STORM TRACK: May 31, 1985 (Volume 8 Issue 4)

(The following account has been gleaned from numerous scraps of notes from several phone conversations. The Editor has tried to keep the dates straight.)

On Friday, April 19, a major four-day tornado outbreak began from the Dakotas to Texas. Each day produced 20-30 tornadoes along an almost border to border, south-north jet stream. While frustrated chasers back east, like Roy Britt, Jim Leonard, Randy Zipser and myself, sat, goggle eyed in front of the nightly TV weather shows, watching football anvils blowing up across the mid-west, here's what was really going on.

Al Moller couldn't chase until Monday and only caught one "hailer" near Waco. Tim and Kay Marshall chased 1,600 miles in four days and caught one funnel cloud. On Sunday, they watched with some discouragement an apparent squall line in southwest Oklahoma, extending from there on down into Texas (likely hailer but unlikely tornado producer). Like Gene Moore and others, Tim had little time that weekend to stop at local weather stations and analyze the situation. It was seemingly one of those magic times, when you were surrounded by an ideal, enormously-unstable and tornado-ripe air mass.

Thus, Tim relied mainly on telephoned reports and advice from his friend, Al Moller, a forecaster at the National Weather Service Office in Fort Worth (likewise, Gene Moore phoned his contacts at the National Severe Storms Lab (NSSL) in Norman). When Tim called that Sunday afternoon, Al said forget Oklahoma, drop everything and charge south to the area below Wichita Falls. Radar indicated a big storm there, building fast. Down they went, flying low all the way. Unfortunately, the Marshalls were a half hour too late to see a mile-wide (!) tornado near Throckmorton and another nearby storm with a pair of tornadoes; one a half-mile wide!! They were moving so-o-o slowly at 5 MPH under a split jet. The anvil covered most of Oklahoma! (Groan.) However, at least one chaser was there (an ST subscriber) who later described two flanks into that end of the squall line that Kay and Tim were observing in Oklahoma. When the "miler" appeared, it was imbedded in light rain and was a classic cone shape. So, where are the pictures? The lone ST chaser who saw it was so awed; his first ever (!) by this monster, that he just sat and looked -- and never took a single picture! True "system overload". Who was that chaser? ST respectfully withholds that information. Undoubtedly however, no pictures will be needed to relive that moment -- his memory is now the negative, and all he has to do is close his eyes ... aaah.

However, the Croix de Guerre and the coup de grace were yet to be delivered. On Monday, April 22, NSSL and OU research/chase vehicles set out from Norman for western Oklahoma. But -- oops. Wait! The four-wheel-drive, lead NSSL van has a mechanical problem; cannot get into gear. Not far out, it limps back, and the caravan starts out again, consisting of a backup / lead van, a flat bed truck with TOTO (instrumented 400 lb. cylinder to place in the path of a tornado), a University of Mississippi lightning research van and a Minneapolis TV film crew. The OU chase team was in one additional vehicle, with Howie Bluestein. As they moved into western Oklahoma, Howie had little hope for anything tornadic, since early towers were building too much in a straight line. The NSSL-led caravan of four decided to head southwest, while the lone OU van continued westward, but without much conviction. (It was anybody's guess at this point). Suddenly, one of the towers to the west began to swell explosively, and a tornado started coming down, just as the OU gauge hit EMPTY, and they had to stop for gas!! Frustrated chasers bolted and necks craned to see past commercial buildings in Weatherford as the gas was pumped. Charging up that road again, that large tornado north of Clinton was now mostly wrapped in rain, with poor photographic contrast. However, a second one soon formed near Custer City, and this afforded their best (award the Croix de Guerre) shots. Although smaller and barely touching ground, it contorted into a snake-like tube, with highly visible rotational waves "rippling up and down the vortex sides". Other large tornadoes occurred further east and south and were photographed by Gene Moore and others, including a Channel 9 helicopter near Weatherford and Eakly. The one near Weatherford was described as of Union City size (May 24, 1973) or larger.

