The storm structure was dazzling this day.
On May 16, Kathy Velasquez and I targeted the western Oklahoma Panhandle with an eye toward seeing a storm that might produce a tornado.
Despite a lot of cloud cover and relatively cold temperatures, we saw just that – plus beautiful storm structure as we chased storms into the Texas Panhandle.
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The shot of the night! A great lightning crawler spun out of the storm before I fled the core.
On May 11, I targeted an area with decent upper-level winds and dewpoints – where Colorado meets the Oklahoma Panhandle and the northern Texas Panhandle. I refined the target to a storm coming out of New Mexico, and after driving in a rather frustrating loop (road network issues), I ended up in front of a storm coming out of Clayton, New Mexico, that just got prettier and stronger until it ended up being warned as severe.
This storm and its sister storm had incredible lightning that I chased all the way back to Amarillo.
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A research vehicle plunges down the road ahead of an Oklahoma tornado on May 9, 2016, to deploy scientific instruments. (c)2016 Chris Kridler
Note: This post has been updated with a gallery and information moved from the old chase log at SkyDiary.com.
I’ve had three chase days and a day “off” (to work) this Tornado Alley trip, and two of the chase days found me in front of tornadoes I could not have imagined. In fact, the first tornado I saw on Monday was the most dramatic in my 20 seasons of chasing – or at least compares to the 12 May 2004 chase in Attica, Kansas, that saw a house destroyed.
Unfortunately, several houses were damaged or destroyed by the EF4 (upgraded from EF3) tornado I saw near Elmore City, Oklahoma, on Monday, and it killed one man. A hundred feelings rushed through me as I watched the tornado get close to my location on a hill in the difficult-to-chase, tree-filled terrain of southern Oklahoma. First, I considered my escape route, because the tornado was coming my way. And then I was filled with dread as I saw the tornado approach the structures near where I was parked – even though I had no idea so many more homes were in the path. Once it started hurling debris with incredible force and speed, I felt sick, even as I was filled with wonder. This was the most stunning tornado I have ever witnessed, partly because of my proximity to it, but also because of its unusual visibility, manifest power, long duration (it was on the ground for about 25 minutes), and sheer beauty as it shifted from a multi-vortex serpent to a swirling white stovepipe wreathed in dust to an ethereal white rope. I worried it might run me over (though I had an escape route planned), but it stayed just to my south, where I had a view of its violent motion and could actually hear the tornado’s roar.
It was also a thrill to see two scientific research vehicles speed past me to plant probes in the tornado’s path. For a second, it was like a scene from one of my novels.
I hate to see tornadoes destroy people’s lives, but I am humbled to be a witness.
The Katie, Oklahoma, tornado of May 9, 2016. Photo (c) Chris Kridler
My expectations were not high when I woke up in Wichita that morning, but it was clear there would be severe weather, with the most potential – given the upper-level flow and moisture – in southeastern Oklahoma. Known not-quite-affectionately to chasers as “the jungle,” this is a very difficult area to chase, with hills and trees hindering visibility and navigation. Nonetheless, I hit the road. Though I looked at a number of forecast parameters, I was intrigued to see one little cell go up right where the HRRR model said it would. I arrived in its vicinity, near Elmore City, Oklahoma, when it was just a shower. As it grew, I observed eerie “fingers” (shear funnels, presumably) dangle briefly from the storm. Then it began to strengthen, and I dashed a bit east and south near Katie, Oklahoma, and found the top of a hill to observe the areas of rotation. One of these produced a tornado that became the most dramatic I had ever seen.
I was then late to get to the wedge tornado near Sulphur and saw it only from a distance. But I did see a pretty white tornado form near Connerville out of a negligible storm. Overall, it was an amazing day.
These photos for the most part reflect early edits from the original report at my old Sky Diary site. Roll over each image to see the caption, or click on one to see a slide show with larger photos. Later, more refined edits can be seen in my galleries (prints available).
A tornado at Wray, Colorado, on May 7, 2016, started as a skinny, dusty funnel. Photo by Chris Kridler, ChrisKridler.com
This is my twentieth season chasing storms. Dude, that’s two decades. I’m pretty sure the older generation of chasers still considers me and my contemporaries post-“Twister” whipper snappers, but seriously. I’ve been around. I’ve seen more tornadoes that I’ve bothered to count (but have had prints made of the photogenic ones). I’ve had cars remodeled by hail and a deer (unrelated to storms, except it happened during one of those trips). I’ve learned stressful situations help forge great friendships. I’ve chased storms with friends and, often, by myself. I remember when you could have a storm all to yourself – a virtual impossibility today as storm-chasing culture, fueled by TV, has exploded (whipper snappers!). Perhaps this is all a way to say that I’m kind of old.
