Archives

It was a long day Saturday of gardening, puttering and a most pleasant party. So when we got home and the sky started sparking around 11 p.m. or so, I was not particularly motivated to chase the lightning. The storms were moving offshore, and the best view would have been from Cape Canaveral or maybe Cocoa Beach. After several minutes of agonizing, I instead drove just down the road to Cocoa’s Riverfront Park and took some shots pointing east toward the storms. The lightning was really far away, but the lights on the water and the S.R. 520 causeway bridge made for an interesting setting. Here’s the best of the bolts, partially obscured by clouds. I cropped this shot to get the framing I wanted.

I took a chance on a wave of lightning storms after dark Monday – they seem to be rare creatures these days – and dashed down the road to Viera with my camera to get out of the rain. It’s amazing how circumstances conspire to deprive you of shots. The bolts were few and far between this night, yet on a relatively quiet road, a car drove in front of me just as one hit. Another strike had its best leg just out of frame. Still another was so bright (and close) that it drastically overexposed the frame and burned itself on my retina for a while. And a perfect shot eluded me during one of the two seconds when the shutter wasn’t open each minute.

Still, as you can see above, I got one. But I also wanted to recount the ones that got away. Even if you think you know how to do this stuff, it’s never easy to get that perfectly framed shot when it comes to lightning. It’s unpredictable.

Earlier Monday, I drove south to check out some storms and saw a lightning bolt hit well ahead of the rain and clouds – one of those bolts from the blue. That’s why the lightning safety folks say, “When thunder roars, go indoors.”

At some point when you’re trying to outrun an outflow boundary – what was a pretty shelf cloud, during the brief glimpse I had of it – you run out of road. At least around here. My pursuit ended at the Atlantic Ocean in Cocoa Beach, but I got shots of the shelf as it pushed out over the sea this evening. The colors were so silver and blue, almost monochromatic, that I converted the image to black and white so the textures would come out.

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.

 

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!

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.

What does one do while driving thousands of miles and, as has happened the last two days, busting on storm chases? Take a few pictures. I wish I’d taken more, but so much time is consumed by actually getting from one place to another. The freakin’ distances out here are massive.

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 …

The potent tornado machine is slowly moving east, losing a little of its punch, though my friends in Pennsylvania should watch the weather today. Florida might get storms, too. I hope we get rain at home to keep the plants happy!

I chose not to chase in the hills and trees yesterday and instead repositioned north and west. I plan to go into Colorado to see what storms I can catch today. I’m looking for a little of that upslope magic.

I’m slowly catching up on my chase reports. [Note: This part of the old SkyDiary website is gone now.] The latest addition is the day of the Joplin, Missouri, tornado, which I did not chase, instead choosing to go after a promising area in southern Oklahoma. Again, it meant fewer hills and trees, and that’s a factor in the decisions that chasers make sometimes. Visibility is important. That day I also saw the TIV and the Dominator on the road, which you may have seen in Discovery’s “Storm Chasers” show. I saw storms that day and, of all things, a couple of tarantulas!