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The thing about “chasing scraps,” as we call it when there isn’t a really promising forecast for supercells, is that it can wear you out. That’s partly because of all the driving – if you’re ambitious, you go wherever there’s a chance of storms.

 

So after a couple of days of photographing beautiful places like the South Dakota Badlands and Monument Rocks in Kansas, photographing virga (rain that doesn’t hit the ground) in Texas and exploring Shamrock, Texas (a visit worthy of another post), Alethea Kontis and I found ourselves plunging south beyond Midland on May 16, looking for storms.

A lot of other chasers were out, too, including our friend Daniel Shaw, whom we ran into on the road. It’s hard to miss his Rav4. And, as usual, there were tour groups, too.

I got initiated into storm chasing on the late, great Cloud 9 Tours in 1997. And I know what it’s like. A good tour won’t sit out a marginal day. So even on the iffy days like May 16, there are going to be lots of chasers on the road. There were no traffic jams where we were, though, especially since there were no obvious tornadoes. That night, a wicked storm roared through Houston, but there was no way we were driving that far east anyway.

 

In spite of the so-so setup, we were rewarded with a truly beautiful shelf cloud that reenergized me after several days of tough slogging. Any chase day when I can take a good picture isn’t a day wasted. And this one more than delivered.

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As the video title says, sometimes storm chasing isn’t pretty. Stuff happens. You lose cellular data. You get out of position. You get more out of position when the road turns into a one-way construction zone where a guy with a portable stop sign holds you hostage for twenty minutes while you wait for a pilot car. Add in murky skies, sight-blocking hills and trees, and few or bad roads, and the experience can be less than ideal.

That more or less sums up our chases on May 8 and 9, 2024, as Alethea and I wandered in central Texas. We got a few pretty photos anyway, but I was frustrated. Still, maybe the video will make you chuckle.

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On the last day of our 2023 chase in the Plains, Alethea Kontis and I headed back to New Mexico for one more try. We watched clouds bubble up from infancy to make pretty little storms west of Tatum before abandoning those for a severe storm near Portales. It was rotating but not serious about doing anything, and soon the storms started to merge.

 

We booked east into Texas, trying to stay ahead of them – and then to get a view as a large arcus cloud formed. It wasn’t a layered shelf cloud, but it was dramatic, filling the sky.

After photographing an eerie orange sunset under a bank of dark purple clouds, we dropped to I-10, where the intensifying storms laid down a barrage of lightning bolts. The timelapse video is pretty darn cool. From there, it was south to Fort Stockton, chasing lightning all the way, with a final stop at the town’s road runner statue. In all, it was an epic end to our voyage to Tornado Alley.

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Our chase season has been the domain of New Mexico, no doubt about it. And today we explored the arid southeast corner of the state and the adjacent area of Texas, which was a lot less arid as the day went on thanks to flooding.

We skipped from Kermit, Texas, up to Jal, New Mexico, watching developing clouds while knowing the better chance of a tornado was farther south. We just didn’t have the heart to chase in that territory and took our chances. And the storm we followed came pretty close. It had a rotating wall cloud as it crossed the highway, and then it enrobed itself in rain and hail and moved east into an area with no roads at all. So much for that.

 

So we repositioned east and filmed beautiful if linear storms and, eventually, a rainbow after driving through the flooded town of Seminole, Texas. Even on marginal days like this, it’s satisfying to see the sky at work.

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It took a while for Alethea Kontis and I to “pull the trigger” on this year’s storm-chasing trip. That’s what my chaser friends who don’t live in Tornado Alley say when they’re planning to hit the road. For most of us, with jobs and families and other things that keep us busy, we can’t do a lot of spur-of-the-moment thousand-mile trips. It’s better to block out a week or two and maximize our time on the road.

 
The pattern didn’t look fantastic, but I thought there was potential around the periphery of the ridge. And we were rewarded with many beautiful storms, all of which I will eventually post on the blog. This was the first one we chased, on May 24, starting eastern New Mexico and working its way east into Texas after dark.

We saw the potential even as we left Florida, and I was determined that we would chase this day if we could get there. It was a long haul, and we got on the storms a bit late, so our position wasn’t great to see the tornado our friend Jason Persoff saw. And a later tornado was seen by chasers who didn’t mind driving into the heart of the beast. I don’t have much stomach for core-chasing, so we stayed back and were treated to gorgeous, dramatic structure.

 

The storm turned into a dust-eating UFO after dark as it moved into the Texas Panhandle, and we got hypnotic lightning shots and timelapses before the chase was done.

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It’s been almost a year since the May 23, 2022, chase in Texas that was both awesome and maddening. Alethea Kontis and I were on the storm of the day from the moment it was a piddly shower. But the wrong move put us on the wrong side of a wall of dust that obscured a massive, violent tornado.

This is the one storm from 2022 that I didn’t post last year as I worked through all of my photos … maybe because it was so epic. Or maybe because we didn’t see exactly what we wanted to see.

