HP Heaving on Hutchinson
15 Jun 9
Central KS
SHORT: Observed skinny supercell from N between Scott-Ness Cities. Performed an end-around intercept on HP supercell-turned bow from E of Kinsley to HUT. Munched by bow/HP hybrid in HUT.
LONG:
Once again, we were faced with two interesting target areas — the “north play” near what turned out to be a warm frontogenesis zone along the KS/NE border, and the “south play”, along the prior day’s OFB over SW KS. I didn’t like the south play as much because of the forecast (later observed) smallness of hodographs and persistent SW flow right through the boundary for hours on end. Nonetheless, we headed that way from Oakley (despite being closer to the northern play) after three trends appeared:
1. Winds began to lighten N of the old boundary but not to its S (speed convergence) and
2. Midlevel (i.e., 500 mb) winds appeared stronger farther S, as proged, although low level shear and SRH were bigger in the warm frontogenesis zone, and
3. Storms erupted to our S.
I wanted to hold out longer for the N play, but convective bombs going off were too tempting when compared with the “pancakus” Cu around us and to the N. I’m not sure we would have gone all the way ENE to HSI for that amazing warm frontal storm, but we were in ideal position for the NW KS activity later.
A lone supercell formed N of GCK, here shown at wide angle from N of Scott City, then a separate, zoom view of the backside updrafts. In the background, another cluster of convection SW of GCK could be seen; those eventually would hog the inflow and choke off out storm. As we drove past its near N side, the updraft looked rather skinny, but was quite intense. Then too many other storms formed in too close a proximity to its SW-SE, and we had to make a choice — go back N toward the NEb border (no deep towers yet visible) or go a long way E then S to get ahead of the lead storm N of DDC. As we headed E past Ness, the lead storm started absorbing cells of assorted sizes to its E and “jumping” mesos eastward, forcing us to go still farther E before dropping S.
We finally did so through Larned, St John and Sylvia, encountering a few hailstones of unknown size in the far forward flank (heard ‘em loudly, didn’t see ‘em). Heading S toward St. John, I finally got a view of the business end off to the SW — a dark, menacing, HP supercell, absorbing yet another storm (itself with a high but circular/rotating base) into its forward flank. I might have seen the tornado near Macksville as a persistent, gray on darker gray, bulbous form back there in the mesocyclonic murk several minutes later (no photos…very low light, moving). It was about the right distance, direction and time.
We stopped briefly S of St. John to view the dark menace approaching, then headed E and NE toward HUT to stay ahead (wide-angle photo looking WNW from near Arlington KS). Finally deciding this wasn’t worth going any farther E, we found a protective place and let Stormzilla move over. A sporting goods store on the S edge of HUT was kind enough to let us park under their front porch overhang, right against their doors. It’s not often you get to just stand there well-covered in the lee side of a building, relax, run out now and then to shoot some photos of the oncoming HP/bow Stormzilla, and then let it blast you, no worries.
This was one case where having the I-Phone radar provided assurance we wouldn’t be in a truly dangerous part of it (using the DDC radar, since ICT’s 88d timely fried its antenna motor over an hour before). The apex of the bow passed just to our S, the bookend vortex ( old meso from HP phase) just to our NW and N ( here lit by some anthropogenic glow from the W side of HUT), and we sat in an intermediary channel of estimated tropical storm force (~40-50 kt) WNW winds for about 15 minutes. Power went out there and everywhere else we could see during the maelstrom.
After the wind-whipping, we headed back toward GBD for lodging. A couple miles S of Sterling KS, the solar orb appeared below the razor’s rear edge of the MCS anvil shield and above the top of the far-away deck representing storms in northwest KS. This started up a brief but dazzling double rainbow, its hues warmed across the entire palette thanks to the low sun angle. We stopped to appreciate and photograph it across a deeply golden wheat field foreground, with a strip of green corn in the distance. The wheat looked well-nigh ready for harvest.
Then came dinner in GBD, where we parked next to yet another among many “look at me” chase vehicles hereabouts in the Plains. This one was festooned with Skywarn stickers, assorted “Storm Chaser” decals, a “J2″ decal (as if this was one unit of some sort of team…suuuuuure), and an assortment of anemometers, antennae and PVC tubing atop. Upon closer inspection, only one antenna had any wiring leading inside the vehicle; and the anemometers and tubing were wired up to absolutely nothing. Posers. The large stencils on both sides of the rear windows for a local janitorial service cinched the deal. Yep, we found none other than the Janitor Chasers — keeping you safe and clean!
We ended the evening watching and photographing mainly in-cloud lightning and occasional LTGCA filaments from a band of elevated storms that formed just south of town (and later moved N). It was a neat show, as seen from the open field behind the GBD Wal-Mart. [Mr. Jewell knows exactly where this is.]
Be advised, if you must travel through GBD anytime soon, the main E-W route is torn all to hell, and down to one abominably rough lane each way, for about 1/2 mile W of downtown. Keep your windows up too, for the long puddles in the adjoining swales of construction mud smell like the bowl of a bus station commode. But our lodging was good, and cheap (<$50 again), and that line of elevated cores provided a thunderous late-night lullaby.
Northern Burlington at Sunset
14 Jun 9
Eastern CO
SHORT: Saw high-based, outflow dominant storms from the distance in central Colorado, evaded eastward, waited for other storms to form but not long enough. Treated to wonderfully colored sunset at Burlington CO.
LONG:
Elke and I had a good breakfast at the Memories restaurant in Ft. Morgan (highly recommended), before dropping S toward Last Chance to await storm formation possibilities either on the CYS or Palmer Ridges. While sitting on a hilltop between Last Chance and LIC, we saw a very distant Cb explosion to the NNW, which I-Phone radar revealed to be a rapidly evolving supercell near Chugwater. That was out of reach, realistically, and so was the potential afternoon target along the boundary in SW KS.
