Storm Observing Drama in Four Acts
Southeastern WY near Cheyenne
7 Jun 12
This storm day was striking in that it unfolded as a four-act drama–each one quite distinctive, essentially a quartet of distinct chases in one day. Seldom have I experienced so much logistical and emotional ups-and-downs in such a small area in one trip! We went from intense frustration to elation and satisfaction, with one or two minor dollops of danger thrown into the storm-intercept recipe for good measure.
Act I: Early Poor Decisions and Frustration
Elke and I targeted southeastern Wyoming for the potential of a supercell or two forming in a region of decent upslope lift . As we headed W from Pine Bluffs WY toward CYS, a storm formed in the Laramie Range and stem-wound itself into an intense supercell while still in high, rugged terrain. It turns out that storm formed as a pyro-convective plume off the Cow Camp wildfire, and became tornadic while still sucking smoke up in the mountains.
[NOTE: The write-up in that link does contain one major error–tornadoes cannot “skip”. By definition, if it’s “not on the ground the entire time”, it’s not a tornado the entire time! As such, each segment had to be a different tornado.]
We arrived in CYS intending to head N on I-25 and intercept that supercell, or whatever was left of it, somewhere not far N of Chugwater. Then a new storm exploded into the Wyoming sky just to our NE. A bit of indecision followed, before we made the fateful choice to take a look at the younger cell. The storm farther away looked better on radar, but the new one was right there! How do you blow off a storm blowing up practically in your lap? We should have. This move ultimately cost us any shot at a decent view of the Wheatland/Chugwater tornado(es).
We headed the short distance back E toward Burns and then N, finding that the newer storm was shriveling, while the fire-generated, tornadic supercell to the NW still was going (and still had a likely tornado, given its radar signature). I was not happy. Still, zooming up US-83 toward the west turn to Chugwater, we thought we were in great position to intercept the big supercell while still tornadic. Indeed, given the official timeline for the event and our terrain-truncated vantages, Elke and I are now sure we caught some glimpses of a cylindrical, mostly rain-wrapped tornado just over the high ridge line in the distant WNW, while driving.
I turned the vehicle W on WY-314, seemingly in ideal position to catch the end of the tornadic stage, and then about 8 miles along…a one-lane road, pilot-car closure with no pilot car! This was about when it seemed that our chase day just wasn’t meant to be. One lone lady in an orange vest was standing there with a flag, stopping all westbound traffic–most unfortunately, in about the lowest bottomlands where neither she or we could see diddly-squat.
Diddly-squat, in this case, consisted of a tornadic supercell and its approaching forward flank. We told her about the storm, its likelihood of lightning, skull-cracking hail and flash flooding…but she seemed oblivious, and totally dependent on a radio dispatcher who was (quite irresponsibly) giving her no information at all about the storm. She finally assured me she would crawl into a nearby tinhorn if it “got bad”–which wasn’t much assurance with regards to her safety. Other than that culvert, there was nothing out there in which to take shelter! Alas, that was the best I could do to convince her she was in potential danger.
Thus thwarted, we turned around and headed E and uphill several miles, finally getting a view of the storm’s base less then 7 minutes after the tornado is on record as dissipating. [Without the closure, we easily would have gotten on the plateau E of Chugwater in plenty of time to see the last moments of the tornado, across a flat and unobstructed landscape.] The supercell appeared to be getting more disorganized, with newer development to the SW…so we headed back E to US-83 then SSW toward CYS. That turned out to be the first good maneuver we made all day!
Act II: Storm Structure Bliss
As we approached the newer storm, more and more chase vehicles appeared beside and on the road–the only decent road around for miles and miles. It was easy to see why–the storm erupted SE of the first one, right along the way for a lot of observers from Colorado and elsewhere who were zooming up toward the Wheatland storm when it fell apart. By contrast, we came around it from the NE and E, found a vantage to let it move toward us, and marveled at how the structure was getting better and better as it drew closer and closer.
The main updraft base sported a persistent, broad wall cloud with occasionally fast rising motion on the downshear (core-facing) side, but never anything I would call rapid or tornado-like rotation. Meanwhile, the storm-scale formation assumed a sweeping, curvaceous stack across several layers in the vertical.