Nonetheless, I just started my twentieth chase trip to Tornado Alley. In between, I chase storms in Florida and take photos of weather (and other things) wherever I am, but every year, this is the time when I fuel my passion and try to capture the incredible storms of the Great Plains with my cameras. Some years have been better than others. This one started with a bang – just one day into my trip, I saw one of the best tornadoes of my career, near Wray, Colorado.
Lots of things have changed in storm chasing since I started, not least of which is the availability of Internet, and therefore radar data, in the car. (Making it SO easy for the whipper snappers.) One of the side effects of all this instant connectivity is that after you have an incredible experience filming a tornado and feel all warm and fuzzy about it (at least when they occur in the middle of nowhere), in a few moments, you see a better photo or angle on Twitter on Facebook and kick yourself for not getting the same thing. There were amazing photos of the big Wray tornado from the other side – better than mine – but it was still amazing to be there.
That’s the joy of life, isn’t it? We all have different experiences, at least when we actually get out and experience things, instead of having them spoon-fed to us on television and in other media. And one of the beautiful things about storm chasing is that every experience is not just unique to the individual, it’s unique to the moment. There will never again be a storm exactly like the one I saw Saturday that produced that dusty tornado. And the challenge will always remain to get the forecast right, to get into the best viewing position, and to avoid being swept away to Oz.
Though I wouldn’t mind seeing Dorothy’s tornado.
Given the epic amounts of driving I’ve done so far just to get into position and then chase on Saturday, I haven’t had time to update my 2016 chase reports yet. But stay tuned to SkyDiary.com, where I’ll have a full report on the Wray tornado soon (which I caught with Jason Persoff), along with photos of other chases. See you under the meso!
The Wray, Colorado, tornado at its widest – with a skinny funnel circulating the main stovepipe. Photo by Chris Kridler, ChrisKridler.com
A later edit of this photo of the Wray tornado clearly shows the dusty base and falling rain.
Lots of convection fired early and often, but I still hoped for a quality storm to get going in that area, and it finally did. By that point in the chase, I’d met up with Jason Persoff, and at Wray, Colorado, we witnessed a beautiful, dusty tornado from funnel to stovepipe.
Later, I had some regrets when I saw how close people got to the gorgeous base of the tornado on the sunlit side, but we had a fantastic show and the dramatic photos to prove it.
The photos in the gallery below, transferred from my old Sky Diary website, reflect early, not final, edits. But the edit I did of this shot – enhancing the natural sepia-toned color and contrast of the day and evoking a vintage photograph – is one of my favorites.
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The Cocoa Beach Pier was pounded by waves spawned by the offshore hurricane.
The surfers came out to enjoy the ride, and I photographed them at the Cocoa Beach Pier.
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Lightning strikes at Exploration Tower in Port Canaveral on September 10, 2015.
Lightning was sparse over the summer of 2015 – or should I say photographable lightning at night in east-central Florida was sparse. Other areas seemed to light up nightly.
In this post are gathered stormy scraps from this summer, including a few lightning shots that helped make the season palatable.
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Magnificent layers formed in the beautiful shelf cloud. Bathers were starting to abandon their beach posts.
Beachgoers took their time to leave the beach in the face of the ominous arcus cloud. I couldn’t resist waiting for it and shooting as many photos as possible, given its delicate layers.
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The light and layers change as the shelf cloud approaches.
First stop: the east end of the S.R. 520 bridge, looking back west at Cocoa. From there I went to Cocoa Beach and then Satellite Beach, marveling at how the delicate light and color of the layers in the cloud changed as it raced east toward the beach (and I hit every freaking red light in Merritt Island).
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Under a full moon, a green sea turtle heads back to the ocean after nesting. This photo, converted to black and white, was taken without any artificial light.
I recently accompanied storm chaser Peggy Willenberg and her friends, experts on turtles, as they roamed the east central Florida beaches one evening looking for nesting sea turtles. Our target was the Floridana Beach area, north of Sebastian, a popular area for turtles. We saw perhaps ten that night, under the full moon – at least when it stopped raining. We went out in a light rain just after dark. White light and flash photography should not be used when observing turtles, so all of these photos were taken in almost complete darkness with only the help of the full moon. The shoot was incredibly challenging. A red light is OK, and one of my friends had one, but it was rarely used. So focusing was almost impossible. (Next time, I’ll bring a red light to assist with focus.) We saw a couple of turtles early in our search, and then, after a lull, saw several more until we stopped about 1:30 a.m.
There was something magical and primal about these beautiful creatures emerging from the ocean to do what they’ve done for thousands of years, and I did my best to capture the experience. See more photos below.
Note: This post has been updated with the gallery that originally appeared on SkyDiary.com.
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