We waited longer for Front Range and/or Palmer Ridge storms, dropping S to LIC for shade and better data access. While there, a tornado-warned line of storms quickly fired over the DEN metro area (producing that funnel near downtown and Coors Field). I was disinclined to run immediately after that activity, given its linear and likely high-based character.
We kept waiting at LIC for closer development, which did happen to our W and SW. Alas, it was linear too! Still no photos for the day yet…the activity was distant, but I already could see a shelf cloud emerging through some mild haze WNW-SE of us. I envisioned an unfriendly wall of outflow surging E across central and eastern CO, so we threw in the towel on active chasing for the day, perhaps a little too soon.
We arrived at ITR, got a nice and cheap motel room, and ate dinner at the slow and overpriced steakhouse there (not recommended!). We clung to hope for at least an interesting, shelfy sunset. Meanwhile a couple of brief supercells appeared near the tail end of the line before being munched by the meso-beta scale cold pool (these were the storms observed by BillR, MattC and MikeU).
Even the linear MCS appeared to weaken as it headed toward us, but we went to the N side of town to watch it roll past anyway. The sky was remarkably hazy for eastern CO, but once the gust front hit, the view cleared a good deal. A line-echo wave pattern (LEWP), with a brief and embedded supercell to our N, sent a rear-flank augmentation overhead just in time for the setting sun to shine through its precip curtains, opening up a brief bu dazzling splash of warm coloration in the rain curtains.
As the reds began to fade, the blues deepened in the nooks and crannies of the overhead shelf cloud’s turbulent underbelly, compelling a wide angle shot of the beautiful and unusual scene. It was a fantastic way to close out what had been a rather uninspiring storm day.
A Gust Front, a Fire and 100 Hawks
Hennessey and Okeene OK areas
18 Apr 9
(by Elke Edwards)
Roger and I took a country drive into northern OK on Saturday, ostensibly looking for an April supercell out ahead of an occluded cold front squall. The latest round of I-35 construction (and inherent delays) encouraged an alternate two-lane route to get out of town. I don’t mind. It’s a choice that never fails to gift an unsuspecting traveler with serendipity. In comparison, Interstate travel lacks somewhat in significant happenstance.
We targeted a blip on the radar via iPhone, only to watch the storm weaken and vanish within our sight. Near Hennessey and not yet 5 p.m., we opted to hang out for a while in the sunshine at a crossroads west of town and await whatever else might form ahead of the slow-moving front. Roger drooled over what must have been a lovely classic supercell up in Woods County OK – out of reach for us except by radar. I reminded myself how to set the aperture of my Canon in manual mode, discovered the focusing ring on my favorite lens is starting to fail, and took several shots anyway of the verdant wheat surrounding us just for an experiment in compiling a panoramic.
After a time, we noticed a wisp of smoke rising on the moderate southeasterly breeze a mile or so north. A few minutes later we exclaimed at several large plumes billowing upward and decided to investigate – first the fire and then the squall line.
Many of the pastures we had passed earlier had recent fire signs, though they were already greening beautifully. Apparently the local landsman decided that with rain on the way, it was as good a time as any to burn another acre – a questionable decision given the wind, and it looked like it got rather out of hand; it jumped his plowed fire break, left the pasture and got in some trees. As we passed a couple of cedars went up like they do, i.e., Roman candles, beyond the black and smoking field.
I noticed 2 hawks standing quietly in the black near the road as we drove by – immature Swainson’s hawks, and 4 or 5 more hawks circling the smoke plume bright in the sun farther west. (It’s a habit to count raptors on our country drives – can’t help myself – I see hawks everywhere. It happens when your mother runs a wildlife rehab center that takes in some 500 raptors per year for the last 25 years.) I’d seen six of these harbingers of summer soaring on our way up, long admired them for their incredible bi-annual migration all the way from their wintering grounds in the Pampas of Argentina to the central through northern Great Plains for breeding in April — and then back again in September.
Well, we went on, drove west a ways to get under the anvil canopy and get a better look at the line of thunderstorms heading toward us. The storms were not much to write of, but we were treated to the sight of a large raft of white pelicans climbing the sky on the current of warm air being displaced by storm outflow. We decided to turn around, and I mentioned I would like to look at that scorched field once more to see if the hawks were still there.
We approached driving slowly and were surprised and delighted to find 30 hawks now standing in the half acre plot, alert to any sign of movement in the black. They were very visible in the dark field. Then, looking up, we were astonished to see several dozen more hawks circling and trying to land, occasional squabbles ensuing, the birds calling, some with territorial screams. Wow! How often do any of us get to see so many marvelous hawks all in one place? I knew them all for Swainson’s hawks just by this behavior. We had a some minutes to enjoy the experience and then the gust front came through, reigniting the fire – there were some impressive flames roaring in the partially burned woods that backed the field and quickly blowing smoke at us. All the hawks took flight, some kiting on the wind above the field, others soaring.
On our drive home I explained to Roger that the spectacle we had witnessed was a rarity here in North America. The birds migrate together in large groups and then quickly disperse in pairs to nest all across the Plains. But I had heard stories that once hundreds of hawks gathered for few days before they leave for the winter. The sight is more common for Pampas farmers because these birds stay in large groups there, following locust swarms, in the wake of harvesters – and wild fires. In Argentina they are called Locust Hawks.
Serendipity — the effect by which one accidentally discovers something fortunate, especially while looking for something else entirely. Such was ours today.
…EE…