Archives

I’ve often heard people say that in Florida, “like clockwork,” a storm pops up about 3 p.m. in the summer. That’s almost true, and it may be more true farther south in, say, Miami. Probably somewhere in the state a storm pops up, but we don’t always get them here on the east-central coast. Today, we sure did, as storms moved in from the west, with a lot of lightning and dramatic structure. I’d still rather have a nighttime lightning storm for photography’s sake, but this one was impressive as it moved into Cocoa, as seen from next to the S.R. 520 causeway.

I don’t necessarily have all day to wait around in central Florida for storms to fire, but I did go out before sunset to check out a line of storms in extreme western Brevard County. They made for a pretty backdrop to the anglers courting lightning strikes out at the Lone Cabbage Fish Camp. After dinner, I went out again, hoping for the storms – and the lightning – to persist. I saw a few crawlers while I got into position and barely anything after that. Once again, the storms didn’t survive much beyond sunset. I had a similar experience when I tried to chase the Arizona monsoon several years ago, though I’m sure I gave that too few days to be successful. Here’s hoping we get more lightning shows this summer – at night, when I can see them!

As I was on the way to the memorial service yesterday, a mass of rain and storms was rolling into the Space Coast. I stopped for just a moment to get this photo of a toothy shelf cloud moving over the barrier islands. At points it looked as if there were fingers draping over the landscape as I got closer to it and then was lashed by the rain. Florida is king of the shelf clouds.

We’ve had much-needed rain this week in the form of daylong gully-washers. The National Weather Service in Melbourne recorded 2.48 inches of rain June 29, a record. The next day, it noted 1.29 inches. June had 5.9 inches, compared with 16.91 for the year overall – more than a third of the year’s rainfall, much of it in two days!

I thought I’d check out the sea-breeze storms on June 23, since they were such a pretty, puffball, popcorn white against the blue sky. But they also lived fast and died young, going up quickly, dumping their rain and pretty much dissipating. Still, it made for a pleasant afternoon driving around what I call Florida’s prairie, the flat areas in the middle where few people live. I sure did see a lot of orange groves near Holopaw, though. And another thing I can note: It’s probably a good idea to take a “no trespassing” sign seriously when it’s posted on a fence next to a big pile of spent bullets, not to mention fire ants.

While you need a storm to shoot lightning, one of the obvious side effects of a storm, the rain, is a real hindrance to lightning photography. And when the severe storms came to the Space Coast tonight …

… they had a fair amount of lightning, but it was all embedded in precip. In other words, a mess. So after the evening’s social obligations, I attempted to get a little shelter under a pavilion in Cocoa Village to catch a few lightning crawlers. Still, the rain was spitting on my lens, and the one awesome crawler happened to fire in the split second between exposures. Ack! Anyway, here’s one, despite everything.

 

Severe and not-so-severe storms came in waves through Brevard County, Florida, today.

Today was good evidence that east-central Florida’s dry season is finally over, or at least taking a break. We had several rounds of severe and nonsevere storms in Brevard County, but chasing the lightning wasn’t easy. The storms this evening were moving south so fast, I could barely get ahead of them, thanks in part to way too many traffic lights. Makes me miss the prairie!

Wow. I found this on YouTube. The wind and debris are incredible as this camera/home apparently just got sideswiped by the Joplin, Mo., tornado of May 22.

May 30 was a great last chase for my Tornado Alley season this year, but maybe that’s because I’m one of those chasers, or storm photographers, or nature lovers who doesn’t need a tornado to feel like I’ve had a good day. Besides, it seems like everyone else is on the road these days shooting tornado video, with security cameras and amateurs still getting some of the best stuff, often the result of unwise decisions at the risk of their own lives.

 

 

With several friends, I chased a line of severe storms in Nebraska on May 30 that offered much in the way of photo opportunities, even if they cut off our northern route in a beautiful landscape with almost no roads. What are you gonna do? Every trip is a mix of hits and misses (for instance, four tornadoes, but none on the high risk day), but it’s always educational and frequently fun – when it’s not frustrating. Like anything worthwhile, it takes a lot of work and, in this case, a lot of miles. To be precise: 11,865.

It’s always surreal returning home. Home is Florida, where it’s soupy and hot and summerlike, a big contrast to the breezy and cool spring of the Plains. Our rainy season hasn’t kicked in yet, so we’re not getting much in the way of thunderstorms. The dull drum of domesticity is met by the pleasure of being home. I’m watering the tomatoes, petting the dogs and catching up on sleep. I’m trying to find my rhythm as I get into a new career of self-employment. And I’m hoping for more adventure.

I want to thank all the great chasers I caravaned with or otherwise hung out with on the road this year, among them “Dr. Wedge,” William “Bill” Hark; the storm chasing doctors Jason Persoff and Robert Balogh, who acted as first responders twice, including after the devastating Joplin, Mo., tornado; New Yawkers Dave Lewison and Scott McPartland; Mark Robinson and his team of Canadian “Storm Hunters,” Brad Rousseau and Dayna Vettese, Heather Reynolds and Meghan Yeo; Australian videographer Daniel Shaw; the crazy guys of Cloud 9 Tours; and Bill Reid and the Tempest Tours folks.

As for that lurker who followed Bill H. and I one day, what the hell was he thinking? Storm chasing isn’t like what you see on TV. It’s no Disney ride. It would be a lot simpler if it were.

May 29 was yet another cap bust, as storms were eventually defeated by the capping inversion, the warm temperatures above the surface. I’m exhausted, and tomorrow is likely my last chase day on this trip, so I’m going to get some sleep.

Keeping it brief: again, too much driving after busting in Colorado yesterday. I’m waking up in Salina, Kansas, after that very long round trip. I kind of knew I was in trouble when all the cloud cover manifested over my target area yesterday, but I figured, I was halfway there, so why not go for it? The thing is, “halfway” when you’re talking about driving to the front range is pretty dang far. The scenery in eastern Colorado is lovely, though, spare and ascetic. Today, the target is central Oklahoma, though this won’t be one of those crazy outbreak days. This is kind of a “maybe” day.  I can feel my trip beginning to wind to a close. I still haven’t decided whether to chase marginal chances this weekend or begin heading home for Florida’s lightning season. There’s no place like home!  Click, click, click …