STORM TRACK: November 30, 1985 (Volume 9 Issue 1)

(Storm Track received a fine account of the 1985 chase season for the Texas Tech University Tornado Intercept Team, from Steven D. McCauley, graduate student in the Atmospheric Science Group. It arrived early September, too late for inclusion in the May or July issues. Consequently, although now somewhat out of chronological order, here is Steve's account.)

"For the Texas Tech Tornado Intercept Team, the severe weather season couldn't get started soon enough. Constant vigilance of the synoptic situation was maintained after the first warm breezes from the Gulf of Mexico made their way into west Texas in late February. Even as the days became warmer, however, dew points in the 30's provided little hope for any significant activity in the Lubbock area. Our eyes began to shift further to the east, across the moisture barrier known as the Caprock, in a seemingly vain effort to find the breeding ground for the season's first severe weather on the south plains. Patience, however, was never the forte of our chase team. After all, we had all heard of the infamous west Texas thunderstorm, with rotating wall clouds, which erupt on warm springtime afternoons and every now and then spit out sinuous funnels which rage uncontrollably across the high plains. Even Kevin Withee, who came to Tech from the University of Nebraska and had already seen the coveted tornadic thunderstorm, anxiously awaited the day he might study one -up close and personal. John Waters, who calls Chicago home, had never even seen a tornado, although he had heard them somewhere in the distance behind the skyline of the Windy City. As for myself, I grew up in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains of West Virginia, regarded as the 'tornado vacuum' of the east. Some people there have never even heard of a tornado! Thus, all three of us were more than ready for our first successful chase.

The morning of the tenth of March dawned with the long awaited for ominous conditions. As early as the previous night, anticipation for the following day's severe weather potential had begun to increase as we watched high level clouds streak across the moon in a northeasterly direction, while strong southeasterly winds at the surface brought Lubbock's first humid evening. By morning, a cold front had entered the Texas and Oklahoma panhandles. However, as upper air soundings were being analyzed, the winds in Lubbock shifted to the southwest and dew point temperatures started to plummet.

The decision was quickly made to head northeast to the Wichita Falls Area, where the dryline and the cold front were expected to meet.

Blue skies and scattered small Cu were awaiting as we arrived in north-central Texas. We knew there was a substantial inversion to break at mid-levels, so we were not immediately disappointed. Within an hour, a tornado watch was issued, and we were in the middle of it. Towers were building to the northwest, so we crossed the Red River into Oklahoma. We drove into a potent squall line outside of Frederick, where the vehicle was buffeted by 60 MPH winds and pea-sized hail. We followed the line back to Benjamin, Texas, with street flooding evident all the way. Crossing the dryline west of Benjamin, we encountered the ever popular west Texas phenomenon: blowing dust, which transformed the chase vehicle into a 60 MPH mudball on wheels. This first chase covered nearly 700 miles.

Although no tornadic thunderstorms were seen, we felt initiated and prepared for our first close encounter. Unfortunately, we once again had to play the waiting game but only for a couple of weeks.

On March 26, a dryline began advancing across west Texas into an area of warm temps, high dew points and 'textbook' environmental wind shear. With towers starting to build to the north, we packed our gear and headed up I-27 towards Plainview, with aspirations of seeing our first tornadic storm.

Many false alarms tempted us along the way as we scanned the southwest flanks of the towering storms. Intense dust whirls forming along the leading edge of the gust front were accepted as omens of better things to come. Reports of the first funnel clouds cams out of Silverton, where we had stopped for gas only 45 minutes earlier. As we dropped off the Cap, anvils were spreading northeastward; but to the distant, southwest, we could see the back edge of a hard tower in the southernmost part of the storm line. The weather radio alarm sounded, and we could faintly hear the report of a tornado on the ground near Floydada, only 25 miles away! Now, the major problem was avoiding the northeast quadrant of the storm, where large hail was almost a sure bet. We figured we could outrun it and the hail and get to the desired southeast side. However, our calculations proved to be seriously wrong. As we raced due south towards Matador, the back end of the storm became obscured in heavy rain and hail. Our speed reduced due to detiorating visibility. Small hail began pinging on the roof of the car, and the wind began to accelerate. As we continued slowing down, the hail became larger.