With a dearth of road options in the general direction of storm motion (SE), we kept letting it come our way until the wide-angle lens needed switching from 24 mm to 17 mm. At one point, I recall telling Elke that I wished I could teleport Al Moller here–he would go absolutely euphoric over seeing this storm in person!
The old wall cloud and mesocyclone area began to assume a more shelf-like appearance as they passed our location, and the entire storm looked a little more disorganized. The only roads back ahead of the supercell led through the core; so we had to retreat away from it in order to reposition.
Act III: Outflow and Hail Machine
We went SW down US-85 and I-25, around CYS, then back E again, then S of I-80 between Burns and Carpenter, for an encore look at the increasingly messy storm. Another supercell also had developed to its east, its updraft base cloaked by precip for the time being; it was menacing Pine Bluffs.
We pulled onto a side road to observe the onrushing maelstrom, greeted by a big, very friendly and rambunctious chocolate Lab, muddy-legged but healthy and well-fed. He probably belonged to a farmstead about half a mile away. The pooch took a running, leaping jaunt through my vehicle and out the other side before we shut the doors! If you ever are traveling with me and happen upon dog-paw prints, that is the reason. He hung around nearby for a spell until the storm spooked him back toward home.
Since we had left it NE of CYS, the western supercell had become more elongated, with a somewhat surfboard-shaped base. Since it was riding its own outflow, this was appropriate! As that storm approached us from the northwest, the Pine Bluffs supercell weakened, shed some precip, and became higher-based. It also trailed a beautiful rear-flank arc cloud that curved right back into the updraft region of our storm (wide-angle view looking E).
Dropping S somewhat to get late-day light under the rear-flank gust front region, we had a decision to make: stay apace and just ahead of the increasingly messy storm and its neighbors southward into Colorado, thereby missing an opportunity for sunset light on the back (NW) side, or go for the colorful view. We usually choose the latter in such situations, and did here, with ease. What wasn’t easy was deciding how. The updraft and main core area each appeared to be weakening some, so one way was to head straight N through the precip and back to I-80. The other was to go W on an unfamiliar road zigzagging along the crest of the Cheyenne Ridge, and hope for a good view before reaching Cheyenne itself.
We chose to attempt the former, and if the hail started getting big, backtrack and do the latter. Just a mile or so into the precip core, we hit a very sudden wall of severe hail that started beating the hell out of the vehicle, somehow sparing the windshield. Spiked bombs of ice bounced high off the road, splashed in surrounding mud, and created sickening booms as they slammed into the metal skin above. So much for the “weakening” core!
Even the quickest of Bo Duke-style turnarounds on an empty road, in a vehicle that is not quite as nimble as the General Lee, couldn’t spare us from its first easily noticeable hail dents. I blasted back S and got out of there before the beatings became worse, then headed W out of Carpenter on Chalk Bluffs Road. We’re so glad too, and not just to avoid demolishing the outside of our ride…
Act IV: Amazing Stormy Skies on the Cheyenne Ridge
Eager to escape the ice monster, we bolted 12 miles W and NW on the road from Carpenter to Cheyenne, the stopped at a very nice 360-degree vantage for one last look back SE at what had tried to turn my finely tuned storm-intercept machine into Swiss cheese. The hail core is at left in the last shot. Yes, it was still a supercell…so what, and good riddance! It was almost time for sunset magic.
But wait…what happened to the sunlight that had been behind the storm we just got behind? All manner of cloud material had developed and masked much of the sky to the NW and W, and a small, left-moving storm was moving from my SW toward the NNE…dragging its precip core toward us. Furthermore, it was rather stinking cold up there on the High Plains ridge–low-50s temps and windy from the supercell’s torrent of outflow!
Just as I despaired over this seeming state of misfortune, two glorious happenings made our day. A mammatus field to our NE, its sunbathing not blocked by clouds, came aglow brilliantly for a few minutes, while casting reflected, bronze-toned front-light onto the landscape to our W.
Meanwhile, the left-mover to our WSW drew closer, strengthened, and unloaded a protracted, stupendous salvo of high-based, cloud-to-ground lightning strikes for many minutes more! Set amidst the warm chromatic ambiance the setting sun, the scene soothed the soul, even as sharp thunderclaps boomed across the miles of chilly High Plains air. Electrical jabs blasted to the ground, truncated up in the air and jolted forth at closer approaches, until we finally had to abandon our post
for safety’s sake.