Interestingly, and according to Chuck Robertson (arrived too late for the tornadoes), the warm front was well to the south (Altus 77 deg and Oklahoma City 67 deg), with the Eakly mesocyclone drawing inflow from the east-northeast. He was even perceptibly shaking in the cool inflow near El Reno, as that still potent storm passed by, with occasional weak suction vortices at the surface and "smoky" light shafts penetrating a partially open core. But what of the NSSL chase caravan on this day, when two of the four major tornadoes from here to Nebraska occurred within 15 miles of each other in western Oklahoma on probably the best "Okie" chase day that spring? Chris Johns, a writer from National Geographic, on one of his first chases, relates the rest;

With a nearby, beautiful and hard edged anvil spreading across the sky, the caravan charged on into southwestern Oklahoma. The nearing cloud base beneath the anvil began showing "incredible rotation." Looking for a short cut, the lead van turned onto a dirt farm road -- the driver forgetting that this backup vehicle didn't have the accustomed four-wheel-drive (Oooops). Mud! Stuck! All four vehicles. @*#*@***!! That was the day for NSSL; not a single tornado or funnel picture. When the Geographic magazine article is published (perhaps next fall), look for a classic picture of real, hard-core chasing -- as frustrated men and muscles strain to move thsir vehicles onto drier ground, against the back-drop of a magnificent anvil and a storm base that would always be just beyond range (the coup de grace).

(Ironically, that, same NSSL crew would go from total depression to wild elation within a week, when they succeeded for the first time in five years, against incredible odds, at placing TOTO in the actual path of a tornado. Sometimes things have a way of balancing out. More on this later.)

Since his mid-April arrival in Oklahoma, the National Geographic writer Chris Johns had only seen two small, distant tornadoes (not Geographic quality) and was still looking for the big one. After an April 28, Sunday morning briefing by NSSL, Chris decided to switch teams and joined Gene Moore on a chase to Lubbock in Chris's rented Jeep Wagoneer. However, little was going on there, so Gene called the Lab for an update. It gave an otherwise good report but inadvertently left out one key item -- information on an outflow "bubble boundary" from an old storm near Abilene. Consequently, they tarried too long in Lubbock until a satellite picture picked up the first rapid buildups along that boundary near Big Springs, and 100 miles south! Thus, when the first tornadoes started coming down, Chris and Gene were still charging south just an hour too late! The worst frustration was listening to their radio, all the way down, to repeated bulletins from local stations as the slow moving storms dropped one after another. In fact, one bulletin urgently asked residents of Lamesa not to get in their cars and drive down to Big Springs to look at the show, since road shoulders were becoming crowded' There was the irony -- two experienced chasers coming all the way from Norman, Oklahoma after 350 miles and knowing they were still 100 miles out of position -- seeing an enormous anvil and listening to reports of casual Sunday drivers taking their families out for a little side trip to look at multiple, slow moving tornadoes on the ground just up the road!!! Arrrgggh!

But, wait! That was just the start of the week. There is still Monday (can it get worse? Of course!). Our two frustrated chasers rose early at 6:30 AM in Sweetwater and headed back northeast towards Oklahoma. Most of the day was quiet. Howie Bluestein, a professor at Oklahoma University and faculty leader of their research-chase team, was in Boulder, Colorado, apprehensively looking over the morning synoptic situation for Oklahoma (his bags packed and reservation in hand for a fast 10:30 AM return flight). However, the situation wasn't that clear, the plains had been quiet, and his colleagues (names well known in the field) saw no prospect for major severe weather that day; "Howie, don't worry about it." Six hundred miles away, Chris and Gene had finished an early dinner in Ringling, Oklahoma. Gene called Don Burgess at the Lab. Big storm blowing up near Arlington, Texas! Rubber burned, and south they charged!! Passing through Ardmore and Gainesville, they did a "core plunge" through a dark rain/hail shaft ten miles south of Denton, Texas. However, there was nothing promising on the south flank, so, since it was getting dark, they started back north. At about this time (7:00 PM), Howie again looked at the latest satellite pictures. Now, he saw the first small white "spot" south of the Red River -- and knew what was going to happen. Too late to fly down and join his TOTO crew. "Where were they?" he wondered.