Suddenly, the weather radio alarm went off again, but the static was too loud to understand anything. Then we came to the crest of a small hill and our hearts stopped, as a dense wall of brown dust crossed the road ahead less than a half mile away. We stared in awe for only a moment, when an incredible pounding noise suddenly broke our concentration. The subtle pinging of small hail had turned into a thundering barrage of tangerine-sized ice balls, which were falling with painful accuracy onto our one and only chase vehicle. Quick thinking by the chase team driver salvaged the windshield, as we pulled alongside a lone barn-type structure.

By this time, the hail was crashing all around us and air temperatures were falling fast, as if a January 'blue norther' were passing. Then the hail suddenly stopped, and an eerie silence fell over the now white countryside. No one said a word, but our imaginations soon took over as we could all clearly picture the barn exploding straight up into the air, with our Subaru following close behind. The unknown was too much, so we started to back away from our shelter but to no avail. As soon as we had gotten ten feet from the barn, the hail returned in serious fury. Again, we waited.

Finally, the flanking line passed to the east and we came out of our hiding place. We could see the extensive curtain of hail, wrapping completely around the southwestern side of the storm. As far as the eye could see, the ground was covered with hail. Temperatures had dropped from the mid-80's to the low 60's. -- The journey back home began slowly and quietly, with the first real break in tension coming as we approached the highway back to Lubbock and saw a familiar road sign as we crossed a bridge covered with hail -- a sign which said 'Watch for ice on bridge.'

For the next month, days were filled with various severe weather events, which we were able to witness and -on occasion- photograph. But we had not yet seen a tornado. With finals week approaching, the opportunities for chasing were becoming extremely limited. However, on April 28 and after three days of intense studying, I decided to take a break and do a little private chasing. By mid-morning, a steep temperature gradient existed between Midland (87 deg F) and Lubbock (65 deg F). Strong southerly winds were being lifted over this dome of cool air, and a dryline had just crossed Carlsbad, New Mexico, on an intercept course with the strong uplift zone near Lamesa, Texas. Within minutes, I was on the way to Lamesa! There was moderately dense fog all the way, but I knew conditions were bound to change. Late reports had Midland near 90 deg with southerly winds, while Lamesa was 66 deg with powerful easterly winds making driving difficult. Twenty minutes after arriving in Lamesa and with visibility still obscured, a local tornado warning was issued. The radio announcer was forecasting doom and destruction and constantly repeated that this was an emergency situation, not to be taken lightly (which tantalizing reports were also being picked up by Gene Moore and Chris Johns as they charged south from a late start at Lubbock too late to see anything; ST, Vol. 8, No. 4.). People began abandoning their cars and sought shelter in roadside houses. I broke out of the fog about three miles south of the city, just in time to see a massive, rotating wall cloud extending almost to the ground bearing a multiple vortex tornado, which seemed virtually stationary, churning up the west Texas dust. Several funnels were dipping in and out of the clouds near this mammoth storm, and I sat perfectly still in total fascination. There was no roar, just a high pitched whistling sound that grew louder, as individual secondary vortices rotated around the main funnel on my side of the storm. As the entire storm system moved ever so slowly to the northeast, bulges of cloud material on the northeast side of the wall cloud could intermittently be seen, giving it the appearance it was somehow breathing as it marched towards Lamesa. Fortunately, the storm retreated back into the skies before reaching the city limits. However, new towers were exploding to the southeast, and before the day was over, I witnessed two other tornadic storms, one near Ackerly and the other just east of Vealmoor. I couldn't think of a better way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon." (Editor - At this point, we break off from Steve's account and pick up on May 12th, where Storm Track left off in the last issue.)