Heading westward between Campstool and Altvan, through the edge of the left-mover’s translucent core and toward CYS, we encountered a second barrage of hail. Most mercifully were no bigger than dimes, but it was very hard and noisy. Leaving that barrage, our minds were firmly fixated on securing lodging and a hot meal, when a window of amazing color and light briefly opened in the southwestern sky, as if magically. The haunting vista seemed as if we were peering out from within a cave of darkness at an extraterrestrial world light-years removed.
Epilogue: Dinnertime Hailstorm
After getting a motel, we found a Perkins near downtown CYS that still was open, and headed in for a supper that was late, but most welcomed, after a day of wildly fluctuating fortunes out on the road. As we did so, I saw lightning flashes outside, then flipped on the phone radar to see that a high-VIL core was almost upon is from yet another elevated left-mover. The resulting heavy pounding of small hail reverberated through the building, as a small flash flood washed down the low spots. Drifts of the stuff washed through the parking lot and against the wheels of my vehicle–all for our entertainment.
Our third encounter with a hail core was the most fitting way to end the storm day! Everything we had seen since leaving the destructive supercell supported the ideal that long after the main supercellular action concludes, the storm-observing day can proceed with wondrous and spectacular results. For all the lackluster results of the previous day’s storms, this one made up in multiples. Moreover, as of July 28th (this post date), we saw more rain in half an hour in Cheyenne than in Norman during the nearly two months since.
Tri-County Chase
Elmore City to Dibble OK
28 May 12
SHORT: Intercepted three marginal supercells in central OK–two small, short-lived right-movers and a big left-mover.
LONG: The younger and larger of the Two Chumps managed to convince the older and slimmer one that today was worth at least a casual look, since the potential was nearby. As we pored over data at my place, towers started going up from central OK into NW TX, in an environment characterized by a deeply mixed boundary layer, little CINH, strongly curved but small low-level hodographs, and lift near and ahead of the surface cold front and dryline.
Proximity led us to the nearest sustained cell, erupting W of Lindsay. Along the way, we loaded Bryan Smith into the vehicle so that he could enjoy fond memories of the adventure forevermore. We could see the (high) base of the cell even from the Goldsby exit of I-35; and it filled in with progressively more core as we approached, exhibiting modest visual structures suggesting some storm-scale rotation. What the hell…might as well…say it’s a supercell.
By the time we reached the Antioch area, looking W, the storm had a dense core but small updraft base–a factor that seems to have led to its eventual shriveling demise N of Elmore City. Thickening anvil shadow from the growing multicellular cluster to the SW (near DUC) also seemed to have cooled the boundary layer and reduced CAPE for an already struggling updraft.
Once the last shreds of that storm disintegrated (as shown with the approaching DUC left-mover in the background), we headed back toward home, with an eye to the W for organizing cells back near Dibble. One of them caught our attention, briefly assuming weakly apparent supercell character (with wall cloud). The problem was, as shown in this much wider-angle shot, the far-larger left-mover loomed menacingly to its S, gobbling up air as if Pac Man at the all-you-can-eat dot buffet. Little fish of a right-mover at right, bloated whale of a left-mover at left…how promising is this situation for the former?
The entire regime indeed turned into a labyrinthine convective mess, which followed us the short distance home, giving us eastern Norman denizens some much-welcomed rain, small hail, and ultimately, a pleasingly kaleidoscopic sunset.
Four Supercells Seen from One Spot
Filed under: Forecast, Summary
or
Who Needs to Chase?
5 November 8
Even though I was committed by shift work to being at NWC through the evening hours, there wasn’t any pressing need to chase today to see supercells anyway. All I had to do was pay some intermittent attention to what was going on outside, watch them race by, and run out for a minute or two a few times to observe.
After several storms formed ahead of the west-central OK dryline, and in a narrow plume of favorably heated and moist boundary layer air, a visual treat ensued, which I was able to document in a few quick breaks from the priority of duty.
