Mulhall to Stillwater and Ripley OK
14 Apr 13
SHORT: Intercepted marginal/intermittent supercell–pretty storm–between Mulhall and Perkins OK.
LONG: Another day waking up during the late afternoon, after a night shift, offered a conditional opportunity for storm observing. In a year already shaping up to be sparse for such activity, this day offered at least marginally suitable wind and moisture profiles along or near a cold front, somewhere between OKC and southern Kansas.
One major concern was that any storms forming along the front, near and N of the KS border, would be undercut by the frontal air mass; so I played wait-and-see with shallower convection to its south. Finally, a clump of deep towering cumulus became apparent on visible satellite imagery NW of OKC, giving that look I’ve seen many times before of an incipient storm genesis area. Seeing that, I plotted a likely storm-motion vector that would take any resulting activity across I-35 W of SWO, threw the gear into the vehicle, and zigzagged to the Interstate to engage the prospective quarry.
As I passed downtown OKC, I could see deep towers to the NNW-NE glaciate. Radar reflectivities showed growing echoes in the same area, the spawn of the upward-motion zone responsible for those early towers. By the time I got to the high overlook near Mulhall, a series of mostly high-based and small (but deep) towers to my WNW-W were evolving into a more discrete and distinct storm.
From even these early stages, the storm was pretty, but had a pronounced core plummeting through the middle that limited the size of the upshear part of the updraft. This general configuration continued throughout its remaining lifespan, although the updraft did grow appreciably as it approached I-35 and moved into higher-PW boundary-layer air. I headed E to SWO a.k.a. Stillwater a.k.a. Stoolwater, then as the storm assumed marginal supercell characteristics, dropped back S toward Perkins to let it approach. The storm was high-based as expected, outflow-dominant, still with a small updraft, but severe-warned due to hail.
Knowing the tornado potential was next to zero, I let the rear-flank downdraft pass overhead then followed along behind the storm for a potential sunset view. In the Ripley area, still on the back edge of the rear-flank core, I encountered some hail up to about 8/10 inch in size, and reported that via the NSSL-PING app. A garishly painted tour vehicle zoomed east, into the core; but I opted for the colorful side of the storm, spread out beautifully across the eastern sky into which its slowly shrinking form receded. The earlier high-PW air began to be offset by diabatic surface cooling, and the storm spun down from the Perkins area eastward.
Cool, earthy aromas of fresh rain, melted hail and slightly pounded vegetation was welcomed by a chorus of frogs–something very seldom heard in these parts during the past couple of hot, drought-inflamed years. This was the full-sensory experience of storm observing, where even the feel and taste of the air was fresh, clean and wholesome.
After relaxing and enjoying the experience for a spell, I headed back through Perkins for a quick bite of fast food, then S down US-177, I-40, OK-102, and OK-9. It was a fun “backyard” chase that was most welcomed, while still getting me home in time to spend some time with my daughter and beautiful bride (who stayed home) before work.
30 Mar 13
SHORT: After waking up, jaunted a short distance E to watch storms take on beautiful and photogenic sunset textures. Got an unwanted reminder about humanity.
LONG: I had been on an overnight shift that morning, knowing of marginal daytime supercell potential somewhere over the central or eastern parts of the state. The threat depended on the alignment and character of boundaries–some yet to be made.
After awakening rather late in the afternoon and gathering my senses, Elke and I noticed towers erupting along one of those features–an outflow boundary a short distance to our east and south. The eastern towers were in a more favorable moisture and lift environment, and showed decent mass continuity visually; so we proceeded on a mini-chase E along Highway 9 toward Tecumseh.
This all was shortly before sunset, so we stopped at a really good overlook 4 W Tecumseh for the preferred western view. Towers rose deeply and broadly into a downshear anvil while crisply alight in the late-day sunshine.
As we watched this newest, somewhat high-based storm build into the back of its loosely organized convective cluster, a very friendly, middle-aged farmer living in the nearest house came out for a chat with us, then went back to his chicken coop and brought us two fresh, warm eggs from his hens. He told us how happy he was to get a new start in life with his wife, reminisced on his days as an Air Force pilot flying around storms, then headed back to his house.