In fat city

While May 12 frustrated most of the chasers from NSSL, O.U. and yours truly -- even with "Godzilla instabilities" (Al Moller) of -13 Lifted Index at Abilene, the only other vortex photographed that day, besides the Editor's mini-funnel, was one by William Barlow: "... a nice funnel cloud here in Edmond, Oklahoma ... Believe it or not, I saw it out of my fiance's apartment window and then drove out to a clear spot to take a few pictures."

(Oh well, better that she knows about this strange behavior now than later. -Ed.)

On the 13th, the Editor left Moore, Oklahoma and drove to NSSL for an early morning's fix on the day's activity. Low and wet overcast depressed him as he entered the Lab. Wham, bam! Unusual early morning tornado watch issued from 8:15 to 11:00 AM CDT (unless otherwise noted, all further times are in CDT) from west-northwest of Wichita Falls to south-southwest of San Angelo, Texas, far to the southwest. No time for a surface analysis. I was gone, charging down I-35! With forecast movement to the northeast at g5 kts, there should have been enough time for a Gainesville or Denton intercept, several hours later -when these storms reached there. My anticipation quickened as the static laden radio crackled out reports of a 9:00 AM (!) tornado south of Altus. The rain had now increased dramatically in gusting sheets, as more and more timid drivers pulled off -leaving me alone and "pushing the envelop," as visibility decreased at times to a few hundred feet. Then a 10:45 AM radio report told the rest of the story: already strong storms were on radar 15 miles southeast of Stephenville and at Denton. At about this time, the squall line passed me just north of Ardmore, Oklahoma, with intense cloud-to-ground lightning and a blizzard of rain. Obviously, the line was moving, or redeveloping, eastward much more rapidly than earlier forecast; no way for me to catch it now.

At this point and just west of Ardmore, I stopped to think it over and took a nice mammatus picture, as the storm line swept on eastward with rapid clearing to the west. However, unwilling to give up so early in the day (11:00 AM, already!) I studied the solid anvil line to my northeast, through eastern Oklahoma. A new tornado watch had just been issued from Emporia, Kansas to Durant, Oklahoma until 5:00 PM. Perhaps the Oklahoma end of this squall would slow, and I could catch it. Banking on that long shot, I charged east into Ardmore, looking for US 70 to Durant. -- To this day, I don't know what happened, but the closely watched road signs never told me which way to go.

Since I was already on US 70, I continued on into town, and on, and on; as I passed through the business district, across some very rough railroad tracks (on a US highway?), past boarded-up stores (became a two lane road), down into a clump of trees and out, and became a parking lot for the local baseball team! Dead end!

Dead end!

A chasers nightmare come true. Being a quick study, I decided I wasn't meant to go that way. So I turned west and back up I-35 to Oklahoma City, licking my wounds and thinking about tomorrow.

Enroute, another tornado watch was broadcast for south central Kansas and northwest Oklahoma (to just east of Clinton) until 7:00 PM. On the distant western horizon, towers were building on the dryline. I charged into the OK City loop and spun out onto I-40, heading west, leaving a solid line of old anvils (with few visible bases) across eastern Oklahoma.

The rest, of the day went better. After driving through sunny skies, I turned towards Watonga and the gathering dryline towers, looped around north of there and came back through Okeene, where I saw a high base funnel. The radar measured Cb tops just to my southwest were only about 30,000 feet at 5:15 PM. But 35 minutes later, a small ground- tube tornado popped up nine miles southeast of Watonga (Illustrated in ST, Vol. 8, No. 4). An O.U. chase team was also there, near Okeene, but amateur chaser Rocky Raskovitch was closest and saw/photographed his first (was he ever excited!) I concluded that my misadventure in an Ardmore baseball parking lot was fate after all, directing me to a completely unanticipated tornadic storm at the other end of the state -- and, as it turned out, the only one that occurred anywhere in Oklahoma the rest of that day.

