Tornado Chasing For Dummies -- 2004

*from the website archives...as tornado season 2010 approaches, I'll revisit a couple-three of my prior 'tornado chasing for dummies' experiences from previous years*

Wednesday, June 9, 2004. A date which will live in personal infamy. With the weather reports suggesting good conditions for severe weather with a moderate possibility of tornadoes, I headed NE along the I-76 corridor, to a rest stop near the burg of Wiggen, Colorado. With the potential storm track E/NE, I figured I was in a good position to await developments right there.

But the weather gods decided to toy with me, first: shortly after I arrived at my staging area, a tornado warning was broadcast...for southwest Denver. The weather gods have no mercy, but they do have a matchless sense of "gotcha".

Nonetheless, the storm track indicated an E/NE direction. The last laugh might yet prove mine.

For the next 90 minutes, I sat, observed, listened, calculated. All of which proved I wasn't very good at the calculating portion of the litany. The storm was tracking E/NE. But on it's current course, it would pass well SE of me. And time was awasting: I needed to get to Bennett, Colorado, and fast. From where I was, it'd take the better part of an hour.

As I raced south, then west, then south again, the skies ominously darkened, the clouds lowered, and off to my SW I saw promise: a puny-looking funnel cloud, rating a minus Phfft-1 on some scale (probably the phffft scale I'm known to employ on a cornudopia of things). Yeah, I did shoot it; yeah, you can barely discern it (if I had bothered to include the photo...I didn't).

I was after bigger game.

Now southbound toward Bennett, I ran into the leading edge of the storm, as wind, rain and hail began to pummel me and impede my progress south. Progress made more urgent when the National Weather Service issued a tornado warning, five miles N of Bennett, Colorado, moving NE at 20 mph. I was, at that moment, 17 miles north of Bennett, headed due south at 65 mph.

Unfortunately, my angle of pursuit was, again, faulty in the extreme: I was plowing into the storm, and not chasing it, as is recommended. As the storm intensified over me, my speed of advance dropped to 25 mph, and my visibility dropped to sh**. The fields on either side of the road were under water, and I was concerned about running afoul of a freighter out here, as much as I needed to keep my eyes glued to the south, where 'IT' lurked.

Finally, I came upon a couple of TV news vehicles, with occupants out in the elements, shooting something in the air. I stopped and managed to get one photo of a funnel cloud in remission (see photo at right, top). 'IT', after having touched down and run a spell, slunk back up into the clouds. I'd missed meeting it head-on by scant moments.

Being philosophical about such things, I waxed poetically along the lines of *$@#*%! or words to that effect.

Having used up the film I had along, I turned and headed back home, where I found the weather gods had one more "gotcha" to throw at me.

The effects of the previous storm on the Metro Area were in clear evidence as I hit I-70 into east Aurora: traffic came to a screeching halt. For the next 90 minutes, I was part of a 0-5 miles per hour crawl on I-70 west, seeing evidence here and there of earlier heavy rains and hail. Finally, a traffic report revealed the reason for the tie-up: at I-70 and Colorado Blvd, storm drains had backed up, and the highway was under 2 feet of water. But the water was slowly receding, and traffic was muddling through. Soon, I finally saw the upcoming pond.

As I started into it, I neglected to notice a couple key elements that gave the weather gods the last laugh: (a) the large-tired truck to my left was coming up faster than I was moving and (b) my driver's side window was down six inches. As the truck caught up to me in Colorado Lake, a text-book arc of water came washing over the top of my Saturn. And through the open window.

Now, most folks would think that getting caught in a flash flood in a car is a bad situation, indeed. But folks who know me wouldn't be the least bit surprised to have seen me -- drenched in muddy water and laughing my ass off -- driving along with one hand, and wiping down the trashed dash with a desperately-yearning-to-be-elsewhere gym towel.

The weather gods are up 2-0, on gotchas and last laughs.

Next up: TCfD II -- 2005