The first visible supercell moved past me well to the NW (Piedmont/OKC storm) as I drove in, but the sky was clean, and the base could be seen way off in the distance (sorry, no photos). I did see a ragged, scuddy wall cloud just above the horizon before losing sight of the storm. The next supercell moved NE from the CHK area over the W and NW part of Norman, exhibiting classical (if somewhat messy) structure in a wide-angle view, looking W. A zoom view shows a ragged, partly rain-wrapped wall cloud (strongly enhanced image), which showed (at best) very weak cloud-base turning. Upward motion of scud was rather slow too. Still, this storm was a well-defined supercell, visually and on radar, and and dumped a large amount of severe hail in a swath across the NW side of town. The mesocyclone area below cloud base soon became outflow contaminated, a process becoming evident in this view looking NNW.
A second, weaker supercell formed SSW of town, its forward-flank core heading right for us. A left-split updraft tried to calve off the forward (NW) flank of the storm (view looking SW), but didn’t last too long. The back side of the main storm, which passed over E Norman, caught direct and indirect light from the setting sun, and glowed almost otherworldly in pastel hues, making an uncommonly and delightfully tinted scene above the fall colors of local trees. The view in the last shot looks SE, which means that the light was reflected from the storm, casting unusual shadows and light angles for this time of day. Notice that the brightest light is on the left (NE) side of the trees!
The towers responsible for that reflection loom above a mostly silhouetted structure of “Battlestar Norman” in this view, looking ENE from the adjacent lawn. As the sun angle fell further, the hues warmed for just a few minutes (seen here looking ENE from the N side of the building). Even as the reflected solar glow faded, the hues of twilight kept the scene beautiful (wide angle, looking E). Not bad for November, eh?
That wasn’t all. A short while later, Ryan came in to request photography of a feature that looked a lot like a midlevel funnel, apparently sticking sideways (southward) from a convective deck to our WSW (crop-n-zoom on the feature). It was hard to tell if that really was a sideways, midlevel funnel or just a visual juxtaposition of two separated clouds. You make the call.
A well-defined left split peeled off another supercell (unseen) to our S. The anticyclonic supercell raced by us to the W, in the fading twilight, also leaving a swath of hail from the small but pronounced core on its S side. This is a mirror image of the left split showing classic skeletal structure, albeit high-based.
As for the broader event, as a whole and outside the line of sight from the NWC ground floor, it was resoundingly unproductive for tornadoes. All we had were a few cheesy tornado reports long after dark and outside of the 15%_SigTor (MDT) outlook area. What went wrong? My during-and-after interpretation of eyewitness observation, surface maps, soundings and radar inferences was that a blend of storm-scale and boundary layer thermodynamic failures was at least partly responsible. The storms were somewhat high based and spewing a good deal of cold outflow (as well as hail). Mesocyclonic occlusions and transitions to (cold) rain-wrapped states occurred quickly, resulting in insufficient time for circulations to form and wrap up tightly. Supercellular structures did improve during the sunset/twilight periods; but unlike in more moist events, MLCINH also ramped up quickly with enough surface T-Td spread to foment an unfavorable amount of cooling. Discrete supercells — by then E of I-35 — responded by shriveling away as they headed into the jungles of eastern OK.
What might this event have done had the dew points been 5 deg F higher? John H and I speculated on shift that we would have had a more buoyant and temporally longer lasting surface-based effective inflow layer, the better to take advantage of the enlarged hodographs beneath the early evening strengthening of the LLJ, and perhaps a bonafide multi-tornado event in that case. The citizenry of NW Norman should be glad for those lower dew points. Had that storm been tornadic, while still takin the same path (an unlikely thing, admittedly, given the forcing that differing storm-scale processes can exert on a storm’s motion) the path would have gone through some newly (last 10-15 years) developed parts of town W of I-35 and N of Robinson.
We see one sig-hail report from the Piedmont area storm (Rancho Rascovich being a supercell attractor of the highest order). The NW Norman supercell did dump a lot of hail up to nearly 2 inches diameter on several neighborhoods, busting windows and/or skylights in many homes where accompanied by estimated severe gusts, with glass breakage at the homes of several colleagues and co-workers who live in NW Norman. Elke encountered some falling hail ~1.5 inch diameter near and N of the YMCA (north base area) from a small core after dark, near the cold front.