In the Houston area, Jack Corso picked up a wall cloud and some small funnels on the l3th, after a quick flying trip west from his New York home. However, the 14th turned out even better, as an early morning storm line moved east-southeast from just west of San Antonio. "With the sky darkening that afternoon, but thinking the main storm was still several miles away, I decided to grab a quick bite at a McDonald's on I-10 west of Houston. Upon leaving, I was surprised to see black, towsring cumulus congestus clouds racing northward and growing in a line, right on top of me! Looking north into the line, I saw a funnel on its first oscillation downward, moving north-northeast! I flew into my car and raced eastbound on I-10 into the Houston city limits to get in front of this storm. Placing the cloud to my northwest, I took the first northbound exit (I didn't even notice what the markings were, because my eyes were glued to the cloud and I was by myself). Turning north, the funnel went up and started down a second time.

I raced to get in front of it, when it again disappeared. However, the small rotating wall cloud was still intact, so I proceeded to position myself directly in front; driving another 5-10 miles to the north-northeast. Then I stopped to shoot as the funnel started down a third time.

Sheet and cloud-to-cloud lightning played often to the northeast in the main cell governing the funnel. The view above is looking to the west southwest. The funnel appeared to lift in this picture and was on the way up when it passed into darkness overhead, about a half mile from my location. Thereafter, it was dark and calm with light rain. The clear slot for this storm was very slight, with more clouds and new storms following close behind."

On May 16, the Editor began a most unusual chase at Lubbock, Texas. Bruce Pettus from Seattle, Washington, had driven down from Oklahoma City the night before, and we formed an impromptu chase team at the airport. A surface low was moving in from New Mexico across the southern panhandle, but late morning (10:00 AM) temperatures remained cool with 72 deg F at Lubbock and Fort Stockton. Dewpoints were adequate, though, with the low 60's through this area and up to 64 deg F at Carlsbad, New Mexico. My forecast picked an area south and southwest of Lubbock. We left at 11:30 AM and drove southwest, hoping to break out of the pervasive low level Cu and haze into clearer, warmer air. However, this condition dogged us all the way, and we never did hit the warm. At Andrews, we began passing under the anvils from distant Cb's to our southwest. We continued on to Kermit, hoping for closer development. Gradually, we came under solid, mid-level anvil across the entire western horizon, with weak scattered mammatus and some buildups to our northeast -under a narrow cloud break (with traces of blue). The only clear air and good heating was well off to the southeast and -that- only a distant golden glow some 75-100 miles away. So, about 3:00 PM, we turned back toward Andrews, all but writing the day off. 'de drove an easy 40-50 MPH and just enjoyed that southwest Texas country, new to both of us. No pictures had been taken, since there was virtually nothing of interest anywhere to suggest strong instability or significant severe weather. However, as we approached Andrews, the cumulus to our northeast began building seriously into an increasingly dark, imbedded area, with a rainfree base on the south flank (3) and increasing cloud-to-ground lightning. Our pace quickened, and we just got, ahead of it south of Seminole, where a nice tail cloud formed into a lowered cumulus base, trying to become a wall cloud. However, there was insufficient convection overhead to support it (i.e. the imbedded overcast around and to the northeast was so light), and it rained out. We turned east, onto US 180 toward Lamesa and a second, larger growing cell to our immediate northeast. Then, things really began to happen.

That somewhat disorganised cell began to take shape. Although still imbedded in pervasive overcast, the base hardened and became almost linear -though irregular- on an east west axis. Just, as it began looking like a "hailer," our low level visibility was cut off by dust from powerful, inflowing southerly wind. For the next 10-15 miles, we couldn't see more than a few hundred feet laterally (often down to zero) through that, red west Texas dust. Just above this surging dust layer, we could see up and at a 45 deg angle on both sides. I intently watched the ragged edged base to my north.

Then, suddenly, as if passing through a curtain, we broke into the clear -- and there to the north-northwest was a large rotating wall cloud, almost on the ground, with tornadic suction vortices dropping down. The upper level cloud deck still was more linear than circular, but rotation was unmistakable. The dust wall to our west seemed to be feeding into the back-side of this formation, a most curious structure, where northerly outflow would have seemed more likely. We photographed several vortices and then went on to Lamesa and north to Tahoka where we photographed another tornado as a distant ground tube near a small funnel. This was very interesting from its location between two apparent outflow boundaries.

