat-lower base with a small, shallow wall cloud developing to our WNW (wide-angle view) while a deck of low clouds formed overhead. The storm itself was decelerating markedly, and its own outflow boundary appeared to outrun its main reflectivity area (and mesocyclone aloft). I got a dread that the supercell wouldn’t last much longer; and it certainly did not. A zoom view shows the wall cloud that was surrounded by translucent precip. Within minutes, a fuzzy gray bowl of precip appeared right in and under the wall cloud, descending and expanding and obliterating the wall cloud as it reached the ground, and making a splendid example of a tornado look-alike.
Was this a descending reflectivity core (DRC) that came down in a very deleterious place for any low-level mesocyclone’s development and survival? It sure seemed as such. Here’s the view 3 minutes later, when the precip core further expanded and utterly obliterated the cloud base where the wall cloud previously had dangled. Within 11 minutes more, the outflow had gone past, the low clouds cleared away to reveal an astonishingly rapid storm demise!
Thinking that was it for our chase season, we headed E toward LBF, only to see a stunning and spectacular convective eruption to our SE, S of Paxton, beneath a waxing gibbous moon and shortly before sunset. As this storm evolved into a short-lived supercell, we admired the amazing spectacle from a corn field a couple of miles S of the Interstate, until an inverse relationship between amount of sunlight and mosquitoes hastened our resumption of the trip. What a wonderful way to close out the last chase of Spring 2010!
When we settled into our room in LBF, the clerk remembered my call and said we were smart to do what we did many hours before; all the rooms in LBF were booked up solid! After 11 p.m., we noticed a dramatic increase in lightning to our N-W, as storms erupted along the outflow boundary. While cruising S of town in search of a good vantage in that direction, the storms weakened again, precluding any decent lightning photo opportunities, though we did salvage a nice look at lunar crepusculars around an altocumulus deck.
This was a rewarding day, one that left us in ideal geographic position to do something we had wanted for a long time: pick up a stone fencepost from one of the quarries near RSL. It would be right along the way home the following day. Our adventure in doing so was a marvelous glimpse of Americana, chronicled in more detail in this BLOG entry. The dénouement had been written on our chase season – one that was, at times, agonizingly frustrating, and at others, as fulfilling as can be. What adventures await in 2011?