Meanwhile the sun sank low in the west, and the big dome of convection assumed a gorgeous golden hue in the opposite part of the sky. Over the next 20-25 minutes, an assortment of intervening scud and multicell asymmetries developed, contributing colorful texturing and some oddly beautiful patterns of light and shadow to the storm scene. Meanwhile, we could see the ultimately tornadic Muskogee-area convection in the hazy, distant NE, its tops reddened by the last sun rays of the day.
Visible filaments of lightning were sparse, though the storm flickered rather frequently with deeply internal discharges. Hungry for dinner, we headed back home, and the convection took off southeastward into the hills and trees. The resulting supercellular-multicellular conglomeration traveled deep into the night, over and beyond the Ouachitas, producing hail estimated up to 2.5 inch diameter in Atoka County. From the remote perspective of my operational severe-storms forecasting shift, I saw the same convective cluster travel the breadth of southern Arkansas, finally dissipating near dawn as it massed over the Mississippi River near the Louisiana-Mississippi line.
In one of those moments that just makes one both angry and sad for the state of humanity, I very recently looked up the farmer’s name to make sure I remembered it correctly. Unfortunately, I did. He was listed and pictured in the official database as a registered sex offender, convicted in OKC in 2008 of dealing in illicit images of children, and turned loose on probation after serving three years behind bars. I guess that explains the “fresh start” out in the country.
Being a father, this sort of thing just makes me furious. It is also a shame to have the memory of a fine storm-observing jaunt soiled in that way. Sometimes what should be a good story just doesn’t have the happy ending we like.
It will be hard to look at those shots, or think of this trip, without being reminded of its dark side discovered later; but if we don’t still appreciate the good and beautiful that we saw…then evil wins. That must not be allowed to happen. So I tell this story in hope that you, too, can absorb unfortunate news and overcome its impact with the overarching grace of the perfect Artist who produced that sky.
Northeast South Dakota
17 Jun 12
SHORT: Very enjoyable chase day. Saw 4 supercells, each photogenic in its own way, each with its own distinctive personality.
Two days prior, Matt Crowther had accompanied us for a pleasant storm-photography jaunt across western SD, followed by a wonderful day in the Badlands, and then…this fantastic end to the storm-intercept parts of our vacations. Truly, it was a tale of four supercells.
Prediction and Positioning
Multiple days of large convective volumes over the southern Plains had left the trajectories feeding northern Plains systems rather moisture deprived. This was the first day in many where we would get at least a narrow plume of at least marginally favorable moisture for robust supercells, beneath strong flow aloft that was likely to be aligned nearly orthogonal to the main frontal zone. Strong capping farther south limited the prospective action to a chunk of land covering mainly northeast SD, perhaps creeping slightly into MN before dark.
Targeting that area from a start in PIR, we headed N and E toward a general storm-initiation prediction of ABR. Along the way, we stopped to photograph a pretty cirrus scene above one of the glacial lakes, along with a couple of farmsteads abandoned to cryptically artistic decay as well as to the risen waters of a natural lake.
After fueling in Ipswich, the heading N several miles, we noticed two areas of deepening cumuli and occasional fatter towers:
1. To our SW, generally in an elliptical area corresponding to the slow-moving frontal zone, and
2. To our ESE-S-SSW, along a differential-heating zone rendered by the S edge of a persistent mid-upper level cloud deck.
Both regimes were in the target zone, so we zigzagged back toward the N side of ABR as towers kept deepening. Finally, as we got back under the old differential-heating zone, several storms went up basically at once, in several directions. The “cleanest”, most promising-looking, and least impeded by neighboring activity was a cell to our WSW, W of ABR. It offered tumultuous tidings to that fair city should it turn rightward.
The storm aiming for ABR seemed in optimal positioning–near the union of the two initiation regimes, and well-located with respect to potentially rightward-deviant motion directly along the differential-heating boundary (and any vorticity generated thereon). As seen looking W from just N of the WFO (which is on the N side of town), the new storm quickly assumed visual supercellular characteristics, then moved in our general direction. A more newly formed, upstream cell was casting some of its own downshear precip into the flank of the supercell, making it somewhat messy and HP in character.
As the forward-flank and vault regions began looming overhead, we headed S and E out of ABR to avoid dealing with town traffic in heavy rain and hail. E of ABR, we stopped to look back toward the storm, now sporting a well-developed wall cloud that was weakly rotating; meanwhile, large-hail reports became part of radio chatter from the area under the storm.