 
We hung out in Muleshoe, first, and learned a bit about mules (see the video). Then we saw a sun halo, one of many we saw in 2022. We weren’t sure if we should take it as a good sign, however, given how weak our chase trip had been thus far. But we targeted Morton – later the site of the wedge tornado – and not far from there, eyed a growing but unimpressive supercell. When it appeared a dusty outflow boundary would overtake the storm, it seemed like it might be in trouble. Even though in the back of my mind, I thought of Florida’s outflow boundaries and how they can make a storm spin up a tornado, I couldn’t imagine what followed. Jason Persoff (with whom we’d met up) and Alethea and I began a repositioning maneuver in the wrong direction, and then the storm went nuts.

This time we moved with the dust back toward the storm. And I confess, I wasn’t ready to dive-bomb into the core to see what was on the other side. What was clear is that there was a big tornado in there, but we didn’t have the fantastic view the chasers who hung out among the falling giant hailstones had. Yet we did have a view of the monster. As the power lines sang an eerie tune in the inflow winds, we watched it get closer and decided to see if we could get into a position where we had a view of the supercell’s base. And maybe a tornado.

We approached the dramatic stacked layers of the dusty beast, got almost under it and saw – more dust. And a dark shape in the dust. Given how the dust swept around the notch and chased us down the road – not to mention the radar signature – I feel certain we saw a tornado in there. Barely.

We bailed on the conga line of storm chasers – so many chasers – and dropped south to get a tremendous view of the stacked supercell. My favorite image of this I call “Texas Skyscraper,” and it’s available at Stolen Butter Gallery.

After Alethea had to get medieval on the sovereign of a local gas station to let us fill up – they were trying to close because of the storm, even though they were safely out of the path and we were running on fumes – we pursued the cell into its lightning phase. It was very difficult to keep up, and eventually we let it slip off into the darkness, a wild runaway in the night.

 

Some chasers had close calls that went along with their fantastic view of this storm. Check out Pecos Hank Schyma’s harrowing video. I’ve done a lot of Monday-morning quarterbacking in the wake of this chase, but it’s hard to come up with a perfect scenario even if I could relive the day.

This storm pretty much wrapped up our 2022 chase season. At least it was a real storm – a powerful and visually stunning supercell. And if I look hard enough into my photos, I see the big tornado.

Now we’re about to head out to the Plains again, much later than usual given the quiet pattern in Tornado Alley. I’m not expecting much, but it will be great to be on the road again.

To get all the latest updates, follow me on Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube. (Alethea’s here on YouTube as well.)

If you like our photos and video, won’t you consider throwing a few bucks into the storm chasing gas fund? Thank you!

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Is it storm chasing when there are not actually storms to chase? I say yes. Especially when we wander around traditional chase territory in between the storms.

On May 22, we built our day around a visit to the U Drop Inn – the 1936 Conoco gas station that’s been beautifully restored in Shamrock, Texas. It’s a Route 66 landmark and inspired the garage in the movie “Cars.” In fact, we arrived the night before and got a few photos then. But when we planned to visit, it was Sunday, and Texas is closed on Sunday, apparently. I’ve been before but really wanted to visit the cafe, which is actually operating now.

Still, we saw a few other outdoor attractions in Shamrock (see the photos) before moving on. I had no idea an alleged piece of the Blarney Stone was here.

Moving on, we had a nice lunch in Wheeler, then went on to find the remote and desolate intersection in the Texas Panhandle where the last scene of “Cast Away” was filmed. This is where Tom Hanks’s character delivers the package he kept unopened while stranded on the desert island – a symbol of dedication and hope that leads him to promise for his future.

 

We did our best to channel Tom Hanks, and Alethea created a mini “Wilson” out of a rock, since no volleyballs were at hand. She left it there. If you find it, let us know! (Where is the “Cast Away” intersection? Near Mobeetie, Texas. Program 35°38’2.18″ N 100°27’4.99″ W into your map app.)

We also headed to Groom, Texas, perhaps best known for its giant cross. We focused on the leaning tower of Texas, aka the Britten water tower, which leans and balances on two legs thanks to the perfect amount of water in its tank. It was positioned this way to attract visitors to a truck stop that burned down long ago. You can read more on the excellent Atlas Obscura website.

Then it was on to The Big Texan in Amarillo, where we did not eat a “free” 72-ounce steak* … *dinner if eaten in one hour. That asterisk is on all the billboards. Look for it!

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We saw beautiful atmospheric phenomena on May 20, but it was a minimalist storm chase. Still, it was atmospheric as only Texas can be.

First, it was seriously hot – 97F, not the kind of temperature you expect to be conducive to severe storms. We played around a cold front (not that cold) and dryline and followed clouds around with the kind of hope that only desperate storm chasers have. Storm chasers who, one might add, were here from somewhere else and so didn’t have quotidian distractions to prevent us from chasing.

This is the kind of chase day that’s a real reality check for the hardcore storm chaser. Not every day can produce tornadoes and photogenic supercells. Especially in 2022.