Lou Wicker, spending what might be his last graduate year at OU, wanted one more crack at driving TOTO into a tornado. As already mentioned, the Totable Tornado Observatory (an official, though thinly veiled, euphemism for the Kansas terrier that was swept to Oz in a tornado) is a reinforced, white, 400 lb. cylinder, loaded with instruments to record atmospheric changes in a tornado. Highly touted at its outset, the Lab had been trying in vain for five years and dozens of drops to place it in a tornado's path (the half mile wide Binger tornado was a tantalizing but near miss). The crew is trained to offload it in as little as 12 seconds. Today, April 29, was to be the day! With Lou at the wheel and other NSSL chase vans close behind, they drove south of Norman. The radio crackled constantly as the Lab radar operator intensely studied his scope and directed the chasers; first one way and then another. Finally, they were directed toward a storm near Ardmore. At first, Lou didn't think it looked that good. It was embedded in high overcast and just didn't interest anyone.

* Oh,no! A transportable terrier object has been kicked by a totable tornado observatory!!

Suddenly, the storm began to grow, bases became hard and darkened, and rotation began as a large ragged cone ominously descended. Charging down unmarked roads and guessing at their directions, Lou dropped his cargo on one and took off down another. Thinking they were driving away from it, the swiftly expanding storm base began moving in their direction, even as the "big cone' swirled down, skimming the tree tops. Down it went, up, then down again. Two tornadoes were reported! Limbs ripped and semi's flipped on the Interstate! There was property damage near Ardmore. NSSL did outrun it, but TOTO got the boot -- displaced three meters by 125 MPH winds. Some of its instruments were damaged, so the success was mixed with limited results, but success, nonetheless! Upon hearing first word of this at the Washington, D.C. National Weather Service headquarters, Dr. Joe Golden (former team leader and founder of the NSSL chase program) exulted: "What? They did!?! Lou Wicker should get a gold medal!!! Such was the euphoria that gripped NSSL and OU. After so many tries, a winner. But, not all.

At 9;00 PM and after a two day 1,400 mile chase, Chris Johns and Gene Moore returned to Ardmore, where they had been only hours earlier, in time to see semi-trailers on their side and flashing red lights through the night rain speckling their windshield (bemoaned Chris, "These were the only two days that I didn't chase with NSSL). A storm that surprised everyone had dropped the big one. That night, the OU students called Howie in Boulder; "I just about died!" he said, bags still packed and cancelled reservation in hand.

Howie Bluestein in Boulder: "Why me?"

What went wrong for so many experienced chasers? Explanations were offered, including one that it was too much of a good thing -- too many severe storms went up, close together, competing for good organization and the inflow. One would become tornadic and then collapse early, against another's overriding outflow ... and so it went. Chasers rushed from one storm to another and just missed the good ones; or they saw storms embedded in pervasive anvil overcast and couldn't get a clear visual "fix" on which was strongest.

Also, interestingly, very few were right turners. Other problems were recurring cutoff upper-level lows that started as deeply penetrating long waves, and became cut-off from the main jet. Most chasers will tell you that these are tough systems to forecast. So, unbeknownst to the east-coasters, our western cousins weren't doing much better, despite those great satellite pics.

Thus, passed April, the peaks and the valleys, elation and frustration -- easily one of the most interesting storm months in recent chasing history. Next issue will cover May and -yes- more of the same trials, tribulations and triumphs (bow to Rasmussen). The Editor will also review his chase record, which included five days with his daughter, Sarah, a storm chaser's barbecue, the National Geographic film crew, and a notorious tornado "smoke" day.

(Although this final thought comes at the end, I am writing it first, while overall reflections remain clear and uncluttered by the details of this year's chase.)

The one overriding impression left from this storm season is the rich and diverse blend of unique human experience that is represented by storm chasers everywhere. In phone conversations, at the barbecue and in chase encounters out on the open road, there is such an absorbing, vital and protean human interaction as can't begin to be described in this poor vehicle. The diversity of chasers coming together from government, carpentry, baking, photography and meteorology; relating storm experiences, passing photographic tips, showing pictures and film; giving of their time and themselves; repeatedly confronting and sharing events that transcend normal human experience. One needn't even hear it all, when a chaser begins his or her tale. You need only see the shoulder's arch, hands raised to sketch the air, that certain grin and fire in the eye; and you know even then how good it will be, and you're already out there on the plains with him. Details change, but the exhilaration stays the same, when mere men go out to seek the wind and find a seething darkness pole to pole, oblivious of their meager needs -- defiant and magnificent. When chasers gather anywhere (two or twenty), that same current passes between that arcs the sky on summer nights. Those who have seen and know what they have seen are ever unique and forever marked.