Pacing the storm eastward on US-12, in stepwise fashion, we noticed that the mesocyclone region experienced a disorganizing phase, then reorganized into a beautifully striated stack. The storm still was plagued by a bit too much precip, and ultimately paid the price by gusting out near Groton. This would have made a fine and worthwhile chase day anyway!
Peever HP Supercell
Keeping ahead of the self-destructive ABR storm, we mulled our options, increasingly confident that we could use US-12 as a vector to outflank a dark, murky storm above the ENE horizon that radar indicated to be a large, HP supercell. Why not? There still was plenty of daylight and an abiding curiosity in what the other side looked like. We’re so glad we did!
By the time we outpaced this supercell near I-29, it storm was tornado-warned, with a major mesocyclone evident in velocity imagery, but a dark and dense-looking wrap-around core apparent visually. We wanted no part of a bear’s-cage penetration of this somewhat fast-moving storm, so we stayed back to observe and photograph its striated, menacingly elegant cloud forms. Here’s the other side looking WNW, as seen from just E of I-29 near Summit, and looking N toward the area near Peever, as seen from between Marvin and Milbank. In the last shot, the curvature of the farm road nearly mirrored that of the supercell, lending a fortuitous and much-appreciated composition.
The storm’s structure became more fuzzy and outflow-dominant after that, while precip from still more storms forming to our SW began to fall. We headed S out of Milbank to clear as much of that precip as possible, concerned for the future of any new storms due to
1. The outflow surge from the big complex gathering to our N, and
2. Impending sunset with related loss of insolation-driven surface diabatic heating.
First Clear Lake Supercell
Storms to our SW didn’t look too impressive on radar, and were hard to see due to intervening precip. At that point, Matt and we agreed to split up, since he had to be back in ATL in another couple days, and we seemed done for the day.
The atmosphere had other plans. Though out of ready range of communication via hand-held portable radios, we independently headed S of Goodwin and W of Clear Lake, staying reasonably close as one of the southwestern storms took on a supercellular appearance, its base getting more circular and striated with each passing minute. The brief wall cloud in the last shot went away, however, and the storm became somewhat higher-based as it moved to our N.
Obviously destined to be nontornadic, the supercell nonetheless put on one final, fantastic show of structure, leaving us thoroughly bedazzled (and once again wishing a specific and exceptionally deep appreciator of such atmospheric beauty–the great Al Moller–could be there to see it!). This storm, beautifully sculpted as it was, always seemed to be sucking too much of its own forward-flank outflow. Finally, it couldn’t take any more low-theta-e abuse, and quickly became elevated and weakened.
Second Clear Lake Supercell
As we watched the first supercell shrivel and wane…lo! What had we here?
Along came another. A somewhat distant and previously unimpressive-looking final storm got organized rather quickly in the sunset light, sporting a variably ragged wall cloud and obvious storm-scale rotation, while merrily ingesting a plume of warm-advection recovery air behind the prior storm.
We felt the inflow get warmer as the final supercell drew nearer, then moved abeam to our N, offering a spectacular scene of a striated storm spraying red rain. Without dense precip to obscure our view of this classic supercell’s base, we remained in place and let the storm move to our NE, its newly reorganized wall-cloud region nearly ground-scraping at times, albeit with only slow rotation of the low-scud. Tufts of color tickled protrusions from the storm’s base as an RFD cut around the near (back) side, and a clear slot matured. This was about as close as the storm ever came to producing a tornado, but even the tightest rotation never was very intense visually.
Zigzagging generally eastward, we dropped to the edge of the Coteau des Prairies escarpment and then let the increasingly disorganized supercell go. The messy storm receded eastward into both MN and the deepening twilight, a fading and cloud-filtered alpenglow from high above casting subtle pastels across the landscape. We appreciated a brief splash of post-sunset color in the northwestern sky, then headed into ATY for the night.
Any one of these splendid storms, on its own merit, would have justified a green stamp of success on this storm-observing day. We were blessed with all four of them–essentially, four chase days in one! This was a good thing, for it turned out to be the last of the trip. A casual, three-day drive south to home (with side excursions for sightseeing) would follow, ending the Edwards’ 2012 Great Plains sojourn. Those would be our last supercells seen until one autumn storm on the way to a Colorado vacation.