 
Alethea Kontis and I waited in Olney, Texas, for a while for a scant chance of storms, even sampling a frozen coffee drink at Hometown Coffee & Tea (it was excellent). Then we drove around in a triangular “circle” or two, passed a really cool “graveyard” of roadside signs and old cars and trucks, and ended up “chasing” a couple of storms until they died about an hour later. One was “severe” (today, pretty much everything had quotes around it). Let’s just say we were underwhelmed.

The sunset was beautiful, though, with a wavering orange sun sliding down behind wind turbines and power lines at Throckmorton as the sky lit up in orange and blue. We started the chase at an Allsup’s and ended up at one, with the feral cats sitting in judgment as we ate our burritos. Now that’s Texas storm chasing.

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We had one of the best storm chases of our trip on May 18, 2022, as we pursued a beautiful supercell through the Texas Panhandle from our starting point in Boise City, Oklahoma. We chose this starting point because we wanted to revisit Cimmy, the steel sculpture of an apatosaurus scaled to replicate a dinosaur dug up in Cimarron County.

As a bonus, there’s a 750-pound Tin Man out front. I appreciate any and all Oz references on the road.

For the first time, Alethea Kontis and I actually went inside the museum. One enters through what was once a unique house. The Cox House, now the Cimarron Heritage Center, was designed by Kansas architect Bruce Goff in 1949; behind it, the museum continues in a large add-on interior space and a massive backyard featuring historic structures. We didn’t have time to see it all, but since I dig mid-century architecture, I loved seeing the house.

The house’s clean mid-century sensibility is somewhat obscured by the clutter of museum artifacts now, but it’s fascinating. According to the museum’s interesting website, there are no conventional interior doors, just plastic accordion doors, and all the walls are concrete and brick, paneled in walnut.

A couple of items that caught my eye during our quick walk-through were Opal Cox’s amazing button collection and a peculiar horsehide coat; the original owner had it made from the hide of a favorite horse after it died.

Finally, we saw a storm forming in eastern New Mexico and headed southwest into the northwest Texas Panhandle to intercept it. This remote area had plenty of prairie dogs and lonely roads, which we enjoyed on a leisurely chase, keeping level with the evolving supercell as it moved south.

Near Vega, Texas, close to sunset, the storm was especially beautiful. Smoke from what was likely a lightning fire drifted under it as the setting sun lit the base and wind turbines churned in its path. The video alternates between music (during timelapse sequences) and natural sound because I wanted to convey the rich backdrop of wind, grinding turbines, birdsong and thunder.

Later, the storm showed some rotation, as you can see in the video, but it never got serious about going tornadic.

South of I-40, we followed the storm all the way to Hereford, though by this time, just as the structure was really getting nice, it outran us. We captured a little lightning and finally had to give up this very satisfying chase as the storm blasted us with dust in town.

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Storm chasing can be grueling. Sure, it sounds like a vacation. And it’s definitely a break from the routine of regular life, as the whims of nature guide you to your next destination on the open road. But the constant driving means there’s very little rest. Chasing late into the night precludes regular meals. And laundry is a necessity.

So on May 25, Alethea Kontis and I both needed a break – even as we agreed to keep an eye on the atmosphere for the possibility of storms later in the day. We didn’t want to drive too far to get them. Fortunately, waking up in Liberal, Kansas, offered a perfect opportunity for rest, relaxation — and chasing.

We had a real breakfast, for once, at the Pancake House, a fantastic spot in Liberal, with fellow chaser Bill Hark, who joined us later for some tourism at Dorothy’s House and the Coronado Museum. The museum had a lot of interesting artifacts, and Dorothy’s House offered a snapshot of what an early 20th century prairie house might have been like. (What? Dorothy didn’t have indoor plumbing?) And that big warehouse behind Dorothy’s House with the “Land of Oz” sign that always puzzled me — we found out what it was! It’s where the young woman playing Dorothy gave a one-woman show very much in the wild and weird spirit of The Wizard of Oz, leading us through vignettes inspired by the movie.

After a delicious food-truck hamburger, we had to make a decision. We had reservations in Colby, Kansas, that night, which was at least a couple of hours’ drive north, in hopes of chasing quality storms the next day. Bill decided it wasn’t worth chasing marginal storms to our south and headed out. We opted to take a look at the bubbling CU (cumulus clouds), which I found irresistible.

 
Liberal is just north of the Oklahoma state line, so we dropped into the Oklahoma Panhandle and stopped at Balko to shoot the beautiful, white storms as they blossomed south of us in the Texas Panhandle. We couldn’t resist getting closer.

 
Just north of Perryton, Texas, we captured a gorgeous, colorful sunset and then fantastic lightning, which was almost constant — mostly crawlers and in-cloud bolts but a few cloud-to-ground strikes as well. The GoPro nightlapse in the video is super cool.

 

We finally left the storm to drive north, knowing we’d pay for our chase with sleep deprivation. Still, at Alethea’s urging, we paused in Kansas to see if we might capture sprites. Only it was clear we wouldn’t, because a full moon lit up the prairie with an eerie glow that would have washed out sprites in any photos. Plus, we’re still trying to figure out how to shoot sprites! Still, I captured a meteor in one of my photos. Nothing like a shooting star to end a magical day.

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