A lower level north-south shelf cloud was perpendicular to and just south of a higher level east-west cloud base; both from older, apparently downdrafting convection (see above). It was a most unusual feature, with contrasting formations not normally seen in such juxtaposition.

Ken Howard and his wife, Cindy, were also out on this day, returning to Colorado from a family visit in San Angelo. En route, Ken decided to go by way of Cap Rock (the town), and the escarpment that bears its name, through the panhandle. "I had always wanted to see those legendary towns and backroads that I had heard so much about." From Post, the Howards proceeded north on State 207, passing the Salt Fork River, where two school bus loads of kids had stopped for an afternoon picnic against the darkening western horizon. Ken continued north, eyeing the approaching storm with gathering concern. Then Cindy said, "What's that going across the road up there?" It was a cone tornado, just behind the wall cloud! ...then they saw a second one (!!), more ropelike in nature.

The Howards retreated back south to the picnic sight and gave warning, which was promptly heeded. They continued south, then turned west on State 211, where they saw yet a third tornado, similar to the second. Some luck! Just out on a nice afternoon drive in the country, and three (3) twisters drop right in their laps. Apparently, the last tornadic wall cloud is what Bruce and I saw southeast of Tahoka, after it produced. Altogether a most surprising day -considering the lack of early severe storm signs. A good lesson, also: to remain vigilant even on marginal days.

The next notable chase was the 19th, when I started out from Childress towards southwest Kansas but got side-tracked by building towers southwest of Clarendon (Cap Rock storms!). Chucking my earlier forecast for an already overcast Kansas environment in favor of the building cells on the clear southern edge of that cloud deck, I drove down from Clarendon to Brice. Several large thunderstorms developed and moved southeast towards Childress. I stayed close behind and broke through the rain just west of town, as a beautiful wall cloud formed 3-4 miles southwest of Childress. Although not rotating, it developed a powerful tail cloud. The latter initially formed detached from the wall and looked stationary, like a twisted curtain, with short cloud streamers hanging underneath. It then joined the northern end of the wall and seemingly was drawn up into it at enormous speed -- easily 100 MPH or more.

Est 5:48 PM CDT (left), 5:56 PM CDT (right

A small shear boundary funnel formed like a collar at the entry point into the wall. I continued to follow it as it outflowed and proceeded south to Paducah, watching it constantly. The interesting point about this storm is that it produced a tornado warning. I spoke to a deputy sheriff on the north side of town, and he said that a housewife had reported one on the ground. However, the sheriff had only seen the threatening sky just after, and presumed she had seen something. True, there was finger-like (non-rotating) fractus almost on the ground along that outflowing south flank but tornado (?) ...it wasn't. I was reasonably sure of that, having driven under the base and with constant surveillance all the way down from Childress. It was a valuable lesson not to be so fast to bemoan the next "sighting" that I miss. Sometimes these reports just aren't what they seem. "Sometimes pa, they ain't even there!"

Steve McCauley's Texas Tech crew did see their first tornado this day in a densely wooded area seven miles northwest of Blackwell, Texas. "This storm was of particular interest for two reasons: 1) It was the first tornado seen by the entire team, and 2) the storm which spawned it was, initially, one of the weakest, that dotted the west Texas area that afternoon. Severe thunderstorm warnings were being issued for storms just to the northeast of Lubbock, much more accessible than the one we eventually saw 125 miles to the southeast. However, we felt that area was more likely to produce, and it did."

On May 20, I left Abilene, where my forecast picked a west central Texas area from about Childress to San Angelo and Mineral Wells to Midland. A tornado box was later forecast for that area and into south central Oklahoma. Cb's quickly built along the watch's central axis but -too early- formed into a line, suggesting mainly hailers, which they turned out mostly to be. However, they did produce three small tornadoes; two of which were photographed by the Editor and Tim Marshall. Since Tim was much the closer, I now defer to his account.